by Cate Corvin
I needed a real spear. Something that wouldn’t betray me while I was fighting my however-temporary enemy.
“Catch,” someone said lazily, and without thinking, I reached out. Something solid hit my palms and I wrapped my fingers around the hilt of a long, slightly-curved katana.
I glanced at the bar incredulously. Next to Azazel was Haru, his amber eyes bright with amusement.
But hell, a sword was a sword.
I lifted the heavy weight, holding it crossed diagonal to my chest. “Let’s try this again,” I said to Lucifer, who flicked a tiny bit of residual dark fire from his arm.
“I haven’t even broken a sweat, love,” he said, his lips curled in a crooked grin.
Love? I faltered, almost lowering the sword, which was a mistake.
The light in Lucifer’s hand blazed white-hot, extending into the shape of a sword, and he came smashing into me.
The edge of Haru’s blade just caught the light-sword, but tears pooled in my eyes from the brightness. It was like staring directly into the sun, Lucifer’s silver gaze dancing over his magic.
I broke free, and we danced across the arena in a series of blurred cuts and slashes. Lucifer backed me into a corner, looming over me, pressing down with his sword of light with slow, inexorable pressure.
There was no way I was losing just because I lo- liked him.
I summoned my magic again, chastising it as it grew and swelled. He’s not your friend right now, so knock it off with the lovey-dovey bullshit-
I breathed out, exhaling violet flames in his face.
Lucifer ducked and rolled away, and the sword in his hand became a spear. His wings spread and he took flight towards the cathedral ceiling high overhead.
He looked down at me, and I suddenly knew what his enemies on the battlefield felt. It was impossible not to feel terror at something so incongruous- a prince among demons, blazing with the light of the brightest star in the sky.
The best of Heaven and worst of Hell combined.
He plummeted downwards, and I had just enough time to draw my magic around me in a cage when his spear shattered on the floor at my feet, sending out a thousand smaller spears. They bounced off my cage, ripping holes in the dark fire.
I went down, my mind straining under the pressure of keeping the cage up for as long as possible, but the fire flickered and died.
“I concede,” I whispered.
I’d only lasted that long because he was taking it easy on me. That blow was just a drop in the bucket compared to what he could unleash when he wanted to make death.
The sound of polite clapping cut through my amazement. Lucifer held out a hand and pulled me up when I took it.
Celamentum and Silenda smirked at each other. The gilt bars of the ring were blackened by Lucifer’s final blast of light, but somehow he’d kept it from scorching all of the observers.
The white-suited demons silently passed piles of coins to each other, settling their bets.
And Azazel’s hands were clasped in front of him, white-knuckled.
I got up on wobbly knees and gave Haru his sword, carefully holding the blade so it didn’t slice through my fingers.
The kitsune took it with a secretive smile and sheathed it. “One day, you and I must show off for each other.”
“You can find me in the Seventh Circle whenever you please,” I said, wiping a hand across my forehead. Sweat had beaded in a fine mist, and my tears had broken free at some point without me realizing. My cheeks were wet.
“I’ll consider the invitation. With that being said, not even I am arrogant enough to play with the Morningstar.” Haru nodded to Lucifer and strode away, his tails streaming behind him.
“Because he’d make a snack out of you,” I muttered.
Lucifer bumped my shoulder. “Too gristly,” he whispered.
Azazel opened the gate and pulled me out, wiping tears from my dazzled eyes. I looked up at him. “Your face is blurry.”
“You’re star-blind, and now you’ve learned an important lesson.” Azazel’s thumb stroked my lip. “Your magic has a will.”
“Definitely got that. It was more interested in snuggling him than doing anything useful.”
“Your magic can snuggle me any time you like,” Lucifer said with a purr in his voice, but he touched my face, too. “I’m sorry, Melisande. It wasn’t bright enough to burn your eyes, but things might be…”
“A little sparkly for a while?” I blinked hard, but white spots still drifted across my vision when I looked at him. “I just want to know how I can attack you the way you attacked me. Your light wasn’t trying to snuggle.”
