Revelation (38 page)

He somersaulted, unrolling taut feathers with a crack beside Dash. “Am I too late?”

“Hell, no. I saved some for you, as instructed.” Dash flashed him a glory-wild glance. “Jesus, you stink like a distillery. Are you fucked up?”

“Ah. Yeah. Pretty much.”

Japheth greeted him with a frosty grin. “Sinner.”

“Fuck you.” Lune whirled his blade and slashed in, and the air split with hellish death screams.

The red-haired demon yowled and flung his latest victim aside. He wore stained black leather, and hellfire hissed from his fingers. “Come get it, angelfilth—well, fuck me with a pitchfork!” His face lit up with unrestrained glee. “It’s the Tainted shitwits. So glad you could drop by. Especially you, Lune. I’ve been dying to meet you all week. Pity your lovely lady friend couldn’t make it. Did you enjoy the imps I set on you? ’Cause I did!”

“Motherfucker,” growled Lune, real ire igniting at last. “
You’re
the asshole who sent those wraiths to my place tonight?” He didn’t know this turd from a cowpat. It didn’t make sense. He didn’t care. “You scared my girl, you stinky little shit. Come to Lune, and get what’s coming.”

“That’s more like it.” The red-haired demon giggled. “Great to see you guys again so soon, too. Two brushes with celebrity in as many days! Dashiel, the junkie angel of death. Carved up enough flesh today? Maybe we can do a deal, I enjoy a good thrashing before I win.”

Dashiel snapped cruel teeth. “You talk too much.”

The demon slurped blood from his razor, lickerish. “Mmm. And the golden girl. Japheth, right? D’you know I fucked your boyfriend? Hell, darlin’,
everyone’s
fucked your boyfriend. But I guess you knew that.”

Dash’s wings jerked in surprise, and Japheth’s face drained pale. “You’re Michael’s pet? That skanky black thing in the cage?”

The demon cackled in delight, waving his blade. “That’s Zuul to you, pretty boy. We can have a chat about
skanky
once I’ve peeled your skin off—”

“How the hell did you get out?” Dashiel advanced, sword poised.

“Oh, dear.” Zuul’s smile turned cruel. “For a dirty sinner, you’re so naïve. How the fuck do you think I got out?”

Fresh sickness splashed in Lune’s stomach, and his nerves screeched in denial.

Michael had sent Zuul to chase him. Attack him. Stop him from finding Ithiel’s killer.

Ice-winged son of a bitch. But why?

Zuul’s scarlet hair sprayed blood as he danced a happy little jig. “Ha! Lune’s figured it out. But it doesn’t matter, y’know. I’m just holding the fort for Prince Quuzaat. Soon he’ll be here, and you can kiss your feathered asses good-bye.”

Japheth hissed sparks and attacked, blue flame leaping cold from his blade. “Just shut up and die.”

Zuul darted backwards, an ashen blur. “Listen, Lune, I’ve got a message for you. I was hanging out at Vorvian’s party just now? And your girl dropped by. She and V. were getting on real nice, I gotta say. V.’s a real charmer. Figures out just what a girl wants. She said to say…” He frowned, mocking. “What was it again? Oh, yeah. That was it.
‘Fuck you, angel.’
”

Lune staggered, dizzy, and he barely dodged the demon’s scything razor.

It wasn’t true. Demons lied. Not Morgan, in Vorvian’s clutches. Surely, she’d stayed away. Hadn’t tried to challenge Vorvian’s power.

Curse her brave, stubborn hide. What was she thinking? Why didn’t she just go home and get back to her life? No matter her courage, she was human, fragile like soulglass, and Vorvian was an immortal monster with power beyond the stars to make her hurt.

But Lune’s empty heart still glowed with admiration, burning away the sickness and the whiskey. She hadn’t given up. And neither would he.

He couldn’t leave her to her fate. Even if she despised him forever, he couldn’t fail her now. He’d died for his honey-bright lady once. He’d do it again.

And again. As many times as it took. And before he went, he’d rip Vorvian’s cruel lying heart from his ribs, and swallow it whole.

For Eleanor. For Morgan. For me.

Golden fire licked his veins, and to the sound of Zuul’s slick laughter, he flashed out.

An iron-strong hand wrapped Jadzia’s wrist, and dragged her from the melee.

She stumbled, drunk on the scent of thunder. A wall thudded into her side, blocking the fight from view, and she gazed up into hot scarlet eyes.

“Jadzia.” Shax’s breath seared her cheek. “Don’t be afraid.”

Her pulse darted like prey. The demon was inches away. His black hair tumbled silken on her shoulder, and his hellish warmth taunted and burned.

