Authors Note: Hello lovelies, hoping you're all well. Huge apologies for keeping you waiting on this update. I had originally hoped to update last week, but this chapter has been a total bastard to write and, if I'm being honest, I'm still not happy with it. I'm betting that when you're done, you'll wonder what the fuss was all about, but the complexities of Ethan's destiny and how it's all led to this point really messed with my head during this chapter and I'm still not convinced I've managed to do this justice. But, because I hate delaying updates, I've decided to post regardless and say to Hell with it (not that there's a Hell, you know haha).  Thank you for your patience and utter brilliance, as always <3 

***

The room I was taken to, was not the same hall where Ethan had been left screaming obscenities and threats at Blake until the doors had closed behind us.

It was small, barely bigger than the bedroom in Ethan's home and instead of birds of every colour and size emblazoned on the walls, here it was dull and grey despite the lights that pulsed sluggishly under the surface. It was also completely empty, with no furniture at all, so once the Demon guards had pushed me inside and slammed the door behind me, I could do nothing but walk to the other side of the room and slide my back down the wall to sit on the floor.

My eyes felt sore and swollen, the skin underneath tight with dried tears. I took a few deep breaths, a heavy ache settling across my chest as I inhaled and exhaled, my throat burning. Leaning my head back against the wall, I prayed for the panic not to overwhelm me, I prayed that Ethan was okay, I prayed that Addi had recovered, and yet the whole act of praying ironically seemed pointless now seeing as there wasn't actually anyone to pray toanymore.

I'd never been much of a believer myself, but I knew plenty who were and plenty more who found comfort in praying. I wondered now, if Blake got his way and the Great War brought the Angels to their knees, how many would suffer knowing that their prayers had been a waste of breath? Who would they pray to now? The Demons? Blake? How many would crumble without that sense of hope they'd always clung onto as a means of getting them through the hard times? I'd never been a believer in hope either. Hope had always been something for everyone else. Not me. Hope was for the privileged and the pitiful. Hope was for the desperate and the needy.

And I'd never known what it was to need hope so desperately until now.

I needed it for Addi. I needed it for Ethan. Fuck, I even needed it for me.

When the door suddenly opened, it wasn't hope standing there, but Oscar.

As he stepped into the room, I didn't bother getting up, partly because I knew it would be a struggle to try and stand with my hands bound, but mostly because I was done standing to attention for Oscar-bloody-Turnbull. I was done with the barely-there dresses worn to please him. Done with turning on the charm to make him smile. Done with being the trophy girlfriend sent to help an old man get a hard-on, just for the sake of business.

I glared at him as he stood there, looking down at me.

'Hello, Mr. Turnbull,' I said, finally, my mouth curling up into the fakest of smiles. 'How are them thirty pieces of silver doing? Hope they're not weighing down the pockets of your suit? Hate for you to have to go buy a new one, I don't think they've made any like that since the eighties.'

Oscar cocked his head to one side, his thin lips pursed. 'Now, now, Casey, love. There's no need for all that, is there? Let's be friends, shall we?'

I snorted. 'Friends? No thanks, Mr. Turnbull, I'd rather not. I've heard how you treat your friends. Fortunately for me, I don't have any children you can sell to Blake to save your own scrawny neck, so if it's all the same to you, I'll still decline the offer.'

Oscar adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves, which had been rolled up to his elbows, showing off his hairy arms and the gaudy, chunky gold link chain on his wrist. 'Far be it for me to say, sweetheart, but I don't think you're in much of a position to be declining an offer of friendship right now. You look like you could use all the friends you can get, considering your situation.' He huffed an irritated sigh. 'And what's with all this Mr.Turnbull shit, by the way? I've got to be honest, I've never much cared for anyone calling me anything other than Mr. Turnbull, but you always were the exception, weren't you?'

I rolled my eyes. 'Only because I wore a dress short enough to compensate.'

Oscar's lips rolled back from his nicotine-stained teeth in a lurid grin. 'Trust me, darling, I've never been lacking in visits from girls wearing dresses so short I could see their underwear when they sat down. In fact, I've had plenty of visits from girls who didn't wear dresses orunderwear. Pretty girls. Beautiful girls, even. None of them were ever allowed to call me Oscar though.'