“That’s one of the things you must learn. I’d intended for you to fight someone less formidable, but Celamentum and Silenda like their little jokes.” Azazel shot a cold look at the Mister.
Celamentum shrugged, raising his hands in a broad gesture. “You were very specific in your request, Azazel. We merely obliged, and have no regrets.”
“You are always welcome, Morningstar.” Silenda dabbed at her wet cheeks with a handkerchief, gazing at Lucifer with lovestruck blindness.
“The next time you visit, we’ll find someone to match your angel. Don’t be a stranger, Azazel.” Celamentum raised a glass. “Melisande. All doors are open to you, as Azazel’s student and the Lady of Wrath. Don’t let our eyeball put you off.”
At the mention of the eyeball, I shuddered, but there was one benefit to being blinded by Lucifer’s light.
I wouldn’t have to see it as we left.
11
Melisande
Azazel let me fly back to the arena, but he gripped my hand the entire time, extending his shadowy protection to me. I glided through the air like a streak of stars and mist, only solidifying when we landed on the roof of my arena.
Lucifer touched down next to me, his hand on my elbow. “Are you still blind?” he asked, tilting my face up.
“Not anymore.” I smiled ruefully. “One day I might be able to match you.”
It was a pipe dream, but still, the allure of the prince’s power was breathtaking. I couldn’t fathom being able to rip through an entire battlefield on the force of blinding light.
“A better question might be, do you feel better?” Azazel hadn’t released my hand, his violet gaze concerned.
My heart hadn’t hurt the entire time I’d been fighting Lucifer. The pain was still there, but it was a dull ache now, bandaged by my resolve to fix things between myself and Belial. “I do. It was what I needed.”
“Good.” He nodded and released my hand, pulling his reserve around himself like a cloak. “I’ll let you two be for the night.”
“Azazel…” I paused, wondering what I’d been planning on asking.
What did I want from him? He was determined to make me better, but every time I felt like I got close, one of us drew back again.
“Will you stay?” I asked, barely above a whisper.
Azazel’s violet gaze flicked to the feather in my hair. He reached up and stroked it carefully, then let his hand drop. “Not tonight.”
My disappointment was a solid weight in my chest, but it eased a little when he lifted my chin and brushed a slight kiss on my lips.
I rose on my tiptoes, deepening it past what he’d intended, raising my hands to cup his face. The Watcher let out a soft sound, his hands tightening on my shoulders-
Azazel broke away, his nostrils flared. “No. Not like this.”
He became a shimmering mist, ethereal and weightless. My hands passed right through him.
“Enjoy your night with Lucifer,” he whispered in my ear. I shivered at the slight touch. “When I have my time, I want to be the only one on your mind.”
“Azazel, you’re always on my damn mind,” I hissed, but I was too late. He dissolved on the slightest breath of wind, vanishing from my hold completely.
Lucifer wrapped his arms around me from behind. “He’ll find a way,” he said quietly. “He struggles with what he is.”
“I already have an idea for how to help him,” I said, gazing at the sky for any sign of stars that weren’t quite natural. “If he bound himself to me, if he used my soul, he wouldn’t feel the void anymore.”
“Come on.” Lucifer tugged my hand, leading me to the rooftop door and a set of stairs winding downwards. “Azazel is… proud. He hates the idea of thinking he’s using you to fix himself.”
“Well, fuck his pride,” I muttered, following Lucifer to my bedroom. “I offered freely. He wouldn’t be taking anything I hadn’t given.”
It was too easy to tell someone else to forget their pride while putting my own on a pedestal.
Lucifer smiled crookedly and opened my door. “Let him have his pride for a little longer. It means I get more of you to myself for now.”
I closed the door and locked it behind us, then pushed Lucifer onto my bed. “How selfish of you, but who am I to judge?”
