9. Oziel
Oziel
The last remaining guard and Garvan drop to their knees the moment the Nephilim’s piercing scream reverberates around the room.
My body tenses, and I clench my jaw through the pain, forcing my hands to stay balled up at my sides.
The demon king can’t show weakness, not when my people are always watching and waiting to doubt my ability to lead.
Perhaps bringing Isabelle down here was a mistake.
Isabelle takes a step closer to the cage, just as I asked her to do.
Another foolish mistake. The giant beast inside moves to the bars, as if an invisible string connects the two of them.
At any moment, the imprisoned Nephilim could reach out and snatch the human, killing her instantly, along with my hopes of defeating our enemies.
I act without further prompting.
The Nephilim’s high-pitched wailing becomes more unbearable the closer I get. I bite down on my tongue so hard, my mouth explodes with the taste of my own blood. My powers are waning fast.
Once I’m close enough, my arms snake around Isabelle’s torso, bringing the woman back against me.
She screams and fights me, a kitten clawing for freedom.
If this were any other circumstances, I would call it foreplay.
But as it is, I can’t enjoy her lithe body moving against mine with pain lacerating my body.
I summon my strength, shadows engulfing us.
The sensation of icy water washes over us, and the world around us becomes gloriously silent.
That is, until my shadows deposit us in my dining room and Isabelle falls from my arms to the ground.
She lands on her hands and knees, retching up the contents of her belly on my newly polished flooring.
Pity.
“What…the…fuck?” Isabelle hisses through panting breaths.
“You’re welcome.” Did they not teach humans manners in her world? And Mescos thinks demons were rude. I suppose Isabelle fits in perfectly.
“You’re welcome?” Her shrill voice does little to ease my spiraling nerves.
Echoes of pain pulse through my body, and my ears still ring with the screams from the Nephilim and my betrothed. My power is all but depleted. I haven’t felt my true power for months, ever since the arrival of the rose and curse.
“You had no right to pull me out of there. No fucking right, Oziel.” Isabelle rounds on me. The brave—or possibly foolish—woman glares at me through dark, heavy lashes. If black cats were human women, Isabelle would be the leader of them.
“Next time, I’ll let the big, bad Nephilim kill you, Kitten. Would you have preferred that?” A smirk tugs at my lips upon seeing her jaw drop, a mixture of shock and anger coloring her pretty face. Makes her even prettier. I so like it when she’s angry.
“Kitten?” She spews the word with such detestation, I suddenly became a bigger fan of the nickname. “I’m not your fucking kitten. And why would you pull me away when the Nephilim was talking to me? I could—”
The rest of her words go unheeded as I focus on one part. “What did you say?” Perhaps I misunderstood her. There have never been reports of Nephilim speaking, except for their leader, Gadreel. And even he saves his words for certain occasions.
“I said it was speaking to me.”
So, I heard correctly. For once, Ender presented me with vital information. Well, this certainly changes everything. “And what did it say to you? Tell me exactly what it said.”
“You were there.” She peers at me oddly. “Didn’t you hear it?”
I do my best to stay calm, though my patience is delicately balancing on a thin precipice. “I heard screaming. Nothing more.”
“Nothing?” she asks, her voice quieting. She studies me, trying to catch me in a lie. I’m many things, but I’m not a liar. Not when the truth is so much more desirable.
“Tell me what you heard, Kitten.”
Isabelle shoots me a glare but otherwise ignores the name. “Well, I didn’t know what that thing was, so I asked it. Then I heard a voice in my head telling me it was a Nephilim.”
“Correct, it is. Keep going.”
“I asked it why it was here, and it said—” Before she gets the words out, the dining door creaks open, and in walks Garvan.
“My lord—”
“Hush, Garvan. I’m in the middle of something.” My command makes Garvan pause, stopping short of where I stand with Isabelle. He makes no attempt to leave, but he nods, obeying my order. Slinking back against the wall, Garvan makes himself scarce but still stays close.
“Go on,” I urge.
Isabelle’s eyes drift over to Garvan before snapping back to meet my gaze. Her cheeks redden, as if she’s flustered. “I wanted to know why it was hurting the demons, but I didn’t get a clear answer. It said something about how it is bringing death for HIM…but I don’t know who he is.”
“Perhaps Gadreel.”
“I don’t know that name.” She shakes her head.
“Gadreel is the leader of the Nephilim. They follow his orders,” I answer distractedly, my mind racing with possible ways to move forward.
It is clear we are at an advantage if the humans can speak to the Nephilim.
Or is that power only reserved for Isabelle?
There’s only one way to test that theory.
“Garvan,” I bark, and my courtier stands taller. “Send word to the kraken, wolf, and dragon kings. Request the presence of their wives.”
I expect Garvan to bow and carry out my order, but the demon hesitates. “My lord, is this necessary? Perhaps we should put our efforts into finding out who or what is poisoning our river and how we can combat it. It’s getting worse.”
“Poisoning your river?” Isabelle questions, but I ignore her.
“I gave you an order; go see that it is done.”
“But—” Garvan tries to argue, but my patience is worn. Dark shadows surround him, lashing out like invisible whips. He grimaces but finally bows. “I’ll send word now.”
I call back my shadows. “See that you do.”
With another bow, Garvan hurries out of the room, the bitter taste of his poorly concealed anger lingering.
I want to look further into this theory, but for now, it is a waiting game. I clap my hands together, the thunderous sound echoing into the room, causing Isabelle to jump. “Join me for dinner.”
“What? Don’t you want to figure out what the Nephilim was saying?” she asks incredulously.
I want nothing more than to question the Nephilim further, but I first must know if Isabelle is alone with this ability, and until then, I’m unwilling to risk her.
She’s too valuable to me to use her as a reckless pawn.
Of course, I say none of this and simply gesture for a seat. “Sit. Food will be brought out.”
“N…no,” she stammers, looking at me as if I asked her to do flips for my entertainment. She must think me unhinged. It isn’t a completely inaccurate assumption.
“No?” I raise my brow. “You wound my ego.”
She gives a very unladylike snort. “Yeah, fuck that. I doubt I’ve even put a dent in it. I’m not going to sit here and stroke your ego, Oziel.”
“Then perhaps you’d like to stroke something else?”
This time, the red in her cheeks isn’t entirely from embarrassment. There’s heat there too, if her scent is anything to go by. I’m learning quickly that humans are easy to rile up. A fun game, indeed.
“I’m not fucking eating with you, Oziel. If you don’t want to figure out what the Nephilim is saying, I want to go back to my room. Alone.”
“Fine, if you insist on being a prisoner in the castle, then that’s what you shall be.” I silently summon a servant, a weak demon, to escort Isabelle back to her room.
The demon woman appears behind Isabelle and takes her arm. She struggles against her, but even a weak demon is stronger than a human. “Take Miss Sinclair to her chambers. Make sure a meal is brought to her. Oh, and don’t let her leave until she agrees to sit civilly and have dinner with me.”
“Yes, my lord,” the woman purrs, her split tongue giving her a snake effect.
“Oziel!” Isabelle shouts, struggling unsuccessfully against the small demon. “Gods, you’re such a dick.”
Her words ring out, even long after she’s gone. I’m left with her sweet and woody cinnamon smell. I sink into the closest chair with a sigh and find myself quite ravenous. As I eat, I find the food does little to soothe my appetite, as my mind wanders to a certain raven-haired human.