Chapter 1
One
Silas
“We’re heading out,” Zenon muttered.
Rocco jerked his chin up. “See you there, Si, yeah?”
“Right behind you.” I patted my pockets and growled, or I would be when I found my car keys.
Zen walked out onto the balcony, bounded onto the railing, and dove off in a head-spinning death-drop before bursting into the air, his batlike wings catching the wind, then beating slowly as they carried him up into the night sky.
Roc unfurled his white-feathered wings tipped with silver and did the same, but without the death-drop.
I tore my eyes away, my heart finding its way into my throat as I strode out into the hall, then stepped into the elevator. The steel box plummeted a floor before the doors slid open.
I tried not to dwell on what I’d lost, it was an exercise in futility and grossly self-indulgent, but sometimes, like now, the pain hit me out of nowhere so hard it squeezed my chest and drove the oxygen from my lungs.
Several years had passed since the angels, my own brethren, hacked off my wings and tossed me from Heaven like unwanted trash. At times like this, though, the physical and soul-deep pain made my fall seem but a moment ago.
The door ahead of me opened and Zenon’s mate, Mia, walked out with Zephyr, their three-year-old son, at her side. He saw me, and his face lit up before he ran at me, his shoulder-length black hair streaming out behind him, holding out his arms.
“Hey, Zeph.” I scooped him up.
“You got any candy, Si?” he said in his sweet, raspy voice, his tiny hand delving into the pocket of my leather jacket.
“Zeph,” Mia said, shaking her head. “How about saying hello before you start searching people’s pockets.”
He tilted his head back, looking up at me, and planted both of his sticky little hands on my face to make sure he had my attention. “Hello,” he said.
I smiled, it was impossible not to. “Sorry, bud, no candy today. I’ll make sure I get some for tomorrow though. Yeah?”
He nodded, his smile widening.
Mia took him from me. “You’ve done it now.”
I chuckled.
“I thought you were on patrol tonight?” she said.
“Forgot my keys.”
“Oh.” She gave my arm an affectionate squeeze before turning her attention back to her son. “Right, little monster, let’s go say goodnight to your cousins, then bed.”
He nodded. “Then Grandpa?”
“Yes, then you can call Grandpa,” she said.
His grandpa, well, great-grandfather, was Lucifer, and the pair were thick as thieves. “Night, Zeph,” I said as they headed toward Eve and Lazarus’s quarters.
Opening my door, I scanned the room.
I’d lived at the knights of Hell compound ever since I was cast out of Heaven. They’d been good to me, had treated me like one of their own.
The knights had been protecting Roxburgh from demons for centuries, and now they had help from the hellhounds and Rune, a demon appointed to the city to keep those of his kind that had been granted sanctuary under control, and it mostly worked.
We still did nightly patrols, picking off the demons that shouldn’t be here, or the ones breaking the rules, but we’d recently turned our focus to Oldwood Forest, where the demon population was increasing rapidly.
They were the kind of demons that couldn’t pass as human, but most concerning was the increase in female abductions.
The demons dwelling there were actively snatching females off the street and using them as breeders.
The forest was vast and, with the help of the hellhounds and the Silver Claw wolf pack, we were collectively working to clear out the forest. Which is where I was supposed to be right now. I spotted my keys, snatched them up, and headed out.
When I finally reached Oldwood, I texted Zen for their coordinates.
I got a pin a moment later. “Great,” I muttered.
They were half an hour’s walk away, which meant I needed to start running if I was going to catch up.
Taking off, I sprinted through the trees, jumping over fallen logs and dodging low branches.
I didn’t mind running, it felt good to push myself hard, to focus on my footing and not the thoughts trying to invade my mind whenever it was quiet.
I’d been running for about five minutes when a sense of anticipation filled me.
It wasn’t a negative sensation, not completely, but something was up.
There was a wariness in the esthesis washing through me.
I searched the trees, scanning my surroundings.
Nothing jumped out at me, unpleasant or otherwise.
Before my wings and my gift of sight had been ripped from me, I would’ve known what was about to happen. Now, I occasionally experienced what I called “knowings”—a surety or sense of something. It had taken a while to get used to it, but when the feeling came, I listened.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. The feeling lighting up my senses was probably just a warning that Roc was about to tell me they were now half an hour in the opposite direction.
I yanked my phone from my pocket as I slowed.
