by Kyoko M
He studied me for a long while with those unnatural eyes, searching for the truth, but I could tell he saw that I meant every word. I had no reason to lie anymore.
“You are still wrong,” he said. “But I believe you.”
He let his hand drift lower until it cupped the nape of my neck, his fingertips tracing lovely circles over the skin. I almost leaned into his touch because it felt so damn good. He leaned his forehead against mine and chuckled. It sounded real, not like his usual sinister snickers.
“I cannot believe I am getting dumped by a human.”
I snorted. “Drama queen.”
“Harlot.”
“Sociopath.”
“Idiot.”
“Pansy.”
“Jezebel.”
“Monster.”
He gave a little shudder, exhaling hotly. Apparently, that one was his favorite. “This is beginning to sound a lot like foreplay. Unless you’ve changed your mind, we’d better quit. Are you sure you will not reconsider my offer?”
“Yeah. I am.”
Belial sighed, a dramatic gesture. At last, his flamboyance had returned. “Very well. I cannot say I am surprised. You were so close last year, you know. I think if Mulciber hadn’t intervened, you might have given in. Alas, I must admit defeat. There is no point in pursuing you any further. Clearly, you are blinded by your love for Michael and even though I am by far the most attractive specimen you’ve ever laid eyes on—” Cue another eye roll from me. “—I can tell you will not relent, even if I were to kill you. Such a pity.”
“Are…you saying you’re going to let me go?”
“No,” he corrected. “I am merely stating that I will no longer pursue you in the romantic sense. If in the future your abilities are of use to me, I shall partake in the chase. Otherwise, Seer, consider yourself no longer in my little black book.”
Relief spread outward from my chest and spilled into my limbs. Safe. I was finally safe, so to speak. One archdemon down, two to go. Lucky me.
Still, I wasn’t born yesterday. I narrowed my eyes at him. “I want your word as an archdemon. Say it.”
He clucked his tongue. “Where is the trust in our relationship?”
“Belial.”
He heaved another sigh, fanning my cheeks with warm air. Weirdly, he didn’t have morning breath. Damn perfect demon. “You have my word as a Prince of Hell that I will no longer seek you as my servant. Happy?”
I smiled. “Ecstatic.”
“Good, because I have a last request.”
I groaned. “I’m not going to—”
“Relax,” he said. “I may not be chasing after you any longer, but I cannot vouch for my comrades. You need a plan if you are in fact going to stop Moloch from starting a war. You will need my help.”
“And just what would you be getting out of it?”
“My status,” he said, his arrogance rearing its ugly head. “Moloch has crossed me for the last time. I want to end the debate, once and for all. The world is mine to rule. He belongs in the basement with the other vagrants.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
He shot me a sly look. “Well, you did say I was honorable.”
“Ish.”
“Splitting hairs, my dear.”
“If you have some valuable information, I might consider it. Fair enough?”
“Fair enough.”
Before I could move, he darted in close and kissed me, his arms dragging me against the rippling muscles of his chest, his hands stroking the length of my bare spine, kneading my shoulders. I tried to pretend like it didn’t affect me, but it was by far the most passionate kiss he’d ever planted on my lips. There was something different in it. He wasn’t trying to swallow me whole any longer. He was saying goodbye.
He broke away, nipping my bottom lip before letting go. We both lay there panting heavily and then an oddly boyish grin overtook his lips.
“Forgive me. I had to have one for the road.”
He started to pull away, but I stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
“Thanks for sticking around. You didn’t have to. And I look forward to kicking you and your friends back to Hell for good someday.”
He smiled—an actual smile, not a smirk, or a grin—and it made his face light up. It was the first time I could ever recall seeing a sincere emotion on his features. Strange as it may sound, it sort of suited him. Maybe this was what he’d been like before he fell from grace. “Shut up and get out of my bed, Seer.”
