Page 35

I stand between Vince and the archangel. “What kind of fucked-up game is this?”

“This is no game, Amara Jones.”

I still, my breath doing the same. “How do you know my name?”

His eyes are wild with pleasure as he looks between the archangel and me. “I know everything about you.”

Vince takes a step further into the room, the door closing behind him. “Amara Jones, twenty-seven years old. I know you’re an orphan, that you moved from home to home because no one wanted you around for too long.”

Another step. My grip on the blade tightens.

“I know that you joined the army when you turned eighteen. That’s where you met your friend Xavier.”

My stomach drops. Xavier.

“I know about your little boyfriend. You know, the one you and your friend are looking for.”

He says the word “friend”

with venom, as if it’s a vile thought that the archangel could be any such thing to me.

“What do you want from us?” I demand.

Vince looks at the archangel on the floor, satisfaction and pride in his gaze. “Me? I want nothing more than to torment him. For her.”

“For Lilith?”

His jaw ticks at her name on my lips, his eyes narrowing.

“What are you, her little pet? Tricked into doing her bidding?”

He leans in close, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You should show me more respect. After all, I have something that you want.”

I move away from Vince and closer to the archangel, who only watches everything unfold. “There is nothing you could offer me that would stop me from killing you here and now.”

The archangel shuffles behind me, but he doesn’t speak.

Vince tilts his head, watching me closely. “No? Because I can tell you where your little boyfriend is.”

My heart stops. It’s a lie, it must be. He knows I want to kill him, and he is only trying to delay me. Yet…

“Where is he?”

He clicks his tongue three times, wiggling his finger in my face. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, dear. First, I need something from you. I told you, she wishes only to torment him. To have her fun. She will enjoy watching him squirm as my blade pierces your skin again and again. Until he begs for her to spare you.”

My laugh is devoid of humour, though my cheeks heat at the insinuation. “You’re a fool. He doesn’t care for me.”

I look down at the archangel on the floor, his face the picture of perfect indifference as always. “I’m sure he’d revel in the sight of me in pain just as much as your queen. He wouldn’t give that satisfaction to her, not for a mere human.”

The archangel’s eyes search mine for just a moment before dropping back to the floor.

Vince’s eyes narrow on me in a deadly glare. “But for you – well, I’d be curious to see how far he’d go to save you.”

I almost scoff at him, at his naivety. He clearly doesn’t know as much as he thinks he does. The archangel would never put my safety above that of his people. We played our part well as friendly companions, if Vince saw through all aspects of the facade apart from that.

I let him believe that he’s found leverage, and deflect instead of argue. “Where’s Jeremy?”

“He’s safe. For now.”

Vince doesn’t look at me; he only watches the figure behind me. The archangel says nothing, reveals nothing – a caged weapon, waiting to be set off.

I stand between them, forcing Vince’s attention towards me. The blade in my hand itches to be used. “You’re going to die.”

He shrugs. “One day.”

Anger burns within me, and I try to channel the archangel’s mask of calm indifference. Vince sees the blood that coats my skin and thinks me nothing but a weak little girl who got lucky.

“You misunderstand me.”

The words come out soft and sweet, a twisted mirror of the meaning behind them. “You’re going to die today.”

Vince does not draw his weapon, refusing to let me see even a hint of concern that I could possibly harm him. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.”

I flip my blade over my wrist and take a step away from the powerless prisoner. It’s only now that Vince turns his attention completely to me, smiling as he circles me with his hands behind his back. His eyes dart to the weapon in my hand, but he still doesn’t reach for his own.

He truly underestimates me so deeply that he doesn’t deem me worthy of the simple gesture of drawing his blade. He believes he won’t need it.

I’m going to make him regret ever having met me.

My lips twitch as I growl, “Now you…”

I point at him. “I want to hurt.”

I flip the knife again, circling him. “You’re torturing innocent people. Caging them up like animals, and for what?”

