Breathless by Kelly Martin Page A

know.
    People know now.
    They know Heaven screwed up.
    That I screwed up.
    Will Hart stop yelling?
    It won’t do any good.
    As much as I hate Seth, and as much as I wanted it to be him that closed Hell, I have to trust him now. It’s all I can do. I can’t go after my mother or even Gracen by myself. I have no powers. I have nothing. I never was a strong human. Sort of the reason I liked being an angel.
    “Lucien! Please! We can stop her together. Lucien! Don’t do this!” Hart’s voice is raspy. Undoubtedly sore. “I know this is strange coming from me, but who would you rather trust? An angel who royally screwed you over, or me… your brother.”
    “Who royally screwed me over?” I can’t help saying it. It’s true. The irony hasn’t escaped me. Both of the people I have the choice of trusting are people that I have a history of hating.
    Though, truth be told, I love Hart more than Seth any day.
    I take that back. I don’t love Hart. I can’t love Hart. Hart is a damn, ugly, evil, son of a bitch demon. He’s killed people. He’s lied. He’s manipulated. He’s a horrible, horrible… thing.
    Who I love is Jessup. My little brother. The one I used to hunt and fish with. The one I used to keep up at night telling scary stories to—the one who ended up in my bed because of those stories. His personal favorite was about the soldier with a hook for the hand. Personally, I loved that one. Mostly because it scared Jess so much.
    I miss my brother. I miss Jessup.
    As much as I want to make myself believe that that thing in there is my brother, I know that really, he isn’t. Jessup died way before Stones River. Way before the war. Maybe even, in a way, way before Colleen. I don’t know when it happened, but I know it did. I miss him so much.
    I wonder if he misses me.
    I wonder if there is any part of Hart in the room behind me that is Jessup? I wonder if he misses me too.
    This stupid tear that’s hanging on for dear life can lump it! I don’t want it to fall. I don’t want to shed any sort of tears over this. I have one job. Keep Hart locked up and away from Crimson Ridge and Prospect while Seth locates the book and finds a way to defeat the Abomination. That’s all. I have orders. I follow them.
    I try not to think about Hell or the torture or giving over to the evil of it all.
    I try not to think about what Gracen or Amelia or whoever did to me.
    I know that if I think about it too much, I’ll remember. If I remember, I won’t be able to forget. I know enough to know that I don’t want that.
    “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” slices through Hart’s wails, and I fiddle around with my pockets until I find my phone… the phone Seth gave me before he left. I don’t know where he got it. I don’t know where the people went that lived here. I don’t know much of anything except Seth said to stay put and maybe he’d get me into being an angel again—and I want to be an angel again. So I don’t trust him, but I need him.
    I sound pathetic.
    So does my phone singing in my pants.
    “LUCIEN!” Hart screams my name along with a whole bunch of extra expletives, but I sort of just ignore him. It’s Seth. I need to know what’s going on.
    “Has he talked yet?” Seth asks. No pomp. No circumstance. No nothing. No hello. No kiss my butt. Nothing. Just the question.
    “Not yet.” Mainly because I haven’t asked Hart. I sort of forgot about it. I actually had two things to remember. One: Keep Hart here. Two: Ask him about the book. “He’s keeping its location to himself… if he even knows. For all we know, Gracen took it.”
    “Listen to me, and listen to me well, boy. There is no more Gracen Sullivan. She’s gone. She’s dead. Do you understand me? You and your brother made sure of that, made sure that you killed the entire world along with her. Choices have to be made, son, hard choices, and you have to be willing to make the sacrifices.”
    He sounds like a stuck-up old pig giving a pep