Grace and Glory (The Harbinger 3) - Page 111

I exhaled raggedly as my attention returned to the darkened sunroom. “Not particularly good.”

“Sounds like there’s a story there.”

“There is. Maybe I’ll tell you about it once we find Lucifer,” I told him. “What do you think he’s doing out there?”

Roth bent, picking up what look like a dog toy shaped like a fudge bar. “Knowing Lucifer? He’s probably looking for the oldest nearby church and currently terrifying hapless priests while simultaneously causing the One up there to lose His mind.”

I considered that. “Well, I guess he could be up to worse things, right?”

“Right.” Roth pushed on the center of the bar, and the toy squeaked.

“We need to get out there and find him.” I dragged a hand over my face. “Especially before he decides to get more creative with his time.”

Without any warning, Layla’s fox shot across the counter, snatching the toy out of Roth’s hands. Robin jumped to the floor and took off, the toy in his mouth, squeaking away as he rushed into the living room.

“I really want to pet him,” I said.

“I wouldn’t recommend it. He’s a bit nippy. What were you—?”

Focused on Roth, I didn’t see Layla coming until she plowed into me. I squeaked, sounding like Robin’s toy as she wrapped her arms around me, pinning my arms to my sides.

“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you.”

“For what?” My wide-eyed gaze swept through the room, meeting Zayne’s.

He smiled.

“You know what.” She squeezed harder.

“I don’t,” Roth observed.

“Trinity brought Zayne back after he Fell. She used the Sword of Michael on him, and brought him back,” Layla said, pulling back. She clasped my arms. “I’m sorry for being so standoffish when we first met. I was being a bitch, but Zayne’s important to me. He’s always been, even when he didn’t want anything to do with me, and I didn’t know you and—”

“It’s okay. I wasn’t exactly friendly myself,” I admitted. “And you really don’t need to thank me. Zayne did the hard work with the whole getting his Glory back and then Falling thing.”

“I know what you did couldn’t be easy.” Layla shook me. “I can’t even think about what I would’ve done if it had been me who had to do that. You had to be terrified, and the fact you still did it says a lot about you.” Her pretty face started to crumple again, and the next second, she had her arms around me. “Thank you.”

Zayne started forward, catching Roth’s gaze. The demon prince grinned as he came around the counter. “Come on, shortie.” Placing his hands on her shoulders, he tugged her back. “I think she knows how grateful you are without you squeezing out her insides.”

Zayne came to my side, curling his arm around my shoulders. He dipped his head and kissed my cheek. “You look so comfortable with hugs,” he murmured.

“Shut up.”

He chuckled, kissing my temple. “Sounded like you called Nic. How’d he take the news?”

“Oh, you know, amazingly well. Very level response—”

A knock from the front of the house interrupted me. I glanced to Roth. “Could we get lucky and that’s Lucifer?”

Roth snorted. “Doubtful.”

“I’ll get it!” Cayman’s voice carried from somewhere in the house.

“He’s been here the whole time?” I asked.

“He’s been upstairs, soaking in the tub,” Layla said, leaning into Roth. “It’s Tuesday. ‘Me time’ always happens on Tuesday evening.”

I shook my head. “You’d think he’d make an exception.”

Cayman appeared in the doorway, a greenish-blue clay mask slathered across his face. “Someone is here to see you—all of you,” he said. “Not me, because I have nothing to do with you all apparently losing Lucifer. Heads-up, he’s not happy.”

I stiffened. Who would even know all of us were here and that we’d lost Lucifer? It couldn’t be Nicolai. I doubted he knew where Roth lived.

I felt Zayne stiffen beside me at the same time a strange shiver of awareness skated over my skin.

A man entered the kitchen—a man who was nearly as tall as Lucifer. Dark-haired and bearded, he had a glacial gaze that sent a chilled warning down my spine. So did the fact his features were clearer to me—like with Zayne and Lucifer. He wasn’t a demon, but power radiated from this man—the final kind of power—and my grace kicked at my skin.

Roth stepped forward. “To what do we owe the unexpected and questionable honor of your presence, Grim?”

Grim.

Grim.

My eyes nearly popped out of my head as I realized I was staring at the Grim Reaper.

The Angel of Death.

27

If a year ago, anyone told me that I would meet both Lucifer and the Angel of Death in one day, I would’ve laughed straight in their face.

But here I was, staring at the Grim Reaper, otherwise known as Azreal.

And I wasn’t laughing. Not at all. This angel didn’t answer to Heaven or Hell. Or maybe he answered to both. I had no idea, but he could end any of our lives with just the snap of his finger, and I was talking the final kind of death that ended with the destruction of the soul.

Tags: Jennifer L. Armentrout The Harbinger Fantasy
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