by Melody Raven
“It wasn’t that quick. You kept your head and your wits.”
“Exactly how long were you watching before you decided to help out?”
“Long enough.” He offered up no more.
So Kier’s blood had been enough to get her into Hell, but she was somehow immune to the side effects. It was good news, but still confusing.
It had always been black-and-white: Angels were good. Protected humanity and destiny. Killed demons. Simple.
Now her demon lover had murdered her best friend, but it might have been because he wanted to save her, or it could have been because he wanted Azazel to bring forth the apocalypse. Another demon who had tried to kill her just days ago now acted as her guide, and she had ingested demon’s blood, voluntarily, in order to gain entrance to Hell.
Muriel gripped her sword handle until her knuckles cracked. Killing something would really make her feel better. More in control.
She was about to get her wish.
The mansion was just a hundred yards away. Teryn turned to her with one finger over his mouth, signaling her silence. She gave him an expression that said, “duh” as they silently approached the side of the building.
They quickly moved along the wall, pausing at the corner. Even through the wind, Muriel could hear someone approach. The guard was not trying to hide his presence.
She made quick work out of him as he rounded the corner. With a flash of her blade, his head rolled on the grass.
Muriel looked to Teryn. “Clear?” she silently mouthed. She could hear almost as well as any demon or angel at this point, but it never hurt to get a second opinion.
He concentrated on listening for a minute before he nodded. She moved around the corner, leading the way. It had been nice of Teryn to lead her through the forest, but this was her fight. She would walk in first to face her enemies.
Before Muriel could slip through the door to the mansion, Teryn stopped her. “Notice there aren’t many guards posted. That’s because Azazel doesn’t need many. He has all the souls in Hell behind him. He is the god here. The second you walk into that house, he is going to know it.”
The warning chilled her to the bone. “Wouldn’t he have sensed us in the woods?”
“Idiotic demons stumble into those woods all the time. He doesn’t waste his energy on it anymore. This house is another story. Do not let your easy entry lull you into a false sense of security. I can’t transport you anywhere and your hellfire will be useless.”
Muriel closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. As impossible as all this seemed, she had to remind herself that prophecy was on her side.
“You can go,” she told Teryn. “This isn’t your fight.”
If she didn’t know better, she would say Teryn was offended at her offer. He squared his shoulders and looked down at her. “Just stop pussyfooting around and go in the damn house.”
He didn’t want any sentimental thanks, and she didn’t want to spend any more time in Hell than absolutely necessary.
As soon as she set foot over the threshold, a bone-chilling cold swept through her. At first she thought it was a breeze, but she soon realized it was so much more than that. Just like Teryn had warned, her hellfire was gone. Blown out like a simple candle.
She hadn’t realized how used to it she’d become. She could always feel the embers of warmth simmering just beneath the skin. Now all she felt was cold. She felt naked and vulnerable without it. She clenched her teeth and brought her sword up in the ready position.
Fuck Azazel. She would have his heart in her hand by the end of the night. Or day. Whatever it was.
The mansion looked relatively normal considering who lived there. The decorator should be fired, though. There were no soft edges on anything. All the furniture had sharp right angles. The floors were dark wood; the walls were painted in a black-and-white geometric pattern.
The house seemed bigger from the inside than from the outside. That said a lot considering it looked huge from the outside. From the entryway, there were two twisting staircases that led up to the second story. The balcony of the second story wrapped all the way around the entryway. The foyer alone was bigger than Muriel’s small rental house in Arkansas.
The twisting staircases framed a set of closed double doors that were at least fifteen feet tall.
Muriel could hear loud noises emanate from the back of the mansion. She made her way toward them.
It sounded like a party. Music pounded and laughter was abundant. Teryn said Azazel would know she was here by now. Was he concerned at all? He had been shaken enough to put a bounty on her head, but not enough to beef up security or put a stop to his party when she showed up?
She tried to formulate a strategy. She’d been in enough battles to hone her strategizing skills. The problem was that formulating a viable plan was a bitch if nothing was known about the layout of the place being infiltrated. The only thing she knew about security was that Azazel was super strong and probably already knew she was coming.
Did she even bother trying to sneak in, or did she just kick down the doors?
Neither. Azazel’s guards emerged from the walls. They stepped out from the ugly black-and-white pattern as though they were nothing. Were the walls an illusion, or did they just turn to jelly for the guards to walk through?
No time to think about it. Muriel went into fighting mode. She swung her blade at the first guard who approached her, but his blade was already blocking hers. They both pulled back, and he aimed for her gut.
Muriel jumped out of the way and decapitated him before he could make his next move. A blade whizzed through the air, straight toward her face. She ducked down but not quite fast enough. The sharp edge of the metal cut through the skin and muscle of one of her arms. She gritted her teeth as she rolled out of the way and impaled her attacker on her sword.
The banging of the double doors slamming open drew her gaze. There he was. Azazel looked at her. The prophets had foretold this day. Foretold his death. Did he look scared?
No. The bastard smiled at her. Her upper lip raised in a scowl as an animalistic growl emerged from her mouth. If she had any hellfire left in her, she knew it would be burning in her eyes.
