by Cate Corvin
9
Melisande
“I think it’s done bleeding,” I said dryly, watching Belial soak a cloth with a healing solution for the twentieth time before he pressed it to my shoulder.
He wasn’t smiling or at ease, not my usual devil-may-care Prince of Wrath. He focused on cleaning my wound with laser-like intensity, his brows knit together and lips pressed flat, even though his arm was still coated with a glaze of his own dried blood.
“Belial.” I gripped his arm, stopping him from going any further. “It’s not your fault. It’ll scab over and be healed in a few days, no big deal.”
His eyes flicked up to mine, the yellow sparks glimmering like fires drifting on an aquamarine ocean. There was so much rage behind that look that I felt like my breath had been knocked out of me.
I understood perfectly well what he was feeling. If someone had come within a hair's breadth of murdering one of my mates on my watch… well, I’d be furious too, barely able to let them out of my sight.
But he couldn’t shoulder the burden alone. I was just as culpable for forgetting something that could’ve been important, for being distracted instead of passing on important intel.
Hadn’t I already learned that there was no such thing as too much knowledge? If I felt so much as a tickle of foreboding, I was passing it on now, no matter what was happening around me.
“It was this close, angel.” He raised his hand, pinching two fingers together so they barely touched. “This close. If I’d seen him a second later, you and Sarai would both be dead.”
He grimaced involuntarily, his lips drawing back over pointed teeth, then leaned forward and rested his forehead against mine. “I don’t want to be the overbearing mate,” he told me. “I don’t want to lock you in a room for your own safety. But I understand how appealing the idea is.”
The poor guy couldn’t stop beating himself up. I cupped his face in my hands, tracing the downturned edges of his lips with my thumbs. “You know I’d go on a hunger strike. Look at it this way… if you hadn’t been with me, my time would’ve been up. Instead of shouldering all the blame, just be glad you were there too.”
He closed his eyes, black lashes casting shadows over his cheeks. “I need you to keep your eyes open, Melisande. We can’t cover every window of possibility they might use. Just stay on your guard.”
I smiled despite myself. “Are you reading my mind now? I will. I should’ve told you about the feeling of being watched, but from here on out, I’m not going anywhere blind again.”
He let out an inaudible sigh, his shoulders slumping a little, and nodded.
I held back my own sigh. What else was there to do but keep my guard up? So much needed to be done, I couldn’t just be packed away in a box like fragile goods until it was all over. They knew I’d fight tooth and claw if they even tried to lock me up.
It was on my shoulders to take care of myself.
I felt an odd sensation in my abdomen, and took Belial’s hand, pressing it against my belly. “Sarai is in agreement.”
The feeling of a flipping goldfish strengthened for several frenzied minutes, and by the time she’d settled again, even Belial was smiling.
“Don’t be worried,” I breathed in his ear, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I won’t let anything happen to us.”
He embraced me in return, his arms looped around my waist. “I just have a dark feeling,” he said into my shoulder. “A feeling that the worst storm yet is looming on the horizon.”
“It’s just a feeling. It’s natural to feel that way.” Especially after all we’d gone through to get to this point.
Belial shook his head ever so slightly. “No. I’ve had these feelings before. It’s more of an instinctual premonition.” He looked up at me, eyes bleak. “And every single time, that instinct is right.”
I stared into his eyes, my heart pounding in my throat. Remembering the chill of foreboding I’d had while the High Priestess told me there was nothing to be done.
“Then we weather the storm. We’ll make it through. I promise.”
Later that night, I sat on my bed with the windows and curtains wide open, letting a breath of cool breeze blow through my room.
Some of the smog had finally burned off or been blown away, and for the first night in days, the Nightside was finally starting to smell the way it used to, but with only a hint of jasmine this time: many of the plants and trees were still shredded. Druids had been hard at work trying to bring them back, but there was only so much they could do.
I sat cross-legged, contemplating the odd sensations my body was developing as I meditated, pouring what was left of my healing white fire into my broken wing. I was close to being able to flex it without pain, but it would be another few weeks before I could trust it to bear my weight for a long journey.
Fortunately, the nausea had seemingly dissipated overnight. Last week, the oddest smells had made me want to throw up. Now I felt perfectly fine.
I frowned, wondering what unpleasant tricks my body would be playing on me next. If Vyra were here, she’d probably be full of answers and bringing in stacks of books, but…
I pushed the thought aside. We were coming for her.
And Lucifer… a twinge of anger and pain still accompanied the thought of him, but I couldn’t blame him, either. I loved him no matter what, through thick and thin, even though I would’ve appreciated his transparency and Azazel’s suspicions on the matter.
As though my thoughts had summoned the one closest to me, a dark shadow materialized at my window.
First an enormous beak, black as though it had been dipped in pitch, entered the room, followed by a mass of feathers that gave off wisps of smoke.
