Chapter 42
My prayers are answered, but not by God.
A slow clap comes from behind me.
The crowd falls into a dead silence.
“Congratulations, Kaelene,” A low, rough voice murmurs. “That room was covered in runes. You’ve impressed me.”
I turn, facing the son of a bitch. “For the last time, it’s Kae.”
Azael passes me, approaching the edge to glance sidelong at the crowd. They disperse immediately, looking embarrassed to have been caught in their foolish nonsense… And there goes my chance to jump.
“You would have broken your legs from this height,” he muses, slipping his hands in his pockets before turning to look at me. I meet his emerald eyes with defiance, glaring at him through lowered lashes.
I’m fucking furious.
“How long were you going to leave me in there to rot?”
“Two weeks.” His gaze skims over me. “Or until something like that happened. I’ll admit, though, I thought it unlikely… Now where am I supposed to put you?”
I feel his magic prodding at me, looking for weaknesses. Good. The only thing he’s going to pick up is my spite and rage, and I want him to feel every bit of that. “Not in a goddamn prison cell.”
My eyes slip back to the edge. Breaking my legs might be worth it if it means I don’t have to spend another second with him—
“I’d rather not have to heal the opposition, but if you insist, you’re free to try it.” Nonchalantly, he waves a tattooed hand toward the rubble. “Go ahead. Jump. If you get a running start, you might even make it to the pool.”
After a moment’s hesitation, I swear under my breath.
“That’s what I thought. Perhaps you’ve learned something from the Power yet.” He tilts his head to the side, making his cheekbones even more prominent than they already were. “How did the little bird break out of her cage?”
I breathe out slowly. I’d rather not make a deal with the devil, but it seems I’m out of options. “I’ll tell you how if you let me leave this godforsaken room already.”
Azael chuckles lowly, taking a fraction of a step forward. I can already see my reflection in his eyes, which is way too close for comfort. Unconsciously, I take a half-step backward, sending a bit of rubble tumbling off the edge.
“I should have captured you a long time ago. This is far too amusing.” Sadistic pleasure fills his eyes, and he holds out his hand. “Come, then. I’ll reward you with a touch of freedom.”
I look at it in severe distaste before bulldozing past him, mumbling creative insults to myself about how much of a bottom-dwelling cuck he is.
Outside the iron door, I feel like I can breathe again for the first time since I got here. The hallway is made of white stone, perhaps marble, that matches the Parthenon style of the atrium that I just partially destroyed.
Truly, everything looks like ancient Rome with a touch of modern updates.
Reluctantly letting Azael take the lead, I follow him down a side hallway, descending a set of stairs. Right before we turn the corner, though, we’re greeted by a beautiful—and entirely nude—woman.
I stare in a mixture of shock and horror.
She only smiles back, her red lips the same shade as her obscenely long hair. It falls like blood-red silk over her porcelain skin, which is full of unnatural and dramatic curves. I guess she doesn’t have to worry about back pain, being whatever nonhuman creature she clearly is…
“Why, hello there,” she greets me with a sultry, velvet-smooth voice, as if she’s trying to seduce me. “I’m Ananelilith. You must be the girl we’ve heard so much about. Aren’t you just magnificent?”
I glance at Azael, my eyes begging for an explanation, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He just looks at her, unamused, and grumbles, “Ana, what have I said about clothes in the common areas?”
Her smile grows, flashing her pearly white teeth—along with a pair of sharp fangs. “Apologies, Primus. I was assisting in the field today, and it seems I’m having trouble, mmm… getting out of character.”
“Oh, for the love of—” He pinches his nose, exasperated. “How many times do I have to tell you to leave that kind of work to your litter of children? We have more important uses for your time. Dress yourself and meet us for dinner. Now.”
She flips her hair back, pointedly exposing her bare breasts, before giving a slight bow. “As you wish.”
“Such insolence,” Azael mutters to himself before beckoning me into the next room. I follow, resisting the urge to watch the bold and potentially insane woman strut away. I wish I could have that kind of unerring confidence in my naked body.
The foyer we enter is a gorgeous, interesting cross between Greco-Roman architecture and the Victorian era.
Tall ceilings are supported by marble columns, yet the walls are plastered in elaborate red wallpaper.
It’s a sitting room of some sort, with dainty tea couches placed around—oh dear God what is that—
I stumble backward, eyes wide.
