Suzanne’s stomach twisted the instant she stepped into the back room with Darcy. The reek of stale blood and filth smacked her senses like a physical blow, making nausea gather at the base of her throat. The oppressive feeling of something malevolent prickled along her skin, and she sensed Judas flare to attention within her mind. Her eyes locked onto a small, square cage made of thick rebar. It stood on a painted symbol—red-brown lines stretched beneath it in a pattern that screamed of dark, ugly magic. The metallic tang in the air mingled with a stench of excrement, and she fought the urge to gag.

“Blood of the innocent,” Darcy said, her tone so detached it made Suzanne’s insides crawl.

Before Suzanne could blurt out a single question, Bear strolled into the room. He still towered over everyone, but he no longer bore the hulking musculature she remembered. Now he was lean, wearing round glasses, his long hair pulled into a meticulous braid. He was absorbed in a massive old tome, only glancing up when he addressed them.

“Please do not disturb the glyph,” he said flatly, as though speaking to the room at large rather than any one person.

Darcy crossed her arms. “I wasn’t going to. I see you haven’t caught anything yet.”

“We will.” He slid a thin ribbon between the pages, then shut the book with a resounding thud. His gaze shifted to both women. “Questions or training?”

Suzanne felt a spark of excitement at the mention of training; being a celestial still felt surreal, but the idea of honing those abilities sent a small thrill through her. “A bit of both,” she said, managing a smile.

Dr. Everett’s voice came from a small balcony overhead. “Let’s do questions first.” He stood with his arms folded behind his back, surveying them with a calm scrutiny. “Bring her up, please, Darcy.”

Darcy gave a curt nod and led Suzanne up a narrow flight of stairs. The route ended in the same small lounge where Suzanne had woken before. Everett sat on the couch, posture poised, gaze sharp.

“Good evening, Suzi. Welcome back.”

The use of her nickname made her straighten. “Dr. Ada—er, Everett,” she said with a brief nod, unsure how formal she should be.

“I’m going to help Bear prep the training room,” Darcy announced, then strode away, leaving Suzanne alone with Everett.

She settled on the couch across from him, shoulders tight with anticipation.

He offered a slight smile. “I’ll guess your first questions: ‘Why me? What am I supposed to do? And does anything I do actually matter?’ Fair?”

Suzanne’s pulse skipped at how accurately he’d read her. “That’s a pretty good start,” she admitted.

Everett spread his hands in a small shrug. “The answer to all of them is the same: we don’t know. Most of us celestials had… let’s say notable mortal lives before we ascended. Darcy’s origin is famous—one of the most remarkable, actually—but some of us were fairly ordinary until we transformed.”

Suzanne stayed quiet, absorbing his words. “So, what about you? What’s your origin?”

He offered a faint, cryptic grin. “I was one of the first.”

“The first?” she echoed. The memory of Bear’s passing remark about Everett trying to kill himself for a thousand years flared in her mind. Compassion and unease warred in her chest. “Bear said…you tried to end your life for a thousand years. That must’ve been terrifying. Then…you found others like you?”

His mouth twisted, and he stared at the wall for a long moment before responding. “It was different back then. I died alone. Nobody realized I’d changed. Hell, I didn’t realize for quite some time. One day, a mortal wound should’ve killed me—but it didn’t. And the next time, I healed again. After a while, it was impossible to ignore.”

Her hands tightened on her knees. “How old are you?”

He laughed under his breath.

“I mean, if you spent a thousand years trying to kill yourself, you must be at least eleven hundred, right?” She raised a brow.

He nodded once, then pointed upward as if to say, ‘Keep going.’

“Fourteen hundred?”

He just smirked, eyebrows high.

She blinked. “Two thousand? Did you—did you know Jesus?”

His laugh deepened, surprising her. “I did, actually. A good man, though maybe a bit pompous. I’ve lost count of my exact age. It depends on who you ask.”

Suzanne’s pulse drummed in her ears. “Who would I even ask?”

He held his palms out, shrugging slightly. “I’m around seven thousand years old, give or take a century.”

Her head spun. “Seven thou— Are you serious?”

“My parents were the first celestials.” He paused, perhaps bracing for her reaction.

She opened her mouth but no sound emerged. “Wait… so, offspring of two celest—”

The doctor interrupted her. “No. It doesn’t work like that. I think there were special considerations back then.”

“What do you mean?”

“They were the first man and woman that God created.”

Her mind reeled with the sudden onslaught of implications. Her thoughts splintered, and she felt her entire body start to go slack. Everett snapped his fingers in front of her face, and everything dimmed to black. Her eyes fluttered shut as she slumped over, unconscious.

