God's Gone AWOL

[12] A Parting Farewell

Paris, France.

The Cupboard was the same, but the feeling inside had changed completely.

The bookshelves, the artifacts, and the strange objects of unknown origin were all still there. But the laughter, the silly conversations about pad thai, and the gentle braiding of hair... was all gone. What had once been a temporary secret hideout for the universe's most dangerous, yet harmless people, had become nothing more than a quiet storefront.

It was so quiet in fact, that nobody dared to speak a word.

Over on the couch, Hazel and Frances were clinging to each other. Both were crying in silence as they mourned the loss of their friend. Reuben sat at the table, watching them with a conflicted and somewhat pained expression. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but for Frances' sake, he held it in. There were no words that could make this situation any better.

Lucy was seated on top of an old wooden crate, his shirt folded up in his lap. Xander's hand was placed over the wound on his shoulder. A steady stream of magic flowed from the demon's touch, dissipating the last of the poison and sealing up the broken skin. Lucy's eyes were closed and his eyebrows were knit, but it was hard to tell whether his pain was physical or emotional. Either way, he didn't make a sound— not even a hiss of pain.

Beside them, Smythe stood quietly her arms crossed. Her foot tapped against the floor a couple of times, but otherwise, she barely moved. Nobody dared to break the silence, because nobody had anything to say, and nobody wanted to hear anybody else speak.

After some time, a door leading to one of the Cupboard's back rooms popped open. Hephzibah shuffled out, her usual unpleasant expression now replaced by a much more neutral look. As soon as she appeared, every single person in the room glanced up at her, their eyes all holding the same question.

"How is she?" Smythe asked.

"Awake. Not in great condition, though," Hephzibah told everyone. "And she's refusing to talk to me, but that's no surprise,"

"Let's leave her alone for now," Said Smythe. "She'll come out when she's ready,"

Hephzibah nodded and moved away from the door.

However, as it turned out, they didn't have to wait very long for Bentley to make an appearance. Almost as soon as Smythe was finished talking, the door opened for a second time, and Bentley stepped into view. Her wounds had been patched up, and the blood had been wiped away, giving her an illusion of cleanliness. But she was still wearing the loose, white button down shirt that Atticus had given her, even though it had been completely stained with his own blood.

For just a moment, she stopped moving. Everyone was staring at her, their eyes filled with various forms of sympathy. It was her first time facing them since Lucy had knocked her unconscious back in Purgatory. Naturally, this new development made her extremely uncomfortable. So she offered a singular, awkward nod to the group, before taking off towards the stairs.

"Wait, Bentley—" Xander called after her.

But a grip on his sleeve caused him to falter.

"Let her go." Lucy lifted Xander's hand from his shoulder and slowly hauled himself to his feet. "You and Smythe should go back to Hell and handle the situation there. I'll talk to Bentley."

There was no denying that Lucy's relationship with Bentley was different from Xander's. Even though Xander and Bentley were siblings who had spent millennia together, they lacked the vulnerability that many other sibling relationships had. Both were so determined to remain strong for the sake of the other, that they didn't dare to show any sort of weakness. For that reason, Xander knew he wouldn't be able to help with Bentley's situation at this point in time.