by Cate Corvin
Tascius’s chest moved under my cheek when he exhaled a deep breath. “When I lost my wings, I lost that power. It’s like being half of what I was meant to be. But, you forget…” He raised my chin to look at him. “I’ve survived over twenty years in Belial’s Circle. I don’t need to be invincible to survive.”
“I know,” I said quietly. “But I’ve seen Gabriel in the midst of war. I’ve seen him destroy a legion of demons like it was an afterthought. Any one of us is vulnerable to him.”
“Then why do you worry? It’ll be four against one.”
I held him tighter for a moment, pushing my face against him. “I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like I was given too much when I was supposed to be punished. Like I still owe some suffering to the universe before all of this is done.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, pulling me all the way onto his lap. “You shouldn’t have been punished in the first place.”
I traced slow circles on the silky skin of his chest. “I wish I could mark you, like Belial did to me. So I would always feel you and know you were okay.”
Tascius rested his chin on top of my head. I felt like I was in a small sanctuary, a place where no one could touch me, when I was cradled close to him. “We’ll figure it out, little friend.”
“I hope so, big friend.” I looked up at the cut lines of his jaw and throat. The three little words I wanted to say didn’t feel big enough to encompass all I felt for him.
They were burning on the tip of my tongue when several shadows darted across the roof of the arena. Tascius’s entire body went tense at the sight.
“What is it?”
I slid to the ground and grabbed his hand, hurrying back inside and up the stairs. Several Chainlings fell in behind us.
We burst onto the roof, following the pack of Chainlings to the battlements. Vyra was already there, gripping the rail with white-knuckled fingers.
Our quiet moment in the courtyard was completely and utterly destroyed by the tense whispers and hisses, and a cloud of stars and smoke burst into life next to us.
“Azazel, what’s happening?” I looked over my shoulder at the Watcher took solid form. “Where’s Lucifer?”
His sharp face was utterly grim. “With his father. The Dragon decided to stir last night.”
All the blood drained out of my face.
I’d caused this, by burning his roses and threatening him. But what was he doing?
A molten arc of fire streaked across the sky, and my throat tightened. I would know the thundering ash of Arcturus’s hooves anywhere, as Belial headed straight for the Nightside.
I slipped out of Tascius’s grip and fell in at Vyra’s side. She was staring at the streets below, where the smaller roads converged on the large thoroughfare that led up and down the Circles of Dis.
Demons lined the streets, and the one thing that stood out immediately was that all of them were male.
Except for a small group, pulling two women along with them. The demon females went silently, tears streaming down their faces as they headed towards the thoroughfare that a procession had begun to descend.
It was all women. Some were from Lust, dressed in barely-there veils, some from Heresy painted with arcane symbols. A female from Greed dripped golden coins.
The demons herded them downwards, towards the Eighth Circle, as the demons outside my arena pulled their women towards the procession.
“They’re Satan’s Brides,” Vyra whispered through bloodless lips. Her large, dark pink eyes swam with unshed tears. “Sacrifices. The Dragon called for more women.”
I placed my hand over hers, feeling her tendons standing out from the strain of gripping the rail so hard. “Vyra. He won’t have you.”
“He sees us all.” She took a shuddering breath and sobbed. “He knows where we are.”
I whirled around, finding Azazel close enough to touch. “Azazel, take her to Blackchapel. Take her now.”
He pried his sister’s hands off the rail. Vyra stared wide-eyed until he spun her around and hugged her, holding her close and pushing her face against his chest so she couldn’t see. She gripped two handfuls of his shirt, hyperventilating in ragged gasps.
His violet eyes held mine as they vanished into shadows, and I saw the faintest glimmer of stars in the air as they shot towards Blackchapel, away from the horrifying parade of sacrificial lambs.
No sooner had they left than Arcturus’s flaming hooves hit the roof of my arena, sending up sparks. The horse tossed his head as Belial jumped down from his back, his lips pulled back over his teeth in a snarl.
