The supermodel held a seductive smile for Zigor. I noticed his eyes glazed over as he took her in. Then the Z-girls launched into a series of acrobatic flips, some spinning over others, then linking arms and tossing one into the air to catch her, then all spinning away into a physics-defying display. The crowd loved it. But then they went wild when three bare-chested men stepped into the ring. One carried two torches, another carried two long knives, and the third carried axes.
At once the acrobats spun and flipped, each stealing a torch, knife or axe, then twisted away. The three men circled back out of the ring. The band segued into “Pain” by Three Days Grace. Appropriate for this crowd.
That’s when the women went at each other. Their whimsical display of tumbling skills turned aggressive as they each launched toward an opponent. The redhead with the torch pulled off a vial apparently attached to the handle, poured it into her mouth and blew it across the flame, the fire steaming toward the Asian woman with a knife. She flipped up out of the way of the fire, then let fly the knife which embedded in the upper chest of the redhead who stumbled onto her back. The Asian somersaulted to her and leaned over to pull the knife out only for the redhead to spew more of the lighter fluid across the flame and light her opponent’s entire body on fire.
I gasped. The crowd went wild, cheering in utter delight as the burning woman screamed toward the arch. One of the guards stepped forward and engulfed her in a blanket to douse the flames. The trembling woman would’ve fallen to the floor if the guard hadn’t swept her up and taken her from the ring. The redhead held one hand up, the open gash bleeding red, which I noticed was closer to her shoulder than any vital organs in her chest. She was human, probably enhanced with Zigor’s essence.
“Don’t worry, lovie,” whispered Zigor. “I have angel healers to take care of them.”
“They do this every time?” I couldn’t help sounding as incredulous as I felt.
He shrugged a shoulder. “We change it up, but yes. They know what pleases their master.”
At the moment, the black woman stood over the fallen blonde with a foot on her stomach, an axe buried in her thigh and a knife stabbed through her forearm. The Italian and the supermodel, Zigor’s lover, were dancing around and around, both of them bleeding. But the Italian bore numerous cuts, her full body suit slashed to ribbons, barely hanging on.
Then Zigor’s lover spun behind her opponent, grabbed her by the hair and slit her down the spine. A shallow slit for the woman screamed but didn’t fall right after Zigor’s woman tore the other woman’s leotard completely off her, laughing maniacally as she danced away, spinning her axe.
“Isn’t she magnificent?” Zigor whispered, adjusting his obvious hard-on as he watched her.
The audience laughed, loving the horrific pain and humiliation Zigor’s lover was giving to her opponent. The Italian, grim-faced and determined, bit the knife of her blade between her teeth and ran toward her, somersaulting in a blinding flash toward the sadistic supermodel who was blowing kisses to the crowd, grinning like the she-devil she was.
Zigor lurched to his feet as the Italian landed on her feet a yard away, holding her blade aloft to stab the other in the back. But supermodel knew she was there. She ducked and spun, slicing across her abdomen with the axe, spilling her innards to the pavement. This time, the crowd lost their goddamn minds, standing and screaming with wild abandon.
“Well, now,” said Zigor, still standing and applauding. “We don’t have healers to fix that.” He laughed.
I cut to Uriel still in the shadows, who remained still as ever. His eyes were on me, and I thought I’d faint at the insane hell we were standing in. Both of us had endured more brutality than either of us had ever wanted, yet here we were back in this awful mess of chaos and mayhem. I wanted to run to him, to pull him and sift away, to take him back to my cottage where it was safe. To hide away from this awful world.
Supermodel skipped like a schoolgirl, covered in the blood of her victim, still gripping her instrument of death. She curtseyed before the throne, her seductive gaze on Zigor. He crooked his finger. She dropped the axe and with a swift leap, she stood on the balustrade that separated our terrace from the ring.
“Give Daddy a kiss,” he ordered.
She shoved her tongue in his mouth with a smile on her face. I averted my gaze but didn’t miss the euphoric moan that escaped her when she pulled away, blood on her lip. I guess kissing a demon with serrated teeth was her kind of thing. A perfect pairing of sadist and masochist. He sat back down, licking her blood from his lips and raised a finger to the band.
