Being a high Seraphim is not a stress-free job. There’s the constant screening of incoming souls. Determining which ones need to be dealt with directly, and which can be pawned off to the nearest Dominion or Archangel, who eagerly await orders at Heaven’s every beck and call.
Despite holding one of the most prestigious positions in all of Heaven, and sitting atop the highest court known to the immortal realms, Sera of the Seraphim is not immune to what those plebeian Winners would call the common migraine.
Particularly now, after word has spread that the first Sinner ever to be redeemed from the trenches of Hell had magically materialized in her boardroom that very morning. And said Sinner is currently being given the grand welcome tour by Emily, while her sister and superior looks down at her tablet, frantically flipping through her records aimlessly, trying to figure out how the fuck this is actually happening to her in the first place.
As if Adam’s death during the Extermination hadn’t been enough, now she has to deal with the fact that Souls can be redeemed. That she was wrong, possibly about everything, and will now have to explain to Heaven’s elders how this was allowed to happen under her watch.
Sighing heavily, Sera puts her tablet down on the table. She uses her fingers to scratch her forehead several times, trying to release the gnawing, heavy ache that’s begun punching behind her eyelids. She takes a sip of water, and then downs the entire fucking glass, trying to process all the events rapidly unfolding right in front of her, and having no idea how to even begin explaining any of it.
Lute and the Exterminators had been hit hard by Adam’s passing, and his former second-in-command is already taking charge of his entire fleet. Sera had already spied on the smaller angel during her impromptu meeting with Lilith, realizing that an entirely different house of cards may be soon about to fall, once Hell’s ruler and his daughter find out their matriarch has been staying here for the last 7 years.
That contract had been Adam’s business. It had nothing to do with her, so she’d figured she could stay out of it, blissfully unaware. However, she’s not sure now how she could ever be so lucky, not when that arrogant, pompous imbecile had always been trying to test her limits, and never knew when to keep his fucking mouth shut. Or call it quits, when it looked like he actually might have underestimated Hell’s forces so badly.
Soon, all of Heaven will know about her own lack of foresight and incompetence. It had been her job to keep the First Man in line. Keep him sated with his own pet projects, and keep him happy, even if it meant putting her own people at risk by allowing him to play army. The court elders didn’t need to know how she’d done it, just that he was content. He could get away with slaughtering thousands of innocents, so long as her own hands were free of blood, and the other Winners under her care, the important ones, remained safe.
Sera groans loudly into the room, laying her head atop her arms upon the table, coming to grips with the fact that with Adam gone, this mess is entirely hers to clean up now. No matter how much she doesn’t want to, she’ll have to be the one to handle the PR of a Sinner ascending to Heaven, as well as the political nightmare that’s about to unfold once Charlie Morningstar finds out she’d been right all along.
She’ll let Emily handle Sir Pentious for now. If she’s lucky, maybe the Seraphim of Joy can distract their people long enough that they don’t even realize the implications of what his ascension means. In the meantime, she can figure out how to deal with Lilith and Lute, and the absolute mayhem she needs to prevent from happening in the world far down below. As well as preventing the fight from coming to her own door.
Adam had gone off for days at a time after other Exterminations, celebrating and participating in such horrid debaucheries, that his absence may not be missed for a few days yet. That could give her some time. Time to form a plan on how to deal with Hell’s denizens, and figure out what her next step should be on the matter of redemption, depending on what answers she can uncover.
The trouble is knowing who she can trust with this type of information. She can’t go to Lucifer. She hadn’t exactly been kind to him by agreeing to cast him out, and he’s the type to immediately tell his daughter that her plan had worked, which would be horrible for her. She’s not ready for the types of gossipy, accusatory headlines that could come out of a disaster like that.
She also can’t talk to anyone else in the angelic court; they’ll immediately report her to the elders, and then she’ll be done for, and may never be able to serve in any official capacity in Heaven again.
The more she thinks about it, the more anxious she becomes. The more anxious she becomes, the more her head throbs with pain. The more her head hurts, the more water she drinks, which isn’t actually helping. Oh, Heaven’s to Betsy, is her only solution really going to be reaching out to her?
They haven’t seen each other, or even spoken, since Lucifer fell, and the prospect of turning to her of all people leaves a dry, chalky taste in Sera’s mouth. Makes her feel a little woozy, and like she has to lay her head on her arms once again, to stop the spinning, twirling dizziness of the room, that only serves to make her headache even worse.
There really is no other option. Every other road, every other mental map she tries to chart, ultimately leads to total, near-immediate retribution. What she needs now is to be discrete. And hope that at least some of the rapport she used to hold with this particular person…well, that there’s any of it left to draw upon in the first place. Her social goodwill is running ridiculously low at the present moment, so that’s honestly the best outcome she can reasonably expect at this time.
Sera sighs. She stands up, and she paces. Sits down again, then stands up, and paces some more. She drinks more water, and paces again, before slumping in her chair like her bones are made of marmalade, and screeches like a barn owl out of frustration at what she has to do.
Activating the screen on her tablet, she scrolls and opens an old, nearly forgotten folder, which contains a number of certain contacts. Lucifer is in there, as well as several of the Goetia. And even some of the friendlier Deadly Sins and overlords, who she never actually calls, but thinks it’s in her best interest to keep on hand, just in case.
She starts at the bottom of the list, and then scrolls up, unintentionally dragging out this dreadful, uncomfortable feeling, for as long as she possibly can. When Sera finally reaches her number, she stares at it for much longer than necessary. Her body tightens, and she swallows her heart that has jumped up into her throat. Her finger hovers precariously over that little icon, and she fluffs up like a bird trying to get water out of its feathers.
She looks at the name next to the icon one last time, mentally fortifying herself for what’s to come. Then her finger drops onto the screen, and she pushes it, screaming silently within the endless void that is her own head, at the drastic step she is about to take.
She watches as the calling icon appears on her screen. After the second ring, her heart finally sinks back down into her chest. After the third, it’s already crawling up her esophagus again.
After the fourth, the call remains unanswered, and she is immediately taken to voicemail, which is honestly so much worse than she had anticipated.
Sera listens and prepares herself to hear that voice once again. And when it comes, she is filled with a multitude of fuzzy, complicated feelings. She almost wants to hang up, as the pre-recorded callback message echoes endlessly between her ears, like the pattern of soft drums:
“Hello, this is Carmilla Carmine. I’m not available right now. Please leave a message, and I’ll return your call as soon as possible. Thank you.”
