Page 6

Six

eight years ago

A zreth’s boots pounded the dry earth as he gave chase across the wastes of the fourth hell.

It had been weeks since he’d fed. Hunger was eating him from the inside out. His mind was unwinding.

When a scrawny, turquoise-skinned demon had wandered through his path, it had felt like an act of mercy from the universe. Azreth had approached him, raising a hand in a solemn greeting. But the demon hadn’t given him a chance to speak. As soon as he’d seen Azreth, he’d turned on his heel and taken off in a sprint.

Startled and annoyed, Azreth had run after him.

Azreth’s legs were longer. He closed the distance between them quickly. When the smaller demon stumbled, Azreth tackled him from behind, and they crashed to the ground in a jumble of flailing limbs.

The demon beat against Azreth with hard fists and elbows, furious but mostly ineffectual. He was short and skinny, which was probably why he was alone. He’d been cast out, like Azreth, for being flawed. Now that they were face to face, Azreth could sense that he was young—maybe only a few weeks old—but he would never grow any larger. Kin were unlike mortals in that way.They were born as they were, and that was that. They could not change. The small demon wouldn’t survive long, but through no fault of his own. The universe was unfair and unforgiving in its chaos. He had just been born unlucky, like Azreth.

The scent of his panic and anger was driving Azreth mad with hunger, but he didn’t enjoy watching him struggle. Seeing the pain and fear in him made Azreth feel pain and fear, too, somehow.

He had never attacked someone in order to feed before. Usually, he was the one running away. He had chased instinctively, but now that he’d caught his prey, he feared what came next.

It was pathetic. His reluctance to feed was an insult to his race. Was he really so weak-willed that he would put someone else’s well-being above his own? The universe had given him a smaller demon to take down and feed from—if he threw that away, then he deserved starvation.

“I will not hurt you,” Azreth growled. “Be still.” He lifted his hand away from one of the demon’s wrists and brought it to the center of the demon’s body, near his groin. He watched the demon’s face, waiting for him to understand and, hopefully, stop panicking.

The turquoise demon hissed, then—of all things—gave an angry sob. “I don’t want this. Let go of me.”

It was such a strange, emotional reaction that Azreth drew back, repelled.

As Azreth hesitated, the demon bent his knee and kicked him in the face. Azreth didn’t bother to strike back. The demon scrambled to his feet and ran, and for reasons beyond understanding, Azreth was glad that he did. He put a hand to his jaw as he watched the turquoise demon disappear into the dunes. The bone felt cracked.

He remembered being young and frightened, too. He remembered how much he’d hated it. But he hadn’t cried or begged. What would have been the point?

This was just the way things were. It was what their kind were made to do. What they were supposed to do.

He tried to recall whether he’d ever demanded to be released by a demon who had subdued him. But of course he hadn’t. It wouldn’t have occurred to him. He’d fought, of course—that was the one thing he would always do. But he’d never sobbed in outrage or protested at what was done to him.

It was right that people who were strong enough to overpower him could do as they liked with him. It was what he’d deserved. It was the inevitable result of his own weakness. So of course he’d never done something as foolish as protest it.

I don’t want this? What did it matter what he wanted? Why did he think he deserved better than the rest of them?

The longer he thought about it, the angrier he became.

The turquoise demon was arrogant. And it was a shame Azreth hadn’t killed him for it.

Disquieted, angry, and still hungry, he carefully healed his jaw and kept walking.