'What made me so different?'

Oscar frowned, the deep wrinkles on his forehead furrowing into harsh lines over his brows. 'Do you know what? I have no idea now I come to think of it. I mean, I always did love a bird with a bit of sass, but when it comes to business, there's still a line you don't cross. You still gotta show a bit of respect, ain't ya? But with you, it always was different. Maybe it was latent Endorian sorcery working its magic on me, who knows?'

He shrugged dismissively. He didn't care one way or the other. He only cared about getting what he wanted, and yet, there was still what Addi had told me. Was it all a lie? Another one of Oscar's twisted games? Or was there some truth in it? He'd aligned himself with the one Demon who wanted to force Ethan to fulfil his destiny, the one Demon who Lucifer himself had despised and he had even handed over the Gospel. It made no sense to me why he would now want to make sure Blake never got to see what was in the book. Why hand it over if he didn't want Blake to know what it contained?

'Funny how this has all turned out, eh girl? You being an Endorian, just like Lilith. An Endorian and the Morning Star.' He looked almost wistful for a moment, but there was a glint in his eyes that was difficult to decipher. 'Almost like it was meant to be, don't you think?' He stared, the glint turning into something harder, colder.

There he was. The Oscar I knew he could be. The Oscar that made men's balls shrink back into their bodies. The Oscar who could have the toughest fella in London pissing in his pants. Yet weirdly, I wasn't scared of him anymore. What could he possibly do that could make this worse? What else could he do to me that hadn't already been done?

I leant forward, still looking him hard in the eyes. 'What are you up to, Oscar? What kind of game are you playing, getting Addi to tell me what he did?'

He slicked his tongue over his dry lips, his gaze steady. 'No games, girl. I'm not really a games kinda bloke, wouldn't you agree? It's black and white with me, always has been. You know that. Can't abide those nasty grey areas.'

Bending down, he braced one hand on the wall, so our faces were just inches apart. I didn't flinch. Wouldn't. Not for him.

'You think I'm a rat, don'tcha?' he said, his voice low. 'You think ol' Oscar's a no-good, piece of shit, scumbag rat, and you know what? You might be right about that, darling, but when you've lived as long as I have, when you've had the world ripped out from underneath you, when you've fallen from such a great height, when you've had your heart torn from your chest, you gotta harden to it all. You know what I mean, don'tcha?' He smiled, eyes narrowing as his gaze burrowed under my skin, deep into flesh and bone. 'Yeah, I know you do. You and me, we ain't so very different.'

'I'm nothing like you.'

'Oh, trust me, darling. You are. We're survivors. We do what we have to do to protect ourselves and those we love.'

I laughed harshly. 'Really? And who exactly do you love, Oscar? Who are you protecting apart from yourself?'

'I loved my friends. Still do. And as for who I'm protecting, well, I think you'll find it's the same person you're protecting.' He leaned closer and winked, a flash of inky black clouding his irises, before it disappeared instantly, as if it had never been there in the first place. 'See? Told you we weren't so different.'

'Bullshit,' I hissed. 'You sold him out. You gave them the Gospel. You betrayed your friends and still have the fucking audacity to claim to love them.'

'What I did – what I have always done – was protect that boy from the moment he was born, and I have done that out of love for them,' he said, smirking as he saw my eyes widen in disbelief. 'You think I'm incapable of love? You listen up, sweetheart, and you listen really good, yeah? My whole life – all my lives – I've lived in loyalty to them, to honour their memory and preserve their legacy. I set aside my own grief to look out for that boy...'

'You usedhim,' I spat, accusingly. 'You sent him on bloody errands to steal for you. You put him in danger.'

Oscar's face twisted darkly, and he smacked his lips together in disgust, as if the memory had conjured something sour on his tongue. 'Fucking Hell, Casey, wake up will you, girl? That boy was never in any danger and I sent him on those errands, so I could keep a bloody eye on him. He was a wild card. Unpredictable. Always was. Played his parents a right merry fucking dance, let me tell you, and carried on doing it long after they were dead. Yeah, I earned my cut of the proceeds of all his little adventures, and why not? After everything that boy put me through trying to protect him, I think I deserved a reward once in a while.'

