“But I’m alive. Why am I alive?”
Abaddon stalled, and his fingertips dug into Gabriel’s flesh a bit too hard. “Something went wrong with the ritual. It made no sense to take your life after that, so they’d lied to you since. It’s not difficult for adults to warp a child’s reality.”
"Are you saying they killed five other children?" Gabriel uttered, shaking as the classical music playing on the gramophone soared.
"No. Ten have died at their hands. Six in the first cycle and four in yours. But the stars are about to align once more, and they will start over soon: three cycles of offerings done every ten years. But I will stop them and eradicate this ungodly cult from existence.”
No matter how horrific all of this was, Gabriel was trying to take it in. So he faced Abaddon and his gaze with new determination. “And God sent you to do this?”
Abaddon’s eyes were so alive when they met Gabriel’s. As if there was a storm raging deep inside him and the heavy rain kept tapping against his irises. “They call themselves The Keys to the Deepest Pit. Those maniacs believe if they call on me, I’ll be obligated to do their bidding and reform the world according to their wishes, but humans have no power over demons nor angels. All those children have died in vain. It’s time for a purge.”
Gabriel shook his head. "That's insane. And that's their justification for torturing and killing children? Sick fucking bastards,” he spat. For once, no matter how painful it was, his memories aligned with reality. His suffering hadn’t been imagined, and going through that realization was as awful, as it was a relief.
He wasn’t crazy.
“Don’t worry, I will not let another child suffer. That’s a promise. There’s four cult members left, and I will take their lives.”
Mrs. Benson.
Officer Martinez.
Sister Beatrice.
Father John.
Bile came up Gabriel’s throat when he remembered talking to Father John earlier. Back during the ritual, he had been the one to call the shots. The master of this whole sick scheme. The one to first cut into Gabriel’s arms with a bone dagger.
But then, there had also been the seventh figure, an elusive person in a demonic mask, who didn’t touch him once throughout the ritual, high and mighty on a stone throne, their head crowned by horns.
“Five.” Gabriel grabbed Abaddon’s arm. “I remember someone sitting on a throne and just staring at everything like a statue. Who was that?”
The angel stalled, his face turning expressionless. “Well, perhaps that’s what it was—a statue. I didn’t receive visions about anyone else. If this really was a person, they must be gone.”
His whole life, Gabriel had been tricked into thinking he’d lost his mind while a child-murdering cult continued operating behind the charitable facade of the orphanage, led by Father John and the gracious donor, Mrs. Benson. He didn’t know what was more unbelievable: that, or Abaddon’s existence.
Abaddon could also be lying to him, but he was too strange, too confident about his mission for that to make any sense. Besides, he knew secrets from Gabriel’s past that no one else could.
And most of all… Gabriel wanted to believe.
Wanted to believe that just this once, God had looked down on him with kindness and had sent him this angel.
“And um… what does God make of you sinning with me down here on Earth?” Gabriel mumbled as a hot flush overcame his face. He’d given in to lust because he thought it was all a dream. Having to face a new reality where someone else, even a fallen angel, knew about his desires, unleashed a wave of embarrassment.
Abaddon cupped his cheek with gentleness Gabriel had rarely been afforded. “There is nothing sinful about pleasure and happiness.”
Gabriel got up on shaky legs, avoiding the corpse’s accusatory gaze. “I just—I’ve never… with a man, and I don’t even know if I’m like that.”
Abaddon rose with him and placed his hand on his throat, as if he wanted to help him breathe by keeping it warm. His smooth dark hair fell down his shoulders like fingers caressing flesh, and Gabriel found himself wanting to follow their example. Instead, he froze with hot wind messing up his thoughts.
“I know what I see. But you are the one to decide what you want to do.”
Gabriel’s gaze lingered on Abaddon’s soft lips.
Fuck it.
He went in for a hungry kiss, his pulse punching against Abaddon’s palm in a frantic rhythm. If God was fine with it, Gabriel was too.
He ran his hands up the angel’s chest, eager to feel that skillful tongue again.
But then, a gentle knocking made him back out so fast he would have tripped over the doctor’s body if Abaddon hadn’t caught him.
There was someone at the door.
5
ABADDON
Gabriel’s hair smelled like cinnamon and vanilla. The shocking strength of that scent exploded in Abaddon’s face, rendering him motionless. Slender hands squeezed the front of his T-shirt, and when the boy looked up, pale as a porcelain figurine, it was time to act.