Devilish Mate

7

At her words, another wisp of memory floated to the front of my mind. I was in a pub with wooden tables and beams across the ceiling. The smell of stale beer lingered in the air, and the raucous calls of the barmaids and customers echoed in my ears. Zel sat beside me, along with another woman with fiery red hair. They both wrapped their arms around me as we laughed and toasted to something, though the details eluded me. A warm sense of friendship and belonging surrounded me, and then the memory faded.

I shook my head to return to the present. I couldn’t live like this, with half-memories making themselves known at random. This had better be a temporary side effect of my resurrection and nothing more.

I realized Jophiel and Zel were waiting for my response. I didn’t know very much anymore—certainly not things I’d counted on as true only two days ago—but I knew I could trust Zel. I’d had few true friends over my many lifetimes, but she was one of them.

“Azazel stays.” My voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.

Zel smirked and poured herself a coffee, then grabbed a tiny fruit tart with powdered sugar off the pastry tray and popped it in her mouth. Jophiel offered me a pastry as well, but I shook my head. My stomach was in knots, and I had a feeling it wouldn’t get any better during this conversation.

“Tell me about Haniel,” I said.

Jophiel sat in the other armchair and crossed her legs primly. “Very well. As you probably have realized now, you are not truly Hannah, but Haniel, an angel of the Ofanim Choir, and my half-sister. You were born in the early twentieth century in Heaven to two Archangels—Anael and Phanuel, our father.”

My mouth fell open, but I was too stunned to respond. I was over a hundred years old, and born in another realm. To two Archangels. I searched my mind for any glimpses of the parents she spoke of, or of my childhood in Heaven, but those memories were gone. Not even a tiny flicker of familiarity remained. And yet, I sensed she was telling the truth. That only made it worse somehow. After spending the last few years desperately wishing I had memories of my parents, whom I’d believed were killed in the car accident that gave me amnesia, even the briefest flash of them would be a blessing.

“Go on,” I said.

“The Great War was still ongoing at that time, and together we fought against the demons, until Lucifer killed our father and kidnapped you.” She sighed and sipped her coffee before continuing. “Somehow you fell in love with him, much to my dismay. You always do.”

I sat up a little at that. “Lucifer killed our father?”

“Oh, he left that part out of his story, did he?” She shook her head. “Why am I not surprised?”

“If Lucifer killed him, I’m sure he had a good reason,” Zel growled.

“I’m sure the death of an Archangel seemed like a good enough reason at the time,” Jophiel snapped back.

I held up a hand before they started going at it. “What happened after that?”

Jophiel set down her coffee mug and met my eyes. “Eventually you returned, claiming Lucifer had let you go. As an Ofanim, I could tell you were speaking the truth, but I knew there was more to it than that. When we were alone, you told me you’d started a secret romance with Lucifer. I was appalled, naturally, but you explained about your past lives and your mate bond with Lucifer. Since you’re my sister I agreed to keep your secret, though I later regretted that since it only led to your doom when Adam killed you.”

I swallowed hard, but had to ask, “How did it happen?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t there at the time. You managed to escape and flew to my house, bleeding everywhere.” Her face tightened and she stared into her coffee mug with pain evident in her eyes. “I called Raphael to heal you, but he didn’t arrive in time to save you. However, he did manage to resurrect you.”

Archangel Raphael was Marcus’s father, I remembered. I’d now been resurrected by both father and son. How lucky for me. “That doesn’t explain why my memories are missing.”

Her voice grew urgent, her eyes pleading with me. “Everyone thought you were dead. Only Lucifer, Raphael, and I knew the truth. Knowing that your fate would only be to return to Lucifer and then be killed again by Adam, I saw an opportunity to protect you—and I took it. I wiped your memories, along with the others’, and allowed everyone to believe you were another tragedy of war.”

I raised my eyebrows. “And you didn’t think to ask me if I wanted that?”

“I did, actually, and you agreed. The pain you felt at the time was too much to bear. You wanted to forget.”

“Why? Why was it so bad?”

Jophiel looked away. “You lost more than just your life that day. I cannot say any more than that.”

I glared at her, wishing she would give me answers, and annoyed at my past self for agreeing to that plan. “How long ago was this?”

“About forty years ago.”

I nearly knocked over my coffee mug. “Forty years?” I practically yelled. I only remembered the last few years of my life as Hannah. Where was the rest of it?

Jophiel tried to offer me a small blueberry scone. “Dear, you should really eat something. You’ll feel so much better.”

I knocked the scone out of her hand. “I don’t want a f*****g scone! I want to know what happened during the last forty years! Where were my wings, my powers? Who was I all that time?”

“Yes, I’d like to know also,” Zel said, and I felt grateful she was there to back me up. “Especially since even Lucifer thought she was human.”