* * * * *

Suzi’s eyelids fluttered open, her vision rippling with disorientation. Familiar surroundings registered—the same lounge-like space with worn furniture and low lighting. A dull ache pounded at the back of her skull, threatening to rob her of focus.

“You feeling better?” A man’s voice, quiet and calm, spoke from behind.

Stolen story; please report.

A surge of recognition mingled with the headache. She pressed a hand to her temple. “Ugh. My head,” she muttered.

“Do you need something to drink? Hot tea, perhaps?” He sounded ready to help, like he’d done this a thousand times.

She turned, spotting Dr. Everett. A rush of Suzanne’s memories cascaded through her mind—realizations about his identity, his parents—everything from their conversation. She bolted upright, nearly swaying on her feet as the blood rushed out of her head.

“Calm down, Suzi,” Everett said, sipping from a steaming mug. “Let your mind settle.”

Her pulse hammered. “Your parents are Adam and Eve!?”

He nodded, entirely unruffled by her outburst.

“ADAM-son. EVE-rett.” She almost laughed at how obvious it sounded now. “How did I miss that?”

“You probably would’ve refused to believe it if you’d suspected.”

Her heart still slammed against her ribs. “So, you’re one of their sons—Cain, Abel, or Seth?”

“My parents actually had around forty children,” he said, setting the mug aside. “My twin sister and I are the oldest. I was known as Cain back then.” He paused, as if choosing how much detail to share. “They had more children after I left, so I’m not certain of the exact number. We…lost touch.”

“Sister?” Her voice pitched with surprise. “What?”

He offered a thin smile. “There is plenty that’s never been included in doctrine. Her name was Calmana.”

“And you killed your brother…” The words came out sharper than she intended. Heat crept up her neck when she noticed the shuttered look in his eyes.

“Abel, yes.” Everett’s gaze lingered on the rising steam from his mug. “It was an accident.”

She started to protest—that the Bible said otherwise—then clamped her mouth shut when she recognized the quiet pain darkening his expression. “Never mind,” she murmured.

“Like I said,” he continued softly, “there’s a lot that’s never been written down.”

Suzi latched onto a change of subject. “Are your parents still around?”

He shook his head, jaw tight. Clearly, he didn’t want to dig deeper there.

Her mind pivoted back to less fraught territory. “So, you have this power…Death Reading, right? You see how people die. How does that help us as celestials?”

He tipped his head thoughtfully. “It’s not limited to humans. I can see how demons or angels can be destroyed—or, more specifically, what might destroy them or who might do it. But I have to be in physical contact first.”

She swallowed, trying to imagine living with knowledge like that. “And you know how I’ll die…and Bear…and Darcy. But not yourself?”

He gave a short nod. “I know what can kill you, but not when it’ll happen or how it’ll actually be used. With Bear, I know how, but not when. With Darcy, I know when, but not how. Sometimes, I get extra details.”

A swirl of apprehension coiled in her gut, but she pushed past it. “Does everyone have a guiding angel they can call for favors?”

“Sort of.” Everett’s gaze flicked toward the wall, musing. “Not all angels are honest. Some are selfish or manipulative—at times even more so than demons. You can technically approach any angel with a request, not just the one assigned to you. Some demons, too, can be surprisingly helpful.”

She blinked. “I thought demons were the bad guys?”

“It’s less about good versus evil and more about territory. It’s a turf war, and we’re trying to keep it off our plane. Up there, it’s their fight. Down here, we’re the collateral if we don’t intervene.”

She took a breath, letting that sink in. “Is it just you three here in this...hub? And what are you doing exactly?”

“There are seventy or eighty of us active worldwide. Celestials sometimes take a step back and live the celebrity life—make a pile of money so we can finance our operations next time we come out of hiding. Holding a full-time job plus funding all this is a nightmare without resources.”

A flash of realization sparked in Suzi—her own trust fund, billions at her disposal. She filed that thought away for later. “What do you mean by ‘Life of Celebrity’?”

“Actors, singers, performers, investors.” Everett shrugged. “They use their abilities to become famous, earn millions, then fake their deaths. The money’s passed to someone they trust, who’ll return it once they reappear as a ‘new’ identity.”

Suzi’s eyes widened. “Anyone I’d recognize?”

“Taylor Swift. Jack Black. Vladimir Mashkov...”

The mention of Jack Black felt like a punch of absurdity. “Jack Black? Jack Black is a celestial?”

Everett chuckled. “He can radiate a kind of magnetic charisma. Makes it hard—maybe even painful—for people to dislike him or say no. He was King Henry VIII in a previous era.”

