by Kyoko M
“Ugh, just chop my fingers off already,” I complained. “No more sex talk. Keep it up and I’m gonna projectile vomit all over your fancy shirt.”
He shrugged again. “Very well. Tell me where you hid the coins.”
Come on, Jordan. Say something sarcastic. Anything. “Up your mom’s ass.”
Belial heaved a sigh. “You really do not want me to get out of this chair, my pet. I searched both of your vehicles while you were fighting the necromancers. The coins were not in either of them. Tell me the truth.”
I shook my head as hard as I could, my knotted hair beating against my cheeks. It was like trying to wake up from a nightmare that wouldn’t end. I didn’t stop until he caught my face in his long-fingered hand, forcing me still.
“Don’t,” I whispered hoarsely. “Don’t make me betray him again. Please. I already can’t live with myself. Just let me go.”
Tears slipped down my cheeks, boiling hot and thin. Belial said nothing at first. Then he trailed his thumb down my face, tracing the line the tears had made.
“I have no choice. Tell me where you hid the Judas coins, Jordan.”
The truth exploded from between my lips. Every single word burned on its way out of my throat as I told him that we’d sent the coins ahead to the safe house with another angel on a separate route. I kept wishing I’d choke on them, hating how weak my body was for not resisting the drug.
I slumped forward when I was done, bowing my head. “Kill me. Just do it already. I’ve been waiting on it for years. I knew you’d destroy me someday, one way or another.”
“You are a silly woman, Jordan Amador,” Belial said in a quiet voice as he stomped out the now-spent cigarette. “All this time, I have not been trying to destroy you. I have been trying to save you.”
I raised my tearstained face, half-angry, half desperate. “What are you talking about?”
“I will answer that if you answer this.”
He knelt in front of me, his snow-capped eyes boring into mine. “How do you truly feel about me?”
No. Don’t say it. Don’t tell him. It’ll ruin everything. You’ll never be able to look at yourself in the mirror again, my brain screamed.
My cracked lips parted.
“I—”
Then the door opened and Moloch stepped inside. The cop uniform was gone. He wore a crisp white button up shirt and khakis. His ruby ring winked at me from under the lights. “Have you collected the information, Belial?”
The archdemon stood up and faced him, scowling. “Yes.”
“Good. Dispatch her and let us depart.”
Fear rippled through me. Belial’s shoulders tensed. I couldn’t see his face, but his hostile energy wafted off of him in waves. It made my skin crawl. “I do not appreciate your tone, Moloch. You are not my superior.”
Moloch let out a short, arrogant laugh. “Whatever you say. Now do it. I tire of this place.”
Belial’s hands balled into fists. “I will kill this woman and I will do it on my own terms. If you want to leave, then go. No one is stopping you.”
Moloch shook his head. “You are a weak-minded fool. You are the one who is supposed to be manipulating her, but she is manipulating you. Her death will deliver a crippling blow to the Commander. Kill her. Now.”
He tossed something at Belial’s feet. It clanged loudly against the floor. A dagger. It was clean, shiny, and looked brand new.
“I am not your servant,” Belial hissed, and his energy writhed around him like a massive cloud of angry bees. “I do as I please.”
Moloch’s black eyes narrowed. “Kill her or I will do it for you.”
Silence stretched between them. Slowly, Belial picked up the knife and turned towards me. He cupped my chin in his hand, lifting my head so I would look at him. He bent, kissing me softly, whispering against my lips.
“I am sorry, my love.”
Then he stabbed me in the gut.
I choked on my own breath. The pain ate up my body and spilled through every inch of me. My skin drowned in it. Blood welled up around the hilt of the blade, dripping into my lap. He’d finally done it.
Then, surprisingly blissful darkness surrounded me. Death sucked me down into its comforting grip like a mother rocking her baby to sleep. No more pain. No more suffering. My life ended with a swift and silent stroke.
I couldn’t have asked for more.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
JORDAN
There was something heavy lying on my stomach.