Not Roc.
It was a video call—from Lucifer. The anticipation spiked. The best way to describe it was wary excitement.
Why the hell would he be calling me, of all people, and why would it invoke this kind of response inside me?
I’d had plenty of dealings with him over the thousands of years I’d known him, but we didn’t call each other to chitchat.
Lucifer also wasn’t one to be ignored. If I did, he’d just keep calling until I answered, or he’d find some other, probably disturbing way of getting my attention. Cursing under my breath, I tapped the screen. “What do you want?”
Lucifer was standing in a cavern, firelight dancing on the wall behind him. Blood splattered his tattooed neck and chest and someone’s pained groans echoed in the background. “Don’t pretend your dick didn’t get a little hard when you saw my name,” he said and grinned, flashing his white teeth.
“How did you get my number?”
“My grandson.”
Zenon wouldn’t give it to him unless he thought I’d be interested in whatever Lucifer had to say.
Still, the king of Hell was an asshole who loved to talk shit and I wasn’t in the mood to deal with him.
“Why on earth do you want to talk to me?” I bit out, and he didn’t miss the impatient growl in my voice.
His gaze sharpened. “All right, Si, no need to get all hot under the collar. I’ll get to the gosh-darned point.”
Prick. “I’d appreciate it.”
“The Tartarean is coming up, and I’d like you to represent Hell.”
My head jerked back.
“I’ve surprised you.”
Major understatement. “Why would I want to do that?”
Lucifer shrugged. “Why wouldn’t you? I hear the angels are sending Nathaniel to represent them. That male will stop at nothing to win, and I need someone just as ruthless representing me.”
Nathaniel was a duplicitous agitator who’d made it his mission to destroy me.
The wannabe despot had been angling for a promotion for centuries and thought betraying his brethren, or spying on them and reporting to certain archangels, was the fastest way of accomplishing that goal.
He was also a sick and depraved narcissist with a penchant for mutilation.
I’d love the chance to take that fucker down and Lucifer knew it, too. “Why me?”
“We both know you would have been their first choice if you hadn’t been cast out. You would’ve been taking part anyway, only now you’ll be playing for the other team.”
“I have no interest in risking my neck for you. I don’t owe you shit.”
“Correct, you do not,” he said. “But the angels are up to something, and since you’ve lost your ability of foresight, trust me when I say that it won’t only affect me—and all signs are pointing to it being my head on the chopping block—but a whole lot of other not good stuff is coming.”
Was he lying to get me on side? I had no fucking idea. “What do they have planned?”
“That isn’t clear yet, things are still…unraveling, but believe me, those fucks are up to no good.”
“Okay, but I’m still not sure what that has to do with me or why you want me in this tournament?”
He ignored my questions and carried on talking. “The male who runs The Tartarean, Felditch, has powers like nothing you’ve seen before, and I’ll need the prize that weird motherfucker is offering to ensure the angels don’t have an advantage when the shit eventually hits the fan.”
“What prize?”
“A favor,” Lucifer said. “It’s the same every tournament.”
“That’s it?”
“A favor from Felditch is nothing to sniff at. The freakish mofo is the whelp of an ancient god and has the power to prove it.”
I shoved my fingers through my hair. “Okay, but again, why me?”
“As you know, each team is made up of two representatives, and I find myself in need of someone with…well, a level head, shall we say, to partner with the handmaid I’ll be sending.”
“I’m not sure why you think I care?” I growled, getting more heated with this whole conversation by the minute.
Lucifer’s head tilted to the side. “The handmaid I’m sending is bloodthirsty, highly skilled in battle, and I have someone on the inside that assures me that her specialty will be more than useful in this tournament.
But she’s known for losing her temper and lashing out.
For occasionally making rash decisions.” His yellow gaze bored into mine through the screen, and my gut clenched.
“I need someone with a steadying influence, someone who can talk her down when she wants to slaughter every competitor with a big mouth before the first event can even start and get us disqualified. Someone who can also match her as a warrior to ensure we win this.” His gaze flashed and his eyes glowed. “Because we need to win this, Silas.”
If he was talking about who I suspected he was, he’d lost his senses.
“Will you say yes?” he asked.
“Who do you want me to compete with?” I asked, and my gut clenched in anticipation of his reply.
He grinned. “Come now, Si, you know exactly which handmaid I’m talking about.”