Page 62 of Wings of Lies (Daughter of the Seven Circles #1)

“Somehow, you escaped Marcus. You even managed to evade all the other angels I sent to help fix his mistake. But luckily, he retrieved you on this celebratory day. So, here’s the game, Daughter,” he spat.

Literally spat his saliva onto me. It globbed onto my shorts and sprayed onto my thighs.

“You answer my questions the way I want, and you extend your life for a few more minutes or hours.”

I laughed. I think it was shock. Michael talked about extending my life, so he meant to kill me, regardless, on my birthday, which I didn’t even know until now, next to my unconscious mom.

Bolted to the table with my Glory bound, I had no way of escaping or helping my mom.

Any hope of a rescue attempt from Oliver or Aspen didn’t exist. Neither knew where I was.

Who knew if they were still alive? So, here I was at the mercy of a fake father who hated me and waited all this time to eradicate me from his life with a flourish of his special dagger.

The laugh was not the response he wanted. He moved.

I screamed as the tip of his magnetic dagger stabbed into my thigh. He pulled it down in a straight line, splitting my flesh. Jerking against the heavy chains, my screams turned to shrieks, and my Infernus surged.

Michael spat on the purple flames. His spit turned to specks of ice on my skin. “Disgusting things. Put them away.”

I didn’t.

“I already owe you a slice for screaming. Do you want another for disobeying me?” He made another deep line next to the one he had just carved.

I ground into my cheeks, squelching my next scream and battling my flames, biting into my flesh so hard it was a wonder I didn’t break through to the other side.

Agony. Pure agony. Tears streamed out of my eyes as fast as the blood out of my leg, and I didn’t know if my accidental surge, the blood loss, or both caused my shaking.

If he continued this, it really would only be minutes.

He eyed all the blood dripping down my leg, looking indignant. It tickled the backs of my legs, spreading onto the table. “You’d think with half of your disgusting power, you’d heal faster than this. I have other fun things I want to do to you.”

Fun?

I let the silent tears roll, staring into the dim lighting, thankful my mom wasn’t awake for this.

My heartbeat wildly out of control, pounding in my leg.

Each heartbeat forced my blood to ooze out, adding to the blanket of red in which I lay.

But he didn’t hit any major arteries. That’d put an end to his game too soon.

“First question. What do you remember of your past?” He circled me like a shark. White armor glinted with each step.

“Everything. ”

At that, he appeared relieved and very eager. He couldn’t very well receive the answers he desired without my memories. Overzealous psychopath.

“What are you?”

“I don’t know.” After my dream-walk, I finally figured out who my biological father was. But what did that make me? A born angel or something else?

The dagger dove in my peripherals, slashing open the flesh of my arm.

I shrieked, holding back my power but letting it build.

Searing pain traveled up my shoulder from how deeply he cut.

Then I received another just as deep. I ground my teeth together, muffling my scream by forcing myself against all my chains.

“I told the truth!” I whimpered, automatically tensing, readying for another slice.

“Tell me what you are! What hell dimension did you come from?” he spat.

“I didn’t come from any dimension, you sick bastard!”

“That’s not good enough! ”

“Let my mom go, and maybe I’ll give you more.”

Wrong answer.

The dagger sawed through. Black specs threatened to swallow me from the agony of each tug that carved through the meaty part of my thigh.

The wet sound of my flesh made me cough on my vomit.

I fought to keep it from my lungs, gurgling it up and onto the metal table.

It pooled with my blood, then dripped off the edge inches from Michael’s white boots.

SMACK!

My head whipped to the side .

Damn it! That was my opportunity to attack him. But between the agony and creeping numbness, it was hard to stay focused and hold onto my power.

But I couldn’t give up. I had to fight for my mom.

“You almost dirtied my shoes with your impurities. Who knew your mother raised such a deplorable, disgusting wimp?” He circled to the other side.

That word. That damned word. I had every memory of when he said it—his favorite endearment. I let my Infernus feed off my anger and held the flames just below the surface of my skin, ready to piss him off again. If it didn’t work, I’d get sliced, but if it did, maybe I could freeze him solid.

