At first, Revenant had mentally cheered her on. Do it! Destroy the bastard! But when Blaspheme’s hand began to shake and her eyes became haunted, his enthusiasm had taken a hard hit. Suddenly, he couldn’t bear the idea that the female who had dedicated her life to saving others was going to stain her soul with murder.

Granted, he didn’t consider killing Lucifer to be murder, and he figured that ninety-nine percent of the population of Heaven, Earth, and Sheoul wouldn’t, either. But Blas was the one percent, and she’d never recover.

He couldn’t put her through that, and like the self-destructive fool that he was, he’d pretended to be a clumsy oaf so he could sabotage her attempt.

And the worst part of it was that he’d done it even after Blaspheme had insulted him.

How dare she judge him for what he was? Had he judged her for being a False Angel? Okay, maybe. But he’d gotten past that. He’d seen beyond what she was to who she was. At least, he liked to think so.

No, he knew so. He’d seen her own up to her mistakes. He’d seen bravery when she’d stood up to him. When she’d called him out on his arrogance. He’d been on the receiving end of her generosity and caring. And he’d felt her vulnerability when she believed her world was crumbling down around her.

So why couldn’t she see him? Was all of that I’m here for you bullshit just that? Bullshit?

Dammit! Without thinking, he slammed his fist into one of the support pillars in Gethel’s massive great hall, putting a new framework of cracks from floor to ceiling.

Gethel and Blaspheme both glared at him, but he didn’t give a shit.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Blaspheme packed up her gear and came over to him.

“She’s fine for the time being,” she said in a low voice. “I need to have an obstetrics specialist look over the ultrasound, but I’ll tell you right now, I doubt she’ll survive the birth.”

He shrugged. “Satan doesn’t care about her. He’s concerned about Lucifer.”

Blaspheme’s expression was sour. “The little abomination looks healthy.”

Healthy. Something that could be laid at Revenant’s feet. Thanks to his impulsive act of compassion for Blaspheme, Rev was going to lose his status as the second-most-powerful being in Sheoul. Rev could not lose that status, not now that he’d given up on his pathetic dream of being welcomed in Heaven. Once he killed his first angel, he’d burn all those bridges but good.

So, no, he wasn’t going to give up his position at Satan’s side, especially not to Lucifer, who had spent his fair share of his first incarnation making Revenant’s life miserable. Yes, if Revenant could, he’d destroy the motherfucker in the womb right now. But with no place to hide from Satan, doing so would be a death sentence.

“Can we go now?” Blaspheme asked.

Revenant started to say yes, but a door on the far end of the hall opened up, and two Ramreel guards dragged a beaten, bloody vampire inside.

Gethel gestured to the rack across from the chaise where she was lounging. “Put Thanatos’s minion there. I want to watch him die slowly.”

Fuck. As the Horseman’s Watcher, he couldn’t let this go.

“Come on,” he said as he took Blaspheme’s hand. “Let’s get you back to the clinic.” He’d deal with Gethel and her bloodsucker toy once Blaspheme was safely back at Underworld General.

He flashed them to UG’s parking lot, and the second they materialized, Blaspheme yanked away from him. “You’re just going to let that vampire die? Take me back. Let me help him.”

“You’re not going back. The vampire is none of your concern.”

“He was injured,” she said, incredulous. “Of course he’s my concern!”

Sudden anger rolled him like a rogue wave. Why couldn’t she be selfish, petty, and immoral like a proper False Angel should be?

“Toughen up,” he snapped. “You can’t save all the kittens, vampires, and butterflies. And sometimes you have to crush something under your boot to get what you want. Deal with it.”

She slapped him. Hard enough to make his cheek sting. “You bastard.” Raw, burning hatred rolled off her in a wave that scorched his skin. “Is it so easy for you to ignore suffering?”

She really did want to see the worst in him, didn’t she? “What changed, Blaspheme? What kind of message did you get on your phone that made you suddenly hate me so much?”

“Hate you?” Her voice lashed at him, striking as viciously as the demons had done when he was slaving in the mines. “It’s me I hate. I knew I shouldn’t let you in. I knew I shouldn’t allow myself to care about you. But I was a fool, and now I have to live with myself.”

She cared about him? Was that caring now past tense? “I hate to tell you this, angel, but we all have to live with ourselves.”

He didn’t wait for a response. She was too worked up, and he had a situation to handle. Not to mention the drill of a summons in his head that was getting worse the longer he ignored the sender. Satan did not like to be kept waiting, and if Revenant didn’t obey soon, he’d be in for a nice flogging or another organ-ectomy.

Funny how he used to respond to Satan’s demands right away, but now that he had his memory back, screw it. Revenant was going to take tardiness to the limit. Probably not the brightest thing to do, but it seemed that the rebellious streak he’d had while working in Satan’s mines as a child was making a comeback.