Chapter 26
Chapter twenty-six
Archer
“The Dark Lord is not weak,” I spat through clenched teeth. “And you should be flayed alive for even thinking such a thing.”
Furfures chuckled, a low, rumbling sound full of malice and disdain.
“You always were melodramatic, Archer. So loyal to the man who has apparently abandoned you. The same way he abandoned his duty to his Host.” Furfures’s gray features twisted with hatred.
“And while you may be content to put your honor aside and bow to a spineless leader, I will never do so. Just as I will never forgive him for what he’s done. ”
On some level, I understood.
After the Fall, it had been difficult for several of Lucifer’s Host to come to terms with their new situation. Many of them wanted to revolt, to wage war on those who had wronged us and exact the revenge they felt was their due.
One among them spoke the loudest, spewing falsehoods into the ears of his brothers until the whispers were louder than the truth.
Belial.
Once Lucifer’s second, Belial quickly became his greatest detractor, gathering followers of his own to his cause and stirring up rebellion any chance he got.
Through it all, Lucifer had stood strong, holding fast against the tide of wrath that nearly consumed so many of us in those first few centuries.
Even after the betrayal he’d suffered, he’d remained loyal to his Father, probably to a fault.
But eventually, even Lucifer’s orders weren’t enough to stay their hands.
Several members of his Host defected, venturing further into the bowels of Hell and finding places where their rage and hatred could fester, turning what was once barely a cut to their pride into a rotten, rancid mass looking for a place to explode.
Slowly, they gathered more to their cause, and the divide amongst the Host became more pronounced, with everyone choosing a side.
Some, like the members of the Umbra Fratrum, stood by our Dark Lord, trusting in his wisdom and benevolence to lead us through our new trial.
But far too many sided with Belial and his quest for revenge. Furfures, the Storm-bringer, was among them.
The Fallen Host had been fractured beyond repair.
“We’ve been here before, Storm-bringer,” I growled, my focus on the demon before me. “You and your ilk have tried and failed countless times. You will not win. There is no overthrowing Lucifer. His rule is secure.”
“Your arrogance is truly astonishing.” A huge gust of wind swept in from the open doors behind Storm-bringer’s back, throwing pamphlets and papers around in a swirling vortex.
Helena cackled, her scarred face twisting with glee as she pressed backward against the wind, making her way to the door and disappearing into the darkened afternoon.
Summoning my shadows, I kept my gaze on Fufures, nocking an arrow and keeping it aimed right where his shriveled heart would lay.
Reaching deep inside, I summoned my magic, shaping and coalescing it into a furious mass within me.
It felt like a bomb about to explode, and I infused it with all the anger, frustration, and disappointment I had bubbling inside.
“It’s not arrogance if you can back it up,” I said, then hit him with everything I had.
Shadows poured across the church, a tsunami of darkness that swept the remaining witches away on a tide of power. They screamed as they were consumed, my shadows devouring their flesh and then their foul souls.
In the center of the Nave, Storm-bringer snarled, his own magic buffeting against mine, shadows and wind swirling together to form a cyclone that tore through the wooden pew boxes, splintering them to pieces as our powers fought for dominance.
I could sense Corson and Vine, their own magics of earth and fire being added to mine, strengthening me enough so that I could throw Storm-bringer back at last. In a single huge push, our combined power slammed into Furfures, and he collapsed into a pile on the church floor, the wind he had wrought falling silent at last.
“Why is he so strong?” Vine asked, his chest heaving with the effort he’d expended. “He wasn’t this strong when we locked him up, was he?”
“No,” I agreed, my eyes narrowed at the limp form of the Storm-bringer where he lay. “He most definitely wasn’t.”
“What do you want to do with him?” Corson asked, sounding exhausted.
“We can’t kill him,” I said, knowing that even in Lucifer’s absence, the rules he’d set in place still held.
Above us, Mal let out a caw that sounded very much like a complaint. He had always hated the bureaucratic aspect of our work.
“But I really, really wanna kill him,” Vine moaned, stomping his foot.
“You know the law.”
Lucifer had hated the idea of his Host turning on one another. From the very beginning, he’d decreed that all out murder among his people should be avoided at all costs.
“I’d love to take him back where he belongs,” I lamented, using my shadows to wrap Furfures tightly and lift him off the floor.
“But until the paths are opened again, we’re stuck with him.
” I sneered at the demon, hanging in the air like a limp sausage, head flopping from side to side as we moved.
“We’ll take him to Asmodeus; perhaps he’ll have an idea on how to secure him.
Now, let’s get moving. With the storm over, the humans will be returning, and I really don’t want to be here when they see the mess we’ve made of their church. ”
“This would have broken my uncle’s heart,” Persephone murmured sadly, still clutching Vine, her face pale as she took in the devastation.
Most of the pew boxes were broken, the painted wood splintered beyond recognition.
On the altar, the tall pillar candles had tipped over and cracked, not a single one remaining unbroken.
It was utter carnage.
“I’ll see it fixed,” I promised, and Persephone gave a sad smile. “But for now, we must go. Come along, witch.”
But there was only silence.
“Witch?”
“Uh, boss?” Vine started, his words hesitant. “Where’d she go?”
Staring around the room, I looked for her, my breath seizing in my lungs at the thought that she’d been hurt in the fight. But after scouring the room and finding only dead Order witches, I finally realized the truth.
“She ran.” I knew I had been a fool to think that I could trust her. She was a liar like all the others. The moment I was distracted—trying to save her ass, no less—she bolted, taking the piece of the Fallen Key with her. “That bitch fucking ran from me?”
Mal cawed again, this time sounding both angry and afraid. With a gentle whisper of wings he took off, out the shattered windows and into the sky, no doubt looking for Delilah.
“I don’t think she ran, boss,” Vine said, his spear still held ready, but no longer wreathed in flame. “She was cool. She wouldn’t do us dirty like that. Maybe she was taken. Or maybe—” His words cut off when I shot him a look.
“She ran. I know it.” Depositing my bow and arrow back into my Rip, I withdrew a small silver dagger, the hilt embedded with a sapphire so dark, it was nearly black. A beautiful weapon for a horrible job. “And when I get my hands on her, she’s going to fucking regret it.”
“She can’t have gone far,” Corson offered calmly, but my rising anger wouldn’t listen. “You’re the only one here who can open shadow gates, so we know she’s on foot. We’ll find her.”
“I will find her.” And when I did, there’d be Hell to pay.
Closing my eyes, I stretched out my senses, allowing the connection between us to fizzle to life. For days now, I’d been ignoring it, refusing to believe what was right before my eyes. But even since I’d collared her, Delilah and I had been entwined in more ways than I was prepared to admit.
But after I’d kissed her in the garden, there was no denying it; the witch and I were inextricably linked in a way that I had never anticipated and didn’t understand.
But for now, I would use it to my advantage and track her betraying ass down.
Then I’d punish her for making me fucking worry.
Because beneath my facade of anger, the words Vine had uttered were what I feared the most. What if Helena had taken her? What if she hadn’t run, but had needed me to protect her, and I wasn’t there?
The possibility was more horrific than I wanted to consider.
Taking a breath, I reached out, my shadow magic calling to the collar I’d secured around her throat.
The collar that had protected her from me when I’d let my anger get the better of me.
I hoped this time it would sense my intentions, know that while I most definitely wanted to throttle the little witch, what I truly desired was to throttle her in a way that would have her moaning with pleasure.
Pulling back my drifting thoughts, I finally felt her, the spark of our connection causing her presence to appear like starlight in the darkness of my mind.
She was near, and she was frantic.
“I found her,” I snapped, turning for the door. “Let’s go.