Chapter 20
Chapter 20
T he demon inside the cage stood tall, fists out at his sides. He wore black leather pants and no shirt. His abdomen was carved as if from stone and his muscles were many, forming him lean and imposing. Long streams of wavy coal hair hung over his broad shoulders and his red eyes glinted like rubies.
Slowly, the scratches on his cheek closed up, leaving but a spill of black blood trickling down his jaw.
With a hiss he released his wings, which spread to the cage bars without touching them. Black feathered wings that flashed like mirrors with each movement and seemed made of silk and sewn with silver threads. They were iridescent with all colors, much as a raven’s wings.
Tuesday knew that angels rarely wore feathered wings, but demons often did. Had this angel’s wings taken on a different form when he had fallen to Beneath and become demon? No matter. They were beautiful. He was beautiful.
And her sigil burned as if pleading with her to rush forth and touch those wings. To make contact with something that could both harm her and equally embrace her. The invitation felt so real.
She squeezed her hands, fingernails digging in to her palms to stop the urge.
The demon let out a guttural yell, retracting his wings when they touched the electrified bars. He swung about, his wings sending a rush of icy wind across the observers, lifting their hair and stirring up a bone-deep shiver that made Tuesday gasp.
Stomping a foot, Gazariel tested the steel cage floor. Thrusting out his hands, he sent demonic magic hurtling toward them, only to have it deflected by the wards. He took the brunt of that repulsed magic with a stagger backward and a screaming trill of swear words. He ended his tirade with a flip of his middle finger toward Tuesday, and a simple “Bitch.”
Tuesday met CJ’s eyes. The dark witch who had summoned the demon stepped back to stand beside her. “We’ll leave him to the boss,” he said quietly. “But stand on guard.”
Always. Holding the alicorn in one hand and her athame in the other, she was prepared to fling some wicked magic toward the demon. Tuesday watched as Ethan questioned the captive.
“You’ll get nothing from me that you could not get before,” Gazariel announced. “How dare you steal me away from my very life?”
Tuesday had felt much the same upon waking inside this cage. But she would not sympathize with the demon. And yet, the compulsion to step forward and embrace him only grew stronger. This time a snap of the rubber band around her wrist was necessary.
The cat meowed and slunk toward the door. Tuesday leaned over to open it and the feline scrambled out.
“If you would have given me what I wanted during our first encounter I wouldn’t have had to resort to such tactics.” Ethan stood stoic before the cage, shoulders back and head lifted. A commander protecting his troops and interrogating the enemy. He wore wards drawn on the backs of his hands, beneath his chin and down his throat. But his true strength came from within; his courage and integrity. “You need only hand over the book, written by the muse Cassandra Stephens, which contains the code for the Final Days and I will release you. Simple as that.”
Gazariel swiped a hand over his cheek, studied the black blood on his fingers, then gestured dismissively. “I don’t have it.”
“You are lying.”
“I had it,” the demon said with a sly red glance to Tuesday. “But now I do not.”
“Then where is it?”
“In a safe place.”
“Tell me where it is, and once I’ve retrieved it, you are free to go,” Ethan stated. “Did you give it to Anyx?”
That caught the demon’s attention. He gripped the cage bars, but released them as quickly with a hiss and a string of vile oaths that never would have been allowed Above. “I knew someone was watching us! Did you follow me, vampire? Why didn’t you take me in hand that day when we were dining?”
“Did you give it to the vampiress?” Ethan repeated.
“Maybe.” The demon rubbed his cheek again.
“You two had a lover’s spat,” Tuesday said, realizing now where the claw marks had come from. “Did she take the book from you and run?”
Gazariel flipped her off again. “Not worth my breath to converse with you lot of miscreants. I need something in exchange.”
“How about your life?” Ethan offered. “You do know that if the Final Days is activated we will all die?”
Gazariel shrugged. “Assuming you remain in this realm. I, on the other hand, have made preparations to be located elsewhere.”
“He doesn’t have leave of this realm!” Tuesday blurted out. “He’s as much a captive of the mortal realm as we all are.”
Ethan cast her a castigating glare, which she took with a huff. She did not need a reprimand for providing him the facts.
“You know nothing about me, my witch,” Gazariel growled through a tight jaw. He curled his wings forward, tucking them until the points crossed before his feet.