I groaned, shifting against the bed as my lower abdomen throbbed with pain. As I reached for the foreign object, my fingertips brushed against something furry and warm. I pried my eyelids open and found myself on the receiving end of a stare from two blood-red eyes. A hellhound. Oh. So I’d gone to Hell, then.
“Shit,” I mumbled drowsily. “Could’ve sworn I was heading in the other direction.”
My eyes focused fully this time. Ace was lying next to me in bed with his huge head on my tender belly, watching me as if he were afraid I wouldn’t make it. Weird. Most of the time I thought he would kill me in my sleep.
“Drama queen,” a female voice said from beside me. Myra sat by the bed. Thick burgundy covers were pulled up to just under my chest. They were fluffy and smelled like they’d been tossed in with fabric softener. The room had cream colored walls and no windows. An air conditioning unit whirred in the far right corner. Across from the bed sat an older model television set and a vanity mirror atop a dresser.
This wasn’t a hotel. This was the safe house.
“After we brought you in and healed you, he hopped up there,” Myra continued. “Haven’t been able to move him since. I think he’s finally warming up to you.”
I rubbed the top of Ace’s head. “Aw. That’s adorable. But if you poop in one of my shoes again, you’re dead meat, buster.”
Ace made a huffing snort, his version of a “bite me” in hellhound speak. Still, he stayed where he was, his long legs stretched out across the bed, overlapping with mine. He was warm and soft so I didn’t mind.
I turned my attention on Myra again. “So why am I not worm food again?”
“Good question. Well, after Michael and the rest of us got out of interrogation at the precinct, we went to bail you out. They told us they sent you to St. John’s. When we got there, you were nowhere to be found. They talked to the cop who put you in the car and she told them the license plate number of the cop car he took you in. They found it in a parking garage a few blocks away. He ditched the car and then took you somewhere in an unmarked SUV. The cops felt so guilty for assisting in getting you kidnapped that they used all their resources to track the SUV. We found you not long after you passed out from the stab wound.”
“That was pretty lucky,” I said, absently rubbing Ace’s ear between my fingers. “I thought for sure I was a goner.”
Myra paused. It worried me. She then got up and perched herself on the bed. “Can I show you something?”
“Yeah, of course.”
She shooed Ace away. He crawled to the foot of the bed, curling up and watching us. She pulled the covers down to expose my heavily bandaged midsection. It was still sensitive, meaning they had healed it from a mortal wound down to just a regular painful injury. It probably took both Michael and Myra’s help to do that. The very thought made me feel even guiltier than before.
“This,” she said, pointing at the origin of the wound. “Is where Belial stabbed you.”
“Uh-huh. Dick move on his part. What’s your point?”
“This is one of probably only two areas of the midsection that can be stabbed without inflicting irreversible catastrophic damage. If he had stabbed you here—” she motioned to my navel, my sides, and underneath my breasts.
“—here, or here, you’d be worm food. Now stop and think for a second. Belial has been alive since damn near the beginning of time. When has he ever missed a target?”
Slowly, her words got through to me. I licked my lips, sudde
nly nervous. “Probably never.”
“Exactly. I hate to say it, but…” Myra winced before finishing the sentence. “I think he tried to spare your life.”
I ran my hands through my tangled curls. “Moloch was standing behind him. He told Belial to kill me or he’d do it himself. Son of a bitch. That sexist, self-absorbed, cock-sucking archdemon still couldn’t pull the trigger. What is going on with him?”
“Oh, stop it,” Myra snapped. “You know damn well why he didn’t do it. He wanted it to look like you were dead. If, like you said, Moloch wasn’t up close, he wouldn’t have seen that it was a non-lethal blow. He wanted Moloch to think you were dead so he’d stop pursuing you. Now you look me in the eyes and tell me why he did that.”
I tried to hold her ferocious gaze. I couldn’t. “Where’s Michael?”
“You are a stubborn mess of a woman. And coming from me, that’s saying something,” she grumbled. “Your husband has been out hunting Belial since we healed you. Avriel and Faust are with him.”