But the music he made of her name sparkled deep inside her, dangerous. Her sword quivered, angry sparks snapping from the blade. Glory and killing rage still sprang hot in her blood. This was stupid. Why didn’t she strike? Finish him off?

But deep in the bruised crevices of her heart, she knew.

Sweet heaven, help me.

She swallowed, parched. “What do you want?”

“I had to warn you.” He spidered hot fingers over her hair, and it tingled. “I don’t have much time. The Prince of Blood is coming. He’s going to summon Azaroth. You have to stop him.”

“Azaroth? Who’s that?” Her wits fluttered, useless like broken wings. Her pulse burned. He smelled wonderful. She wanted to lean forward, sink into his embrace. If he was tempting her with hellspells, it was working. Oh, boy, was it.

“The Demon King. Lord of Emptiness and Despair. Vassal to Satan, the Lord of Lies, whose return Azaroth intends to ensure. Are you listening, lady?”

“Uh. Yeah. I—”

“You have to stop Quuzaat summoning him!” Shax’s eyes glittered. “Quuzaat has the holy vial. If he drinks the vat’s cursed blood from it, Azaroth will ascend. Right here. Tonight. Believe me, you don’t want that.”

Fascination gripped her, horrid and delicious. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I think you know.” He yanked her wrist tighter, pulling her in, and their lips collided.

Oh, lord.
His kiss tasted of thunder and storms and blood. So hot, a forbidden fire she’d never known. He bruised her mouth with his, delicious, finding her tongue and ravishing her. His body molded to hers, hungry, his desire hot and hard for a few precious seconds before she yanked away, dizzy with need.

Her chest heaved, air suddenly insufficient. She’d kissed a demon. Let this hellspawn put his tongue in her mouth. And it hadn’t felt evil or wrong.

But it sure felt sinful. Sinfully, deliciously good.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Jadzia.” He trapped her against the wall, unrelenting, his beautiful lips still gleaming from her kiss. “You haunt me wherever I go. I can’t let Quuzaat get his way, not tonight.”

His ashen heat intoxicated her. His desire for her made her shiver. God, it felt real. He actually wanted
her
. Not just release or oblivion. “But—”

“Make Quuzaat drink his own blood from that holy vial, and see what happens.” Shax’s hungry lips burned her ear. “I want to see you again. Say you will.”

Her nerves screeched.
Kill him. Now. Before you do something you’ll regret.

But she exhaled in a rush, and it spilled out. “Yes.”

He laughed, warm and thrilling. “My princess,” he whispered, and dissolved to glittering black ash.

Compelled, Jadzia inhaled, and his scent sparkled, all the way down.

A shout behind her made her jump and whirl, the real world thudding in like falling bricks. Shit. If she’d been seen…

In the room’s center, Dash and Japheth fought, splattered in gore and aflame with glory. The vat overflowed, blood spilling like crimson rivers, and a thin red-headed demon capered and cackled with glee, waving a bloodstained razor. “Here he comes! All hail the prince!”

The air tore, ripe like rotting fruit, and with an evil shimmer and a fat belch that stank of vomit, the Prince of Blood squelched in.

Morgan stared up at Vorvian on the pile of rubble, and hatred scorched acid in her heart.

Tariq and Suhail still held her fast. She struggled, her need to revenge all those undeserving dead a burning fog that ate away at her reason.
Kill him. Bite his evil skin until his blood gushes bright. Tear his hair out, crush his skull, claw his eyes until they pop.

Vorvian cracked up with laughter. He’d been eating. Gore smeared his mouth, and he licked it off with a pointed red tongue and held out his arms in a mocking embrace. “Thank you, boys. Very kind. I knew I could rely on you. Off you go now.” He leapt down, landing like a cat in a graceful crouch.

“You promised to help us, demon. Don’t fuck with us, or you’ll be sorry.” Suhail’s voice rang strong, and grudging admiration soured Morgan’s tongue. Brave little shit.

Vorvian waved a negligent hand. “Your scum-shit enemies are already dying. Run along, now. Play your silly games. Uncle Vorvian’s finished with you.”

They let her go, and she jerked away, defiant. “I’m sorry,” Suhail whispered. “I have to.”

“Screw you.” Morgan flexed her aching shoulders. Behind her, the two gangboys’ footsteps retreated. No point in her
running. Zombies would floor her before she got ten feet. And if she’d learned anything last time, it was that getting naked with a zombie wasn’t something she cared to repeat.

Vorvian slinked closer. “No need for rudeness. It was a fucking stupid idea, Morgan. As if your blood could ever harm me! You’ve ditched your angel, remember? Heaven doesn’t give a shit about you.”

