A few hours later, Gabriel's limousine pulled to a stop in front of Cain's quiet house. She leaned toward the open door as he stepped out.
"Call me if you need another ride," she said, her tone casual but her eyes holding his for a beat too long. "And remember what I said. Whatever path you choose, Amelia would only ever want your happiness."
Cain looked back at her from the curb and smiled, a tired but genuine expression. "Thanks, Gab. I'll try my best."
He watched the sleek black car glide away until it turned the corner and vanished. Then he turned to his front door. He stood there for a moment, key in hand, staring at the strange mark on his forearm. He turned the question over in his mind until a quiet resolve settled in his chest. He had an answer.
He inserted the key, turned it, and pushed the door open.
The sight that greeted him was not the dim, lifeless interior he expected. For a fleeting second, he saw Amelia standing there, smiling. He blinked, hard.
It was Lucifer. She was standing in the middle of the living room, covered in a fine layer of grey-white dust that clung to her hair and clothes. She looked like she had been rolled in ash.
"Hi," he said, stepping inside. "You're back. And… dirty."
"I am," she replied. She closed the door behind him, her head tilting as she studied him. "How are you? Did you encounter any threats in my absence?"
He walked past her to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with water from the tap. "Nothing happened. It was fine." He drank deeply, then set the glass down. He turned to face her, and for a long moment, they just looked at each other in the quiet house.
Finally, Cain broke the silence. "I want to learn how to fight."
Lucifer's expression shifted to one of pure confusion. "You wish to learn combat? Against what? Angels?"
"Yes," Cain said, his voice firm. "I need to learn how to protect myself. I can't just hide behind you every time. I need to know how to kill things like what was in that alley. And more than that… I need to understand what I am now. My life has changed. I need to change with it."
Lucifer considered him, then shook her head slowly. "I do not wish to diminish your resolve, but you cannot fight an angel. You will never possess the capacity. However," she added, seeing his face fall, "I can instruct you in defending yourself against Malignants."
Cain scoffed, crossing his arms. "You're underestimating me. You shouldn't underestimate humans. Maybe this mark comes with a power up or something. Like in the shows."
A faint frown creased Lucifer's brow. She walked toward him until she was standing directly in front of him. "'Underestimating,' you say?" she repeated.
Then, with a casual flick of her wrist, she pushed him. It was not a strike, not even a shove. It was a light, almost dismissive tap on his chest.
The force was incomprehensible. Cain was launched backward as if fired from a cannon. He crashed through the kitchen, scattering utensils from the drying rack, and slammed into the far wall before crumpling to the floor. The breath was knocked from his lungs. He stared up, dazed and shocked, trying to form a question.
But before he could speak, a new sensation washed over him. A dreadful, crushing aura filled the room. It was the intent to kill, cold and absolute, pressing down on him like a physical weight. His blood ran cold. His thoughts scrambled.
"Lucy?" he managed to whisper, his voice tight with fear.
Instantly, the killing intent vanished. Lucifer smiled at him, a bright, normal smile. "That was a light push," she explained, as if discussing the weather. "So you may comprehend the inherent disparity. It is not a matter of underestimation, but of fundamental reality. I am willing to teach you how to combat Malignants. That is a fight you can learn."
Cain let out a shaky breath, then a slow smile spread across his own face. He pushed himself to his feet, wincing slightly. "Okay. Point taken. Thank you."
He brushed himself off. "Can we start tonight? In the backyard. We can treat it like… exercise."
Lucifer nodded immediately. "I agree to this plan."
"Great," Cain said. "But first, you should probably take a shower. You're… really dusty."
Lucifer stared at him blankly for several seconds, processing the unfamiliar idiom. Then, recognition dawned. She had heard the phrase in one of the movies. "Ah. Cleansing. Yes." She nodded. "You will wait for me?"
He gave her a thumbs-up. "I'll be here."
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In the quiet interior of the departing limousine, Gabriel was alone. She held up her left hand, studying her pinky finger. It was still stone, a grey, lifeless digit amidst her otherwise perfect hand. The curse for her lie to Cain.
"You may reveal yourself now, Raphael," she said, her voice flat.
The air beside her shimmered, and a vertical slice appeared in reality itself. Raphael stepped smoothly out of the spatial fold, having concealed himself there for the entire journey. He had never left the car.
Without a word, Gabriel extended her petrified hand. Raphael took it gently. His own hands began to glow with a soft, golden light as he channeled divine healing energy, carefully negating the stone curse. The grey color receded, leaving behind healthy, unmarked skin.
"Why the urgency to locate him, My Lady?" Raphael asked as he worked. "He cannot flee from you. Your authority spans the globe."
Gabriel looked out the window, watching the city blur past. "He is still my best friend," she said quietly, more to herself than to him. "Even if he no longer sees me that way. The Mark is active. The danger around him has multiplied. I must watch him twice as closely as I have been." A memory surfaced, unbidden: her laughter, Cain's easy smile, Amelia rolling her eyes at their antics. The ghost of a smile touched Gabriel's lips. "I have already lost Amelia. I will not lose another."
She turned her head, her gaze clearing. "Change of course," she instructed the driver. "Take me to the cemetery."