I pressed my hands to my face, holding in tears. “Shit. I told him about the coins and the safe house, Myra. They’re going to kill us all and it’s my fault. I don’t know what to do anymore.”
“Yes, you do,” she said, pushing my hands down so I’d look at her. “You’re gonna get mad. You’re gonna think up a plan to get these sons of bitches back. You’re gonna help me kill every last one of them. Not just for you or Michael or your best friend or your mother or Andrew or Faust. For everyone whose lives they’ve ruined. Get out of that bed, Jordan Amador, and do your damn job.”
It was hard to describe what happened next. The broken pieces of me congealed and hardened into quartz. She was right. No more moping, no more crying, no more hopelessness. The demons had drawn a line in the sand. Us or them.
And I wasn’t about to die twice.
It hurt substantially, but I sat up. “I need my phone.”
She handed it to me from the nightstand. “Not sure it’s going to do you any good to call your hubby. He hasn’t answered since we revived you.”
“I’m not calling Michael.”
She sent me a surprised look. “Who are you callin’ then?”
I flashed her a Cheshire cat grin. “You’ll see.”
Gabriel’s relieved voice hit my ears like cool spring water. “Jordan. Father in Heaven. I was afraid I would never hear your voice again.”
“I know. Sorry if I scared you.”
“Scared me. Ha. You’re giving me an ulcer, my dear.”
“Duly noted. Can you do me a favor?”
“Ask for the stars themselves and they shall be yours.”
My smile widened. He always did talk pretty. “Good, because it’s a weird one. I need you to contact Morgana.”
“The former demon Puppeteer? What does she have to do with anything?”
“She can get a message through to someone.”
“Who?”
“Everyone.”
MICHAEL
Edward J. Knapp State Airport was a decent size, but it wasn’t hard to find Belial’s private jet because it was way past business hours, and the jet was by far the most opulent thing there. I hadn’t been inside it before, naturally, but Jordan had. It wasn’t a thought I enjoyed entertaining.
It was late enough to be considered morning now. Belial had enough money to hire someone to give him clearance to fly outside of the airport’s hours and to keep anyone quiet about it. They were demons. I took them out with extreme prejudice.
Belial was already on board when we arrived. His pilots hadn’t gotten on yet. He could actually fly it himself if he wanted to, but with Moloch already hot on his heels, he wanted to be free to fight if necessary.
He didn’t seem too surprised when I stepped onto the plane—though I could tell he was annoyed that I’d caught up to him so quickly. The interior was all black and silver—black leather seats, grey carpet, touches of silver lining on the table in front of his chair. Ostentatious, just like I’d predicted.
“Honestly,” the archdemon sighed around a large glass of red wine. “Don’t you have anything better to do? I believe you have a bed-ridden wife to deal with, correct?”
Rage engulfed my senses. The fact that he could talk so casually about stabbing the woman I loved and leaving her for dead made me want to tear his head off with my bare hands. But I didn’t. I took a deep breath and calmed my nerves instead.
“You’re leaving with me one way or another. I’m giving you the chance to decide if it will be conscious and in one piece or not.”
Belial set the glass down on the table next to the wine bottle. It was a Château La Mondotte Saint Emilion, vintage 1996. It went for upwards of four hundred dollars a bottle. Figures he’d like it. “You and what army?”
I pointed to the window on our right. He glanced out to see Avriel and Faust armed with angel feathers and guns. They waved to him, cheerful and mocking.
“Make your choice, demon. You have ten seconds.”
“And you have five,” Belial said in a quiet voice.
I realized that the bottle of wine next to his glass wasn’t just a bottle.
Shit.
The explosion tore the plane in half and blasted me clear across the pavement. My hair was singed, as were my clothes, and my ears rang with a high-pitched screech. Pain wracked my entire form. I lay on my back, gasping for air, trying to get my bearings. The star-speckled night sky spun in my vision. Get a grip, Michael. Snap out of it or the son of a bitch will get away.
I forced myself up onto my knees, squinting through the smoke that had engulfed the clearing. The guys hadn’t been standing too close, so they were on the ground groaning with pain, but both of them were still alive. Thank God.