Just for shits and giggles, Muriel tried to call her hellfire to her fingers but was unsurprised when nothing happened. Azazel truly had blocked it from her.
He was so going to die tonight.
The attacking guards stepped away from her as Azazel looked on. Two of the guards held Teryn between them. He’d obviously put up a fight, as the entire left side of his face was coated in blood. It looked as though his skull had been hit so hard it had collapsed in on itself. If he’d been human, he would have died in an instant.
She winced at seeing him so wounded. He had been helping her and would probably die for it. He’d known exactly what he was getting himself into, but that didn’t make it any easier to witness. Demon or not, he had been brave and noble.
“I see you’ve joined the party.” Azazel’s voice boomed. When he spoke, it was disconcerting on the senses. It was his voice, but there was almost an echo that could not be heard. She could feel the power of the sound waves pass through her. It was one thing to hear about the power of souls. Feeling it in person was completely different.
He waved his hand toward her, beckoning her to join him. As she opened her mouth to tell him to fuck off, an invisible force knocked her on her ass and she was skidding uncontrollably on the polished wood floors and into the massive ballroom composed of sparkling white marble.
Muriel tried to grip onto anything within reach, but at the speed she was traveling, anything she got a hold of probably would have just taken off her hand. When her slide across the floor abruptly stopped, her head spun.
Azazel and his guards surrounded her. They must have transported to reach her so quickly.
“You don’t exactly strike fear in the heart of me,” said a cocky Azazel from above her.
“The hundred-soul bount
y on my head tells me that you feel something,” she shot back. She looked him right in the eyes, refusing to be intimidated.
She could see that he wanted her fear. Craved it. He flicked his hand at her again, this time sending her flying backward until she slammed into a hard marble wall. The impact reverberated through every bone in her body. Even more painful was the intense pressure on her gut, holding her upright and captive against the wall. Her right arm still held her sword, though it was useless because Azazel was keeping her from moving her arms at all.
Her suspicions of a party going on had been correct. The ballroom was filled with demons, all staring at her. Some looked awed by the scene, but most looked amused. They were about to see a prophecy be broken and a fallen angel die all at once. Probably a dream date for a demon.
The main colors worn by the guests were red and black. Not too original, but demons loved the small reminders of death and blood. Though not all the guests were dressed in red and black. Some were naked.
There was even one couple going at it toward the back of the room. At least they were courteous enough to be quiet as Azazel continued to exert his dominance over her.
Didn’t matter. He would be dead soon enough. That would probably be enough to convince any demon to stop fucking. As the woman emitted a small moan of pleasure, Muriel reassessed. Maybe those two wouldn’t stop for anything.
Azazel curled his lip at her sword. “You won’t be needing that anymore.” With a flick of his wrist, she was weaponless as well as immobile.
She felt no fear. She was born for this. Prophesied for this. She might not make it out alive, but she would fulfill her duty.
“Celebrating something?” She looked around at the formal attire of all the guests.
Azazel looked as though he’d been wearing a well-tailored black suit at the beginning of the evening, but his jacket was missing and his shirt was unbuttoned and hung loosely on his shoulders.
A small line of blood marked his chest. When Muriel looked closer, she saw that there was blood across his lips as well. She knew from experience that demons liked to bite during sex. She smiled at the thought of interrupting him. Monsters like him didn’t deserve to feel any pleasure.
His blood-caked smile formed a crooked grin. “Haven’t you heard? The prophecies are coming undone. Your Samuel is dead! He was supposed to stop me but I don’t really see how he can do that with his spinal cord detached from his neck!” Azazel swept his hands back, showing her his greatest achievement.
The wall of bodies had been blocking her view, but now that they parted for Azazel, she saw it. It was the hole he had punched through Hell. It wasn’t too big, taking the shape of a circle about three feet in diameter.
But that was what was bringing forth the apocalypse. The ground beneath the hole was littered with glowing orbs. Muriel had never seen one before, but she’d heard enough stories to know what they were.
Azazel’s ring gave him the power to control the souls in Hell, and the orbs were a way to isolate that power. Right next to the hole was Azazel’s throne. Of course he would want the hole he created to rip through the realms right where he could admire it all day.
He must have assumed that Samuel being killed before the hole was closed up meant that the prophecy was false. Funny thing about prophecies was that they were always right. Always.
His pride had him celebrating, not even concerned about the danger he was in.
“Tell me, angel, did you get to watch your friend die? Did your demon lover have to wipe away your tears?”
The mention of Kier caused her blood to boil. “Did you hear about the parties thrown when the prophecy of your death was made common knowledge? Not just angels and humans. Even your own demons couldn’t wait to see you gutted.”
The insult must have hit home as Azazel’s smile quickly disappeared. His seething face glared at her, yet he didn’t step forward to strike her. He might be celebrating the idea of the prophecies being false, but some part of him was still afraid of her. Good.
She continued to goad him, refusing to cower or beg. “I just walked in here like it was my right. Not even a spark on my skin. Lucifer would never have allowed an enemy to get through so easily. You don’t even have enough power to guard your forest. How could you ever expect to remain king?”