“Where-” He stopped dead when he saw me at the rail, his shoulders tight, fists clenched at his sides. “You should be inside.”
The tension coiled inside me had eased a little when Azazel spirited Vyra away, but there were other women walking to their deaths now.
“Belial, you can’t let them go.” I jerked my head back towards the procession. Most of them had passed into the Eighth Circle, Fraud, but there were still some descending from the Sixth.
Even though I was powerless to do anything, he was a prince. A prince who’d come all the way from the Brightside just to make sure I was still safe.
Despite my horror, a warm glow kindled inside me.
“They belong to the Dragon now,” he rumbled, eyes flashing, but he’d taken a step forward, then another, until he was almost close enough to touch. Tascius kept his arm wrapped around me, like he was afraid I’d jump off the roof and join the doomed women.
“Are you the Prince of Wrath or aren’t you?” I breathed, my hands shaking. “Please do something for them!”
Belial gritted his teeth, his eyes flicking from me to the streets below, and threads of gold twined through his dark hair.
I gasped when he jumped over the side of my arena, shifting in midair as he fell eighty feet to the ground below. The enormous golden lion hit the ground on all fours, opening craters beneath him and setting fire to a glowing bush with a switch of his flaming tail.
I leaned over the rail, watching as demons threw themselves out of the way as the lion rampaged into the streets, knocking carts, food stalls, and people aside without a second thought.
The male demons running the procession with whips turned as his roar echoed down the street, some flinching and covering their ears. One dropped the whip and ran, and the women left in the Sixth and Seventh Circles paused, looking askance at the lion.
Some looked relieved, and my heart tightened in my chest.
“These are for the Dragon!” one shouted, waving his arms. He looked like a mouse next to Belial, waving his arms to catch the golden lion’s attention.
Surprise filled me when Belial stretched open his massive jaws and roared, but there were words in the rumble and growl of his beast-speech.
“I CLAIM THESE WOMEN AS MY TRIBUTE.” His roared words echoed down the street like thunder.
The demon faltered as Belial crept closer. His lion’s mouth could swallow the demon whole. “The Red Dragon demanded-”
Belial let out a low, rumbling chuckle, his tail flicking and knocking another slaver aside. “DO I LOOK LIKE I GIVE A FUCK WHAT THE DRAGON WANTS?”
The women had herded together in a tight circle, their arms wrapped around each other. I pounded on the rail, silently urging Belial to eat the motherfucker if that’s what it took to free them.
“He… they’re chosen sacrifices.” The demon straightened up and brandished his whip. “They were chosen for Satan himself.”
Belial sat back on his haunches, aquamarine eyes glittering dangerously. “I CHOOSE THEM. THEY ARE THE PRICE OF YOUR SAFE PASSAGE.”
The demon opened his mouth to argue again, and Belial brought down a titanic paw, crushing him against the obsidian. A pool of blood slowly spread on the stone beneath his claws.
The other slaver who’d dropped his whip pushed the remaining women forward. “Take them, Prince! Take them! They’re yours as tribute.”
“WISE MAN.”
Belial got up and prowled around them, herding them down the side street towards the arena and leaving a crowd of terrified demons behind him. “GET OUT OF MY FUCKING CIRCLE.”
The remaining demons scattered, and the denizens of Wrath gave them looks that promised extreme violence if they returned. I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, the tension melting away and leaving me exhausted.
We hadn’t saved them all, but we’d done what we could.
I touched Tascius’s face. “Please help the Chainlings find places for the women. We’ll bring them home when it’s safe.”
He grabbed my hand and kissed my palm, his eyes dark. “Don’t get yourself hurt.”
“You know me.” I smiled and replaced my palm with my mouth, nipping his lip. “It’s time to go hunting.”
Tascius disappeared inside, and I summoned my magic, forming a thorny spear. When I looked over the edge of the battlements, the women were making their way towards the gates of the arena. My Chainlings were opening the way.
There was one thing left that I needed to do.