“That’s…” She shook her head, awed and skeptical at once. “…unreal.”

Everett just lifted an eyebrow as if to say, You have no idea. “Anyway,” he continued, “those of us currently active run a couple dozen hubs around major world cities—New York, Chicago, LA, Dubai, Rome, Paris, London, Mexico City, Hong Kong. Places where a lot of power or money flows.”

She nodded but pressed her lips together in confusion. “I still don’t understand our purpose. Kariel told me not to kill or destroy any demon I come across. So, do we just trap them?”

“We aim not to destroy what we capture. Some can be…repurposed.”

Her brow creased. “Repurposed? How does that work?”

He placed his empty mug on a nearby table. “That’s enough questions for now. Darcy and Bear have been waiting in the training room. You were out for a while, and we want to see if you need anything before you start. Plus, I want to show you the relic room.”

His words stirred a new flicker of curiosity. “One last thing,” she said, half-rising from the couch. She lifted a finger. “Why did Darcy attack you?”

A shadow of regret crossed his face. “She saved me. I lost a fight with a powerful demon that ended up possessing me for a long time. He used my knowledge to hunt angels, celestials, and seized a lot of relics I’d collected. The only way to expel him was to kill the vessel.”

A chill brushed down her spine. “If a demon possesses you, it can use your abilities?”

“Absolutely. And it can rifle through your memories at will.”

He gestured for her to follow him, guiding her out of the lounge and down the stairs.

She tried to sort through her alarm. “Whenever I run into a demon, there’s this…pull. Like a mental lock-on, where I see inside its mind.” She paused, glancing at his profile. “Is that normal?”

“You’re a binder.” Everett didn’t sugarcoat the term. “I’ve only ever known one other celestial who could do that. Sounds like you engage in a battle of wills, forcing the demon under your control. Essentially, you oppress the oppressor. It’s a form of possession on your part.”

Her eyes widened. “I possess them?”

“I’m not certain of the mechanics. Maybe you draw them in or bind them to an object. Either way, you subdue them, yes?”

She thought back to the times she’d felt something pushing at her consciousness, and she’d pushed back. “I guess so…”

They reached the door Bear had used earlier. Inside, fluorescent lights illuminated shelves and glass display cases crammed with weapons, relics, and battered old books. A sense of wonder rippled through her, matched by Judas’s bright awareness in the back of her mind. The arrangement reminded her of that loading dock with Phin a week ago—only this setup seemed far more expansive.

“It’s not much, but it’ll do,” Everett said. “Most of it belongs to Bear and Darcy these days.” He gestured at the far side of the room, toward a heavy oak door. “Have a look around, then head through there when you’re ready. They want to test your skill level.”

She frowned. “My skill level in what?”

He offered a faint, knowing smile. “Survival. Will. Strength.”

“Oh,” she replied softly, not quite sure she wanted the answer. She gave a short nod, feigning more understanding than she felt.

When Everett left, she wandered to a particular glass case. Judas stirred with sudden enthusiasm. Even without the mental commentary, she recognized a relic sword that looked very much like the “Joan of Arc” blade from the cathedral. Yet here it glowed with a strange energy.

“That’s the actual Sword of St. Catherin,” Judas informed her silently, tone reverent. “A Beacon of Leadership for anyone who can truly wield it. Weaker wills must follow that person’s commands.”

Suzi just nodded, her gaze flitting across other objects. Every piece seemed steeped in layers of history.

“Bones of Fate,” Judas muttered when her eyes landed on a set of age-stained dice. A shiver of revulsion slipped through her body.

She reached out, compelled to get a closer look, until Darcy’s voice cut in from behind. “Don’t use those unless you plan to feed them more bones.”

Suzi jerked her hand back, startled. She hadn’t even heard Darcy enter. Her palm hovered a breath away from touching the dice. “What do they do?”

Darcy narrowed her eyes. “You’re a celestial. Shouldn’t you already know?”

Judas’s answer flared to life in Suzi’s mind, and she spoke it under her breath. “The faces that appear on the dice affect the thrower. Could be a free favor, could summon a demon, might send everyone to gods-know-where.” She paused. “Each throw demands a bigger and bigger price.”

“I know,” Suzi murmured hastily. “I just meant…why would anyone risk it?”

Darcy shrugged. “I’ve never been that ballsy. Got them from Marie Laveau in New Orleans two centuries ago. She inherited them from some witch doctor who vanished after using them once.”

Suzi shook her head. “Damn.”

A smirk curved Darcy’s lips. “Yeah. Now—” she jerked her chin toward the oak door, her tone laced with challenge—”you ready to get your ass kicked?”