He scoffs, as if the answer is simple. As if it were a ridiculous question to begin with. “We’re in a war, Miss Jones. Sometimes you have to do things that are… unsavoury in order to survive.”

I circle behind him. “You’re right.”

I throw a low right hook, my knuckles brushing the side of his hip as he dodges it, but I bring my left hand down and drive the dagger into his thigh. He falls forward onto one knee. I pull the blade out and immediately put distance between us.

“She wants you alive, but I’m going to make you wish you were dead.”

He spits the words as if they aren’t his own. A thin white film coats his eyes for a moment, and the shadows in the room dance from the archangel to the man before me.

I watch, noting the way they play with his movements, then I look at the archangel’s hands shackled in darkness. The shadows encase his skin, holding it steady, infecting his veins. I can see black veins poking out from beneath Vince’s collar, too, though the shadows don’t seem to control him; they simply… watch. Dance around him.

Vince regains his balance quickly, standing and throwing a punch in my direction. I dodge his cross but miss the uppercut that meets my ribs. I grunt and my body tenses, but I hold my stance and drive my knee into his stomach three times before he grabs my leg and twists. He sweeps my other leg from underneath me, and I fall hard, my blade dropping from my hand and sliding across the room.

Something inside me cracks as I hit the floor.

I need to get back on my feet. I’m weaker than he is; my advantage of speed and technique is lost on the ground. But before I can roll, Vince’s boot meets my stomach. I retch and topple onto my side, trying to will air back to my lungs between coughs.

He moves to kick me again, but I manage to roll out of the way just in time, groaning. I sweep my legs underneath me and rush to my feet before he can strike once more.

Vince’s smirk turns wicked, his eyes fixated on the drop of blood that drips from my lips.

Oh, I’m going to make this painful.

He runs at me this time, bouncing slightly on his left foot before he does. Right hook, left jab, uppercut. I duck two, get hit by one. Then he bounces again. Right hook, left jab, uppercut. I dodge all three this time. Vince growls in frustration as he bounces again, but I know what’s coming. I grab his arm as he goes for a right hook, twisting it round until I hear a snap.

I smile at him.

I drive my knee into his groin, then my fist meets his throat. He folds in half, gasping for air. I skid across the floor to where my blade was tossed aside, but before I can snatch it up, it vanishes into thin air.

I look around, noticing a silver dagger across the room, encased in shadows.

Did the shadows just take my blade?

The archangel watches intently, but his lips remain in a thin line, his eyes the only indication that he’s paying attention.

Vince takes advantage of my confusion, drawing his own weapon now and lunging for me. I barely miss the blade the first time, but he’s quick as he swivels again.

Pain erupts through my shoulder blade, Vince’s dagger sinking into my flesh.

He takes a moment to smile just as I did, making sure I meet his eyes before he pulls out the blade. I fall to my knees with a cry, letting him think that the pain will slow me down. Letting him underestimate me again.

Vince looks over to the archangel, clearly hoping to see torment in his eyes. “Aren’t you going to beg me to spare her, archangel?”

That’s his mistake. I sweep my legs under his, and when he crashes to the ground, I jump on top. I grab the other blade from my belt and drive it into his uninjured thigh. This time, I leave it there.

He buckles forward in pain, his head coming close to mine. I grab a chunk of his hair and slam his head into the concrete hard enough to draw blood, but not so hard that he falls unconscious. I still need him awake.

The archangel chuckles – the first sound he’s made since Vince entered the room. “I believe it should be you begging her for mercy.”

I smile at him and pull the blade from Vince’s thigh.

This time it meets the flesh beneath his shoulder. His scream is visceral, pain coating his features. His eyes water, his teeth clench, his hands ball into fists at his sides.

“There are two ways that we can do this.”

I move the blade again, this time to the muscle between his hip and his abdomen. “I can draw this out and kill you slowly, inflicting more pain than you’ve ever encountered. Pain that you could not imagine. Then, as you take your last dying breath, you will tell me where Jeremy is.”