He lifted her chin with one finger, and she gagged on his stink, ash and vomit and rotting flesh. And underneath, that ineffable sweetness, longing and wishes lost…

She spat, furious. “Get your greasy hands off me. You know nothing about heaven!”

“Oh, but I do.” His hair sparked, angry gold, and he grabbed her chin to make her stare into his face. “Heaven’s cursed me every day since I was made.”

“Boohoo. I’m so
sorry
for you.”

“You should be. It’s your turn next, human. They just don’t call it a curse. They call it
destiny
. Stupid, ugly fate you can’t avoid, just because some faceless
thing
in the sky
says
so.”

Her nerves quailed. She’d always longed to control her own destiny. But she struggled, tearing her gaze free. “Not listening, demon. Your lies stink.”

“Do they? Look around you, Doctor.” He pulled her with him to his knees. She fought, but his grip was like ice, unbreakable. “Tell you what: I’ll trade you. One wish. One heart’s desire. That’s all I ask.”

She shrank back, as far as she dared. But she knew she had no choice.
Play his games, or die.
“And what do I get?”

“Why, you get lives, of course. Isn’t that what you came for?” He pointed with her finger at the milling zombies. “Tell me what you desire, Morgan, and I’ll let them go free.”

Her wits stumbled. “Huh?”

“Cured. Human again. The more truthful you are, the more lives you’ll save. Fun, eh?”

“No.” Morgan shook her head. “No, it’s a trick.”

“Of course it’s a trick! But what choice do you have?” His eyes gleamed, delighted. “Unless you’d prefer another dose of the screaming hungries. I rather enjoyed giving it to you—”

“Okay!” She shuddered, defeated. Not that. Never again. Her skin still crawled with the memory, hot bleeding flesh
crunching between her teeth, the salty delight as it slid down her throat. The rabid desire, the hunger, the way she’d teased Luniel, touched him…

Wildly, she fought to remember every silly story she’d ever heard about dealing with demons.
Read the fine print. Don’t take anything for granted.
“Okay, you filthy scumbag. I’ll play. But only if you play fair. I’ll tell you one wish. Just one.”

“Your
deepest
wish,” insisted Vorvian happily. “And I’ll know, so don’t even think about lying.”

“And I get all these people, cured and alive. They get to leave safely. No changing the rules after we start.”

A pained scowl. “You wound me, Morgan. Truly.”

“After last time, you want trust? Screw you.”

“We can include that if you—”

“Not in this universe, pretty boy.” She cut him off, impatient. “Let’s get on with it.”

“Fabulous!” Vorvian leapt up, and smoothed his hair with a two-handed flourish, like a stage magician preparing for his biggest trick. “This is gonna be awesome! Ready?”

She scrambled up, relieved to be free of his grip. She took a deep breath, steeling her wits. One false word, and she’d be helltoast. “Yes, I’m r—”

“Good.” And swift as a striking cobra, Vorvian whiplashed in a curl of stinking black smoke, and slammed his palm into her forehead.

Hellfire flared, and her vision drowned in blood.

Vorvian’s cold-rich chuckle caressed her. She struggled, but couldn’t move. Her bones spiked cold. No air. No light. Just her pulse, thudding in her skull like a zealous drum, and the cruel sound of Vorvian’s delight. “Did you think I’d let you choose? No, silly! Your thoughts are mine now. I’ll dig out what you want most. I’m the guy who can get you things, Morgan. For a price. I think you’ll find me generous.”

She tried to scream, but he plucked the sound up like a wet sock and tore it away.

“Now,” he murmured, “what have we here?” And ghostly fingers of demonic compulsion forced into her mind.

Memories swirled, like drowning flotsam. Hot gunmetal in her hands. Broken glass stinging her finger, her blood splashing onto a dish. Raw anguish, the inevitable crushing truth of an
angel’s lie. Luniel’s hot midnight feathers brushing her face, his heat-scented hair, his body’s scorching caress on hers…

“No, that’s not it.” Impatiently, Vorvian tore the images away. “I want your
deepest
wish. Nice, but no cigar. Hoity-toity little Morgan, doesn’t need a man, blah blah. But…oh!” His excitement drove her pulse harder, horrid. “What’s this?”

Her mind spiraled, a black vortex of despair, and down she hurtled into bleeding memory.

Brains, splattered on the wall like red paint. Mom’s body, limp. Fingers still curled in the trigger guard. Dark brown hair, so like Morgan’s own, riddled with bone fragments. Her pretty lips cold and pale. Morgan had tried to kiss them. Tried to put Mom’s face back together. But the blood only smeared, the flesh torn beyond help.