Chapter Ten #2
“I am not a threat to you,” he says, holding his hands out as if he were trying to calm a wild beast. “And we have precious little time if you truly want to leave this place.”
I cannot stop the warning snarl that rips itself from my throat.
The ground rumbles. More intensely this time.
Netharis is going through the layers. Searching.
The scowl on my face remains.
Laughing, he rolls his shoulders, flexing his gleaming white-feathered wings as I stare.
He looks no different than the last time we met, donning the same white and gold robes.
Seemingly unchanged by his imprisonment, he stands smiling—fucking smiling—as he swings his wings wide.
Three massive sets protrude from his back, the uppermost set the largest with a wingspan of easily fifteen feet.
He should be a broken, incoherent mess.
As I had once been.
How? How is he not?
A gale of wind rushes over me as he beats his wings, once, twice, a third time. Keeping my wings tucked tightly, my feathers, robes, and hair rustle.
“Do you wish to remain?” he asks, beginning his approach.
Innate screaming in my veins, I clench my jaw, retaining control.
“How?” I demand, my voice pure ice.
He arches a brow, not slowing. “I would have thought you knew.”
I shake my head once, my fists curling.
He stops, less than five feet away. And even at this distance, I have to stare up at him. Not as tall as some demons, but tall enough.
Laughing, he extends a hand. I’m reminded of the fae, of the High Priestess. I’d refused them both and both became missed opportunities. I cannot—no matter how inherently wrong it feels—miss yet another.
“Your Lord of Wrath,” he says, leaving his hand open. “He captured me. I was offered to Netharis in exchange for you.”
I almost laugh. Two hundred and fifty years ago Kassil offered a Life Bringer to my father for me and Netharis had yet to deliver. A wicked delight curls through the base of my skull. I’m not the only one Netharis manipulates.
“If we are going to go, you need to take my hand,” Zuriel says firmly, taking another step forward. “Calm your innate, Death Bringer.”
It rolls and churns, wanting to lash out. And part of me wants the same. My innate feeds on that small part refusing to settle, to listen.
“I cannot,” I reply, the sound coming through gritted teeth.
“Find a way,” he encourages quietly.
“Why are you willing to help me?”
Zuriel moves closer. Within striking distance. His offered hand between us. “It is only fair I offer to help when it is you who has given me my freedom,” he answers.
It can’t be that simple.
It’s never that simple.
“In Kassil’s haste to ensnare me, he failed in soundproofing my cell. I’ve listened to every conversation Netharis has had in his study. Netharis deserves what’s coming to him.” He laughs, a golden sound. “Listen, I do not want to be indebted to you. Take my hand and let us go.”
I remain still. Silent.
A mistake.
Zuriel closes the short distance between us in two strides and sweeps me into his arms, cradling me against his chest.
“No!” I shout, struggling.
With little effort, he overpowers me, pinning me in place with vice-like arms. I was no match two hundred and fifty years ago, and I am no match now.
My darkness streaks forth as he leaps into the air, pointed tendrils aimed for his wings, his throat, his head.
White flashes of light dispel them, and he begins laughing again.
“If we had the time, I would fight you again, Vestaris,” he muses with a grin. “And you would lose again.”
His muscles coil and, in an instant, my stomach is left upon the ground as his wings begin to beat furiously, lifting us higher. Searing through the air with a speed I didn’t know possible, my simmering rage becomes ice-cold fear as I peer behind.
Kassil soars toward us, his leathery wings beating furiously, the expression on his face one of pure wrath and outrage.
He launches hellfire from his fingertips, and my innate screams. Black streams of fog jettison themselves from me, ensnaring the hellfire.
As the shadows smother it, Zuriel glances over his shoulder.
“Brace yourself, Death Bringer,” he shouts over the wind.
A radiant white light bursts into life from the center of his chest, old magic runes swirling outward across his skin.
They too begin to glow bright, forcing my eyes to narrow.
A gust of wind rises beneath us, launching us further and faster into the red sky, leaving Kassil behind with greater speed.
Above us, a white billow of clouds begins to swirl, forming a circle. A portal. Zuriel has opened a portal. Through it, I do not see the night sky, nor the sun. Instead, I see nothing but white.
Is Zuriel about to emerge into the living realm alongside me?
Or am I about to learn what happens to demons brought to the heavens?
The brilliance of the light intensifies as another gale of wind rips through. It causes my eyes to water, forcing me to turn my face back into Zuriel’s chest, squeezing my eyes shut. I close a hand over the pendant around my neck, and it vibrates with old magic.
A sensation akin to a cool touch begins at my chest’s center, quickly spreading outward until the sensation consumes every part of me. A familiar surge of energy courses through me, one I have felt before—the night at the Moon Temple.
I feel weightless, and I clamp down on my jaw until it aches.
My stomach dips and I begin to fall, or at least I think I’m falling.
Opening my eyes, I find myself standing at the foot of a towering sculpture. Gaze traveling upward, my neck cranes to see my mother’s face cleaved from marble.
I whirl as my head swivels.
Zuriel is nowhere in sight.
Instead, I stand before a congregation of Celesta’s devotees, a sea parted in two halves of black and silver robes. Roughly a hundred pairs of eyes set in a hundred confused faces kneel before me in this white marbled room.
A female voice comes from my right, but I can’t tear my eyes away from the crowd. Her words don’t make sense, and everything feels wrong. My chest grows incredibly tight. Gasping, I remember breathing is no longer optional.
The gasp turns into rib-seizing coughs, my chest exploding with pain. My innate lashes out in dark tendrils, encasing me protectively as I fall to my hands and knees, unable to stop the dizziness in my head. It’s then the screaming begins, but I cannot see beyond the darkness swirling around me.
Even with my palms flat against the floor, the spinning grows worse.
I lower myself, resting my forehead against the back of my hands. Another coughing fit rakes through me, and this time, my stomach muscles contract as I’m hit by a wave of nausea, forcing me to dry heave.
Nothing would have ever prepared me for all of these sensations at once.
With the next roll of my stomach, I retch upon the floor. A congealed, black, acidic substance spews from me and pools onto the white marble.
Blood.
Or at least, it looks like my blood.
My throat burns and my eyes water as I continue to cough and heave my innards onto the floor. My mind is screaming because I cannot breathe.
I’m going to suffocate.
It’s as if there’s a collar being pulled tight around my throat, and the air I draw in goes nowhere.
I retch again, and it leaves me lightheaded.
I’m going to die and return to the hells.
I would start laughing if I could. Leave it to me to fail at taking my first successful breath.
Oh gods, what have I done?
Hunched over, tears streaming down my cheeks and blood pouring from my nose, I try one last time to breathe. My vision grows dark, and I fall face-first into darkness.