Will couldn't see what Lucifer was doing underneath the table. All he could see were the taut lines of pain etched across her face, the tears that welled in her eyes, her sharp intakes of breath.
Oh, god. Oh, god, he'd been wrong, he couldn't watch this. He had to move. Devil could choke on a bagel, a knife in the jugular would have to at least give him a moment's pause.
It was a terrible idea. Suicidal was the least of it; Lucifer could kill everyone in this restaurant if they gave him half an excuse. Nine months, it had been, the last time death had taken Clio. All that history ripped from her. One move on his part, it could be ripped from her again.
But Lucifer's back was turned. Clio's fingers were nudging her knife, but he had a knife, too. He could—
Clio moved, but so did Lucifer, rising swiftly with a sudden look of irritation. Will tensed in that instant, half-rising from his chair as well, but then he felt the presence, too, a searing ray of light that cut through the suffocating smoke of Lucifer's.
And there was Michael the Archangel, cheerfully facing down the Devil. The confrontation didn't even last ten seconds. Lucifer left them in a huff, leaving Michael to catch Clio as she fainted.
"Michael." Will sucked in a shaky breath. He felt like a prisoner released from his shackles, pins and needles exploding through the once-bound limbs, making him stagger. "Sh-she— he hurt her. Can— she needs help, can you help?"