The singer once again spoke into the mic as guards dragged the dead woman out of the ring.
“Now for our feature entertainment tonight, we have the archangel who defeated every one of Yorick’s champions in Prague.” A roar of applause.
Uriel stepped into the ring, taking a stance facing the opposite archway, seeming to know that’s where his opponent would appear.
“Let’s see if Uriel the Archangel can defeat Zigor’s favorite assassin. I give you…Tantalus!”
Everyone was on their feet, leaning over balustrades, arms in the air, screaming with excited glee, shaking fists. Then the man…no, the creature, strode out on clawed feet. My heart fell into my stomach.
He wasn’t a fallen angel, or some brawny human pumped with demon essence. He was a creature of the underworld. One of those born in the abyss out of evil and madness. Black veins rippled beneath gray skin. His dragon-like wings beat against the wind coming off the river below. His horns grew straight back like curving scimitars wrapping along his bald skull. His body was a muscular machine, almost perfect in its proportions to his seven-foot height, standing a few inches taller than Uriel. He wore only a black leather loin cloth, displaying his power and strength. The most shocking part about him was that when he turned toward us to offer a bow, I drew in a breath. His face was beautiful. How was that possible?
He looked at me, a salacious grin spreading across his face. He didn’t have a full row of serrated teeth like Zigor. Only two sharp canines which I’m sure he used to drain his victims dry. Right now, he looked at me as if I’d be his next meal.
Zigor leaned over. “He likes you,” he said loud enough for anyone near us to hear. Including Uriel who remained still and focused, his gaze on Tantalus. “I’ll introduce you after the fight.”
I glared at Zigor, anger coloring my voice. “He won’t be alive after the fight.”
The demon lord laughed, a throaty sound that made me cringe. “We’ll see.” He nudged me playfully. “Hell, I might even give him to you as a gift. For a night or so.”
Disgusted, I curled my lip. “No, thank you.”
Tantalus made a sickening show of licking his lips before gliding to the opposite side of the ring.
“Oh, I’d bet you’d enjoy him. I’m told he’s talented in bed as well as the ring.” I felt Zigor’s black eyes penetrating me from the side. “Though it looks as if you’ve got eyes for another.”
Injecting ice into my tone, I said, “Zigor. My champion is going to hand you your assassin’s head in just a few minutes.”
He chuckled again. “I like you.”
With a flick of his wrist, the band above us launched into “Horns” by Bryce Fox. And Tantalus stepped toward Uriel, flapping his leathery wings, stopping at the center of the circle. Uriel drew the long thin black blades strapped on his arm harnesses.
I held my breath and shot a prayer to the heavens that my bold statement would come true.
The crowd settled in, swaying to the music, laughing, riveted to the main event. A slow movement caught my eye across the ring. A figure draped in black weaving through the crowd, staring straight at me.
I almost lost the contents of my stomach.
“It can’t be.”
Chapter Twenty
Uriel
Tan
talus was something other. Born out of the bowels of hell and come to life in a nightmarish form. He held a curved blade, the same shape as his horns, tightly against his side. His bravado and playing to the crowd with flashy flaps of his devil wings and flexing his muscles only gave me more confidence.
That motherfucker Zigor was getting on my nerves with every glance and every word he said to Nadya. Time to make this happen.
With a pulse of my wings for speed, I launched forward. Tantalus was ready, dodging right and darting up with a swift beat. His blade sliced across my thigh, cutting through the leather with a sharp sting. I kicked out with my other leg, my boot making contact with the side of his head. As he landed in a crouch, catching himself with one hand on the pavement, I let my dagger fly, one of the special blades Carowyn had laced with ether ammo and her own powerful essence.
Tantalus was quick on reflex, but the dagger embedded in his ribs anyway. A chorus of oooos from the crowd swept over the terrace. I glanced at Nadya. Her face was pale, her expression tight with fear, but her gaze was across the terrace behind me somewhere. Before I could follow her line of sight, I heard the zing of steel drawing closer. Without even looking, I leaped backward and shot up my hand, stopping the demon’s sword with my dagger.
