Chapter 21

Ichoked out a startled, rough laugh. “Perv,” I shot back.

Then I bent to rifle through Eloa’s clothes, finding the key to the manacles and chains.

With my fingers slick with blood, it took me a few tries to get the key into the hole and open his restraints. I did the collar first, relieving him of the pressure of keeping himself upright.

He sat down on his heels with a groan, his head hanging forward.

Next, I took care of the chain connecting his wrists to his feet, then the manacles binding his hands and legs.

Once everything was off, Azazel fell forward onto all fours, his muscles trembling.

I hovered next to him, needing, wanting, to touch him but clenching my hands into fists instead for fear of hurting him. He was covered in blood. So many cuts on his body, his skin sliced and poked through, gaping wounds that even his fast healing hadn’t been able to mend yet.

If only I were strong enough, I could summon some bottles of water right from Derdekea’s territory to at least give him the option to wash off some of the blood and grime.

“Azazel,” I whispered as I sank down on my knees next to him, my trembling hand inches from his ravaged face.

At that, at me saying his name, he lifted his head, one eye of silver storms meeting my gaze. “You remember,” he murmured, and my heart broke.

He hadn’t known.

All this time, he’d been here, captured, tortured, thinking I still hadn’t recovered my memories. Sure, he’d told me the truth back in the cave, but he hadn’t known whether I’d go through with his and Naamah’s plan without fully remembering him. There could have been a chance of me not agreeing to save him.

“I do,” I said, a hitch in my voice. “I do. I’m here, and I’m getting you out.” My fingers shook as I gently pushed a blood-soaked strand of hair off his face. “Can you move? Are your powers coming back?”

With the manacles off him, the magic subduing his powers should have worn off, which would hopefully help him recover even faster. He was in a bad state, worse than Naamah and I had hoped, and much relied on him being able to work his energy correctly.

“Yeah.” He sat on his heels for a moment, his chest heaving with his labored breaths. “Just give me a minute.”

I fidgeted, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, my pulse still ticking fast with the anxiety about what could go wrong raking its claws through my mind.

“There’s a bucket,” he said, breaking through my worried thoughts, “over there in the corner. They used it to wash their hands. Bring it here.”

I nodded and dashed over to the corner, hauling the bucket to him. The water looked fresh, at the very least. Thank goodness for small mercies.

He began washing himself bit by bit, his movements becoming surer and less shaky with every second. Before my eyes, the surface-level cuts on his skin closed, and even the more open wounds started knitting together again.

His eye, too, would regrow, though it would take longer than just minutes. When Inachiel had mentioned his wings growing back, he’d spoken of days. Azazel’s eye would likely be back without a trace of injury by tomorrow, but I’d never be able to forget the visual of his bloody eye socket gaping in his face.

I wanted to kill Eloa all over again, slower this time.

I took care to wash my hands and face as well to get off as much blood as possible. We’d escape anyone’s notice better if we didn’t both look like we’d just butchered our way through half a dozen angels.

“All right,” Azazel said, rising to his feet and shaking his head forcefully to get rid of the water he’d just poured over his hair. “Let’s go.”

“Are you okay?” My fingers twitched, something in my chest coiling tight.

“Good enough,” was his pragmatic answer.

I drew in a trembling breath, and then I was on him.

He stumbled back a step but caught me underneath my butt as I jumped up on him and slung my legs around his waist, grabbing on to his shoulders and planting a desperate kiss on his mouth.

Yes, we were in a hurry, but these few seconds, I would claim.

This was the first time I could touch him, kiss him, feel him, since my memories had come back. The first time in years that he and I could truly reunite.

He responded to my kiss with equal fervor, both of us uncaring of whatever state we were in, as long as we could feel each other this close again.

“I love you,” I whispered against his lips. “I loved you even when I didn’t remember you.”

He shuddered, his hands underneath my butt tightening their grip, his power enveloping me. “Zoe.”

My heart aching with hope and fear, I gave him another soft kiss. “Let’s go.”

He set me down, his expression painted with hunger and love and a need that went bone-deep, the look he gave me promising a much more thorough reunion once all this was behind us.

I paused just as I wanted to turn for the door.

“Your energy,” I said quietly.

It wasn’t fully angel yet, a tangible note of darkness weaving through it.

A muscle jumped in his jaw, and he closed his eye. His power wavered, flickered, its quality oscillating between dark and light.

He had to be able to keep it entirely angelic while we made our way to the gate. Otherwise, we’d risk detection. Even with the chaos everywhere, the presence of demon magic wouldn’t go unnoticed, and it would become a priority over everything else for the other angels to check it out and take care of that threat.

