by Cate Corvin
My thorns didn’t pierce her skin when I tried a rope next.
The Nephilim, the best of Heaven and worst of Hell combined, were resistant to magic.
Yraceli slashed out, those thin fingers searching the air where I’d been. I ripped a spear from a weapon rack and flapped into the air, sending it rocketing at her heart.
The spearpoint just bounced off, leaving the tiniest droplet of blood behind. She was slow but inexorable, resistant to everything. No one but a fighter equipped with ebonite could hope to kill her before she shredded them to pieces.
“Fucking Hell,” I breathed, and one of the tentacles whipped upwards and wrapped around my ankle, ripping me down.
I hit the floor so hard I saw stars. Feathers blew away from my wings with the impact.
My bruised lungs strained to pull in a breath of fresh air, and something slimy groped across my face, trying to snake into my mouth. Another burrowed into the corner of my eye.
A single second of sheer panic burst through my mind, screaming mindless fear at the thought of those tentacles invading my skull. I grasped my dagger blindly, ripping it out of the sheath and almost slicing my own hand off in the process.
Yraceli hissed, the reeking warmth of her breath washing over me, and I slashed out with the ebonite.
The tentacles spasmed, falling away from my face. Her hands released me and I rolled onto my side, gagging from the smell as she let out a scream so high I almost couldn’t hear it. Several demons in the audience clapped their hands over their ears, faces screwed up in pain.
I crawled away from the mess of blood and wriggling tentacles. At least three of them had been sliced away cleanly.
Stumbling to my feet, I wiped my arm across my face, trying to erase the horrible sensation they’d left behind. The stumps of her ruined tongues were charred at the edges, slowly creeping towards her face.
Whatever demon-smith had forged this blade, he’d designed it to poison her. Bits of her mouth were already falling away.
I advanced on the Nephilim, ducking the sweep of her long arms as she circled me, jabbing in with the dagger.
Within seconds, I’d cut down her tongues to one. It coiled deep inside her maw, hiding from me, but it also meant she couldn’t smell me. She was effectively blind, searching with her thin fingers.
I crept across the arena and launched myself upwards, rising above her without the wind of my wingbeats giving away my position. When Yraceli crept into the middle, still searching, I plummeted down, dagger in hand, lips curled back over my teeth in a feral snarl.
I ripped the blade through her from the apex of her spine to the base of her back, splitting her wide open.
The Nephilim tottered forward a few more steps, but the essence of the blade ate through her, turning her to ash from the inside out.
Yraceli collapsed to her knees, quivering all over, and then slumped down, the remains of her face lying in the shards of her mask.
I took a shuddering breath, resisting the urge to vomit, my fingers aching from clutching the dagger so hard.
The barrier fell. Belial stood on the dais of bones, his face drawn.
“You win your freedom, Melisande of Righteous Fury.” He was utterly toneless. The arena was dead silent, so even his quiet voice carried all the way to the back. “You win half of my kingdom. The Nightside of the Seventh Circle is yours, Lady Wrath.”
The mockery in the title cut me to the bone.
“Belial…” My whisper died as he looked at me with eyes like ice, his fire hidden.
I strode to the spectator box, reaching for Tascius, but Belial laughed. The sound was cold and sharp, the laugh of a total stranger. “Exile wasn’t part of your bet. He remains with me.”
I glared up at him, but Belial glared back.
I hadn’t expected this victory to hurt my heart, of all things.
The fanatics started moving, gathering around the empty obsidian dais. They hung banners embroidered with my symbol, banners made of raven feathers, until it was a throne of shimmering darkness.
I raised my chin, met Tascius’s eyes with a promise- I’ll win you, too- and climbed the dais. My bruised, aching body murmured its relief to just collapse on my throne.
One of the fanatics touched my feet, placing a raven feather there. “Our Lady,” the demon whispered reverently.
Sharp pain burst through my left palm. I hissed, expecting to see it bursting into flame, but the dark sigil Belial had placed on me was shrinking, swirling towards the center of my palm.
It became a pinprick, and finally vanished, along with the pain.
I stared at my unmarked hand, feeling naked without that symbol. Like I’d lost something rather than won.
A strange sense of emptiness took the place of triumph, cutting something unnameable away from me.
Lucifer leaned forward and nodded, his face the picture of satisfaction. Azazel could barely restrain his smile. Tascius gazed at me, his fingers curled around the balustrade so hard his knuckles were white.
I stroked the raven feathers covering the arms of my throne, surrounded by my loyal retinue.
I was their Lady of Wrath. Their fallen angel.
But Belial stared at me like I was a stranger. An adversary.
His enemy.
The End
To Be Continued in Hell to Pay…
They bound me. Led me into sin.Twisted my heart and soul.But they didn’t break me.
By a stroke of fate, I’ve won my freedom… and the dark half of the Seventh Circle.
All it took was betraying the prince who held me captive.
Belial’s anger burns hotter than the fires of Hell, but I won’t rest until I’ve won my Nephilim mate from him, even if being his enemy tears at my heart.
Azazel and Lucifer have a plan: steal the Sword of Light. Wage war against Heaven and Hell.
I’ll raise my own army, master my corrupted magic, and together, we’ll strike at the heart of Dis. Satan must die.
And Gabriel will suffer.
For the archangel who pushed me, for the king who terrorized me, there’ll be hell to pay.
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