Not unexpectedly, thunder rumbled overhead. The audience cheered louder, the stormy winds heightening the electricity in the air.
Tantalus hauled back, winging high. The audience went mad, screaming for him to end me. I swear, I couldn’t help but laugh, staring up as he hauled his sword over his head two-handed. Fueled by adrenaline and tantalizing revenge, I tossed my blade to the ground and beckoned him closer with a curve of my fingers.
“Come on, demon. Show me what you got.”
I couldn’t hear my own thoughts over the loud music and roaring horde as Tantalus came down, slicing toward my head. Before he could land the blow, I tilted sideways, whispering an ancient chant in the oldest of tongues. As the blade slid closer, I gripped his left forearm with both hands and used his momentum to flip him to his back, the wings in his bones crunching with the force.
Planting both boots on his wings by his shoulders, standing above and looking at him upside down, I got hold of his other forearm. The demon’s black eyes bled into crimson as he bared his teeth at me.
I just smiled and chanted louder, some demons sifting away in the audience at the scorching power I was pouring from my mouth, my body, my very soul.
“This isn’t fair,” he growled, gritting his teeth, his canines sharp. “Using your power.” Fangs he wouldn’t be putting in another woman ever again and certainly not my Nadya. If he hadn’t looked at her, I might’ve been more merciful. But he had, so he deserved a millennium in the torturous black hole of Erebus.
“You’re a fucking demon,” I said, pulling my archangel power forward and cracking his forearms in half so that the curved sword slid straight through his belly into the stone beneath him with a dull clink. “I doubt your last victim thought her fate was fair.” Changing to Latin, I channeled the magic coursing through my blood with a deafening bellow. “Ad infernum.”
A crack of lightning split the sky, crashing down near the river. There would be no storm and rains for this otherworld battle. It was over all too quickly.
Pulling away from Tantalus, I watched as he screeched, his body folding inward, bones cracking before he was an amorphous ball, imploding with a blast of wind that radiated outward, the wind whipping back my hair and ruffling my feathers, ash and cinders of sulfur in the air. My skin glowed with archangel power. The audience had fallen silent. The band, too.
I sought out Nadya whose ghostly pallor warned me something was wrong. Zigor stood, staring at the soot-stained spot where his oh-so-talented assassin had stood seconds before. He clapped slowly and laughed. His followers did the same.
“Crank it up, boys!” he yelled up to the band. “That was epic. Time to party.”
Before I could step forward and make some sort of protest, Zigor took hold of Nadya’s hand and sifted away. My gut clenched. Others sifted away, but I could hear the hooting calls from below.
“They’re down below by the river,” said a guard at the archway.
Sure enough. I could see Nadya’s blue hair and pale face. Time to get the fuck out of here. Sifting to the bottom of the stairs, I strode through the crowd. They parted for me more eagerly now, having seen what happened to their beloved champion. They wondered if I could do the same to all of them. Yes, I could. But that wasn’t my endgame.
Zigor had an arm draped over that horrific girl with purple hair, but he was talking to Nadya. Her face was composed, but her eyes flickered through the crowd.
“I’m here, domina,” I said, coming up to her side.
Her hand shot out from beneath her cloak, grabbing hold of mine. “We need to leave,” she whispered.
“Whoa, whoa,” said Zigor. “Not so fast. That was a crazy awesome fight. I’m not a sore loser.” He grinned, showing all of his razor-sharp teeth. “Death is always a winner in my crowd. Stay and enjoy the party.”
“How will we make contact with the high demon of Carpathia?” asked Nadya.
Her heart rate was speeding at a panicked pace. I squeezed her hand. She glanced up and shook her head at me.
“Yes, Rasvan is the last ring in this circuit. You’ll meet him in Cozia. Next Friday.” He gestured for his woman to go. “Wait till you hear my Lia’s voice. She can outsing all of your angels.”