“Azazel…” I bit my lip, worry lancing through me.

“I’ve got it,” he ground out. His face, that beautiful, tragically ravaged face, was set in such harsh lines, tension turning his muscles to steel.

Another breath, another heartbeat, and then the note of darkness vanished from his energy, leaving only the divine spark present in all angels’ power.

I heaved a sigh of relief, nodded at him, and opened the door carefully, peering outside. Everything was as I’d left it, the incapacitated guard still lying slumped against the wall with the dagger in his chest.

The next second, the clothes disappeared from the guard’s body, and I jumped.

“I know you enjoy seeing me in all my nude glory,” Azazel drawled from behind me, “but we’d draw a bit of unnecessary attention if I went without clothes.”

I pivoted toward him just as he pulled on the pants he’d summoned off the angel. Right. I’d known he’d have to pilfer someone’s clothing; Naamah had mentioned that.

All that adrenaline made me so twitchy. I’d only be able to relax once he was through that gate and out of Heaven.

When he’d donned the rest of the clothes and taken the guard’s weapons, we moved on, hurrying down the corridor and the staircase, past the still-unconscious guards, and toward the door. Azazel moved stiffly and walked with a slight limp—he likely had more severe internal injuries that he hadn’t disclosed.

“How bad is it?” I asked quietly just as we reached the door.

He shook his head, his gaze on the exit. “Nothing that won’t heal.”

“Can you fly?”

A brisk nod. “They didn’t touch my wings. Hadn’t gotten to it yet.”

I exhaled heavily. That had been one of the unknown variables we hadn’t been able to fully account for in our plan. Flying out of here was the best course of escape, but if they’d cut off his wings, that would obviously have been impossible. I couldn’t have carried him. We would have had to go on foot, and though Naamah had scouted a route for that as well, it would have courted the risk of discovery far more than flying.

I gritted my teeth and breathed through the pain in my chest at the thought of him being so injured. I wished I could make them all pay for what they’d done to him, but getting him out of here would have to do. It just wasn’t logistically possible to stab and kill everyone involved in his torture, not when I still wanted to be able to walk away from it all alive.

Azazel opened the door and cast a look outside.

The chaos hadn’t quite abated in the meantime. The sound of yelling and shouting still filled the air, the scent of smoke wafting around, the sky darkened by the clouds stirred up from the explosions and the fire.

A unicorn galloped past, its horn bloodied.

I grimaced as I slipped out after Azazel. Pointy bastards.

Scanning the perimeter, I extended my wings, and he did the same. A flicker of black flashed through the white of his feathers, and I shot him an alarmed glance. He shook his head and took a deep breath, closing his eye briefly as he clearly fought for control and composure.

His energy glowing with divine light, his wings sparkly white, he gave a single nod and then launched himself into the air.

I clenched and unclenched my fists and got ready. Come on, you already managed a vertical takeoff. You can do it again. Crouching down, I gathered my strength and then jumped into the air while beating my wings like my life depended on it. Or Azazel’s, really. It was that thought that gave me the power necessary to push myself, and I made it. A bit wobbly, maybe, but I was hurtling into the sky.

I flew over to where Azazel waited for me in a hover, and then I led the way to the gate Naamah had specified. It wasn’t the closest portal to this soul stable—in fact, it wasn’t even on Raphael’s compound, which had been a deliberate choice on Naamah’s part. Should word spread that the demon prisoner had escaped, the gates on or nearest the estate would be the first to be shut down.

I took the fastest route away from the compound, the buildings streaking past below us, and though there were other angels in the air, and more on the ground who could see us, no one paid us any mind. As long as Azazel kept his demon energy under lock and key, we’d appear simply as two angels among many, and in the general havoc and coming and going, our flying out of the estate didn’t even draw anyone’s notice.

After a few minutes of traveling over lush landscape bathed in eternal sunset, the outlines of another estate came into view, this one much, much smaller than Raphael’s. Nominally, it still belonged to the archangel, but it was managed by a seraph who wasn’t quite powerful enough to claim his own territory within Raphael’s domain yet. Naamah had explained it to me, along with a thorough description of where to find the gate.

She’d pulled some of her famous strings so that this gate, and the estate, for that matter, would be temporarily unguarded, its inhabitants drawn away on some pretense. It wouldn’t last long, though, so we had to hurry.

I banked left in front of the main house and landed in a courtyard framed by pillars half overgrown with vines. In the middle of the square, the gate rose—an empty doorway made of artfully carved stone.

Azazel touched down next to me, whirling up some leaves strewn over the ground.