He untied the laces of my dress easily. “Judge all you want. I’ll make you forget it soon enough.”
Three days passed in relative quiet. My arena grew by the day, fighters spilling in to find their place in the ranks of my ragtag army.
It was nothing like Belial’s arena. I had the Chainlings set up several communal rooms where they ate, slept, and trained. Any of them were free to go if they wished, but none left.
It seemed that every other hour a Chainling approached me with a request: they would like more training dummies. A larger stable needed to be built to train the mounted warriors. We had a dearth of throwing knives.
I approved each request, tending to my fighters’ needs, and they all received my mark without a word of dissent.
On the third day of quiet building, a Chainling knocked on my door while I was enduring a pedicure from Vyra.
“Letters, my Lady,” he said, passing me two folded notes before bowing and backing out.
The door quietly snicked shut.
“I wish they wouldn’t bow so much,” I breathed. “I’m just an angel. I wasn’t even high up in the ranks in Heaven.”
“The Cult of the Chain is a little more old-school,” Vyra said, shaking a bottle of scarlet nail polish. “They like all the bowing and serving, and you basically gave them an entire arena to play with. Haven’t you seen all the chains they’ve hung around?”
I had. They fell from the ceilings like a forest, each black chain shining with one silver link.
“This is fun to them, just let them have it. The last time the Chainlings got seriously involved with a new queen, it was like three thousand years ago and they mostly got wiped out in the following battle. This is their time to shine again.”
I chose to ignore the ‘new queen’ statement. I wasn’t here to fuck my way into ruling Hell.
Instead, I glanced at the writing on the notes. They were both addressed to me, and one was written in an unfamiliar, swirling script.
I knew the harsh lines of the other one by heart. My hand trembled when I lowered it to my lap, saving the best- or possibly worst- for last.
The first note was from the Consortium, extending a formal open invitation to join them, and posing Mister Celamentum’s interest in as transparent a way as possible without being openly offensive.
Never gonna happen.
I almost tore Belial’s note when I cracked the seal and unfolded it, my hands were so unsteady. Amazing how a little ink on paper could have my heart thumping unevenly in my throat.
I regret my words. Come, let me show you atonement, my angry angel.
My throat tightened. Vyra looked up from painting my baby toes. “What’s wrong?” she asked, misinterpreting the shine in my eyes.
“Belial just sent me a note that might contain the closest he’s ever come to an apology. I just hope…”
Vyra twisted the nail polish shut and placed it back in its box. “Well, clearly there’s only one thing to be done for this.”
“What?” I gazed at her in horror as she stood up, her face grave.
Would she tell me to leave it? Did Belial apologizing mean he’d given up, that I was no longer worth the fight?
“Get dressed up so he knows what he’s missing out on.” She grabbed my hands and pulled me upright. “Honestly, what else is there, Melisande? All’s fair in love and war.”
She wasn’t joking. The dress she tied me in revealed almost as much skin as my One Thousand and One Nights costume, with even more sparkles, which I hadn’t thought possible.
I took a shallow breath as I gazed up at the Brightside arena. Red lanterns gleamed among the spires, casting ruby light over the demons streaming in.
I dismounted Capheira, patted her nose, and slipped her a sugar cube, watching it slide down her throat when she flashed transparent with ghostly lightning. “Do you miss him?”
She snorted and butted her head against my palm.
“Yeah. Me, too.”
One of my Chainlings took her reins and led her away. I steeled my nerves before forcing myself to walk inside the arena doors, still hating how it felt like coming home.
A shadow detached from the stands just inside and pulled me into a dark corner.
I looked up into Belial’s face, my heart icing over.
But unlike the last time I saw him, there was no simmering rage in his eyes. His full lips were twisted.
“You came,” he said, touching my face and closing his eyes for a moment with relief. He didn’t even sneer at Lucifer’s feather.
“You asked.” It was hard to talk around the tightness in my throat, but at least I didn’t sound shaky.