The purple girl skipped through the thick crowd then sifted away, popping on top of the tier where the band was playing. Skaal was there suddenly, his expression sharp as he distracted Zigor.
“Nice show, Z,” he said, inhaling deep on a cigarette.
Zigor chuckled and said something, but Skaal’s fierce gaze and toss of his head told me clearly to get the fuck out of here. As soon as Zigor’s back was turned, Nadya started pulling me away through the heavy throng. I knew she was trying to get away from people. I’d warned her about sifting close to others. If someone brushed even one of us during a sift, they’d fall through the Void with us. And we sure as hell didn’t want any of these assholes stumbling out and discovering where her cottage was.
I bent my head closer to her. “Who is here?”
“We’ve got to go,” she said, having pulled up her hood.
The crowd thinned. “Just tell me,” I growled, scanning the faces for any recognition.
“Oh, my sweet baby sister.”
I froze, jerking Nadya to a halt. That chilling voice, like a snake sliding between my sheets. I’d know it anywhere. The voice of the woman who’d owned me, body and soul, for months that felt like years. She was dead. We’d burned her alive.
Spinning, I nudged Nadya behind me in the crook of my open wing, my palm flat to her stomach, fingertips curling around her waist. Rage suffused my entire being as that fucking demon witch stood there in a silver evening gown and a black cloak similar to Nadya’s. Her face in shadow didn’t hide her identity. Not from me.
What had she said? “Sister?” I repeated.
Her sensuous mouth visible from beneath the hood curved into a wicked smile. “So you got tired of me and took my sister instead, did you, my sweet archangel.”
Bile rose up my throat.
“How are you even fucking alive?”
I was aware my chest rose and fell like an engine pumping too hard, and I kept my grip on Nadya, taking note of the four Russian demon guards flanking Lisabette on both sides.
“You and Dommiel should’ve finished the job.” A venomous reply. She flipped back her hood. “But you did leave me a souvenir.”
The right side of her face was wrinkled and reddened with a vicious burn scar, tugging one eye down in a deformed slant. The fact that her wound hadn’t been healed by one of Vladek’s angel slaves who could’ve done the job said something.
“Master wasn’t pleased with you, was he?” I taunted.
“No,” she replied. Her eyes roved down my body, a sensation similar to being licked by poison. “But, oh my. Nadya. Hübsche Schwester. Meine süße Schwester.” Nadya squeezed my forearm, her nails digging hard. “The love Master will bear for me when I bring him such a sweet prize.”
I jerked forward, ready to finish her once and for all, but then I was spinning through the dark Void, Nadya gasping and clinging to me as gray shapes zipped by. We ripped out suddenly in a dizzying spin onto the snowy field near her cabin. She’d fallen to her knees, gulping great breaths. Circe snorted nearby, yellow eyes narrowed and watchful.
“Nadya.”
She fell to all fours and heaved, vomiting into the snow.
“Nadya.” I was there beside her, pulling her hair back with one hand and rubbing her back. “Let it out.” She dry-heaved one more time, then choked out a sob, her shoulders shaking.
“I’m s-sorry,” she cried. “I didn’t tell you. She’s my—” She heaved again, but nothing came out.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Doesn’t matter?” she shrieked but kept her gaze down at the snow. “What she did to you—”
“Is not your fault.” I pressed my palm up her spine and gripped her nape. “What she did to you,” I breathed out on a hoarse growl. “Giving her own sister to that monster.”
I needed to wrap my hands around that bitch’s throat.
“So sorry,” she murmured, one elbow collapsing, her head hanging low, body shaking with a sob.
“Enough.” I scooped her into my arms and marched in long strides through the field. “Be vigilant, Circe.”
The dragon chuffed and rustled her wings, purring out a growl. Crossing the wards, I charged into the cottage, slamming the door shut with my boot, and made for her bathroom. I set her down on the closed toilet and turned on the faucet for the shower. She shivered, obviously in shock, her gaze glassy with terror.
“You’re experiencing cold flashes from the shock.” She was trembling uncontrollably, her teeth chattering. “You need to get warm.”
Coldest Fire (Dominion series) Page 17