'Typical Oscar, eh?' I sneered. 'Always looking to make a cut.'

Grabbing hold of my wrists, he hauled me to my feet, pressing me up against the wall. I sucked in a breath as his face moved closer to mine, until I could see the broken capillaries on his nose and the dry skin flaking in his brows.

'Don't make the mistake of thinking you know me, darling,' he said. 'You know Oscar Turnbull, but I am Berith. I was Lucifer's brother-in-arms. I was there by his side at the Fall. I was commander of his legions. After he died, I put myself into human hosts time and time again, centuries of living human lives in order to make the Angels believe I'd gone rogue, to make them believe I had turned against the one person I would have gladly died for. He was my family. They were my family.'

He still looked like Oscar then. Still smelled like Oscar, all overpowering aftershave and the faint scent of stale cigar. Yet looking into his eyes, I saw Berith. I saw the endless years of war and power, of pain and love and strength, of loss and regret and a determination that knew no bounds. He was right. I knew him as Oscar. Every part of my opinion of him was based on the Oscar I thought I knew – hard-as-nails, all-round nasty bastard drug dealer Oscar - not on the Demon he actually was.

The Fallen Angel he actually was.

I swallowed down the thought of that, let it scald my throat.

'Then, why, Oscar?' I whispered. 'If everything you say is true and you're trying to protect Ethan, why give them the Gospel?'

'Because, my darling, I gave them a book that's fucking useless to them, while ingratiating myself with Azazel in the process and making him believe I'm trying to earn my place in this new world he's got such a hard-on for. That useless bundle of paper is only good for wiping their arses on.'

'Blake doesn't seem to think so,' I protested. 'And Addi just had half his soul sucked out of his body because of that useless bundle of paper.'

Oscar's expression faltered – a brief crack in the façade that seemed almost human – when I mentioned Addi's name and his grip on my wrists eased. 'That kid will be okay. Worth his weight in gold that one and a lot fucking stronger than I gave him credit for.'

Anger flared hot and explosive. 'Stronger? He's lucky to even be alive. Juliette torturedhim. That bitch tortured him, all because you told him something that made him believe it would be worth it. How could anythingbe worth that? He believes you, Oscar, so you tell me right now why I should, otherwise I'll call for Blake and give him what he wants.'

Oscar's eyes narrowed into darky, inky slits. 'You do that, and you'll end up naked next to Addi, trussed up like a piece of fucking meat and having your soul feasted on for centuries. You do it and Ethan will be handed to the Angels and crushed to nothing but dust, just like his father was.'

I stared at him, my heart pounding. 'What's in the book, Oscar? What is it you don't want them to see?'

Oscar smiled widely then, crooked teeth crowding his mouth, his gaze full of fire. He leaned closer still, so close that it reminded me of that day in his office when I thought he was going to kiss me. I didn't think he was going to kiss me this time, but I wasn't sure that whatever he was about to tell me was going to be any less unpleasant.

'You, sweetheart. You're in the book.'

I forgot how to breathe. Just for a second, I forgot. Forgot breathing. Forgot thinking. Forgot feeling. I forgot everything – everything but those words. When the breath finally came, sucking on the air like I couldn't get it into my lungs fast enough, my body juddered with the impact.

'M-me?'

'You and him. Helel. The Endorian and the Morning Star,' he said. 'What I said before wasn't an idle musing. It was written, a long, long time ago. Long before you were born. A prophecy, told to Lilith by another Endorian they discovered in Tibet.'

'Wait,' I said, eyes wide, heart hammering. 'Ethan told me about her. He said she died, leaving Lilith to believe she was the last Endorian, but if Lilith really believed that, how could she have written about a prophecy involving another Endorian? It doesn't make sense.'

'Because, my darling, the word Endorian was never used. The Tibetan witch used the term tum-mo, meaning fierce woman. She was dying by then and spent most of her days drifting in and out of consciousness. She was speaking in tongues half the time, and much of what she was saying was bloody nonsense if you ask me, but she kept repeating tum-mo which Lilith thought meant maledicti.'

