by Kyoko M
I let my right arm fall to my side. My wings vanished in a rush of silver vapor, as did my sword. They were right. His time would come. It just wasn’t right now.
So instead, I whirled around and executed the most brutal roundhouse kick to the side of Belial’s head that I could manage. He collapsed on the pavement like a puppet snipped free of its strings, unconscious at last.
Then I turned and walked away.
JORDAN
It didn’t take long for my plan to come to fruition. A year ago, Belial, Gabriel, and I went to Morgana’s lair in Edmonton to ask for her help finding Avriel. Thanks to me, Morgana cut a deal with Belial to be released of her duties in exchange for the information. Thus, she owed me a favor, and it was time to pay up.
I had her send a message to every single demon she knew—nothing fancy, just a recording of me, alive and well, saying, “Hello, Belial. Guess what? You missed.” Demons were no different than humans when it came to gossip. Most of them knew about my so-called relationship with their leader and I was counting on it. Why? Because when Moloch found out Belial failed to kill me yet again, it would be the last straw. Their partnership was already strained. I hadn’t known Moloch long, but I could tell he didn’t make idle threats.
It took quite a bit of doing to trap the archdemon. I oversaw the blood spell they put him under and then it was time for the interrogation. It was way too risky to keep him at the safe house, so the angels who worked there gave us the keys to a tiny house a few miles away. From the outside, it looked as if it had been foreclosed, but the water and power worked just fine, and it had a basement with sound-proofed walls. They kept it specifically for interrogation purposes. Smart.
Michael spent a while in the bathroom of the interrogation house cleaning up after the fight. I waited for him, nervous because even from here, I felt his energy. It was hot, erratic, and spilling out from beneath the door like mist from a shower. He was trying to control it, but I knew he was furious. I’d been unconscious when they found me and couldn’t imagine how he must have felt when he saw me like that, inches from death for a second time. He never told me what it did to him the first time—when Belial had stabbed me in the heart and killed me. Gabriel said he brought my body home in the dead of night and that he had never seen his brother so heartbroken.
The bathroom door opened, jolting me out of my thoughts. He was dressed in a black t-shirt, jeans, and boots. He had a pair of coveralls clutched in one hand. His brow was set in a firm line, casting shadows over his green eyes. I suddenly realized this was the first time we had been alone since we came to Montpelier.
“Hey,” I said. “Are you sure you can handle this?”
He let out a nasty chuckle, one that made my stomach churn. “Yeah.”
“That’s not what I meant. Can you keep from killing him before we get what we need?”
He clenched his jaw and didn’t answer. I pushed off from the wall, and there was a bit of a wobble in my step as I walked towards him. He frowned as he noticed.
“You should be in bed,” he murmured when I was near.
“You should join me,” I said, touching the side of his cheek. His five o’clock shadow scratched against my fingers. I’d never get used to the facial hair.
He kissed my palm. “Later. I promise.”
“Just…” I struggled to find the right words to say. “Don’t lose yourself in there, okay? You’re still an angel. You’re still a good man. I want you to stay that way.”
Michael sighed, a quiet but honest sound. “I’ll try.”
He slipped one arm around my back, pulling me in close. He kissed my lips first, chastely, and then unbuttoned my shirt enough to kiss the scar on my chest. His other hand palmed the spot on my belly where Belial had stabbed me, a silent promise. I shivered, knowing exactly what he meant without him saying a word.
He rose and kissed my mouth one last time and then headed downstairs, leaving me shaking and unsure in his wake.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MICHAEL
The door swung inward, revealing the archdemon. He sat with his arms cuffed behind his back, legs chained to the chair, head forward in an uncomfortable angle thanks to his restraints. His hair was mussed from the recent fight, a bluish bruise peeked out from his hairline on the right side, his bottom lip crusted with dried blood, his thousand-dollar shirt torn and burnt in several places. He looked nothing like himself. And he was about to look a lot worse.
Belial didn’t lift his head when I walked in. His eyes were closed. For a moment, I thought he was trying to fall asleep, which would allow him to contact another demon through his dreams, but then he glanced at me after I shut the door.
“And so it begins,” he said with no small amount of humor, watching as I locked it. “What fun we’re going to have, you and I. When was the last time we had ourselves a private party, Michael? I’ve missed it so.”
I said nothing as I donned my coveralls, letting the demon continue to taunt me. “My kind doesn’t have enough appreciation for military men these days. They don’t understand the nuance of torture. It is just as much psychological as it is physical. For instance, you and I both know that if your wife and her friends weren’t here, you wouldn’t ask me a single question. You’d just make me bleed until you felt better. But with them here, you have to put on a mask because they would surely lose faith in you if they knew the truth. I have been trying to get Jordan to see the light for years, but I never had to try with you. You’re a smart man. You know that there is something ugly inside you as well, Commander.”
I picked up my first weapon—a Colt .45. I didn’t much care for guns, but I liked the make and model of this one. I checked the magazine to make sure it was full and then faced the demon.
He glanced over it. “Blessed bullets, I presume?”
