Fallen From Grace

21 | Peace Offering

Upon waking, Elodie thought for a split second that she might have been dead. The whole world was dark and painless, like the space between dreams. She would've been content to rest in its comfortable embrace until the end of time.

But she was not alone in whatever purgatory to which she had awoken. Slow, steady breathing broke the silence, calming something primal in Elodie's chest.

She turned her head. Through the thick, impenetrable darkness, she could make out no more than shapes, but something large slumbered by her bedside. Despite the distant memories that threatened to overrun her senses—pain and terror and a white-hot knife—Elodie felt safe. Nobody could hurt her. Not here.

Elodie tried to shift to her side, in vain hope that her sentry might come into sharper focus. But agony ripped through her, and she fell back on her pillow with a gasp, clutching her stomach.

"Be still," said a voice—low, sensuous. Familiar, in a distant sort of way. Hands pressed her shoulders to the mattress beneath her.

Elodie tried to speak, but all that came out was a weak gasp.

"Shhh," the voice soothed. A hand left her shoulder, moving up to caress her hair in long, soothing strokes. "You're safe now, Elodie."

Something about the way he said her name was so familiar, but she couldn't place how she recognized it. It was like she knew that voice for her whole life, and before even that. Like that voice was her destiny.

She could not quite remember who she was. She remembered dark eyes and angel wings, a knife slicing her open from navel to breastbone.

But there were other memories, too. Memories that didn't quite fit into the life she'd lived.

Elodie pushed those thoughts away. There were more important things to worry about.

Lucifer. His name rose through the haze of her mind. She tried to speak it, but Lucifer quieted her before she could try. "I'm going to get you some water, Elodie. Then I'm going to take another look at your would, alright?"

She would've nodded, but every move hurt. Lucifer stood, and everything rushed in—the cold, the terror, the pain, so much fiercer than it had been before. She wanted to call him back, but was far too weak to do so. Distantly, she felt a tear sliding down her cheek. Then another.

A lamp flickered to life, and Elodie squeezed her eyes tight as the light drove daggers of pulsing pain into her skull. She hissed.

A large, gentle hand slid beneath her head, lifting her from the pillow. The plastic rim of a cup was placed against her lips, and Elodie tasted water, cool and fresh. All of a sudden, she couldn't get enough. She'd gulped three mouthfuls before the the cup was pulled away, and Elodie made a sound of protest low in her throat. Even that made her abdomen ache.

"Later," said that voice. The headache had abated enough for Elodie to open her eyes, and the face she found staring back at her soothed something deep within her.

"Am I dead?" Elodie croaked.

"You were close." Lucifer's face was grave, his eyes far away, as if he was remembering just how narrow her escape had been. "Your wounds were severe, but you made it through the night. The worst is over."

Elodie shut her eyes again as the memories of Iahhel's face flooded her. She had been willing to do anything to please the angel. She had been willing to die.

"I need to take another look at your wound, Elodie." Lucifer spoke to her as if she were a child. "I need you to be still. Can you do that for me?"