The Prison
Chapter One
Evangeline
“Wake up.”
A deep, velvety voice filled me with warmth and love, but a mist covered him. I ached for a glimpse of his face.
“Two halves…” I struggled to open my eyes as my words drifted off in my dream.
“Wake up, Little Dove.”
A tall striking-looking man with dark hair past his shoulders appeared in the haze—and then a blast of white light blinded me.
I gasped for air and shook out of my delirium. Groaning, I sat upright on hard-packed dirt layered with straw and blinked until the flickering torches hung by the metal bars and rocky walls of my prison came into focus.
Shit! I recalled my body swaying as if the floor had tilted, and then the world had turned dark.
How long had I been in this cell?
Day or night? Impossible to tell with no windows.
My head pounded like a beating drum, and the stench of urine and feces turned my stomach. I gagged, holding in the urge to vomit, and pain surged up my chest.
Something warm trickled down my hip. As I lowered my hand, the heavy weight of clanking shackles stopped me short.
Metallic gray cuffs made out of hematite crystal—an iron-based mineral that suppresses angel energy—hung on my wrists.
Damn these chains.
With a trembling hand, I dabbed at the wetness to gauge the depth of the gash under my rib cage. Thick, golden blood oozed through my skintight white uniform, between my fingers, and dripped onto the hay.
The wound was deeper than I’d thought.
Even though the cut had begun to heal, the restraints around my wrists and ankles would slow my recovery time.
I tuned my senses to listen for any clue about my whereabouts. Absolute silence.
Don’t give up. Friends are coming. Unless they were captured too. But we wouldn’t have all been captured, right?
A soft breeze stroked my face and caressed my long, gilded hair, but the brief comfort was shattered by the sound of a slap upon flesh. Soft whimpers came from the prisoners beyond the pitted brick walls.
“No…please.” A man’s desperate voice echoed. “I’ll give you coins. Please don’t touch me.”
The captive was probably a hybrid offspring of a human and a lesser angel or low-class demon, or merely a mortal. Either way, he would be assaulted and killed.
Guilt pierced through my soul. There was nothing I could do to help him. Again, damn these hematite crystal cuffs.
Heavy footsteps thudded along the dark corridor. The feathers along my spine gathered in a tight bundle, ruffled involuntarily in warning of demons nearby.
I pushed up to my feet, my knees wobbling as I retreated to the wall. It would protect my back, and no way would these soldiers see me on the ground like a groveling pig.
I widened my stance, holding the chains like a weapon, and slowly unfurled my wings through the back slits of my suit. It felt so good to loosen my muscles until pain radiated from the wound.
I swiped a finger on the dried splatters—crimson human blood and black demon blood—on my uniform.
Similar stains dotted my alabaster and golden feathers. How many had I killed before they had captured me?
Five demon soldiers in human form stopped in front of my cell wearing smug grins. Hunters who had just cornered their prey.
A baldheaded male with wholly dark eyes unlocked the metal door and jerked it open. I glared at him.
That one had dosed me with a sleeping potion before dragging me to prison. He was a fool for showing himself. I’d kill him first.
The other four soldiers positioned themselves around me with spears raised, but they kept their distance. They were no match for me even with the hematite cuffs.
Their hearts raced and they smelled of fear. As they should.
“Ready to die, angel bitch?” The baldheaded guard scowled, the point of the spear so close I could touch it.
“Not by your hands, demon. I’ll rip out your heart if you take another step.”
I wasn’t in a position to taunt him, but I was never the docile type.
The baldheaded soldier growled and thrust his spear at my shoulder. I deflected it with a swipe of my raised cuffs, the sharp point of his spear brushed through my golden hair and lifted some dark strands in front of my face.
He roared as his fellow demons laughed mockingly. I didn’t have full strength, but I could still use my wits, a weapon this fool lacked.
I pinned him with a warning stare. “Careful. Or better yet, come closer. Don’t you want my blood? You’ll be rich and you can have anything you desire.”
His eyes grew wider and his thick tongue touched his lips. Then his features scrunched and he spat on the straw. “Don’t get excited thinking you’re going to trick me. We’re draining Zander and your friends as we speak, so I don’t need your blood. Soon, you’ll all be dead.”
Zander. Snow. Dawn. Tank. Otis. No! How? I had hoped I was the only one who had been captured.
I should have killed the underground demon leader named Gorgo when I had the chance. He’d asked to unite the Hierarchy of Angels and his kind to fight against King Asmodeus. But the archangels left Earth and sent out the Order of Angels, also known as OA, to finish their tasks.
We were to remain among the humans until further notice—if we didn’t die first.
As a Seraphim, I led my own team of mostly hybrid angels. Zander was the only other Seraphim on my team. Above me were hierarchy angels, also called superiors, and they gave us our assignments.
Our team agreed to the union with the underground demons and opened our home as a sign of good faith. They betrayed us. I’ll never make that mistake again.
We had followed our escape route and thought we were clear, but the king’s soldiers ambushed our makeshift home inside an abandoned barn.
A wall collapsed during an explosion and separated me from my team. The others must have been bombarded when they exited the back of the structure. But all of them? Impossible.
“You’re lying.” Rage drove me as I swiped at them with wide, clumsy blows, the chains around my ankles slapping the dirt.
My boots weighed me down like they were encased in lead, and anchors bolted to the wall held me firmly as I strained against them.
I didn’t care if my skin burned and tore from the bindings. I didn’t care if I broke an arm. The physical pain inside my rib cage was nothing to the agony in my soul.
I needed to rip off their heads.
One of the demon guards slipped behind one of my wings, and I smacked him with a flap. Pain rippled up my spine and the gash tore even farther. But that soldier flew across the space and cracked his skull against the metal bars.
One asshole down.
“Shoot her. Now.” The baldheaded demon pointed his spear at me.
The tallest soldier held a six-inch pipe to his lips and huffed.
Something whizzed across the air and lodged in my neck. A tiny dart.
I should have seen that coming. I would’ve if I had focused instead of acting from my temper and the emptiness where my heart once thrived.
If my team had been captured, all hope was lost. And if they were dead, I would join them in the afterlife.
If there was such a thing for us.
“Time for your judgment, angel bitch.” The baldheaded demon smirked. “I’m going to enjoy chopping your wings off.”
The walls spun, and the soldiers doubled to ten.
I drifted on a breeze, my soul a whisper in a meadow full of vibrant flowers. A peaceful place I created in my head.
Hands tightened around me and the hematite crystal restraints clattered on the ground.
The king would execute me in a public display. There would be no trial.
Angels had no rights in the human world.