He stood up and walked across the carpet towards the closet. I gathered the sheets around me in a makeshift toga, finally taking the time to observe my surroundings. The walls were the color of steel. The bedroom had all white furniture—the loveseat he’d been sitting in when I woke up, the nightstand beside the Queen-size bed, even the vanity on the opposite wall. I’d spent so much time hating this man that I never pictured what his home would look like. I’d expected it to be akin to a sex dungeon.
Predictably, there were no photos anywhere. The vanity had a black leather jewelry box on it. I glanced at the walk-in closet to make sure he was still in there and walked over to it.
The inside of the jewelry box was red velvet. I found dozens of wristwatches—mostly silver, but some gold and even a bronze-tinted one—and some pocket watches that I knew had to be worth a fortune. I traced a fingertip over the polished metal. He may have been pretentious as hell, but he had good taste.
Something glinted in the corner of the box. My jaw dropped.
It was a 14-carat diamond engagement ring.
“My, someone’s being naughty.”
I jumped and whirled around to find Belial behind me with one thin eyebrow arched. He had a pair of blue jeans and a maroon off-shoulder sweater draped over his long arms. His expression seemed somewhere between annoyed yet unsurprised.
“Sorry,” I muttered, accepting the clothes as he held them out to me.
He reached out and shut the jewelry box with one finger. Then he sighed. “Don’t get excited. I had no intention of popping the question, even if you had accepted my offer. I didn’t buy that ring.”
I frowned. “Where’d it come from?”
“It was a trophy.”
Things clicked into place. “That was Zora’s, wasn’t it?”
“Penny for the smart girl. Get dressed and meet me in the den. Try not to poke through the rest of my things in the meantime.”
He swept out of the room after that. I laid the clothes out and got dressed. He’d been right about the strain. Without his blood in my system any longer, the stab wound on my abdomen ached constantly. Internal injuries were the hardest to heal. Still, I’d underestimated how much power he possessed. There was still a thick, crooked scar across the bend of my right arm, but the fact that I could move my fingers was nothing short of a miracle. I’d assumed that only Gabriel could heal something so extensively damaged.
A fresh batch of tears welled up in my eyes as his name flickered through my mind. I took a deep breath and faced myself in the mirror, willing myself not to cry. It wouldn’t solve anything. Toughen up, Amador.
I was halfway through combing my fingers through my hair when I realized something for the first time. The vanity was too short. Belial wouldn’t have been able to see himself in it without stooping. This wasn’t his room.
It was Zora’s.
I wandered into the closet just to confirm my theory. Sure enough, I found women’s clothing—and the kind for someone a few inches shorter than me. Artful cocktail dresses, pricey high heels, and elegant formal wear abounded. A nectarine perfume hung in the air. He clearly had a maid; otherwise this room would be dusty, since Zora had been exiled to Purgatory decades ago. But the fact that he’d kept her room the same way since she left spoke volumes. Maybe he had loved her.
I flicked the light off and headed out of the bedroom. The hallway was long enough that I knew this wasn’t an apartment. The robin-egg walls were high and the hardwood floors led
towards a staircase to my left. The room to my right appeared to be a bathroom. Any other time and I’d be tempted to explore, but we were on a deadline now. Moloch was on his way to destroy the holiest place on earth.
The stairs led to an open area with high ceilings. Huge windows spilled sunlight over the enormous den. White leather couches, a marble fireplace, a glass coffee table, and a black piano in the far right corner. The only thing that didn’t match was the katana resting on the mantle, sheathed in an elegant scabbard. It had a dark red and black braid woven over the handle. I’d seen him wield it only once—during the war with the false angel a couple years back. There had been two of them. He must have lost the other one at some point.
The den melted seamlessly into the kitchen to the left, which was big enough to make the Barefoot Contessa blush. Though notably, no television in here. Curious.
The room faced the front yard. We were on top of a hill. There was a huge black gate surrounding the grounds. The frost on the grass meant we probably hadn’t left Vermont. Made sense. It looked to be just after sun up.
