Page 12 of Judge of Saints and Sinners

“You won’t even miss me. I will scamper into the living world, find my soul, capture it, bring it home, and then you and Father and the rest of the worriers can concern yourself with what to do with it after that.”

Arafel sighed dramatically, and I knew I had won, “Alright, fine. How will you get home?”

“My most trusted Brotherhood warrior, Atlas, will be returning from delivering some Corrupted to Elon in a matter of days. He is still capable of shifting through the boundaries. I’ve already delivered his orders to retrieve me.”

I didn’t need to explain why I couldn’t wait until he was back. The Corrupted had to be dealt with, and I couldn’t let my father or any of my father’s men find my soul before I did. While I was sure that he would retrieve it for me, I wasn’t sure in what form it would be. Or what that would mean for me. I wasn't prepared to find out. I’d lost a part of myself already. Another would be too much.

If they thought there was nothing to me now, they hadn't seen anything.

“And if you’re unsuccessful? What will you do?”

I smiled. “The same thing I’m doing now. My job, until it’s all over.”

“That's cheerful.”

“Once upon a time, you asked for honesty. It has never served me well, but I refuse to go back on my word. Even now.”

Arafel nodded, pushing to a standing position, the thick leather armor across his chest creaking slightly as he stretched his arms. Heavy wings, onyx black feathers to my pearl-white, slipped free from his glamor and stretched as well. A stab of jealousy drove through my chest at his ease. My brother was more comfortable in his natural form than I had ever been or could ever be.

My own wings were tucked away, a distant reminder of how once I had been a powerful force. Now I walked around, my appearance nearly human, sans the fangs and the black-tipped claws. Those remained, a reminder that I was neither man nor demon. Instead, I was some unholy combination.

“I’ll send a note to Atlas as well. If he needs a boost to get into the living world, I can supply it.”

I jerked my head in agreement as my brother came around the desk, his powerful arm extended.

I took it, my skin prickling at the unfamiliar touch of another’s hands on my body. Nevertheless, I gripped his arm back.

“Nephesh, I—”

Bristling at the quickly approaching conversation, I broke in, “We don’t have time for this. I need to hurry, Arafel. Please.” The plea slipped out before I could stop it, and I could see my brother register it, processing the way my fingers bit into his forearm. Slowly, he nodded, blue eyes closing for just a moment before opening, this time burning bright with the glow of his power.

“Be safe,” he offered me, his power slipping over me with all the coolness of shade in the summer, tugging me into the shadows that covered my flesh.

“You, too, brother.”

And then his magic surged up and over me, encompassing me completely as we fell through time and space and straight into the world of living souls.

The moment my feet hit the hard ground, I collapsed, pain filling my mind. Just before I lost consciousness, a powerful tug yanked at my heart.

They were here. And close.

“Cerberus, come to me.” And then I gave into the darkness.

***

Justine

The first time I stole something, I was sixteen years old. I’d been freshly kicked out of the shelter for ending a fight another girl had conveniently started. I stood on the steps of that building, my lip split and bleeding, and decided that taking the high road couldn’t always be my first choice. Not anymore.

And so when an older teen, whom I had watched bully their friend for nearly an hour, left their backpack unattended, I picked it up. One stop at the pawn shop later, and I had enough money to get myself a sandwich, a jacket, and pocket money to keep me going for the rest of the week.

Physically it had been more than easy. But emotionally, I’d tortured myself the entire time. Every second I held that pack, I heard my mother’s logical tone plead for me to do the right thing. I had wished with every part of my heart that she had been here in person to scold me. I would’ve gladly taken a thousand tongue-lashings than experience one more day without her. But that’s not how life worked, and I needed a way to survive.

The habit of choosing my so-called victims remained the same. I would watch, wait until I could find someone I could justify they deserved it. Some days it was the asshole who didn’t tip at breakfast. Others it was the one who scratched and dinged up other people’s cars but forgot to lock their own.

While I shouldn’t have been judging them, I did. And somehow it made it easier for me to shove down my morals and do what I needed to do.

Today it was a petite woman in gym clothes, her eager hands all over the man in the seat next to her. They had been clearly visible through the window of a popular coffee shop a few blocks from the apartment.