“Get high,” I said to Beezle, and he flew off.
I ran at Nathaniel, sword upraised, attacking furiously. He blocked my blows, but as I grew angrier and angrier it seemed he was having more difficulty keeping me away. His arrogant mask slipped and for the first time there was a trace of alarm in his eyes.
I pressed forward, sensing weakness. Nathaniel stumbled backward. I slipped the blade into an opening and it slid into his shoulder.
There was no time or chance for mercy. I ripped upward with all of my strength, and Nathaniel howled. The cut exposed muscle from his collarbone to the shoulder joint, and blood spread everywhere, staining his white wings. He dropped his own weapon and staggered backward, snarling at me.
“You are hell’s own bitch,” he said, his face white.
“Thanks. I hate you, too,” I said, and blasted him in the face with nightfire.
He fell to the ground, out cold.
“That’s one problem taken care of,” I said.
I nudged his ankle with the toe of my boot to see if he was playing dead. He didn’t move. I picked up his sword, which was a lot longer and heavier than mine and felt significantly less friendly in the hand.
I turned back to the battle to see my little band of brothers finishing off the last of Azazel’s soldiers.
We were bloodied and bruised and burned. Samiel bled from a gash in his forehead. Both wolves had small cuts and burns in their fur. Gabriel looked pretty good except that several of his feathers had been torn from his right wing, giving him a slightly lopsided appearance.
I rubbed my hand over my face, felt the long, tender marks where the lava had burned my skin.
We turned as one toward Azazel’s throne.
He wasn’t there.
17
“THAT SNEAKY COWARD,” I SWORE.
Beezle fluttered down from his vantage point near the ceiling. “He snuck out when it became obvious that you were going to win. He went in there.”
Beezle pointed to a back door behind the throne room. I knew that there was a kind of parlor back there, and doors to other parts of the castle.
I started toward the door, but Gabriel grabbed me around the wrist.
“There is no point in pursuing Azazel through the castle,” Gabriel said. “He knows this place far better than you do.”
“Besides, we came for Nathaniel,” J.B. said.
We all looked toward Nathaniel’s still form.
“I guess we’re going to have to carry him out of here,” I said.
That was when the room exploded.
The windows crashed in, glass flying everywhere. Gabriel pulled me toward him, sheltering my face as hundreds of charcarion demons came pouring in like clicking beetles, over the walls, up to the ceiling, and surrounding us. Everyone assumed the back-to-back position again, protecting one another. Wade snarled at the demons as they came closer. I brandished the two swords in front of me.
The demons circled us, careful not to come within reach of a blade or a wolf’s jaws. J.B., Samiel and Gabriel seemed to be holding their spells back, waiting to see if the demons attacked.
There was the sound of applause from near the main doors, and a path materialized in the horde of demons.
Azazel stood there, and beside him—Antares and Focalor.
“You?” I spluttered. I was well aware of the fact that I sounded like I spoke dialogue from a bad movie. “You and Focalor? You and Antares?”
This last was practically a shriek. Antares had tried to kill me more times than I could count, and he’d nearly succeeded twice.
Antares smirked at me from behind his father. Focalor could not hide his delight. The three of them walked toward us, the charcarion demons bowing low as they passed.
“Yes,” Azazel said silkily. “A Grigori does not give up his children, no matter what provocation.”
“What about me, then?” I said angrily. “You seemed pretty willing to sell me to the highest bidder.”
“Antares has demonstrated his loyalty to me time and again,” Azazel said. “He has put his own life at risk on numerous occasions as he pretended to be a traitor to the court.”
“I thought Focalor was your sworn enemy,” I said.
“It has suited us to pretend thus,” Azazel replied.
“So it’s been you all along,” I spat. “You created the technology. You set up the operation. You sent Nathaniel to recruit Amarantha.”
Azazel nodded, as though I were a good pupil.
“Why?” I said, thinking of the cubs, all the humans, who’d lost their memories. “You have broken the laws of Lucifer’s kingdom. You’ve harmed humans for your own gain.”
“Do not quote chapter and verse at me,” Azazel said. “You, who defy Lord Lucifer and the Grigori at every turn. You, who cleave unto the laws only when it suits your purpose.”
“I’ve never killed an innocent for money,” I said. “Don’t compare my actions to yours. I thought you were the right hand of Lucifer, his most trusted advisor.”
“I have played that role for centuries untold,” Azazel acknowledged. “But I have waited, always waited, for my opportunity. And now it has come.”
“You’re crazy,” I breathed. “Open warfare against Lucifer? Do you really think you can seize power?”
“I do not think,” Azazel said. “I know. You cannot comprehend how many of the Grigori have longed to be rid of him—his arrogance, his changeability, his cruel whims. We have been at his mercy since time untold. And now we will band together and overthrow him, and a new order will begin.”