I found myself saddled with an emotion I was unfamiliar with feeling towards archangels: sympathy. He hadn’t abandoned humanity in our time of need; he’d just been screwed over by the same guy as everyone else.
I came to a decision as he sat there, shaking his head in dejection.
“Michael. I’d like to propose to a trade.”
He looked up, his golden eyes hollow. I took that as an encouraging sign to continue.
“We’re hunting several people right now. It’s going to take everything we have, and, as you can see-” I glanced at Tascius, giving off his moonlit glow- “One of our number is going through some unprecedented changes. If you could be the one to guide him into this new form, then… we could help you search Hell for Raphael. After we’ve accomplished our mission, of course.” Michael just gazed at me steadily, his eyes slightly narrowed.
Despite his foul mouth and mood, there was something I trusted about him. The sense of his power didn’t give me the same chills of trepidation I’d always gotten from Gabriel and the others.
And with Tascius no longer guessing at the changes the transmutation might force on him, perhaps we’d stand a much better chance at finding Lucifer and Vyra soon.
Michael finally stood straight up, walking as far as he could. The chains holding him there clanked with every step. “Deal. Now where are we going and who are we hunting?”
I glanced at Azazel, who shook his head minutely and made a tiny little ‘get on with it’ motion behind his back, out of Michael’s sight.
“We’re searching for Lucifer Morningstar and a succubus named Erisvyra D’ailani. They’ve been captured by Satan… who we will be killing, of course. He went on the run after our first attempt, but once I’ve repaired the Sword of Light, I intend to try again. Driving him out was how we found you at all.”
Michael nodded, his wings rustling. “Excellent. Lovely plan. Now get these bracelets off my legs. The sooner we find them, the sooner I get to return home and make these bastards sorry they were ever born.”
I had to give him points for enthusiasm. One of the Chainlings unlocked the manacles, and Michael stepped out and stretched his wings, nearly filling half the cell for forcing Azazel to lean back.
Then his gaze landed on the empty tankard. “But first, is there any more whiskey?”
8
Belial
“Are you sulking?”
One of my ears twitched backwards towards the sound of Melisande’s voice. She was perched between my shoulder blades, so light I barely felt her, but she had an iron grip on two handfuls of my mane.
I felt the tiny vibration of her laugh. “You are sulking. Poor baby.”
My answering growl rolled through the air like thunder. Immediately afterwards, several piercing shrieks cut through the air.
Right. I’d forgotten the undignified contraption Melisande had come up with last night, a harness with two large baskets that rested on either side of my ribcage. Each basket was packed full of female demons. They must’ve thought I was growling at them.
Most of them were injured, but not life-threateningly enough to prevent them from being transported in the baskets. My angry angel had offered me up as a courier service, carrying displaced demons to their respective Circles, or to the succubi temple for healing. Not all of them were enthused about being in this close of a proximity to me.
Me. The Prince of the Seventh Circle. Carrying around demons like a pack-mule.
All while that archangel sat on his ass and drank all my whiskey.
He’d just had a hundred-year nap; he should be out here carrying demons around. But Melisande had gotten him settled into a new room, then a messenger had arrived from Pytho, asking for aid… and the next thing I knew, a pair of big golden eyes had looked up at me pleadingly.
I’d said yes.
Then the baskets had happened.
I grumbled and shook my head, carefully enough that I wouldn’t dislodge the little angel on my shoulders.
Melisande leaned forward, stretching herself out and stroking my fur in long, soothing motions. “I promise I won’t let him drink it all. And I’ll make it up to you for all this.”
Hell, I’d carry demons in baskets all day as long as she and Sarai were safe, no matter how undignified it was.
She continued to murmur in my ear as we brought them up to the Second Circle and left them in the care of the succubi, promising all manner of interesting things when we returned home.
I was picturing all of those things as we descended through the Sixth Circle, but the scent of incense, oil, and herbs filled my nose along with the smell of smoke.
I felt Leviathan’s presence before I saw him, his slick yet thorny magic permeating the air and land of his princedom. The Prince of Heresy had risked more than many of the others in our attack on the Pit- his Witches and Cursed Men had been instrumental in ripping away the magical veil that protected Satan from attack, but they’d suffered heavy losses.
Despite the need for haste in setting up the pyres, the people of Heresy had put as much love and care into their funeral pyres as time allowed. Of all the Circles, they had the most elaborate funeral rituals, each one often corresponding to the corpses’ paganistic alignments.
“Should we help?” Melisande asked quietly. “We’re responsible for a lot of this, after all.”
I paused and turned towards the pyres. Demons were neatly stacking the wood and weaving garlands of flowers, bones, and coins over the constructs.
Leviathan looked up, his eyes gleaming red under his skull mask. He held a pitcher of anointing oil, his fingertips stained red from the paint he’d been using to draw symbols on the skin of the dead.
“Prince Belial,” he said tonelessly, inclining his head. “Princess Melisande.”
I felt my angry angel stiffen on my shoulders. She was going to need to get used to it; she’d come a long way from the bottom tier of my arena. The moment I’d accepted her as my consort, she’d joined the hierarchy of Dis.
Maybe the average citizen wouldn’t know, or care, who she was, but every Prince would afford her the respect she deserved, whether she liked it or not.
Melisande took the title in stride and slid off my back, walking around to stand near my head and rest her hand on my nose. “Prince Leviathan. Is there anything you need? I’d be glad to help you in any way I can.”
He looked at her, and I felt her trepidation through our mate bond. I hadn’t forgotten the jolt of fear I’d felt from her the first time she ever laid eyes on Leviathan and the endless scars on his face.
After a fraught silence, he finally handed her a brass pitcher. The scent of oil and herbs drifted up to my nose. “The dead must be anointed before they can pass on. The pyres to the east still need to be attended to.”
Melisande clutched the pitcher and nodded. She opened her mouth like she was going to say something else, then shut it and turned away.
I followed her, careful not to plant my paws too close. She turned her head to the side as soon as we were out of earshot. “Sometimes with the way he looks at me, I’m convinced he’s planning on using me for his next sacrifice.”
I snorted and shook my head a little, unable to speak out loud without half the Circle hearing me. Leviathan just hated talking to people. If I had to put Melisande’s life in another Prince’s hands, he’d be at the top of my list for the most honorable and trustworthy.