“What are you hiding, disgusting little wimp?”

I smiled through the pain, blinked spots out of my eyes, and then lied. “Nothing.”

“Stop lying!”

His hand came flying toward my cheek. I didn’t flinch or move, and the moment his skin slammed against mine, sending my face into my puke, I released my Infernus in a rage.

Ice devoured his hand and raced up his arm with fierce intensity, consuming everything in its path until it reached his neck. I smiled, triumphant, but my expression faltered as the ice began to slow, its advance stalling while dark spots swam into my vision. No, no, no. Come on!

Michael hissed, and a pulse resonated as his Glory erupted, coating his uniform and melting my attack. “You think you can go up against an Archangel? You think your demonic powers have any sway over us?” he bellowed. “Who is your maker? ”

“You wouldn’t be able to handle the truth.” Pain captured my voice, making it raspy and wet.

“You won’t be able to handle the pain of your lies,” he spat on my face.

“See, I need to know. Because when I approached your mother about her miracle pregnancy and asked her if she used demon blood to create you, she said no. It was the truth. Yet the council still found dark energies on her, forcing her from the sanctuary in the clouds and away from me .”

I’d roll in some dark energies to run away from him, too.

“When you were one, I sensed something was off. Years later, your Glory manifested. Each time it accidentally erupted, my senses heightened. A part of my power that usually only manifested around demons or threats.” He placed the tip of his blade under my eyelashes.

I didn’t dare move.

“Somehow, your mother was lying to me. But I had no proof. Did you know that my job as an Archangel is to eradicate impurity? Every year, I refrained from killing you because of your mother. I wouldn’t have been allowed to without more proof of your sinful nature, anyway.

But I received my proof when you froze me.

” The crinkle in the corner of his stormy eyes held my breath.

“When I told the council, they disagreed with my demands for your immediate death and instead said I could be a part of their judgment ruling if I brought you into them. I agreed until you dream-walked to your past self and gave me the power to remember your dream-walk.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you remember what I said? Dream-walk to the memory, and you give it power, essentially making it real.

Because of what you did, you not only allowed me to remember you in my memory but as a result, you changed your future.

Originally, I was going to bring you into the council, but after I learned you could dream-walk, I knew I had to take it into my own hands.

” His vile smile widened. “The last thing I need from you to finish this and restore your mother’s wings is your maker’s name. ”

He wanted the name of my biological father. But if I told Michael, he’d kill me on the spot. The only leverage I had left was my father’s name—one I now remembered.

“Why would I confess anything when you just admitted to killing me for it?”

He leaned back and puffed up his chest. “Well, I missed a few birthdays. I can always carve out your answer. Or…” He walked the few feet to my mom’s padded table, setting the knife against her cheek. “I can carve your mother up a little instead.”

I slammed against my chains. “You wouldn’t!” My wounds pulsed and gushed, making me grind back a sob. “You claim to love her. You want to restore her wings. Why would you carve her up?”

But even if some part of him did love her, it never stopped his abuse. He may not want her dead, but he was all for punishment.

Michael circled to her hand, lifted the dagger, and said, “Because you tainted her.” Then he plunged the knife through her palm. The tip punctured through the pad and the metal table.

I screamed, cursing him with every word, attempting to slam my body against my restraints with everything I had left, which wasn’t much. My Infernus didn’t even bat an eye.

He pushed a single finger back and forth on the hilt, watching as he inadvertently moved her fingers. She didn’t wake. She didn’t jerk. Her unconscious body just took his bloody abuse .

“Stop with the ungodly noise, and I’ll remove it.” He did, but then he returned to me and drove it into my own hand. “I hate when you scream. It’s so childish and weak.”

I banged my head against the metal table, hiding whimpered cries in the noise, and held the rest of my wails in with my teeth.

I thought I could take it. After each slice, the pain lessened a bit, and adrenaline took over, making me think I had the strength to go round after round with him.