“I haven’t slept, I can’t eat- not after what I said.” There were shadows under his eyes, lines of tension that hadn’t been there before. “I was needlessly cruel. There is nothing worthless about anything you have to offer, and I know I don’t deserve it.”
It was impossible to not reach up and touch his cheek, tracing the shadow beneath his eyes. His aqua eyes stood out, glittering feverishly against the darkness.
“I wouldn’t say that,” I whispered, and the massive boom of the arena doors closing cut me off. “I know what I did was just as cruel.”
He glanced at the crowd, then leaned in close, making me shiver. “His weak spot is his back. Ask for anything you want,” he breathed, and pulled me out of the shadows and into the lights of the arena.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him as he led me to my dais, holding my hand as I ascended the steps. He backed away, and gestured to an Overseer as he took his own throne.
What the hell did a weak spot have to do with anything?
All I wanted was to call a stop to the fights and talk to him, but several new blood fighters were already streaming onto the arena floor, eyeing each other suspiciously and flexing for the crowds.
I didn’t even hear the screaming spectators. Belial caught my eyes, the depths of his agony visible and cutting right through me.
Anything, he mouthed.
Hope reared its ugly head.
The fights passed in a blur. One of the new bloods went up against the new Nephilim, Adranos, who tore through them like a hot knife through butter.
I didn’t see anything. Not the blood, the flash of blades, the technical perfection of a battle. My eyes kept drifting back to Belial, and my hands clenched the arms of my chair so hard they ached.
Finally, he rose to his feet and clapped, pulling on the mask he wore when he wanted to rile up his followers.
“I have a proposition for my Lady Wrath,” he called across the arena floor. Every eye in the place flicked my way, weighing on me. “A bet.”
Take it, he mouthed.
I nodded and stood up, smiling at the demons held back by my Chainlings. The little girl from my first-ever fight was there, wearing the veil I’d given her, her father pushing through the crowd to get closer.
I twinkled my fingers at her.
“Our champions against each other, to third blood. Winner takes their choice.”
A flash of pale h
air caught my eye. Tascius.
He slid into the spectators’ box next to Belial’s dais, midnight eyes burning into me. Blind Luck and Razorclaw both watched the fights like they were bored, their arms crossed over their chests, but Luck was tense as well.
He’d said anything I wanted.
My need to touch Belial had never been stronger. “Bring your best, Belial.”
I managed to sound haughty and careless, but I was shaking inside. He was giving me everything I wanted to make amends.
I wished I could make amends as well, make him see that I hadn’t left because I hadn’t wanted him.
“Oh, I will, my Lady,” he said, his familiar wicked grin spreading across his face. “For my champion, I choose…”
He let the moment draw out, the demons leaning forward as they waited to hear his choice.
“The Iron Knight!”
A behemoth came striding out of one of the tunnels, bellowing and beating the iron plate mail over his chest. The demons went wild, screaming as he raised his gauntlets. Bloody sigils had been painted over every inch of his armor.
The Iron Knight turned around. Except for his back. The sigils there were weaker, with gaps in his armor between his arms and torso.
The weak spot was his back.
“Who do you choose as your champion, Lady Wrath?”
Belial’s shout called me back to myself. I gazed at him, hoping he could read the gratitude in my eyes.
I unclasped my cloak and let it drop. “For old time’s sake, I choose… myself.”
The dress Vyra had put me in wasn’t meant for fighting at all, but fuck it, I’d killed Snake Bite wearing nothing but a ragged tunic. This was the height of luxury in comparison.
Belial’s answering smile was wide and genuine, nothing showman-like about it.
I stepped down onto the arena floor, and Belial plucked a spear from the armory. It was ebony wood, inlaid with silver swirls. “For you, my Lady,” he said, and tossed it down.
I caught it easily and lifted it, testing its weight. It was perfectly balanced, the right length for someone of my height.