“I know everything about you, as you know everything about me,” she said, and once again got the look from Ethan. She was supposed to stand back and keep quiet? She could not. Thrusting out an arm, she pointed the alicorn at the demon. “You are a vain and insignificant reject from Above, and then you were also rejected in Beneath and cast out to live in this realm. You, who couldn’t bear to carry the curse of a loveless life so you put it on a helpless, dying woman. Some demon you are!”
Gazariel gripped the cage bars, and the action transferred mighty amounts of voltage through his system. He managed to hold on for much longer than Tuesday imagined any normal creature could, and as he did so, his eyes flashed brilliant crimson. Was he feeding off the electricity?
Ethan kicked a control button at the base of the cage, and the demon was propelled backward to collide with the bars at the back of the cage. Those bars hissed with smoke and sent the demon stumbling forward, so he almost landed on his knees, but he caught himself. Bent over, huffing, his wings slowly curled about him, enclosing him in a cocoon.
“Is she right?” Ethan asked. “Are you but a feeble reject from both Above and Beneath? Is it that your lover took off with the book, leaving you a simpering reject in her wake?”
“I don’t have it. Not anymore. I was going to give it to her to—”
Tuesday filled in the words he probably couldn’t bring himself to say— to win her love . Was the vampiress the one creature from whom Gazariel could not be loved?
“No.” The demon stomped a foot. “I’m not going to utter a single word about that...bitch of a vampire.” Gazariel lifted his head from the glinting cove of wings. His jaw was tight. He’d felt that pain from the cage bars, Tuesday knew. “Serve me your worst, Ethan Pierce.”
“Very well.” Ethan stepped back and gestured for Savin Thorne to step forward. The man tossed his hat aside, and shrugged up his shoulders, as if preparing to step into a boxing ring.
“Who is this mortal you’ve put before me?” Gazariel asked. “He may look imposing but I can feel no power within him.”
The reckoner chuckled and rubbed his palms together before his face. When he spread his hands to face toward the cage, the wards on his palms took to flame. “I am Savin Thorne,” he said to the demon. “I’m here to reckon you to Daemonia.”
* * *
Ethan stepped aside to give the reckoner room to work. Tuesday stood just behind him. He could sense her in him. Because she was in him. And he didn’t feel fear in her, but rather, indifference and a righteous anger. She hated this demon and wanted him gone. But he also knew they could not send him off to Daemonia until they’d gotten the information they needed from him. Nor could they actually send him away without also sending Tuesday along with him.
Thorne knew that as well.
The reckoner clapped his hands together over his head and began to chant something that sounded like a Polynesian tribal rite. It had a beat and a low, bellowing caw that sent chills up Ethan’s spine.
Inside the cage the demon narrowed his gaze on the reckoner. With a shrewd sneer, he folded back his wings. He wasn’t standing so tall and proud anymore. And it wasn’t curiosity that bent him forward to better hear the reckoner’s deep and loud voice. It had to be a nervous fear.
To Ethan’s right stood CJ. The dark witch had crossed himself and touched some of the tattoos on his hand the moment the reckoner had started to chant. Ethan wasn’t aware of any protections he needed against a reckoner. He’d worked with Savin twice before and had witnessed the man send a demon off to Daemonia in a cloud of black smoke. It had taken but ten minutes of chanting.
And they were nearing that mark now.
“All right!” the demon suddenly shouted, yet the reckoner kept up his wicked chant. “Make him cease and I will tell you where it is.”
“Savin,” Ethan said.
The reckoner silenced, closed his eyes and thrust his hands above his head again, but this time only touching together his forefingers, as if to pause something he could then continue when required. With a nod, he stepped back beside CJ.
Ethan stepped up to the cage. “Tell me.”
Gazariel peered past him to Tuesday. “I will only tell my witch.”
“That’s not going to happen. She’s not involved in this interrogation.”
“I won’t do anything to her. These damn wards have drained me already. And that bloody chanting. Ugh. I could almost see the gates to Daemonia. She knows she’ll be safe. Yes?”
Behind him, Ethan felt Tuesday’s nod more than saw it. He’d promised to protect her, and he did trust the efficacy of the wards in the room. And she was warded fully as well. He turned to look at her and without so much as a flinch, her confident posture conveyed to him that she was ready.
The woman was brave and strong. Of course she could handle this. Ethan nodded once, and Tuesday stepped forward.