Epilogue
Revenant’s heavy footfalls echoed through the dark, narrow hallways, his gore-drenched boots leaving a trail of demon blood on the icy stone floor. People always associated Hell with heat, but the cold that permeated some of the underworld was, in some ways, even worse.
His black armor, shiny with the disgusting wetness associated with the butchery of battle, creaked as he strode past three dozen guards representing as many demon species.
The passageway seemed endless, so many demons—physical and mental. Revenant had grown up in these grotesque, twisted halls, raised by Satan himself in the bowels of this hideous stronghold.
He hated it here. Too many memories at every turn. He’d have razed the palace to the ground decades ago if it hadn’t been a strategic fortress at the apex of three regions run by warlords united only by a hatred of him. Those warlords were, in fact, why he was here. And why he was covered in gore.
“My lord.” The demon standing at the end of the hallway, his broad body blocking the entrance to Rev’s private residence, raised his clawed hand in a gesture of deference.
“I assume the rebel leaders’ heads are gracing the fortress walls on spikes, and that their corpses are being boiled with root vegetables in my clan’s cook pots? ”
“That’s…disturbingly specific.” Specific, but accurate. Gringe’s clan, in return for their mercenary services, demanded first pick of any dead enemies. Other clans and other demons got to scavenge the leftovers.
Gringe grunted. “Those rebellious heathens need to know what happens when they challenge the King of Hell.”
Whatever. Gringe and his entire clan wouldn’t hesitate to challenge Rev if they thought they could win or gain favor with Satan. Not that Satan could bestow any favors. Not right now, anyway. Revenant and his brother, Reaver, had locked that fucker up for a thousand-year sentence.
Thirty years later, Rev had managed to keep his enemies at bay, but he was no fool. As the centuries passed, and Satan’s release date drew nearer, Revenant would be contending with more frequent coup attempts. They’d grow larger in scale and involve more cooperative demon clans and factions.
“Sir.” Drudge, Rev’s Archon in charge of his intelligence and security apparatus, jogged up to him, his scaly feet clacking on the stone floor. “What did you want me to do with the traitors in the palace?”
Rev paused while reaching for the handles on the giant iron doors leading to the private living chambers he shared with his mate, Blaspheme. “How many did you root out?”
“Three dozen from our fighting forces. They planned to plant explosives in the barracks.”
“Any others?”
Drudge hesitated, his long, dragon-like snout flaring. “My lord…”
Fuck. “Tell me. I won’t kill the messenger,” Rev said. “Probably.”
The crimson slits in the dragon-demon’s yellow eyes flickered with anxiety. “We discovered one traitor in your cabinet. Sir.”
“Who?” Rev growled, his gut sinking. He didn’t trust anyone except his mate, but he’d hoped the people he kept near him could at least be counted on to not betray him.
“Noctus,” Drudge said, his voice grave. “It was under some…intense…questioning that he admitted to conspiring with the Sythh clan to poison your mate.”
Revenant hissed, his fangs punching down as a fresh rush of fury flooded his veins. Enemies and allies alike had plotted not to kill him, but to kill his mate. Most of those involved had paid in blood—theirs, and that of their loved ones.
“Is he still alive?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Bring him to me. Put him in my personal holding chamber.”
A slow, malevolent smile spread across Drudge’s angular face. “What shall we do with the remaining traitors?”
“Kill them,” Rev said. “Kill them all. However you want. But no one lays another claw on Noctus. He’s mine.”
“Yes, sir.” Drudge fled, eager to get on with his grim work. Revenant wished he had time to watch, but Blaspheme was his highest priority, especially now that he knew she was a target of his enemies.
As soon as the male disappeared around a corner, Revenant threw open the doors and burst inside. Blas’s maidservant, a willowy Drekevac demon, yelped in surprise, dropping a cup of what he assumed was tea.
“Where is she?”
“In her chamber.” She knelt to clean up the mess on the floor, but glanced up at him, concern clouding her black eyes. “Milord…she needs to eat.”
Alarm shot through him. Blas hadn’t been doing well lately, as the effects of full-time Sheoulic evil on a heavenly angel began to take their toll.
