The girl felt something odd in the atmosphere.

It was weird that even with Don getting a hold of the page, she couldn’t sense any true evil around them, not even coming from the one she once called uncle.

The sparks revelling in his eyes showed intense energy. A crude form of power, that could easily subdue them without breaking a sweat.

In fact, it showed exactly the kind of power that was capable of subduing Grand Marquis Azazel, one of the most powerful demons of its rank.

Yet, as threatening as Don’s energy was all by itself, the whole aura spreading across the room didn’t feel dangerous at all.

So the angel raised her chin, and with a defying look in her eyes, asked straight forward.

“What are you trying to show us, Don? And why don’t you start by telling me your real name?”

Aamon and Bertrand were no cowards at all. However, that abrupt question, along with the abyssal aura permeating the man before them, made the duo flinch almost at the same time.

Only that Don just smiled, releasing his grip over the page, and letting it fall heavily over the desk he was at.

“Glad to know that spending a whole year with a lesser Earl didn’t make you less smart, little sister.” he replied, calmly, as the air around him cleared, and the whole room felt lighter.

Don rose up from his chair, inhaling deeply, and exhaling slowly.

His blue jeans were elegantly torn, his black leather jacket looked like second skin to him, and he wore a white t-shirt under it. The clothing, just as much as the lack of it when at home, only contributed more and more to his beastly presence.

And the angel’s companions actually felt that vibe.

Aamon even thought of rebuking the wild-looking demon, but Bertrand’s eyes told the Earl to keep its mouth shut, or else there would be the good old ‘or else’.

“Right, then.” he continued, taking a few steps towards the girl, to whom he knelt, bowing deeply with his head, to the shock of everyone there. “I’m Purson, here to humbly serve, oh, Harbinger of Justice!”

Aamon’s eyes went wide, Bertrand felt lost, and Becca came to her senses as an angel once more.

“Wa... Wait...” Aamon started. “D... Don’t tell me...”

The Earl looked utterly astonished, her jaw dropped way low.

He couldn’t be...

“You’re a demon king...?” Nezariel questioned, a bit lost. She knew that information, but at the same time, it felt as if she wasn’t supposed to know it. “Does that mean my mom...”

“Yes. Even though she chose a female body to live among mankind, she is, indeed, a demon king too. Yet, we don’t have much time to dwell in such petty subjects. You came for me through your... Companion, and I took his arm as a guarantee that he would bring you to me. I’m actually glad that he was capable of doing so.” the king looked at Bertrand, who smiled awkwardly, and kept going, while standing up straight again, and walking towards the desk, where the page laid waiting. “I’ve dealt with many illegal things, even forbidden things, in the past. When you still believed to be my human little niece. But to think I’d see this page once again in my life... I knew it’d mean change. Yet I never thought you would be the Harbinger.”

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“Wait!” Nezariel stopped him from going on. “What’s it all about? And what is all this Harbinger thing? I...” she stopped right there, stuck in a loss for words.

“I gotta take you somewhere else, before she finds you here.” the demon king said, sighing in a displeased manner. “Grab the page, it’s yours to keep, little angel. But first, I have something that belongs to one of you.” he finished, taking a black plastic bag from under the desk.

Don/Purson opened the bag to reveal Bertrand’s arm, in such a state of conservation, that it was hard to believe it wasn’t attached to its original body.

The demon king approached the former detective, now Uriel’s advent body gone wrong, holding his arm in one hand.

“Thank you for bringing the Harbinger to me. This courtesy won’t be forgotten.” and as the demon king spoke, a wave of energy flowed from him to the arm, and from there to Bertrand, as he simply mended the arm back to its original place.

He did it as if he was only breathing.

“I thought demons weren’t capable of healing others than themselves.” the angel said, incredulously. Her eyes, a pool of ultimate disbelief.

“We’re capable of many things you and your friends up there in the attic wouldn’t dare to believe, Harbinger.”

She stood there static, utterly in a loss for words. Nezariel started her journey in search of answers.

Instead, she only ended up piling up more and more questions.

***

Uriel felt desperate.

She could feel the presence of her sister, but only because as twins, they shared a special connection that no one could ever tear apart.

Besides that, her senses were nothing but dull, numb sensations.

Was that what it felt like for an angel to lose its grace?

She walked the streets aimlessly, due to the feeling of her sister’s presence being too dim. Yet, it was already something, because if she ended up landing way too far from her sister, only their emotions would be felt by one another, and that would be a real pain in her wings.

The heavenly being felt deep anger and resentment towards Nezariel, for she betrayed not only their home, their beliefs, and the knowledge given by Metatron.

Nezariel betrayed her very other half.

Uriel was an archangel, she was part of a caste that was entrusted with only one mission, a single nature.

To guard and protect their Father.

Even if it meant waging war against His own most beloved creation.

And Uriel was much more than willing to wage war against an entire race, if it meant salvaging all that was entrusted to her.

Even at the cost of her twin.

It wasn’t her choice.

For she had none.

After walking for what seemed like hours, the archangel felt something in her stomach, as if it was empty and growling.

So this is what humans called hunger... She thought to herself, recalling what a few comrades of hers told her, after an incursion to the Haled, to find and judge some deserters from the last war.

A lot of other celestial beings like her, didn’t know the mission was to actually find and execute the deserters. Most thought the incursion was only to find and bring them back to Heaven, so they’d be judged and only then, maybe executed.

But only if they were found guilty of any crime.

Not that desertion wasn’t a crime, but it wasn’t punishable by death. Only by resetting.

That word made her head ache, and the places where the marks were burned in her body started hurting as if freshly marked all over again.

Why that word made her feel like this?

It wasn’t as if she ever got through the process of resetting, to get so uncomfortable by thinking about it.

She never transgressed any rule!

Or did she...?