I spotted Belial on the other side of the ruined half of the plane, struggling to his feet. Resolve filled my bones. I stood up and raised my hand, the palm flat, and yelled, “Celeste!”
Angry grey storm clouds formed above us, swirling into a funnel. Lightning darted back and forth around the twisted shape and then a bolt flashed down, connecting with my outstretched arm. My sword came flying with it. I grasped the hilt firm and concentrated until my wings sprung from my back. I leapt into the air and flew after the archdemon currently retreating towards the parking lot.
He ducked as I swiped at his head, skidding to a stop on the asphalt. I landed in front of him and leapt forward, aiming again. He withdrew the Hendrickson blade from the small of his back and blocked the blow. It forced us into close quarters. We both met eyes. Neither side budged an inch.
“Yield,” I snarled. “Or I’ll kill you where you stand, hellspawn.”
“Sorry. I’ve got a busy schedule ahead of me, archangel. Dying’s not on it.”
He went on the offense, attacking with the liquid grace of a predator. He kicked me in the stomach to shove me back. We were evenly matched, never landing a hit on each other. If I had any sense, I would have used a gun, but I didn’t want to. This was personal. He almost killed the woman I loved again. He would die by my sword. I would watch the life drain out of his eyes and relish the moment. Nothing would be more satisfying.
We broke apart, both panting heavily, sweaty and still covered in ash from the explosion.
“Is this your plan?” he hissed. “To wear me out? Or stall until Moloch finds me and tears me apart?”
“Moloch is nothing compared to what I’m going to do to you.”
He laughed. “You think I’m afraid of pain? Of torture? Of death?”
“Yes, I do,” I said. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have run. You know what Moloch is. You know what he is capable of. There won’t be enough of your soul left to wipe up with a sponge when he’s done with you.”
His pale face grew tight with anger, but I saw beneath his mask. Belial had toppled empires, slaughtered thousands, and corrupted millions. He had ruled and commanded for eons. Yet the look in his eyes told me everything I needed to know about Moloch that the war in Heaven hadn’t al
ready proven. A monster that the monsters feared.
“I will face my end someday,” the demon said in a hushed voice. “But I swear it will not be by your sword, Michael.”
I lowered my sword. “So be it.”
I stretched out my hand and snapped my fingers. His eyes widened as he realized what I had done seconds too late.
Another bolt of lightning streaked down from the sky and hit him dead on. He screamed as the electricity tore through him, searing him clear through to the bone. I watched with utter satisfaction. After the lightning ran its course, Belial collapsed on his hands and knees, his arms shaking as he struggled to stay conscious.
“Bastard,” he croaked. “That is cheating.”
“All’s fair in love and war,” I whispered as I cocked my arm back to behead him.
“Michael, stop!”
Avriel and Faust hobbled over beside me, hurt but determined, their guns drawn.
“We need him alive,” Avriel continued. “You know that. Put the sword down.”
I glared at him. The look was intense enough to make him flinch. “He almost killed Jordan.”
“We know that,” Faust said. “But he’s the best chance we have at stopping Moloch. Don’t do it.”
My fingers tightened their grip on the sword. My arm ached to swing and end this creature’s worthless life. “You weren’t there.”
“What?”
“You weren’t there when I found her,” I murmured. “You didn’t see all the blood.”
“Michael, I know how you feel,” Faust said, his eyes bright with anger behind his glasses. “His kind is the reason why I’m an orphan. I was there when that demon murdered my father. He laughed while he did it. He made me watch because he knew I couldn’t stop it. You think I want Belial to live? You think any of us do? No one wants him dead more than us right now. But we can’t. Not yet. Not until this is over. So get it together and drop the sword. We’ll get our chance to kill this slime soon enough.”
It would be easy enough to summon another bolt to distract them so I could kill him. So easy. Just a burst of light and I would have my vengeance. I almost did it until I pictured Jordan in my head, how she would react. She’d punch me in the face, probably. The thought made a hollow laugh echo through my lungs.