I jumped over the edge and spiraled downwards, landing next to one of Belial’s paw prints. It was big enough that I could’ve curled up inside it if I wanted to.
The females streaked past me, darting for the refuge of the arena. Belial was still a lion, taking up most of the street, and his gaze landed on me as I stepped out of the iron gates and into his path.
He lowered his head, and I placed my hand on his wide nose, the short, silky fur as hot as a furnace and tickling my palm. “I want the bastards from this Circle who tried to sacrifice our women.”
“WHAT MY LADY DEMANDS, MY LADY GETS.”
His voice was enough to nearly knock me over, pain spiking in my eardrums from being this close to him when he spoke as a lion.
He raised his head and shook out his mane, then turned and loped down the street, careful to keep from planting one of his enormous paws on me. I took flight, hovering overhead, holding my spear in a death-grip.
It didn’t take long to find the ones who’d betrayed our own. Two were held tight by an angry crowd, and Belial’s lope became a quick lunge. He pinned one to the street, his claws framing the demon’s head like a cage.
“WHERE IS THE LAST?” he demanded, the demons flinching under his roar.
One of the demons pointed further up the street, and I caught sight of a fleeing back.
I swooped forward, putting all my strength and a touch of magic into my spear, which flew from my hand as straight as an arrow.
The barbed head buried itself between the fleeing demon’s shoulder blades, severing his spinal cord. My magic spear melted as he died.
I wheeled over the top of a tall building and landed lightly in the thoroughfare, only yards from Belial’s paws. The two demons being held down by their own looked up at me beseechingly, grimacing at the pain of so many hands dug into their flesh.
“Lady Wrath, the Dragon demanded it,” one said, gasping as a chef’s cleaver bit into his neck.
Belial’s low chuckle sounded more like an earthquake, shaking the ground beneath my feet.
“As you can see, the other citizens of this Circle don’t agree with you,” I said mildly.
How many women had they lost over the years?
I glanced up the thoroughfare and saw a similar crowd in the Sixth Circle, but they were mourning their loss. I hoped at least one of the women we’d claimed would be able to return home to them.
“We can’t disregard his desires.” The other demon winced. “He’s the King of Hell.”
I looked them over, then glanced at the one panting under Belial’s paw. He reeked of fear.
So had the women, and they hadn’t had a choice. A pang of guilt stabbed at me, knowing I was the one who’d set off this round of sacrifices.
“You will disregard him from this day on.” I called on my magic and made a sword. “Any citizen of the Seventh Circle who willingly gives up or forces one of their own will deal with the wrath this Circle is known for.”
“You can’t-” one the demons began, but Belial rumbled out a warning growl and leaned forward, snorting steam out of his nostrils.
“DO YOU QUESTION MY LADY’S JUDGMENT?”
The demon shook his head.
“Bring him forward,” I said quietly.
The chef and two merchants dragged the first one forward, forcing him on his knees.
I took a deep breath, and put my all into the slice of my blade, making the cut clean. His head rolled away, bouncing across the stone.
They dragged away his body and his head as the other was brought forth. I hated it, killing in cold blood against defenseless enemies, but I couldn’t forgive them. They had clean deaths compared to what the other sacrifices would receive. At least their last moments weren’t a torment.
Belial raised his paw and extended one claw, neatly taking off the last demon’s head.
I let my sword flicker and die, feeling exhausted to the bone, sick and weary.
He rumbled a low growl, and I looked over my shoulder. The angry demons had strung up their bodies in a macabre display over the streets.
“Well, at least it’ll be very clear to anyone else what happens if they try that again,” I said softly, turning my back on the gory sight.
Belial took long, slow strides as I walked back to my arena, too emotionally wiped out to enjoy flying. I passed through the gates and felt a shiver in the air, and when I looked back, Belial had shed his lion’s skin. He wore only pants, leaving his chest bare, and I fought the urge to wince when I saw the faint silver lines scored across his chest.
He’d left my marks on him.
