One of my eyebrows popped up. “But I was trained by them. I was raised by them. And I never once saw Michael or Raphael while I was there. They might not be accomplices.”
“Point taken,” he grumbled. “The things I do for you, Princess Wrath.”
It was getting harder and harder to think as the ache settled into my bones. I nodded, feeling the blood rush from my face as a jolt of pain went through me. It was impossible to voice any appreciation for his restraint in the face of bloodlust when it felt like my ribs wanted to collapse on themselves.
Belial was suddenly all business, his face tightening in alarm when he saw my face go white. “We’ve wasted too much time here. Azazel, take her up. I’ll bring Michael.”
I felt Azazel surround me. This time I breathed a sigh of relief for the sensation of weightlessness that took the strain off of my broken wing. “Don’t crunch him, Belial,” I whispered. “He probably doesn’t taste good.”
Belial was already shifting, his mass increasing by the second as his bones stretched and grew. A moment later the enormous golden lion was picking up Michael’s limp body in his teeth, letting out a rumbling chuckle.
I gazed down at the shards of the Sword of Light scattered across the inky floor of the abyss, regretting that I couldn’t bring them back now. Each shard gave off its own internal light.
At least no one would be able to touch them. Even in pieces, the Sword’s inherent nature was intact. I was the only one who would be able to return for them.
Azazel rose into the air with me in his arms, and Tascius spread his wings for flight. We ascended as the lion leapt from tower to tower, his claws squealing on the obsidian and leaving deep scratches behind.
The higher we rose, the more I wanted to close my eyes, but I forced myself to keep them open. The scent of death was left behind us, trapped in the Pit below, but the reek of smoke replaced it.
Because I’d been one of the main causes of all this destruction, it was only right that I see where my plans had led us and accept the damage as my responsibility.
We ascended above the Pit, on a level with the Ninth Circle.
And the destruction was terrible. Hundreds of the obsidian buildings had been shaken to pieces, strewn across the streets in piles of rubble, and many of the structures still standing either tilted precariously to the side, or were riddled with cracks.
Demons, most of them covered in blood and dust, were busy pulling bodies from the rubble and piling them like cordwood. I caught sight of Adranos, his dark hair slick with blood and sweat, dragging the shrunken corpse of his father Mammon to one of these piles.
He tossed him on the pile and didn’t look back.
“You don’t have to look,” Azazel whispered to me, but I shook my head.
“I do have to,” I said quietly, comforted by the stars glowing around me. “This was the price we paid to get rid of him, and we still didn’t win.”
The Eighth Circle was hardly better off. We drifted over it, and I made myself look at each and every bit of the ruins.
My heart was in my throat as I considered what our home might look like.
The massive spire of the Consortium was still standing, looking as fresh and clean as if nothing had happened at all, but far fewer of our buildings were destroyed than those in the Ninth Circle. The electric lights strung across the Nightside were out, most of the glass bulbs broken, and many of the trees had been ripped out by the roots from the force of the Dragon’s wingbeats.
I held my breath as the Nightside arena came into view.
The gates still stood. A large crack ran up the front of the building, one of the doors was off kilter on its hinges, and several of the spiky parapets had fallen to the front lawn, but it was still there, still whole.
I never thought I’d feel such relief, even if it was mixed with guilt that we, at least, had a home to return to. So many demons in the Eighth and Ninth Circles would have nothing now.
All because of us.
“Stop fretting.” Azazel’s clipped tones were firm. “None of this is your fault.”
I wished we were corporeal so I could physically touch him. “But we drove the plan forward.” I would’ve traded the entire Seventh Circle just to have Lucifer and Vyra with us.
“Lucifer and I drove the plan. None of the guilt is yours to bear.”
My lips twisted, but there wasn’t much I could say in return. Lucifer and Azazel had been plotting this for centuries longer than I’d been alive; long before I’d even been raised again as an angel.
But I’d had a hand in this, and there was no way to deny it.
Azazel lowered me to the ground and once we became corporeal, he wove an arm around my waist to hold me up. My wing had completely sagged to the ground, my exhausted muscles no longer able to support its weight.
Belial stalked after us, still holding Michael gently in his jaws. Demons all over the Seventh Circle stopped and stared, whether they were cleaning up rubble or dragging out bodies. It was impossible to miss the gold and white gleam of a pure angel in the midst of Hell.
“Great,” I mumbled. “Now everyone will know. I should’ve thought of that.”
My thoughts were muddled. Black spots bloomed in front of my eyes as we turned towards the doors. My Chainlings were spilling out, all of them gripping weapons of some kind, but I hadn’t heard them at all.
“You’re in shock from the pain,” Azazel said, and even though he was right beside me, his voice sounded like it was coming from underwater.
I caught a glimpse of coppery red hair, and Haru stalked out among the Chainlings, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Bloody scratches disfigured his face, and his fangs flashed as he spoke.
“You don’t have her?” he asked sharply, amber eyes narrowed, and Azazel said something too quiet to hear.
Whatever it was, Haru’s response was to bare his teeth in a snarl. He stalked away, leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind him.
“What happened here, Azazel?” I asked, but the black spots were growing wider. I had to squint to focus.
“Worry about it later,” he said, but the black overtook my vision. I felt like I was spinning in a void, falling down a deep, dark well.
The last thing I felt was Azazel’s arms tightening around me.
2
Melisande
I opened my eyes with a start, trapped in the clutching confines of a large, soft prison. Digging in with my nails, I tried to drag myself out of the grip of the thing-
And realized it was sheets I was tangled in. I wasn’t trapped in anything but the confines of my bed.
“Calm down, angry angel.”
I turned my head and saw that I had a front-row audience to my panic. Belial sat on the bed next to me, stroking his huge hand over my hair and shoulder.
Standing behind him was a young demon girl. She had her white hood pulled up, and was biting her lower lip, her hands twisting nervously.
“Belial, what happened?” I asked, my voice rough. I was so thirsty my mouth felt like I’d been eating sand out in the wastelands, my throat gritty and painful. “How long was I out?”
“Well… for a while, but it was necessary,” he assured me. “You’ve been asleep for three days. Azazel brought you up and healed your wing as much as he was willing to risk, but we needed to call in a true healer to make sure the bone was set correctly.”