is real, whether you’re ready to accept it now or not. It’s real and it’s happening. All the ghost stories you were told when you were younger are real. You need to understand what I’m telling you. The people at your house, . . .” Lilliah’s eyes widened at the memory. “Do you remember how real the pain was when they hurt you? Or when they took your mother?” She nodded numbly. “Well, that is how real all of this is.”
“Why me?” Lilliah’s eyes began to blur with tears, all her heightened emotions coming to a head. “Why is all of this happening to me? Why did I have to be dragged through this crap?”
“As I said,” he murmured, his thumb gently stroking her arm, “You’re important.”
“Okay.” She sat up straighter, wiping away her stray tears. “I’m going to try and get it. I mean, Mum’s not here, right?” She held her hands up in surrender. “So.” She took a deep breath. “Why haven’t you changed? Why weren’t you pulled into Hell?” She watched as he flicked through the pages of the book still in his hand, clearly looking for something specific.
“Because of this,” he said, holding up the book in his hand and pointing to a picture of a ring, and then to the ring on his finger. “It’s called the Ring of Videtur. It stops Death from seeing me, I suppose.” He took a step back, slamming the book shut, his mouth set in a thin line. “I’m not explaining this right.” He breathed. “I knew Earth wasn’t made for us, and I also knew that during the war this ring was lost on Earth, along with many other relics. So the first thing I did was search for it.” She watched him look down at it. He ran his finger over the markings. “And, well, when Hell was created . . .” He stopped speaking for a moment, his eyes shooting up to look directly at her. “That’s another very long story for a different time.”
“Okay, so my necklace protects me, just like your ring protects you?” Lilliah guessed, taking the book from him and flicking through some of the pages, her hands still shaking.
“Yes and no.” He stepped closer so they could both look at the book in her hands. “It was Michael’s magic that protected you. He used his powers to have you reincarnated over and over again. It’s basically a loophole. What the necklace does is shield you from our kind. Whether that was Michael's intent, I don't know. My guess is that he wanted you to have a normal life. The power you have? The blood that runs through your veins? We can sense it. It's because it's pure—pure light from the source. Your necklace hides that.” His fingertip made light circles on her wrist. She didn't move to stop him, even though she knew she should have. “Although it doesn’t seem to be working now.”
“Why not?” she breathed out.
“This time around, you and your brother were born exactly nine months after a celebration called the Day of the Dead.”
“Right.” She nodded her head as if she knew what he was talking about.
“It happens every five hundred years, and on this particular day, Hell opens. Even for Michael, the spell would have been too great to lock Lucifer away forever, so he gets this one day out.”
“So the Devil’s free for one day every five hundred years?” Her mouth opened slightly. “How can you guarantee he'll go back to Hell?”
“The magic pulls him back in. He has no choice.”
“Right.” She took in a deep, shaky breath. “But he gets out?”
“Yes. It didn’t really matter before because it was never enough time for him to find you. He normally just causes mayhem. But this time, I think he did something different.”
“Different?” she pressed. “Different how?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh.” She didn’t speak for a second. “Why did you want to find me?”
“You and I are the only angels left on Earth. Heaven is cut off from me. Why wouldn't I want to find you?” His whispered words sent shivers down her spine. Every
“Why me?” Lilliah’s eyes began to blur with tears, all her heightened emotions coming to a head. “Why is all of this happening to me? Why did I have to be dragged through this crap?”
“As I said,” he murmured, his thumb gently stroking her arm, “You’re important.”
“Okay.” She sat up straighter, wiping away her stray tears. “I’m going to try and get it. I mean, Mum’s not here, right?” She held her hands up in surrender. “So.” She took a deep breath. “Why haven’t you changed? Why weren’t you pulled into Hell?” She watched as he flicked through the pages of the book still in his hand, clearly looking for something specific.
“Because of this,” he said, holding up the book in his hand and pointing to a picture of a ring, and then to the ring on his finger. “It’s called the Ring of Videtur. It stops Death from seeing me, I suppose.” He took a step back, slamming the book shut, his mouth set in a thin line. “I’m not explaining this right.” He breathed. “I knew Earth wasn’t made for us, and I also knew that during the war this ring was lost on Earth, along with many other relics. So the first thing I did was search for it.” She watched him look down at it. He ran his finger over the markings. “And, well, when Hell was created . . .” He stopped speaking for a moment, his eyes shooting up to look directly at her. “That’s another very long story for a different time.”
“Okay, so my necklace protects me, just like your ring protects you?” Lilliah guessed, taking the book from him and flicking through some of the pages, her hands still shaking.
“Yes and no.” He stepped closer so they could both look at the book in her hands. “It was Michael’s magic that protected you. He used his powers to have you reincarnated over and over again. It’s basically a loophole. What the necklace does is shield you from our kind. Whether that was Michael's intent, I don't know. My guess is that he wanted you to have a normal life. The power you have? The blood that runs through your veins? We can sense it. It's because it's pure—pure light from the source. Your necklace hides that.” His fingertip made light circles on her wrist. She didn't move to stop him, even though she knew she should have. “Although it doesn’t seem to be working now.”
“Why not?” she breathed out.
“This time around, you and your brother were born exactly nine months after a celebration called the Day of the Dead.”
“Right.” She nodded her head as if she knew what he was talking about.
“It happens every five hundred years, and on this particular day, Hell opens. Even for Michael, the spell would have been too great to lock Lucifer away forever, so he gets this one day out.”
“So the Devil’s free for one day every five hundred years?” Her mouth opened slightly. “How can you guarantee he'll go back to Hell?”
“The magic pulls him back in. He has no choice.”
“Right.” She took in a deep, shaky breath. “But he gets out?”
“Yes. It didn’t really matter before because it was never enough time for him to find you. He normally just causes mayhem. But this time, I think he did something different.”
“Different?” she pressed. “Different how?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh.” She didn’t speak for a second. “Why did you want to find me?”
“You and I are the only angels left on Earth. Heaven is cut off from me. Why wouldn't I want to find you?” His whispered words sent shivers down her spine. Every
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