I walked to the gate, raised my hand, and then hesitated. “I…I don’t actually know how to activate one of these,” I admitted in a small voice.

I’d watched Azazel and other demons power up hellgates numerous times, but I had no idea if the same symbols would work up here. Since I’d never received Earth-visiting privileges, I’d never had cause to learn.

“I do.” Azazel stepped up behind me, took my hand, and guided me to draw symbols in the air in the middle of the empty arch. The touch of his warm skin on mine sent tingles down my arm, his power and heat at my back making me yearn to let myself fall into him.

Soon. I’d have all the time in the world to be with him, soon.

The gate activated with a shimmer and a zap of magic over my senses. I turned in Azazel’s arms, tilting my head to meet his gaze. The empty socket where his eye should be drew my attention, and my heart pinched. I raised my hand to cup his cheek on the side of his missing eye, gently caressing the area around it.

“Don’t get used to this roguish look,” he said, laying his hand over mine. “When we see each other again, it’ll have grown back.”

“I know.” I swallowed hard. “I don’t know how long it will be until I…fall, though.”

His brows drew together. “Didn’t Naamah explain?—”

“She did,” I interrupted him, my heart racing, my soul aching at the thought of watching him leave, of being separated from him once more for an indefinite time. “Normally, I’d be ready to go, but…my mom is here.” My voice cracked a little, and I cleared my throat. “I just remembered that she’s been here all along. This is my last chance to talk to her. Last time I saw her…”

I trailed off, but the understanding softening his eye told me he knew what I didn’t say.

“I need to say goodbye to her on good terms,” I whispered.

“You need to find her first.” I could virtually see how both empathy and impatience warred within him, his expression torn between indulgence and frustration. “That will take time.”

“I know.” My breath hitched. “And I know you can’t wait to have me back with you, and I want that, too, but…I need this. I need closure with her.”

Something dark flickered through his gaze, a glimpse of that harshly suppressed demon nature of his. His fingers tightened on mine for a moment, then he seemed to gather himself and nodded.

“I understand.” Leaning in, he caught my mouth in a kiss that was heartbreaking in its tenderness. His hand slid to my nape, grasping me with such possessiveness that it made me suck in air. “You’re mine. Whether you’ll be back with me tomorrow, or weeks or months from now, it doesn’t matter. Take whatever time you need. I’ll be waiting for you, ready to take you home.”

I closed my eyes. Every time I thought I couldn’t love him more, he went ahead and did something like this, melting my heart, making me ready to worship him.

“Go,” I whispered, though the word and what it meant tore at me.

He squeezed my nape and was about to turn for the gate when a voice cut through the quiet.

“Halt!”

Both of us froze, my eyes shooting wide.

Azazel had already raised his head to look up at the source of that shout, and I followed his gaze to see a group of angels descending on us.

No.No, no, no, no.

Panic iced my spine.

The thought of urging Azazel to jump through the gate flashed through my mind, but instantly, my mind skipped to the inevitable conclusion of a move like that. If he disregarded the command to stay, it would look highly suspicious, which meant the squad would give chase. And just because he made it to the other side didn’t mean he’d be in the clear. They’d hunt him down simply to investigate why he’d acted like that, to make sure nothing was amiss.

And there was no guarantee that he’d reach a hellgate before they bore down on him.

Azazel must have gone through the same calculation, because he made no move to vanish through the gate. Instead, he waited for the group to land, with all the pretense of utter calm, as if he had nothing to hide.

The angels touched down a few feet from us, ten of them in total. Inwardly, I winced. If it came to a fight, those numbers were heavily against us. Azazel was incredibly strong and skilled, sure, but he still wasn’t at full capacity after his torture—I could tell by the way he held himself, favoring his right leg, moving just a touch too stiffly—and I wasn’t a good enough fighter to fend off more than one opponent at a time.

And the dart pistol would only get me so far. I could maybe get one or two shots in before the other angels would notice what I was doing. I had no doubt they’d be on me within seconds once they’d figured it out. That weapon relied on the element of surprise, on having to shoot only one opponent rather than a whole group, not to mention it would be impractical in close-range combat.

All of which meant that we’d have to somehow fool them into not thinking us suspicious so they’d let Azazel go without a fuss.

The obvious leader of the squad stepped forward, a male angel with a lean build, close-cropped dark hair, light skin, and shrewd eyes. His armor looked well maintained and expensive, and his power had a bite to it. A higher-ranking angel, at least a cherub, if not even a seraph.

Shit, shit, shit.

“What are your names?” he called out as he approached.

“Zerachiel,” Azazel lied through his teeth, nothing in his face or demeanor giving the deceit away. “And this is Selaphiel.” He nodded at me.