He was sitting on the couch shuffling papers when I came down. He spoke without looking at me. “What did you learn from your unfortunate friends a few hours ago?”
“Moloch’s heading for the Garden of Eden. He’s going to burn it down.”
“Bold. That would most certainly incite a war. You’re at a serious disadvantage, then. He’s got a head start on you of almost an entire day.”
“I don’t get it. Whose side are you on?”
He gave me a look as if I’d said something absurd. “My side.”
I crossed my arms. “Which is where?”
“Wherever it suits me.”
“So if I hadn’t gone off and drank your blood, what would you have done? Let Moloch start the war?”
“I admit that you threw me for a loop,” he said. “I figured that you would offer to free me in exchange for finding Moloch. That is why I made no attempt to escape at first. It would be much easier if you thought you had my cooperation.”
My voice hardened. “Did you know he was going to kill Gabriel?”
“No. Moloch knows of my distaste for him. He never gave me details while we worked together. He didn’t elaborate on the larger picture so I couldn’t sabotage his scheme.”
My shoulders relaxed a bit. I was in no shape for another fight, but if he’d said yes, I would have certainly taken my chances coming at him. “Then let’s get going.”
“There is one last thing.” He brandished the papers in his hands. “I had some free time while you were recovering. I recall Faust mentioning something about literature he read on the Judas coins long ago. I looked through some of my old records and I may have found the trail. The book itself was destroyed, but there may have been a transcription that slipped through the cracks.”
I took the papers, scanning them. “Any idea what kind of info it could contain?”
“No, but let Faust take a look through the extensive library at the safe house. In the meantime, we should—”
His sentence dropped off so suddenly that I looked up at him. He was staring at the ridiculously high ceiling, transfixed. I followed his gaze and found a small red dot, like the kind from a laser pointer.
A soft exhale escaped the archdemon.
“Oh, hell.”
I heard a sharp whistling sound. Belial shoved me so hard that I smacked the far wall and crumpled into a ball on the floor. I coughed, trying to demand what he’d done that for, but I didn’t have time to.
Seconds later, the room exploded.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
JORDAN
A deafening explosion rocked the house. The ground shuddered underneath me. Fire and smoke engulfed the entire room. I covered my head and neck, my face to the floor, still in the fetal position as smoldering plaster and bits of wood rained down from above. Ears ringing, I peeked from between my arms to see that the roof had collapsed in the spot where I’d been standing only a moment ago. Oh, God. Belial.
I crawled towards the pile of rubble near the now ruined couch, staying low to avoid being spotted. Whoever was outside wouldn’t take long to double check their handiwork. I had to move fast.
Smoke clogged my nose as I shoved huge slabs of brick, roof shingles, and debris away. They scratched my fingers and rubbed my palms raw, but I didn’t care because I could see his arm sticking out from underneath. He’d done it again. The stupid son of a bitch had saved my life.
The last piece of rubble fell away, revealing Belial. Ash and blood smudged his skin. His sable hair covered his right cheek and fanned out beneath his head. I checked his pulse. To my relief, I found him alive. Not that it mattered, because we were about to be royally screwed.
I patted his cheek. “Come on, you stubborn asshole. Wake up! You can’t leave me here to die just ‘cause I dumped you.”
He didn’t stir. Shit. There was no telling when he’d come around. I was on my own.
My eyes darted around the remains of the room. The furniture was all overturned. Short of the couch, I didn’t have any cover. No choice. I’d have to relocate.
I crept towards the gaping hole in the wall facing the yard. I counted to five and then angled my face to see.
There were seven demons marching towards us. I recognized at least three of them as the ones I fought in the nest last night. Fantastic. Now I was starting to understand why demons seldom left anyone alive after an interrogation.
They were all decked out in body armor and one of them was carrying a grenade launcher on his back. Aha. Priority number one. I could not let him get off another shot.
I found Belial’s katana lying next to the scorched couch and tied the scabbard to my belt hoop with its cord. I grabbed Belial’s heavy body and looped his arm around my shoulder.