I aimed at his upper torso. “No.”
I shot him eight times. Blood sprayed and squirted out of each wound and his body jerked violently against the chair. He didn’t cry out, though. He just sagged forward, his breathing ragged and choked. I’d hit his lung at least once. I put the gun down and reached for the forceps. There was a bowl of holy water and I dipped them in it, making sure the entire thing was covered.
I tore open his ruined shirt. “Where is Moloch?”
Belial let out a wet laugh. “Oh, you’ll have to do better than that, Commander.”
“With pleasure.” I dug the forceps into the first wound, just under his collarbone. As soon as they touched him, steam hissed outward. He writhed, gritting his teeth as his demonic flesh reacted to the holy water. I dug in deep. The skin around the wound flushed bright red, then dark crimson. I yanked the slug free. It bounced twice as it hit the floor, painting the concrete scarlet with his blood.
“Brilliant,” Belial panted out. “I would tip my hat to you if I were wearing one.”
“Where is Moloch?”
“Don’t stop now. You are doing fantastic. Let us have another one.”
I gritted my teeth. He was pushing my buttons and I knew it. I tried to control my temper, tried not to enjoy the next slug I yanked out of his skin, but it was futile. I pulled every single one of them out as slowly as possible. He didn’t break, not once.
I turned away, disgusted, and tossed the forceps on the table. Normal bullets hurt, but couldn’t kill demons. He’d heal soon enough. I needed another option.
In the meantime, Belial decided to fill the silence. “I am sure you do not believe me, but I do have the best intentions for your wife.”
Anger surged through my veins. I forced it down into my gut. Don’t react. It’s what he wants. He wants you to kill him so he can’t tell you anything.
“She thinks it is all about sex. To be honest, while I would greatly enjoy having her in my bed, there is more she could do for me. You must have seen it yourself. Jordan is a natural born leader. She is reckless and persistent and quite authoritative when she wants to be.”
I shook my head. “Don’t act like y
ou know her.”
“Don’t I?” he whispered, sounding convinced of his own words.
“Why should I blame her that she filled my days
With misery, or that she would of late
Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways,
Or hurled the little streets upon the great,
Had they but courage equal to desire?
What could have made her peaceful with a mind
That nobleness made simple as fire,
With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind
That is not natural in an age like this,
Being high and solitary and most stern?
Why, what could she have done being what she is?
Was there another Troy for her to burn?”
“No Second Troy,” by W. B. Yeats. Belial always had been well read.
“Imagine what she could do for us, Michael. Imagine a legion of demons under her command. She knows the darkness of the human heart. She could be the ultimate weapon. Can you truly fault me for wanting to mold her into a warrior? She has the potential to change this war of ours. She just does not see it.”
I paused halfway through my consideration of the chainsaw. His words sunk in. I hadn’t heard Belial speak so highly of a human being since Zora. At last. Something I could use.
“You love her, don’t you?”
Belial chuckled. “Come now. We are both men. You know as well as I do that my heart died long ago. I am incapable of affection.”
I faced him, crossing my arms. “That’s what you want us to think. That’s what you want her to think, which is why you make sure to abuse her every chance you get. You don’t want her to find out the truth.”
“I am a Prince of Hell, Michael. I love nothing save myself.”
“But that’s it, isn’t it?” I said. “She’s the part of you that you lost when you fell from Heaven. Your humanity. You can’t help yourself, can you? You’re drawn to her.”
“I know what you are trying to do,” he said, and his voice finally took on a hard edge. “It won’t work. I know every inch of my soul. You cannot break me.”
“It kills you, doesn’t it?” I smirked. “It kills you that we’re so similar, yet she picked me over you.”
His reptilian eyes narrowed to slits. He said nothing, reverting back to the demons’ most familiar place when they had been exposed—silence. I was definitely getting under his skin for once.
I picked up Belial’s favorite knife and dipped it in the holy water. I came in close, holding it beneath his chin, watching the hate-laden glare he bestowed on me.
“By the way,” I murmured. “Having sex with Jordan? It’s a thousand times more satisfying than you can ever imagine.”
I shoved the blade into his left shoulder until the hilt bruised his skin. Pungent steam issued from the wound. He growled in pain, his chest heaving with unsteady breaths.
“Know this, archangel,” he hissed from between his bloodstained lips. “I will truly enjoy taking everything you love away from you.”
I ripped the knife out again, admiring the way blood dribbled in a thick line down his chest. “This is me holding my breath.”
I set the weapon aside. Physical pain wasn’t enough. Time for something metaphysical. I opened the red leather-bound King James Bible next to the bamboo slivers, flipping around until I found something good.
“Still don’t feel like telling me where Moloch is?”
“Bite me,” he muttered.
I glanced over my shoulder at him. “Is that a request or a command?”
He glared, hating how I’d turned his favorite phrase against him. I shrugged. “Alright, suit yourself. Maybe you’ll feel more compliant after a good read.”