Fucking Heaven. His fury boiled anew.
When Heaven initially locked him inside Sheoul, Blaspheme had still been free to come and go.
As a doctor at Underworld General, she’d run one of its clinics in the human realm, which limited her exposure to the toxic effects of Sheoul’s evil.
But recently, the Heavenly pukes had changed their minds, and she’d been trapped down here, just like him.
Just like his mother.
His wings exploded from his back, and he shot upward through the gaps in the floors that allowed him to get from the bottom floor to the top in three flaps. Servants scattered as he landed at the top floor staircase and strode to the entrance to their private chambers.
He could have just flashed into them, but he didn’t want to startle Blas. In her weakened condition…well, he didn’t want to think about what surprising her might do to her frail body.
Gently, he tapped on the door and swung it open. A fire burned hot in the great fireplace, once a hideous, twisted monstrosity that served as a source of amusement for the keep’s previous owner. Rev could still hear the shrieks of the victims who’d burned—sometimes to death—inside.
Now, the glossy, ghoulish thing had been replaced by white marble from the human realm, shot through with silver and gold veins that Blas said vibrated with heavenly frequencies.
Revenant wouldn’t know. Heavenly frequencies usually weakened or died in his presence.
Blaspheme stood facing the flames, her back to him, and the sight of her nearly brought him to his knees in shock.
Her ivory gown hung limply from her gaunt frame, the dirty hem pooling around her bare feet. Her wings drooped against her back, the feathers dull and frayed, curling at the tips. Several feathers lay on the floor around her.
Rev’s entire body trembled at the sight of his beloved, his once-vibrant, glowing angel, now so diminished.
“Blaspheme,” he croaked, his voice sounding rusty, as if he hadn’t been screaming commands for…how long had it been? Weeks? Months?
Slowly, she turned to him, and he forced himself not to react to her pale, hollowed, gaunt face and sunken, dull eyes. Both palms pressed into the concave expanse of her lower abdomen, her wrists resting on prominent hipbones.
“I lost the baby,” she whispered. “Again.”
Grief shattered him, and in three strides, he had her in his arms. He hugged her tightly, hating how it felt as if his embrace would break her into pieces.
“I’m so sorry, darling. But if—”
“I can’t do this anymore,” she wailed, breaking away from him. She collapsed onto the stone floor, burying her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I’m not strong enough for this life. I thought I was, but…”
Sobs racked her as he gently gathered her in his arms and carried her to their bed. He didn’t bother undressing, even though he reeked of battle and blood. All he could think about was wrapping her in a cocoon of comfort.
The bed creaked under their weight, and in moments, he had her tucked against him, her face buried in his chest.
“I will find a way to get you out of here,” he swore.
She looked up at him, tears streaking her red-splotched face. “Did I lose our baby because I’m being punished?”
His heart, usually hardened and encased in ice, always thawed and got squishy when his mate was in pain. “You’re not being punished,” he rasped. “I am. Heaven fears me, so they trapped us both, and I’m willing to bet that they’re not sending any souls to bring life to our children.”
“We can’t try anymore,” she whispered. “I can’t do this again.”
“I know.” He’d made that decision before he left to fight the most recent war brought against him. Blaspheme was too frail to withstand another pregnancy. He’d only capitulated the last time because she’d begged him. And seduced him. And there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.
But he also knew what Sheoul did to angels.
Technically, Revenant was an angel, but he’d been born and raised in Hell, corrupted from birth and tortured for centuries. There wasn’t a trace of Heavenly angel left in him.
But Blaspheme was a full-fledged angel who drew her powers from Heaven itself. Since being cut off from that power, she’d become a shadow of what she once was. Unable to draw from Heaven, she was withering away—the way his mother had during her captivity in Satan’s dungeons.
But unlike his mother, Blaspheme wasn’t going to die. He wouldn’t let her. Somehow, he’d break out of this prison and save his mate.
And when he did…
Heaven would fall.
The Demonica Birthright series will continue with Legacy of Gabriel.