Chapter 39: Lana

I 'm woken by a thunderous rumbling. I've lost count of how long I've been here, but it feels like it's been a long time since I last heard thunder this loud, on that day when Nick tried to kill me. As I sit up, the room starts shaking, paintings are rattling against the walls, and the glass of water Ashtaroth left for me by the bedside tips over. Quickly righting the mostly empty glass, I jump out of bed and drag on the sleep clothes I often don't even bother to wear anymore. They never last longer than a couple of minutes before being unceremoniously removed.

I burst out of Ash's quarters, still threading one arm through the sleeve of my top, and sprint towards the throne room. If he's not there, he'll be in the meeting room behind it. I'm not sure how I know that it's his power shaking the palace and not an attack. It just feels like him. And it feels furious .

Something thuds into the window I'm running past and I yelp, freezing in place. Hail. A massive hailstorm started raging outside. Running once again, I sling around corners, dodging the occasional running servant on my way towards the shouting I now hear. I feel a sliver of apprehension at the tone of that roaring voice. Maybe I should go back and wait for him to tell me what's going on? No, I would never be able to go back to sleep and wait to find out what's wrong.

As I enter the throne room, the sight before me makes my bare feet skid to a stop. Sariel is on the ground in a heap, his majestic black-feathered wings slouching half on the ground. His head hangs down and I can't see his face, but the rest of him is covered in soot and blood.

Standing before him, whole body heaving with furious breaths, is Ashtaroth. His eyes are a pure red, reminding me of Belial's that day in the cave, and yet somehow even more unnatural. They're an alien, glowing crimson color. Every tendon in his body is strained and his clenched fists are wreathed in hellfire. He doesn't look at me, eyes fixed on his son's form on the ground. Wanting to see that he's alright, I slowly cross the distance between us. "Sar?" I whisper, sliding down to my knees and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Are you hurt?"

He doesn't move for so long that I contemplate sending whatever meager healing power I have over his body to check for injuries, when he lifts his head just enough that his eyes meet mine. I gasp, the sharp sound loud between two of Ash's growling breaths.

Sariel looks completely devastated. While I can't see any wounds on him, his eyes are dead, his face a rictus of pain. "What happened?" My voice cracks at the anguish emanating from him. Ashtaroth doesn't seem inclined to reign in his fury enough to explain. I look around. "Where's Armaros?" I ask, a heavy stone of dread sinking into my stomach. I don't think I want to know the answer to my question.

I don't have a choice, however, as Sariel replies, his voice as dead as his expression. "Gone. "

"H-how?" I sputter in disbelief. What could have killed a fallen angel up in the mortal lands?

"The humans." His voice is ragged, like he broke it screaming. "They knew we were watching them and set a trap. They tortured a child so his screams would draw us out to a barn." He drags a hand down his face, smearing the soot on both, then tugs at the collar of his armor, like it's suffocating him. "They had… some kind of an accelerant. Liquid," he continues, every word sounding like it took immeasurable amounts of effort. "He charged forward to the kid. I was keeping watch. They were both doused and instantly engulfed in flames." His teeth are clenched now and in the lull of his speech, I can hear that Ash went wholly quiet. A glance up confirms that he doesn't seem to be breathing at all, that demonic red gaze fixed on Sariel's face.

"I tried to help," Sariel sobs out, and shows us the undersides of his palms. There are burns from the tips of his fingers to his exposed wrists. For them to not have healed instantly must mean he was burned to the bone. My gorge rises. "The kid… I couldn't do anything. But Arma, he would've healed." When I look back at his face, I see there's now a clean track through the smeared soot. A single tear. "I pulled him out." He looks at his hands again. The agony he must have felt. "His insides were completely burned. Like it was hellfire. But no demon." He looks up at Ashtaroth, who is as still as a statue carved by Michelangelo. "By the time I managed to get the fire out, his melted internal organs were oozing out of charred fissures." The scent clinging to Sariel adds to the mental image his description provided, and I turn away just in time to empty my dinner onto the mosaic floor.

"Belias!" Ashtaroth roars over the sound of my retching, the ground echoing it with a tremor. Darkness swirls on Sariel's other side, like black smoke being whipped into shape by razor-sharp winds. Out of the darkness steps a warrior. He's dressed in black plated armor that somehow manages to look frightening on a soul-deep level, without having any macabre adornments. Something about the sharp lines and decorative grates makes me think of a furnace in a medieval crematorium.

"My Liege." The demon bows deeply to Ashtaroth, not even looking at me or Sariel on the ground. Judging by the power output I can feel from him, he's a demon lord, likely a general. Ashtaroth's next words confirm my speculation.

"Take a detachment Above to the dwellings of the humans Sariel and Armaros observed. Slaughter them all. Kill any human that sees you. Do not leave a trace of your presence behind for Heaven to find." His voice grows colder with every word.

The warrior bows again. "It will be done." He confirms that he understands the order and doesn't ask for the reason behind it.

"They have something like hellfire," Sariel croaks. The demon nods after a beat, then disappears into an implosion of that black smoke.

I clear my throat of the viscous remains of my stomach's contents and speak up softly. "If we kill them all, we can't question them about Asmodeus and Simone, or this fire."

Ash still hasn't looked at me once. "Go to the bedroom," he finally says, voice low and contained.

"I'm not saying don't kill them, but maybe wait to see who could be useful?" I'm trying to keep my voice as steady as I can.

Ashtaroth finally turns towards me. His eyes, still laser-red, pin me to the spot and my lungs seize. He's never looked at me like that; with such hatred. "Leave!" he roars at me. I flinch and can't help the burning I feel behind my eyes, in my flushing cheeks. I place a hand on Sariel's shoulder and give him one last comforting squeeze. After standing up on shaking legs, I hold my head high as I turn to leave. No doubt he can feel the hurt he caused, but I'll be damned if I react.

I walk back to the quarters I've been living in these last weeks, unable to stop thinking of that image Sariel painted. Of the friendly fallen angel burned beyond recognition. I grew close with both Fallen since coming here, and I'm mourning him, so I can't imagine how it must be for Sariel and Ashtaroth, who spent hundreds of years with him.

This time I don't encounter anyone: not a servant, or Kevin and Naamah, or little Puck. I wonder if the demons felt the fortress tremble enough times to not go prying when it does.

After cleaning myself in the bathroom, I pace the sitting area for a couple of hours, then lie down on a sofa when I can't keep myself upright anymore. I can't go to his bed – I may be able to empathize with the pain he's feeling, but it doesn't take the hurt of his shouted dismissal away.

The sky lightens infinitesimally as my eyes close and I fall into a fitful sleep.