Arcturus galloped down to the grass, his hooves scorching the grass, and nudged Belial with his nose. I didn’t even have the energy to return the horse’s smug side-eye.
“Thank you,” I said quietly. “For helping them, and… and looking after me. Hell, thank you for backing me up.”
Belial took a step closer. “When this happens again, stay inside,” he said roughly.
I paused, wetting my lips, and took a step closer. “I can’t make that promise. I won’t let them take our women. They’re under our protection, aren’t they?”
He smirked, a little of his tension fading away, and took another step. “If you’d been born in Hell, you would’ve been a succubus. Protector of women.”
“Seems to be a running theme in this Circle,” I said lightly, taking another step.
He closed the gap, close enough to touch. “We don’t like assholes taking what’s ours to protect.”
I smiled, and against my will, my hand rose. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to touch first, but then his aquamarine gaze looked over my shoulder.
I followed his gaze and found Tascius striding out of the arena gates, his expression hard as stone.
When I turned back, Belial was already climbing astride Arcturus. I let out a breath, feeling like something had been stolen from me.
“Stay safe, Lady Wrath,” Belial said, his face closed off again, and even as Tascius’s hands wrapped around my shoulders, I couldn’t help but watch as Arcturus streaked into the sky, becoming a meteor that faded from sight.
15
Melisande
I washed the blood off myself, leaning against Tascius as he worked shampoo through my hair, closing my eyes and pretending I couldn’t still see the sight of the demon’s heads rolling away.
I realized I wasn’t sorry. They’d been willing to sacrifice others, and they’d gotten what they deserved.
Tascius let me have my silence in peace, knowing I was struggling. If I could make orders the demons would obey, then I not only had the power, but the responsibility to ensure their safety, and the weight of it felt like a boulder on my chest.
We dressed and I opened the bedroom door to a surprising sight: Azazel, with his hand raised in the air.
“I was going to knock,” he said, his eyes lingering on my still-wet hair.
&
nbsp; “You don’t have to knock.” I took a chance, and stepped forward and rose on my toes to kiss him.
Instead of turning to stone or pushing me away, his hands rose to cup my face, his tongue parting my lips. I was breathing hard, my heart pounding in my throat, when he finally released me and looked up at Tascius.
“Maybe choose somewhere that isn’t next to a conveniently-close bed if you’re going to start that.” Tascius’s eyes were growing dark with Nephilim lust.
I stepped back from Azazel. Appealing though the idea was, I still needed to make sure Vyra was okay and that the women were taken care of.
“No beds right now. We need to find Lucifer and discuss something.”
I was done with Satan. The time for waiting was long past.
“To Blackchapel, then.” Azazel held out a hand to Tascius, who scowled only briefly before taking it and allowing the Watcher to dissolve him into smoke.
“I’ll meet you there.” I brushed my fingers through their stars and headed to the window, taking flight and following their glittering trail.
“Vyra.”
I ran my fingers through her hair soothingly, like she was a child. The succubus was curled up on her bed, wrapped in sparkling pink sheets and staring at the opposite wall.
When I’d opened her bedroom door in Blackchapel, the last thing I’d been expected to be greeted with was an explosion of pink and black. An entire wall was studded with nails that necklaces and bracelets were draped over, and several dress-forms still had half finished projects pinned to them. A multitude of baskets spilled over with every color and finish of fabric imaginable.
She sighed, clutching her sheet a little tighter. “I’m sorry I ran.”
“Don’t be.” I made her lift her head and pulled a velvet pouf under her. “You’ve already had to deal with enough bullshit. Let us deal with Satan, but when I made you a promise that he’d never have you, I meant it. If you’d feel safer here in Blackchapel, then you should stay here.”
She blinked lashes that were incongruously dark against her pale skin. “I’m so tired of running away, Melisande. Sometimes I think everything will be fine, but when I see them, all I feel is that despair again. It feels like he’ll take me, that they’ll parade me through the streets, and nobody will be able to do anything to save me.”