I dragged him through the kitchen until I reached the dining room, which was relatively unscathed after the blast. I had to stay quiet and try to separate them. I didn’t have any demon blood left in me. They’d redecorate the house with my body parts if they found me all at once.
“Knock-knock!” An obnoxious male voice with a Cockney accent called from somewhere in the den. “Pest control!”
I laid Belial down next to the cherrywood dining table and listened carefully for the sounds of footsteps, cloth moving, or breathing. They hadn’t spotted me yet, but it wouldn’t take long.
I pressed my back to the far wall and edged my way along it to peek around the corner. There was a door with a golden knob. This was a nice house. Maybe the hinges wouldn’t creak if I opened it.
My fingertips grazed over the cold metal. Beads of sweat slipped down the nape of my neck as I turned the handle. No squeak. Thank God.
Darkness greeted me. The pit of my stomach dropped open like a trap door. Then my eyes adjusted and I could see a staircase. I didn’t give a shit where it led as long as it was away from here. I’d learned that sometimes the only way to win was to play smart and use your environment against your enemy.
Using every last ounce of my strength, I heaved Belial over my shoulders in a fireman’s carry and maneuvered the two of us down the staircase. I shut the door as quietly as possible and flipped on the light. The pearly walls were wide enough to fit two people, but no more. Hardwood floors, which meant they’d hear me walking down if they were close enough.
The landing at the bottom turned into a left and led to an entertainment room that would make any A-list celebrity green with envy. The wide screen TV stretched damn near the entire length of the wall. Ah. That was why there wasn’t one in the den.
There was a brown leather couch set in front of it and two bookcases overstuffed with literature on either side of the television. I spotted two archways on either side of the far walls. One of them had to be a bedroom where I could dump his lanky ass and prepare to fight.
I headed for the room on the right. The light flickered on as soon as the door opened. The blood rushed out of my face. This room had crimson walls a
nd a black carpet and some rather…interesting…instruments hung up against the far left wall. I ignored what appeared to be a harness hanging above the bed and dropped the unconscious demon on the rumpled silk sheets.
It was physically painful to acknowledge, but I checked the wall of scary sex toys for anything resembling a weapon, but came up with nothing. I shut the door behind me and hurried to the opposite room, which had no door because it was a kitchenette.
“Dammit!” I snapped after checking all the cabinets. “You’re the most violent person I know. How do you not have an armory?”
Then I heard a soft click at the top of the staircase. If I hadn’t been in the room, I wouldn’t have caught it. Company.
I eased myself over to the wall adjacent to the stairs until my back was parallel with the doorway. Slowly, I unsheathed the katana. Light glinted off of its shimmering silver surface, nearly blinding me. One shot. That’s all I’d get. If he called out to his pals, I was toast.
I took deep breaths to slow my heart and strained to hear the demon’s approach. The braided hilt chafed against my palms, but somehow, I knew how to hold it. A husky voice with a slight Middle Eastern accent floated through my ears, whispering that I had to wait until the last second. It wasn’t me. I knew nothing about swordsmanship.
But Zora did.
The barrel of an AK-47 appeared just past my right cheek. I closed my eyes, exhaled, and then thrust the blade upward at an angle.
After a nerve-wracking couple of seconds, I cracked open an eyelid.
The tip of the katana was soaked with blood as it stuck out of the other side of the demon’s neck. The sword had gone straight through his throat. Choked gurgling noises trickled out of his nostrils and his brown eyes were wide as they found mine. His entire body convulsed once, twice, his fingers threatening to pull the trigger, but it was too late. I’d landed a killing blow.
He sank to his knees. The gun fell from his hand and I stuck out my foot, catching it before it could hit the wood and make a sound. I jerked my arm back and the blade slipped out of his flesh like a knife through a watermelon—neat and seamless. He hit the floor face first, dead as a doornail. Blood leaked from the wound, tainting the gorgeous floorboards. One down.