I knew that it had been Cadan, along with Ivar, who abducted Will to let Bastian torture him in the days leading up to my death by Ragnuk’s teeth. That Cadan, I believed, was behind him—all of us—now. “What sorts of things?” I asked.

“He killed.” Her answer was simple, straight to the point. “But no more than you or I, and it’s unfair to hold that against him. The demonic and angelic are at war. At least he left the humans alone. I never knew him to hunt mortals. He’d tell Bastian of the souls he’d reaped, and Bastian was arrogant enough to believe that his subordinates feared him too greatly to lie to him. I, on the other hand, know a liar when I see one.”

Madeleine was reasonable in her assessment of Cadan’s actions. For as long as I’d known Will, he’d always been so firm in his belief that the ways of the world were black and white, that good and evil were clearly defined. I supposed that the hard centuries of being my Guardian had made him that way. Madeleine seemed to recognize the shades of gray that I sought and believed existed. This realization made me a less afraid of her.

“I’m glad that Will grew up away from Bastian,” I told her, grateful. “I think you did the right thing.”

“I wasn’t even sure Bastian would let the baby live,” she confessed. “Word of our relationship had already begun to spread, as had the rumor that he was half angelic himself. He was building his army then, making a name for himself among the most elite of the demonic. He couldn’t afford to have anything mark his reputation—especially siring an angelic child. Those last few weeks made it easy to leave him. He had his moments and I still believe he loved me, but he was cruel at the core.”

I studied her, surprised at what I saw in her expression. “You seem like a part of you regrets leaving him, even today.”

She smiled at me, a terrible, sorrowful smile. “When you love someone so fiercely, they leave a mark on your soul that never goes away, no matter how much you dig and rip at it. He left a mark on my soul. At least the ones he left on my skin faded with time.”

I had no response. I imagined that her relationship with Bastian hadn’t been the healthiest, but knowing he’d physically harmed her made me grind my teeth together. No relationship was perfect all the time, and even Will and I could be rude to each other when stress levels were high, but violence was unforgiveable.

Madeleine squeezed my hand. “I didn’t mean to startle you. There are countless things left unsaid about my time with Bastian. I’ve kept so much bottled up.”

“I wouldn’t unbottle any of that around Will,” I warned her. “He might find a way to bring Bastian back to life just so he can kill him again. He might do this a few times, actually.”

“That part of William hasn’t changed then, I see,” she said. “May I ask about you and my son?”

“I—no—of course you may. What…about?”

Her gaze became soft and gentle. “He’s in love with you. And you love him just as much. I wondered at first, but tonight confirmed it.”

I chewed my lip. “It’s a little obvious, isn’t it?”

She gave me a brilliant, wide smile. “A little.”

“He’s amazing,” I told her. “Really.”

Her smile became a little sad. “You’ve known him longer than I have.”

“I’m happy that you and Will can have a chance to get to know each other again. It’ll be good for both of you.”

“He’s changed a lot,” she admitted.

“We all have,” I said. “We’ve grown up.”

“Strife will do that to you.” She watched me carefully, but her smile remained. “We’ll find a way for you to survive this. I’ll need your help getting to know him again.”

I huffed a little laugh at that. “I haven’t given up hope. I’m going to do what I have to do—ascend and fight as an archangel—but I’ll never give up hope. I don’t want to die, but honestly, I’m so much more afraid of becoming some unthinking monster again.”

“Again?” she asked. “I thought you couldn’t remember Heaven?”

Azrael’s memories of me as Gabriel flashed in my head once more. There had been tears in my eyes. I must have felt something after massacring the Nephilim. If I couldn’t feel anything, then I would’ve shed tears for no one, especially not monsters. Remembering that I, as Gabriel, had spared one Naphil gave me hope for my archangel self, but then I remembered that I’d spared him only to harvest his heart, and that didn’t sound like mercy. I hated to think about where he’d been held all these thousands of years. I didn’t want to kill this creature. I had accepted that I might have to sacrifice myself to win this war, but sacrificing others was wrong. Still, there was no other way for me to ascend without the Naphil heart. Perhaps we had done a good thing in destroying them all. Yet…if they were just horrible monsters, then why had I wept for them?

“The other angels I’ve met have been like that,” I explained. “And I know that angels aren’t permitted to feel or to make their own choices. I don’t want to stop loving my friends and family or to kill without discretion as I used to. When I ascend, I’ll lose everything that makes me human.”

“You’ll still have your soul.”

“Will I?” I asked. “If I do, I still won’t know what exactly I’ll turn into as an angel with a soul. And then after I lose everything that I am, I’m supposed to lose my life as well. No one seems to be able to tell me anything that’s certain. I’m afraid of the unknown.”