He could barely see through his tears as he shoved the blade between her ribs and pierced her heart. In his arms, her body went limp, and in an instant, she was gone.

At some point during the instant replay, Revenant and Reaver had gone to their knees in the dirt, were both panting and shaking.

“I killed her,” Revenant choked out, feeling as if he’d slammed that blade into his own chest. “I killed her and tried to flash out with her body, but she was right. I couldn’t take her with me. And since the flashing ability only allowed for me to flash to somewhere I’d already been, I was screwed. I materialized at one of the places on our escape route, and from there I ran like hell. I was on the run for… fuck, I don’t know how long. I eventually found a Harrowgate and used it to get to the human realm, where I contacted you.”

“And I fucked that up.” Reaver’s gaze was tormented. Just days ago, hell, hours ago, Rev would have savored his brother’s pain like the most decadent dessert. Now it turned his stomach. “I’m sorry, Revenant. Damn, I am so sorry. I didn’t know what you’d gone through —”

“Would it have mattered?” He exploded to his feet, the agony of losing his mother and then being rejected by his brother washing over him as fresh and vivid as if it had happened yesterday. “You hated me on sight.”

“No, Revenant.” Reaver came to his feet slowly, as if he was concerned about a sudden move setting Rev off. He looked down at his boots, his perfect hair falling forward to conceal his face, and Rev realized that, for the first time, he hadn’t changed his own hair color to match his brother’s. “I hated myself. We might not be identical twins, but in you I saw myself. I saw someone who had been lied to, and I made it about me, when it should have been about us.” Suddenly, he tugged Revenant against him, and it was a relief to find that Reaver was trembling as forcefully as Rev was. “I can’t pretend to understand what you went through with our mother, but you need to know that nothing that happened to her was your fault. It was her choice to stay with you, and it was her choice to die.”

They remained like that for a long time, until Reaver pulled back and said the words Revenant had wanted to hear for so long, but couldn’t admit even to himself.

“I won’t abandon you again,” Reaver swore. “We’re brothers, and it’s past time we acted like it.”

Revenant had no idea how to do that. For that matter, he didn’t know if they’d even have the chance.

“I wish we had time,” Rev said, his voice still beat to hell from the trip down memory lane. “But I have to protect Blaspheme, and the longer I wait, the worse it could be for her.”

“You mentioned something about Satan, Gethel, and Lucifer?”

Rev nodded. “I have a plan, but I’m going to need an angel.”

Reaver cocked an eyebrow. “An angel?”

“Satan wants me to prove my loyalty. Which means he wants both Blaspheme and an angel. I’m not giving him Blaspheme. Don’t suppose you know of an angel who deserves a fate worse than death.”

Reaver smiled grimly. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

“If you’re thinking of the same asshole I’m thinking of, this plan might work.”

“What plan?”

“One that could get us both killed.”

Reaver snorted. “Should have led with that. I’m in.”

Clearly, recklessness ran in the family. “You haven’t heard the plan.”

“Then lay it on me,” Reaver said. “We’re going to do this thing, and we’re going to do it together, the way we were born.”

And the way they were probably going to die.

“Hello, Raphael.”

The archangel nearly jumped out of his skin, which Reaver thought was pretty damned funny. Raphael liked to pretend he was cool and collected, often emulating Metatron – poorly. Now Reaver knew why he did that.

He wanted Metatron’s job.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” Raphael eyed Reaver’s gold wings, which Reaver had taken out to remind the archangel that he was about a thousand times more powerful than Raphael.

“I came to ask how long you’d been plotting to take down Metatron.”

Raphael laughed, sounding genuinely amused. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have time to toy with you, so I’m just going to put it all out there. I know you’ve been working with Stamtiel for at least two hundred years. So I’m going to give you a choice. Either I take you to Metatron for your execution, or I give you a fighting chance at survival.”

“Go ahead.” Raphael crossed his arms over his chest. “Take me to Metatron. You have no evidence —”

“I have Stamtiel.”

Every drop of blood drained from Raphael’s face. “You’re lying.”

Reaver used his mind to display a live feed on the far wall. A live feed showing Harvester standing next to a gagged and bound male angel. She grinned and waved. Reaver waved back, and she blew him a kiss, followed by a naughty wink.

“As you can see, he’s alive and willing to squeal in exchange for his life.” His life, however, was already forfeit. Harvester was just waiting for the go-ahead.

“How?” Raphael rasped. “How did you find him?”

“I wish I could take credit, but Azagoth did all the footwork. We’ll handle the wet work.” Reaver shook his head. “You should have known better than to mess with the Grim Reaper’s mate.”