Apocalypse's Horsemen (Devil's Assistant Series - Book 3)

Apocalypse's Horsemen [22]

Chapter 22

Dinner was a muted affair.

I chose to cook for us all. It was therapeutic to do something with my hands that wasn’t destructive. Lately it was all about fighting for survival and it was surreal to be something as ordinary as cooking in the devil’s kitchen.

Sitting beside Lucius, I took his hand under the table and forced him to eat with just one hand, unwilling to release him unless I absolutely had to. He didn’t comment on my clingy nature. He just squeezed my hand and spoke to Hades calmly as if the possible destruction of the world and the torture of an angel was a daily occurrence. It was only the small undertones that made it clear that there was more happening in this moment than met the eye.

“Is there any word on Cass?” I asked during a lull in the conversation.

The men both exchanged glances and looked down at the table.

“Castiel has fallen into a healing sleep. It’s much like a coma. Aurelia will do all she can to heal the wounds to our brother’s body but the wounds to his spirit are worse than we thought.”

I froze and squeezed on to Lucius' hand like a lifeline as I stared up at Hades. Even Hermes appeared bothered by this news, scowling at the table as he dug his fork into the roasted potatoes.

“What does that mean? In simple terms please.”

“It means that the only one who can help Castiel now is himself.”

Ducking my head, I tried to swallow past the lump that had formed in my throat.

“Castiel is strong. He will not give in. He survived this long as the victim of a Horseman’s wrath. He just needs time.” Hades’ reassurances did nothing to dispel the panic in my heart.

“Okay.” I murmured lamely as no other words came to mind.

Only the sound of cutlery clinking against the plates could be heard as we all fell into our own thoughts. Hermes however was becoming restless. He shovelled another mouthful of food into his mouth but I could hear his feet tapping on the floor and the table trembled every time that he shuffled in his seat. He glanced up at Hades, his eyes wide and beseeching.

The older god sighed and shook his head. “One more potato and then you can go.”

A potato was unceremoniously stuffed into his mouth before he was up out of his chair and running around the room. It was like he was a sugar high as he ran circuits around the room, needing the movement like a human needed air to breathe. It was a part of him. The happiness that radiated from him as her bounced off of one of the walls and leapt into the air was a beautiful sight to see.

“I’m guessing he is always like this.”

“And he always will be. It’s a combination of heritages. Hermes, his father, was a restless soul. It was why he was the messenger God. It was not out of choice but because his soul needed it. It’s why the family set up didn’t work.” The blonde haired man waved his hand at the over active demi-god. “His mother was a nomad, a shaman woman who moved from place to place healing the sick but never lingering for long. It was not a conductive environment to raise a child, especially a child of a God. So he spends most of the year with us and the other Gods, doing odd jobs to keep him occupied.”

“Can I go now? Please. Please. Please.”

I jumped in my seat as Hermes Junior came to a stop abruptly just a few scant inches from me. He had somehow found seconds to change and was now dressed in gold sandals that had little wings on their feet and a long white robe with a pair of wing embroidered over his chest. I could see his worn jeans sticking out from underneath the robe. Hades rolled his eyes but eventually nodded his head.