I leave my blade in place for a moment. These wounds won’t kill him; they’ll only make him bleed. Make him suffer.

“Or you can tell me now. Then I’ll grant you the mercy of killing you quickly. And please give me a reason to make it hurt, because I’d love nothing more than to watch you writhe in agony for hours on end.”

The pain that haunts him is replaced by anger. He spits at me.

“Fantastic. Pain it is.”

I remove my blade from his stomach and bring it to his face, the tip hovering over his eye.

“Left or right?”

Vince’s eyes widen and I see one of his hands shift. My dagger nails his palm to the ground.

“You have underestimated me from the moment you found us in the woods. Thought of me as a silly little girl who could do no harm to you.”

I lean over him, my lips close to his ear as I whisper, “How does it feel to know that I will be the one to end your pathetic existence?”

He growls, whether in pain or pure annoyance at this point, I’m unsure.

“You couldn’t last more than five minutes in a fight with me. I’m half your size, half your weight, and a woman, of all things. I bet that must hurt you more than any one of these cuts.”

He snarls at me.

“Tell me where he is.”

“You…”

He coughs. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”

“I’m making it hurt.”

I pull the blade from his hand and draw a line down his right forearm.

He screeches, shadows falling away from him with every wound. The film that coats his eyes starts to disappear, and the black veins on his neck dwindle. He’s dying, and Lilith is letting him go.

“Go ahead, kill me. Another will take my place.”

Blood drips from his mouth as he looks up at me with hatred. “Then they’ll come for you.”

I hold my blade at the tip of his ear. “Where is Jeremy?”

Vince shakes his head, looking to the shadows for a long moment before turning back to me. “Queenscliff. There’s a warehouse – Cain likes to take his collections there. Just like I bring mine here.”

He says it so casually, as if it’s an acceptable thing.

Queenscliff. Despite my hatred and venom, I can’t help the relief that takes over. “You’re sick.”

“She chose me,”

he spits. “When the devil calls your name, sweetheart, you answer.”

I scoff. “You made your choice.”

Blood coats his teeth as he smiles, dripping down his chin. “You’ll see. You’ll understand when they come for you.”

I smile back, staring at the fresh blood on my hands. His blood. “It’s too bad you won’t be around to say ‘I told you so’.”

I look over to the prisoner in the corner, encased in wilting shadows. “Get ready to break the chains, archangel.”

“You don’t have the —”

“Your wife sends her regards.”

His words turn to gurgling as I bury my blade in his throat.

The sound of chains snapping rings through the room, but I don’t look away. The life drains from Vince’s eyes within seconds, and the black veins that line his neck follow suit. Blood pools across the floor towards the archangel.

The archangel.

I expect to see a look of horror on his face, something along the lines of disgust. There is nothing of the sort. Instead, there’s something akin to pride.

I’m still straddling Vince’s lifeless body, his blood coating me from head to toe. My shoulder stings, my ribs ache, my hands shake. None of it matters, though, not now.

I know where Jeremy is.

The archangel watches me closely as I roll off the corpse. “How did you know that would work?”

I look over at him, still slumped on the floor, but unchained. Shadows no longer hold him down. The darkness in his veins begins to fade.

“He was connected to her. They all are. She’s feeding them power.”

I offer him a hand, and he stares at it a moment. “I figured if I disrupted that connection, it would also disturb the power that bound you.”

His brows pull together, but his lips fight a smile as he grabs my hand. The archangel falters as he stands, his legs weak. His wings drag low on the floor. The tips are coated in a mixture of red and gold liquid. I’m under him within a second. His right arm cradles my shoulder; my left comes around his waist.

“Can you walk?”

He takes a step and falls. I barely catch him, his weight crushing me as I do.

“What are you, a truck?”

I mutter, and readjust my hold on him, nearly stepping on a wing. “Your wings – can you hide them again?”

In answer, they disappear feather by feather.

“Okay, we’ve got to go.”

I inch him forward, grunting. “Come on, archangel. Let’s get out of here.”