There’s a beast unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, curled up on the entirety of one loveseat. It is, perhaps, a very large dog, but it must have been dragged straight from Hell.
It’s black as night, unnaturally skinny, and half of its head is covered with an exposed skull—an elk’s, maybe, judging by the antlers.
And even though it has canine paws, the nails jutting out of it look more like talons.
Even the tail is a weapon, draping off the seat with a metallic morningstar on its tip.
“My Wendigo.” Azael’s rough voice from behind me makes the beast raise its head, staring directly at us. I can’t even see its eyes. There’s only a red glow in the holes of the skull.
The second it looks like it’s about to get up, I start scurrying back—bumping straight into Azael. I whirl around in a half-turn, instinctively planting my feet in a defensive stance.
“Relax.” A hint of a smirk touches his lips as he looks down at me, enjoying this far too much. “He’s friendly. Do they not have dogs in the Abyss?”
“No, they do not have hell hounds in the Abyss.”
“Pity.” With a shrug, he walks past me. “Come on. He won’t eat you.”
I feel like that’s a very specific thing to promise someone, and I don’t like it one bit. I refuse to take my eyes off the creature as I edge closer to the wall, trying my best to keep up. “Azael… what does your pet eat?”
He chuckles darkly. “Greedy bastards, of course.”
There’s an interesting mix of angels waiting for us at the dining table.
Thankfully, the woman with bright red hair is wearing clothes now, but not by much. As if to spite Azael’s demands, she’s put on a red lingerie devil costume, complete with little plastic wings and headband horns.
If it bothers him, he doesn’t show it.
“You’ve already met Ana, the Archangel of Fauna,” he says shortly after we enter the room. “To her right is Tamiel, Archangel of Offense.”
I follow his waving hand to a Viking shieldmaiden of an angel who looks like she could crush me like a toothpick.
He then points to Ana’s other side, where a lean, tall man with snow-white wings is sitting. “Amezarak, Archangel of Sorcery.”
His warm brown skin is beautifully contrasted by the unnaturally iridescent teal markings that snake around his entire body, leading all the way up his neck and into his equally blue hair. He meets my eyes with a small nod of acknowledgment, but nothing more.
“Batriel, the Archangel of Perception.”
The next man has the darkest skin and healthiest locs I’ve ever seen, though the pitch-black color of his bat wings seems to be a place where light goes to die. His hooded eyes sweep over me, inspecting, before he says simply, “Just Bat, please.”
“And then Zaqiel, the Archangel of Emotion.” Azael motions to the last person at the table, and the man flashes me a perfect smile with painfully white teeth.
With tawny brown skin and curly dark hair falling significantly past his shoulders, he looks like he’s torn straight off the cover of a bodice-ripper romance novel from the eighties.
“Last but not least,” he says with a wink, only further fitting my assumptions. I’m sure he’s the thief of many hearts, but unfortunately for him, mine is thoroughly locked away. “And Zaq is fine. The ‘el’ of our names can get so exhausting.”
Azael takes a seat at the end of the table, motioning for me to sit next to him.
Reluctantly, I comply, and the demons begin to build their plates without another word.
Much like the abyss, the entrees are spread out across the table, leaving us to pick and choose what we’d like.
I suppose there’s virtually no risk of me being poisoned, so I hardly hesitate before following suit.
“I heard about your little light show,” Ana smiles, ear to ear, from across the table. It’s blindingly pretty, but still a serpentine look, undoubtedly built to lure men into her demonic seduction. Like a succubus. Or an R-rated Jessica Rabbit.
And what am I even supposed to say? ‘Yep, that was me. Sorry about your wall?’ Because I am not sorry whatsoever.
So I just shrug, taking a bite out of a yeast roll.
Ana waits for a moment before pouting dramatically, as if she’s a spoiled child who is upset that not everyone immediately loves her.
Azael clears his throat in a demand for civility, but she only shoots him a defiant look, sticking out her forked, snakelike tongue. Creepiness aside, it earns her a few brownie points with me. Unfortunately for her, though, I’m not here to make friends. I’m their captive; I intend to raise Hell.
Leaning back in my chair, I make a show of looking over their little group. It’s such a strange admixture of people. “So, this is the mighty Adversary.”
Ana snickers while Tamiel glares at me, and the others just seem to twiddle their thumbs as they wait for someone else to respond to me.
A moment passes of nothing but awkward silence.
Ugh. Why am I even here? I could have eaten dinner alone.