Oh, goody. He’d spared me from coming up with a legit-sounding fake angel name on the spot.

I went down on one knee to greet the squad leader properly, lest my lack of manners be taken as inviting further inspection. Azazel, with his power clearly at seraph level—though I now knew he was actually even higher on the hierarchy, seeing as he was an archdemon—didn’t kneel or even bow, only inclined his head.

The squad leader nodded in acknowledgment. “What happened to your eye?”

“Unicorn,” Azazel said.

“You were on Lord Raphael’s compound?”

“Yes.”

The other angel tilted his head as he regarded us. “I don’t recognize your names, and I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Where are you from?”

“Lady Sariel’s domain. We were visiting when all hell broke loose and we got caught in the fray.” Azazel jerked his head at the still-glowing gate behind us. “We would have stayed to help out, but we had orders to meet up with someone and were supposed to take this gate, so if you don’t mind, we’ll be on our way.”

The squad leader shifted his weight and swung his gaze to me, giving me a probing look. Sweat rolled down my temples. Heat suffused me, making me want to fan myself. I still had the illusion on me, and at this distance, I wasn’t sure if he could tell?—

He narrowed his eyes, and his hand went for his sword. “What are?—”

At that exact moment, a punch of dark power charged the air.

I whipped around to stare at Azazel in horror. With his jaw clenched, veins ticking on his forehead, he looked like he was struggling to hold his demon energy in check…and losing the fight.

The unmistakable taste of Hell-born magic rolled off him in a wave that made me catch my breath. Behind me, the sounds of weapons being drawn and an alarmed shout disrupted the tight silence.

Before they could even charge, Azazel pushed me behind him and lashed out with his power. The entire group of angels toppled like a set of pins struck by a bowling ball. I would have keeled over from the impact of his blow as well if he hadn’t held on to me with one arm.

And yet I knew he’d restrained himself. This was only a taste of his power and was likely as much as he’d allow himself to use—because anything more would risk hitting me, too.

The angels recovered almost immediately, and the next second, they launched themselves at us. Six of them charged Azazel, while four came for me. I fumbled for my dart pistol and managed to shoot one, making her stagger to the side, stumble, and fall flat on her face as the concentrated amrit hit her system.

The remaining angels launched themselves at me. I ducked and evaded the first one while yanking up my pistol at the same time and shooting at the second angel behind her. The dart hit him in his torso, my aim off because I was moving around, and I didn’t see if the needle had penetrated through his leather armor.

Lashing out with my power at the third angel coming up from the other side—making him stumble back and buying me time—I simultaneously struck with a dagger and managed to stab my current opponent in her sword arm. I must have hit a sinew, because she dropped her blade with a curse, her fingers spasming. I didn’t waste a single second and rammed my dagger into her heart.

She went down with a hard thump.

The angel behind her, whom I’d managed to hit with my dart pistol, staggered closer, his movements off. Some of the amrit must have gotten into his system after all. Gritting my teeth, I executed a swift maneuver and managed to plant another dagger into his heart, stunning him.

I didn’t have a moment to relish the fact that I’d effectively incapacitated three angels in close succession.

The last of the angels who’d come for me charged, his sword slicing through the air. I barely ducked and evaded his strike, drawing my own sword with a trembling hand. He was so much larger than me, clearly able to cleave me in two if he got a good blow in, so I’d have to use my speed and agility to outmaneuver him.

Heart pumping fast, I danced around him, blocking his strikes in the way Azazel had taught me, while trying to get close enough to hit him, which was harder than with the others because of his bigger reach. Again and again, my sword grazed him as I angled for either his neck or his chest. Stunning him would do, but if I got the chance, I’d chop his head off without hesitation.

Whirling around his attack, I pivoted into the opening in his defense, aiming my blade for his heart. The next instant, my back hit his front, his sword at my throat.

I wheezed and froze, my eyes widening.

That opening had been a trap. He’d left it deliberately and then grabbed me as soon as I twirled into his arms.

With his free hand, he’d captured my sword arm in a tight grip, and now he twisted and squeezed my wrist so hard I was forced to drop my blade. My other hand was just going for one of the daggers strapped to my thighs when he kicked the backs of my knees, making my legs buckle.

He hauled my arm behind my back as I crashed down on my knees, pain spearing through me from both the impact on my kneecaps and from the force with which he wrenched my arm behind me. He’d followed the move with his sword at my throat so as not to decapitate me…yet.

