He holds the phone outward and puts it on speaker. "You're late."
Lucifer's voice comes out of the phone. "I'll be arriving in just a few minutes. Has there been any sight of them?"
Raven stares in our direction. Her face is as white as a ghost.
"Not yet, unfortunately. You should see the city. It's total chaos." Jackson laughs, but his joy isn't reciprocated in the same fashion.
He walks toward the window to view the devastation.
"I need the girl dead," Lucifer says.
"Yes, sir. I hear you, and I'm listening," he says.
"Are you listening? Or do I need to spell it out for you?" Lucifer asks. "She is as important to me as the statues. Do you know what will happen if you don't find her?"
"No, sir, I--"
Lucifer cuts him off with venom. "I will make sure you serve in the lowest regions of hell. Your body will hang on a spit. Slowly, your flesh will melt away from the bone. Your eyes will be the first to go, but certainly not the last. And just as you think things can't possibly get any worse, your rotting corpse will be put to rest on a mound of salt."
Trembling, Raven backs away from the desk. She crawls to the hallway entrance, disappearing out of sight. I can't pretend that it feels good to see her leave alone, but I know she'll make me proud.
A long pause ensues. Jackson paces the room, sweat pouring down from his hairline. He looks like he's at his wits’ end. I'd feel bad for the guy if he didn't seem to only care about himself.
"I understand. I'll search the premises," he says.
Another quick pause.
"Just get it done," Lucifer says.
He hangs up abruptly, leaving Jackson motionless and visibly frightened.
Without saying a word, he sets the bottle of whiskey on his desk and walks into the hallway.
"I have to find the bitch," he says.
He walks in the wrong direction.
"He's trying to take control of the angels, but he won't get anywhere without the gemstones," Heimdall says.
"He needs us," I say.
"Needs you, you mean," Loki retorts. "Don't think we forgot about that cute picture of you together."
I'm taken aback. "After all this time, you still believe that I'm on his side?"
Heimdall asks, "I don't know. You tell us. Are you on his side?"
"No," I say. "Obviously, I'm not."
"Who are you Ash?" Loki asks.
"Guys, I'm your friend. Don't do this," I plead.
Heimdall cuts me off. "It's a reasonable question, and one you have yet to answer adequately. What exactly happened when you left home?"
My mouth feels as dry as sandpaper. I try to recall the years directly after I left my mother's home, but it's almost like there's a fuzz over everything. She died, and I moved away. That's all I can remember.
"I went to college and rented an apartment," I say.