I cleared my throat. “Defend the poor and the fatherless: do justice to the afflicted and the needy. Deliver the poor and needy: rid them out of the hand of the wicked. They know not, neither will they understand; they walk on in darkness: all the foundations of the earth are out of course. I have said, ye are gods; and all of you are children of the Most High. But ye shall die like men, and fall like one of the princes.”
Belial elicited a low moan of pain, shifting in his chair. “Must you continue with that infernal racket?”
Demons hated scripture. Reading it out loud wasn’t enough to kill them—it just made their souls quiver and tear at the edges inside their bodies. It was the equivalent of Chinese water torture.
I read from Psalms 82 all the way through Psalms 100 before I got another reaction out of the demon.
“You’re running out of time, you know.”
“How so?”
“If you think the killing will stop when we’ve gotten the coins, then you are dead wrong.”
I snapped the Bible shut. “I figured as much. What’s Moloch going to do with the coins when he gets the rest of them? Make a weapon? Declare war on Heaven?”
“He already has ten coins. Why do you think he wanted you all together in one city? You played right into his hands.”
My hands balled into fists. “What is he planning, Belial? Tell me or I will personally castrate you.”
He laughed—an arrogant bray that bounced off the bare walls. “Whatever floats your boat, dear Michael.”
I grabbed the largest serrated knife on the table and walked towards him. My hands were on his belt when Jordan unlocked the door. She paused, staring between the two of us.
“…am I interrupting?”
We answered simultaneously. “Yes.”
“No.”
“It’s been over an hour. Everyone’s bugging me to see if you made any progress.”
Belial smirked. “Well, he is halfway to third base.”
I punched him in the mouth, damn near hard enough to snap his neck. Jordan appeared at my side and touched my arm. “Maybe you should take a break. Go on.”
“I’m fine,” I grumbled, my grip tightening on the knife, determined to make good on my threat. Belial kept staring at me with a smile playing across his busted lip.
She pried my fingers away from his belt and pushed me back, lowering her voice so the demon couldn’t hear. “I mean it. Get some air. He’s not going anywhere, okay?”
Her tone was soothing after hearing nothing except Belial’s despicable voice for the past hour. She was probably right. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to strategize.
“Alright,” I agreed. “Five minutes. If he tries anything, you pick up where I left off.”
I handed her the blade and left, not sure if I wanted her to have better or worse luck than I had.
Either way, it was going to be a long night.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
JORDAN
I set the knife down and then faced the demon, surveying the damage my husband had inflicted: eight gunshot wounds, a bruise the size of a strawberry beneath his split lower lip, another one on his forehead, and a nasty cut in his shoulder. Pretty much what I expected. No better, no worse.
He seemed to ignore me at first. He closed his eyes and licked his bottom lip. Instantly, the cut healed. The blood and the bruise disappeared seconds later. Perhaps it bugged him more than the gunshot wounds. Weird.
Belial turned his gaze on me, dragging his eyes upward from my feet to my face. “Good cop?”
“Not exactly,” I said, walking towards him.
“Either way, I think we both know you are wasting your time. I am an archdemon. We don’t squeal. You might as well…what are you doing?”
I sat down in his lap, looping my arms around his shoulders, leaving our faces mere inches apart. He stiffened underneath me. Suspicion flew through his eyes in an instant.
“Interrogating you,” I said simply.
“You are going to try to seduce me?” He let out a snort. “This I must see.”
“It’s really not that difficult. You always brag about how well you know me. It’s a double-edged sword. I know you too. I probably know more about you than anyone else.”
“Spare me,” he said with
a roll of his eyes. “This sort of thing only works when I do it. You’re a six at best, my dear. Leave the hard work to us tens.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Someone’s a little high on himself.”
He shrugged. “Well, when you’re several million years old and the number of people you’ve had sex with has entered six digits, it kind of comes with the territory.”
“So you’re saying just because I’m twenty-four years old and I’ve slept with less than ten people, I can’t seduce you.”
“Precisely.”
“Mm-hmm.” I scooted forward a touch. He winced ever so slightly.
“So what exactly am I feeling then?”
At last, he glared. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“You know, for once, we can actually help each other. Tell us what you know about Moloch and maybe I won’t kill you. Maybe I’ll let you live long enough to see us take him down.”
“The last time I accepted your help you stabbed me in the chest and threw me into the Arctic Ocean.”
“And if I recall, you said, ‘that’s my girl.’ Or did you forget that part?”
His jaw clenched. “I simply admired that you could be so cold-blooded. It didn’t mean I was okay with you foiling my plan and getting me demoted.”
“If you help us stop Moloch, maybe your boss will see that he made a mistake.”
Belial sent me a skeptical look. “You really don’t know much about Lucifer, do you?”
“Okay, so honor isn’t enough. We can make some other kind of bargain.”
His lips stretched into a smirk. “Are you going to ask me what I want?”
“I already know what you want,” I said, toying with the fine hairs on the nape of his neck. “But since you’re not going to get it, you might as well pick the second thing you want.”
He chuckled. “Now who is high on herself? You think you have anything I have not seen before? I have already seen you naked, Jordan.”