I still had one hand free, though, and if I could grab one of my daggers?—

That thought vanished with the air in my lungs when the angel unceremoniously shoved me down face-first onto the ground. Pain shot out from my cheek where I’d hit the stone, and I cried out. He stomped on the wrist of my free arm, and then the cool steel of his sword touched the back of my neck.

All my survival instincts screeched in panic.

He could sever my head with one simple strike.

“Demon!” he yelled. “Stop fighting, or I’ll kill her!”

I sucked in an acid breath.

The angel must have seen me and Azazel embrace and drawn the quick conclusion that this demon cared for me, and he could therefore use me as leverage.

From my vantage point on the floor, I saw how Azazel pushed away from the angels for a moment to glance over, and as his gaze locked on me—disarmed, prostrate on the ground, a blade at my neck—he stilled.

No.

It was only a second, the time it took for my quickened breath to painfully leave my body, but it seemed like an eternity, that moment, this instant when I realized that this was it, that we’d lost. He’d never risk my life.

Azazel dropped his sword and raised his hands in surrender.

“No!” I yelled.

But it was too late.

They were already stepping up to him, divesting him of his remaining weapons. I ground my teeth, hot tears prickling in the corners of my eyes. They wouldn’t even need to put him in chains to get him back to the compound—as long as they held my life in the balance, he’d simply follow their orders.

They’d bring him back, and whether they’d torture him some more or move right to execution, his life was forfeit. And even Naamah, with all her influence and connections, wouldn’t be able to pull off another rescue on short notice.

A sob crawled up my throat, threatening to choke me.

I’d lose him, just when I’d found him again.

I’d lose him and?—

Hot liquid splashed over my back, hitting my hand still wrenched up between my shoulder blades. Viscous spray drizzled down my neck and hair, and then something thudded next to me.

My eyes widened at the sight of a head, a severed head, rolling away from me for about two seconds before it dissolved into particles of light.

The pressure on my wrist behind my back vanished, as did the weight on the boot pinning down my other arm. The next second, empty clothes fell down on me, the sword at my neck tilted sideways, and I rolled over with a strangled scream of surprise and my heart hammering wildly.

There was no one above me. The angel was gone.

But there was no one else around either.

Someone had killed my attacker, and there was no trace of whoever it was.

I scrambled backward on my hands and feet, my panicked gaze sweeping the courtyard, locking on the rest of the angels grouped around Azazel…and my entire soul seized at the sight.

At how, one by one, their heads were severed from their necks by a near-invisible blade, only becoming tangible in the very instant it sliced through their skin, then disappearing again before it flashed into view as it decapitated the next angel.

Showers of sparks lit the courtyard in a macabre fireworks display of death, three angels dissolving into blips of light in close succession, their empty armor and clothes hitting the floor. Three more lay on the ground, daggers in their chests, stunned by Azazel.

It was all over within a few seconds, and then it was only me and Azazel, staring at each other with shock rendering us both mute.

Until a vibration disturbed the air. A shimmer like a desert mirage, and then, rolling his shoulders, Azrael took form, stepping from in between the worlds, coalescing his being into shape in the here and now. His right hand grasped a bloodied sword.

The sword that had just killed those angels.

My heart stumbled as I tried to process what I saw.

He’d come. After he’d run like such a coward, after he’d refused to help save his son from certain death, he’d somehow changed his mind and come to save us.

My mouth opened and closed. I was too stunned to get out a single sound.

Azrael met my gaze for a second, giving me a nod, and then his eyes tracked to Azazel. He swallowed hard, a thousand unspoken things on his face, but he only jerked his head toward the gate and said, “Go.”

Azazel stood still as a statue, his expression raw. “Father…”

“There’s no time,” Azrael cut him off. “We can have this conversation later. I will meet with you, and with Azmodea, for there are things I need to say—to her as well—that have weighed heavy on my soul. Apologies won’t mend old wounds, but you both deserve them nevertheless.” A pause, then more quietly: “As does your mother.” He waved in the direction of the gate. “Now go.”

“Thank you,” I choked out, getting to my feet.

The muscles in Azazel’s throat moved as he swallowed, his face ravaged by some emotion he kept in a stranglehold inside. He gave his father a jerky nod. “We will have that conversation.”

Just as he turned to the gate, I saw something move in the periphery of my vision. A shadow behind Azrael. Light glinting off a blade.

My eyes widened, my mouth opening in a scream of warning that came a second too late.

The blade cut through Azrael’s neck with lightning speed.

A thin line of red glistened on his skin right before his head tumbled over sideways, cleanly severed from his body. Blood gushed from the open wound on his neck, pulsing out and rushing down his torso…and then the Angel of Death vanished into embers of light.