He relaxed his grip, letting my bound hands drop from his grasp, but I was so wound up by then that they remained frozen in front of my chest, my arms pressed tight against my sides.

'It wasn't until a long time after Lilith wrote down the witch's prophecy,' he continued, 'that she discovered there was more to the meaning of the word tum-mo than she'd first thought. It means goddess of inner fire. Now you tell me, darling, does that sound like an ordinary maledicti to you?'

My mind flickered back to the Vaults, where I had attacked the Erelim. It flickered back to Duomo Square, where I had forced Ethan to let go of me.

'Inner fire,' I murmured.

'I think you know just what that means, don't you?'

My eyes met his and whatever he saw there clearly confirmed his thoughts. He smiled, a hint of smugness in his expression.

'What else does the prophecy say? What else is in the book?' I asked.

'I can tell you what isn't in the book.' He wet his lips. 'It's not a Gospel for the masses, no matter what Azazel would like to think. Lilith never wrote that book to unite the Demons. She wrote that book for Ethan, so that one day, when he was ready, he would read it and understand.'

'Understand what?'

Oscar wrinkled his nose, a flicker of irritation crumpling his brow. 'His destiny, of course. His mother wrote it, so he would know what his future held, and he's been running from that future ever since. Why do you think he hid the book in the Council's Vaults?'

'He said he hid it to keep you and Blake getting your hands on it.'

Oscar smirked. 'Did he now? Well, he was right to hide it from Blake, but from me? Why would he do that? I knew what was in that book before he'd even read it and the boy bloody knows that, so whatever he told you is a load of old bull, darling. He hid that book from himself. Because he doesn't want to face up to who he really is.'

He chuckled, the sound raspy and hoarse. 'Let me tell you something about our Ethan. He might be a clever lad – too fucking clever sometimes, if you ask me – but when it comes to Lilith's book, he's a damn fool. Fancy thinking hiding it away and spending years festering in some stinking pit in Islington could stop it all? All that boy's done is delay the inevitable.'

'Can you blame him?' I snapped. 'He doesn't want any part of all this. You're all relying on him to sort this shit out for you. It isn't just his future at stake here, it's all of your futures. Can you imagine having that on your shoulders, Oscar? Having everyone looking at you and expecting you to help win this bloody war they keep going on about?'

Oscar's eyes widened. 'Fuck me sideways, that boy really has been keeping you in the dark, hasn't he?'

I frowned. 'What do you mean?'

Raising his hand to the back of his neck, he squeezed as if to ease the tension, which seemed such an un-Oscar-like action because Oscar didn't need to ease the tension. He caused the tension. He was the tension.

'Sweetheart, don't you get it?' he said. 'The Great War is a lie. A fantasy. Azazel's fantasy to be exact. He's always cultivated this idea of a new world, where he gets to sit on the Throne of the First while using his greatest weapon – Helel – to crush the bones of the Angels until they are nothing but a bad memory. The problem is, that Throne is not his to claim, it's Helel's and Helel's destiny is not to crush the Angels and bring the Shedim to power: it's to unite them all again, under his rule.'

I collapsed back against the wall, my bound hands dropping like a dead weight in front of me.

'W-what?' I stammered. 'But the Seraphim...'

'Will be gone and Helel will take their place.'

I gasped, my stomach churning at the gravity of his words. 'Oh my god.'

Oscar's eyes clouded over again, fire burning brightest in the centre of the deepest obsidian. 'No god, Casey. Just him. Just Helel. The Seraphim knew it. They saw it when they set eyes on Lucifer. They saw that he would have a son whose destiny would be to claim the Throne of the First, but it was the Endorian who saw what he would do to unite us. No more Fallen. No more war. Balance once more. Equals.'

I exhaled even though it did nothing to erode the tightness in my chest or the thickening in my throat.

'And all this is in the book?'

Oscar nodded. 'Now do you see why you can never restore the words? Azazel doesn't want peace, he just wants power and he definitely doesn't want us to be united with the Angels. If he knew Helel's real destiny, he'd hand him over to the Council and you'd be nothing but a soul to feast upon. Well, that's after they were finished with you anyway.'