I thought I could defeat him with my Infernus. But I was wrong.

“Better.” He removed the knife. I begged myself to stay quiet.

“But because you attacked me, I think a Reversal Rune will be great as your punishment. It’s my favorite to use on the sinful and vile creatures of this world,” he said, taking out a white feather tipped in black ink.

He placed it against my wrist. “Do you know what it does?”

“No.”

Excited, he smiled, talking as he carved.

“It gives you access to all your powers but binds it in your body, so there’s no way to expel it.

Essentially eating itself from the inside out.

My favorite part is that it allows you to heal just enough to endure the torture again until you die—or, in some cases, I’ve seen creatures explode. ”

I thought I knew pain. I thought I knew suffering.

But the gashes were nothing—absolutely nothing compared to the pressure that hit me after he removed the feather from my wrist.

From searing agony to bone-chilling cold, the sensation battered at my insides, as if striving to make room for Hell itself.

The sound that escaped my mouth was ear-splitting. I writhed on the table, tensing against my restraints, seeking release, help, or anything .

“Stop,” I sobbed, not caring if it earned me another slice. “Stop it, please,” I begged him. I never wanted to demean myself by pleading with him. But my body attacked my insides, bursting cell after cell until it felt like I was nothing but a mushy sack of skin.

“Too bad there wasn’t a rune for a magical gag. But I suppose if I must hear such pitiful noises for my answers, I will.”

“Stop it. Please!”

“Stop crying,” he snapped, slashing my arm.

I could no longer feel the pain of his cuts.

Nor could I tell if blood or sweat soaked my clothes and slid down my skin.

My body convulsed between a searing heat that scorched my insides, causing my eyes to roll back, and an icy cold that froze and burned simultaneously, shattering and sending jagged, freezing shards through every nerve.

“You will—” I could hardly speak. “Never—get—his name,” I stuttered.

The satisfaction on his face kept me from continued slashes from all my whimpers and tears.

He walked over to my mother with his feather. “Should we see if a Reversal Rune will force her from her slumber?”

Air existed in a place far out of reach, taunting my lungs. “No,” I gasped.

I burned, blistered, melted, froze, and shattered.

After everything my mom did for me, she didn’t deserve this pain.

I wouldn’t let him do that to her. No matter what she’d done to me or how misguided, she just wanted me safe.

And I wanted her safe. I was never supposed to be born, and if I gave him the answer, he’d kill me.

But if it kept her from this pain, that was okay .

“I’ll—” I clenched my teeth, holding back a wail at the pain, breathing forcefully through my nose.

When my Glory sprung to my skin, it didn’t feel hot—more energy than fire.

But now, I understood how I incinerated a tree in seconds and how the ice from my purple flames blistered Oliver’s skin.

“Tell you. If you make a runed deal with me.”

That seemed to intrigue him.

“A three-way bind,” I gasped out. Because if I died, I didn’t want it to be nullified. “I’ll tell you, if you make a binding promise never to hurt, touch, or abuse Saraqael, my mom, again.”

He grimaced but agreed. I didn’t expect him to yield so readily. My maker was essential to him, or he knew a way out of the binding. Since I had the memories of my past back, I knew what rune he needed to carve, and I watched as he carved the correct one on each of our shoulders.

“Tell me,” he demanded once the feather left my skin.

I could die happy now, knowing my mom was safe from his fists. But I’d also die happy expressing my following answer. Michael was in for one hell of a treat.

With enough breath to whisper out my words, I explained. “My maker, my father, is the corrupted and uncorrupted. He is death and sin. Life and redemption. He is the ruler of the Seven Circles. A king. He is the Seraphim cast from your clouds to bring balance to the world.”

That’s how my mom found her loophole.

“You know him?” I smiled at his gaping mouth and pale face. It brought me a sickening bout of joy as his rune destroyed my body. If I wasn’t on my deathbed, I might’ve laughed. But the shock on his face was enough to distract us both, especially as a blue fireball came beelining for Michael’s head.