She could practically see the steam come out of his ears. Considering that demons could catch on fire when angry, that was not an understatement. “You know nothing, you little angel bitch!” Bits of spittle careened toward her with every word. “That little pest over there had even less demon in him than you when he snuck his way in here. Instead of killing him, he was rewarded with immortality! How is that being a king?”
Muriel looked over to where Azazel pointed at Teryn’s broken body. Still breathing, but not moving. Teryn had been mortal? How long had Lucifer had the ability to turn mortals into demons?
She turned her gaze back to Azazel. She couldn’t let herself get distracted.
He continued with his angry shouting. “You think to lecture me? You are fucking a demon! How dare you look upon me like I’m the disgusting one. Women have been on their backs panting for me for millennia!”
Unstable and pissed-off kings were never a good thing, but Muriel couldn’t help the rush of elation upon seeing his anger. Let him be angry.
Her smugness must have shown, because the pressure on her stomach increased tenfold. She would have collapsed over in pain, but the invisible force currently trying to flatten her wouldn’t let her.
“Where is your demon now?” asked Azazel. “Where is your little pet to save you?”
Where was Kier? He said he would protect her. Instead, it was Teryn who was dying for her.
Did he even know where she was? He hightailed it out of the base as soon as possible to avoid her wrath. He probably thought she was still crying over Samuel’s body.
Kier killed Samuel. Even now she couldn’t believe her friend was gone. And Kier had done it.
As Azazel laughed at her vulnerable position, her rage finally broke free. It burned hotter than anything she’d ever known. Like a dam inside her broke, she could feel her hellfire burst free from whatever cage it had been relegated to when she entered Azazel’s home.
The heat and rage mixed within her. She closed her eyes, cutting out her vision of Azazel. This was her weapon. This would kill the king, but she needed to control it.
She pulled the flames back, careful to avoid any outward sign of the heat. She focused on all her grief, remembering the sound of Samuel’s neck as it broke. She saw the look in Kier’s black eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing and what it would do to her. He had been sad. He had known he would lose her. But that hadn’t stopped him.
He destroyed her. Took away Samuel and any hope of a future between them with just the flick of his wrist.
Someone spoke. Muriel couldn’t hear over the roar of her fire. She cracked her eyes open and saw Azazel walk closer. She smiled.
He spoke again and she struggled to make out the words. He was mocking her again. “Little angel, why are you smiling?”
“I was just thinking about something,” she croaked out. It might have been her fire or whatever force Azazel was using to press her up against the wall, but her lungs had a difficult time getting oxygen. Didn’t matter. She had her fire. She could breathe later.
“What could you possibly be thinking about?” sneered Azazel. He was upset that she wasn’t cowering in fear. He expected his grand display to capture all of her attention. Instead, she was off in her head, daydreaming.
He was pissed at her again. She loved it. It fed the fire. Kept it hot.
“I was thinking about butter. How smooth a warm knife will slice through it.”
Azazel roared at her. “Butter? What the fuck does butter have to do with anything?”
Muriel’s eyes snapped wide open at his shout. Playtime was over. Her fire needed out. “I was wondering if butter and demon flesh had anything in common.”
She released the flames then. They burned through Azazel’s hold over her. She fell forward, and her flaming hand landed flat on his chest.
He didn’t fight. Muriel didn’t know what kept him so still. It might have been outrage that she had been able to use her hellfire in his domain. It might have been the shock that she broke his hold. It might have just been fear.
Either way, he stood still as her hand burned through his chest. The bones and skin dissolved beneath her palm. It happened quickly, but Muriel savored every second.
As soon as his ribs were gone, she grabbed the heart and ripped it from his chest in a powerful jerk. Eyes still open, Azazel fell, lifeless, to the floor. No dramatic good-bye. No drawn-out fight. Just his heart in her hands.
Muriel stared down at his body in disgust, releasing what was left of her hellfire. The flames consumed every cell of his body. Even the heart in her hand combusted. Soon all that was left were the ashes on the floor and coating her palm.
It was over. She had fulfilled her end of the prophecy. She looked to the hole in the wall. It was still there, but the orbs powering it were dark. Without Azazel directing Hell’s power to them, they would be useless.
Eventually the hole would close itself up. For now it would sit open, weakening the barriers to all worlds.
Not her problem right now. Now it was time for her to die. She was stuck in Hell until she could find a demon to give her a ride back. Judging by the wary and angry faces around her, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
For now, everyone gave her a wide berth. She could feel the fire inside dying out. The amount needed to break through Azazel’s power had been tremendous. She was defenseless.
At least she was the only one who knew it at the moment.
Refusing to show fear, Muriel knelt to the pile of ashes. Sitting at the top of the pile, somehow untouched by any ash, was Azazel’s ring.
Drawn by an inexplicable urge, Muriel picked it up before she made her way to her sword.
As she stood over the sword, all the demons moved out of her way. She looked over to Teryn, but he was gone. The two guards who had held him both held their hands up in surrender. Their silent way of saying they had nothing to do with it.