'But they need him,' I insisted. 'They need Ethan to help them. They need his power. If Blake just handed him over to the Angels, he might as well kiss goodbye to any hope he has of defeating them?'

Oscar took a step back and thrust his hands into his trouser pockets, his wary gaze sweeping over me before looking away. 'There's always options, darling. Even when it appears otherwise.'

'Here I was I thinking Ethan was the one who talked in riddles. Turns out it's a demon thing.' I bit down on my bottom lip. 'So where do I fit in all of this?'

'You, darling, are the key. Ethan doesn't need an army behind him, he needs a tum-mo– an Endorian. You. With your magic combined with his power, he can do it. He can destroy the Seraphim.'

I shook my head, not convinced. 'You know what, Oscar? Even if I did believe this, it's never going to happen. I refused to help Blake and now he's going to force me to control Ethan with this old magic ritual thing or whatever it is he's going to do, and I'm not going to have a choice. Then he will get what he wants – he'll get me, Ethan, the Seraphim dead – and I won't be able to do a bloody thing to stop it.'

'Now that, my girl,' Oscar said, moving closer again, grinning, 'is where you're wrong. You've got the power to stop Azazel from controlling you, right under your nose...'

He ran his finger along my jawline and down my throat until he found the chain around my neck and tugged the pendant free from under my shirt, holding it up in front of me. The blood of the First shook in the glass vial as he tipped it one way and then the other.

'This is your power. Drink it and Azazel and all the old magic in the world can't control you.'

Breathe, Brogan. Just fucking breathe.

'How do you know this?'

Oscar raised a brow. 'Lilith.'

'Piss off,' I replied. 'You're lying.'

He laughed. 'Casey, darling, what fucking reason would I have to lie about this?'

'I don't know, Oscar,' I said. 'Maybe because you've lied all the way along? Maybe because it's what you do? Maybe it's because I don't trust a bloody word you say? Ethan told me what the Demons wanted with Lilith. He told me how they wanted the protection of an Endorian, but he also told me Lilith had already consumed the blood of the First. If that was true, even if they had captured her, they wouldn't have been able to control her, so why would he tell me that? Was he lying about that too?'

'He wasn't lying.' Oscar was staring at the vial again, a small smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. 'When Lucifer stole the blood and Lilith drank it, neither of them knew the full extent of its power. It was the Tibetan witch who told them, and Lilith never wrote it in the book.'

'So, Ethan didn't know this? Why didn't his parents ever tell him?'

The demon sighed. 'They would have told him in time. Unfortunately, in the end, time was the one thing they didn't have, and it will be the one thing Ethan doesn't have if you don't do this.'

I felt it then. Like a stab to the heart. Like a fire in my veins. Like pain and rage all rolled in to one huge punch to the chest. I'd never needed anyone before. Never felt that yearning, that ache, that all-consuming sense of needing that certain someone. Everyone had been faceless ghouls, passing in and out of my life, serving no purpose other than to keep me hooked on hurting myself a little bit more. Addi had been right. If it hadn't been Davey, it would have been someone else, someone worse maybe. It had never really mattered before.

Not until I'd met him. Not until Ethan.

I closed my eyes for a second, taking a breath before opening them again and staring into Oscar's.

'What aren't you telling me?' I said. 'I want to believe you. I reallydo. But I can't help but think there's something else, isn't there?'

Slowly, Oscar uncapped the vial and stared right back at me, his gaze steady.

'There's nothing else. Nothing but this.'

He raised the vial until it was close to my lips. A faint musty odour hit my senses.

'I'm not a begging man, Casey,' he said. 'Never have been. Never needed to be until now. But I'm begging you.'

I raised a brow, the exhale whistling through my teeth. 'Bloody Hell, Oscar, never thought I'd see the day you asked for anything other than a bit of naked thigh and a blow-job.'

'Never had to ask for neither of those either. Always got 'em for free.' He winked. 'What can I say? Being Oscar Turnbull has its perks.'

'I think you've been playing at being human for far too long, you know.'

'You might be right about that,' he said, with a grin. 'Now, are you going drink this or not?'