The giant raven shifted forms as it entered, the feathers vanishing and becoming a black suit with gleaming raven skulls at the lapels. One of them held my feather in place.
“Azazel,” I said, half-poised to jump off the bed. But his usually violet eyes were still gleaming with an otherworldly fire, dark feathers growing from his curly hair, and the High Priestess’s words came back to me: the dreaded bloodline he was born from.
What was Azazel?
A moment later, I was off the bed, wrapping my arms around his neck and drawing him down for a kiss. He closed his eyes as his hands came up around me, blocking out the sight of the eerie flickers in his eyes.
No matter where he came from, he was still mine. I felt nothing but love and trust through the violet star permanently marked on the back of my neck.
But as I ran my hands through his hair, I felt the soft shafts of feathers. His arms still had long pinions hanging from them like sleeves.
“You’re still half-bird,” I whispered against his lips.
He opened his eyes again, peering into mine. With an intake of hissed breath, his entire form quivered under my hands, and I felt the feathers melt away.
Suddenly, I understood. He’d practically been living in the raven form since the liberation of Dis.
How long could he spend steeping in his magic before he needed to change back? Everything came with a price. Even the oracle we’d killed had asked him about looking into an abyss… and if the abyss looked into him, too.
Azazel was completely soaked in darkness, but I had no reason not to trust him. I lowered myself flat to the floor again, looking up at him.
He touched the fresh bandage on my arm. “What’s this?”
No more lying or deflecting. I’d promised them honesty and openness. “One of Mammon’s loyalists tried to kill me. Belial stopped him.” I didn’t need to regale him with the gory details, the deep, satisfied smile on Leviathan’s scarred face as he ripped all the blood from the assassin’s body, the soft spatter of blood on obsidian. “I’m perfectly fine.”
Azazel’s eyes darkened, the fires in them softening to embers. “I hope he got what he deserved.”
I suppressed a shudder. “I’d say that.”
I took Azazel’s hand and led him to the bed to sit n
ext to me. “Have you been searching? Is there any news?”
He looked down at his hands, entwined with mine, a grim look on his face. “I’ve caught flickers of power, but it’s difficult to pinpoint. There’s so much land to cover, and other things tend to get in the way. Other Prime powers. It makes precision nearly impossible.”
I nodded as though I understood, but inside, I was screaming. “Isn’t it time we begin a search by air? It can’t be easy to miss an enormous dragon.”
Azazel glanced at me, his gaze shielded. “That’s our last resort. Give it a little more time, Melisande. Satan is not the only dangerous power out there.”
I bit my lower lip, every fiber in me longing to go out there and see for myself. Damn this broken wing.
The breeze ruffled Azazel’s dark curls, and sudden compassion came into his gaze. “It will be okay,” he said softly. “I promise. No matter where I must go, what deals I must make, I will find them for you.”
“I believe you,” I breathed. It would be okay. It had to be.
But for tonight, there were no assassins at my door, no need to fear the unknown. The questions that had been prickling at me bubbled up- where are you from, Azazel? What are you? - but I held it back.
I just wanted comfort in his arms, to know that we were still together.
He didn’t object when I began unbuttoning his collar, slipping my fingers in his shirt to stroke his silky skin.
We undressed each other quickly, and I pushed Azazel back onto the bed, my breath coming faster and sharper. He was already hard, groaning against my neck when I straddled him, his hands gripping my hips.
I settled myself with the thick head of his cock pushing against me, and slowly slid down, drawing in a gasp at the feeling of fullness. Azazel’s eyes glittered in the darkness as he ran his hands over me, delicately tracing over my injured shoulder, and sliding downwards. He ran his thumbs over my nipples in slow circles, making them harden under his touch.
I rode him in a rhythmic motion, pleasure spiking through me as my clit ground against the hard V at the base of his stomach. He moved his grip back down to my hips, grinding me against him, his own breaths coming faster.
This was all I wanted, peace with my men, the desire to be connected to all of them. Azazel might’ve been darkness incarnate, but he wrapped me in his shadows like a cocoon of safety, broke down his walls to let me in, gave me stars to light my way.
Even now his stars filled the air, reflected in his eyes.
I leaned forward to kiss him hard, his lips soft and pliable under mine, his tongue flicking into my mouth. He ran his tongue along mine and over the edge of my teeth, drew back and traced the edges of my lip before biting me gently.
The heated pressure in my abdomen built as my hips rocked, until I felt myself clench up, trembling and gasping.
He thrust in hard, drawing out the orgasm as he groaned into my mouth.
When I’d finally stopped shaking, I climbed off him and crawled onto all fours. It was the only other way that wouldn’t hurt my wing more now.
Azazel knelt behind me and curved himself over me, kissing the star on my neck and working his way down along my spine. His cock nudged against my slick pussy and pushed in, and I gasped as he began to fuck me harder, gripping my ass and pulling me back against him.
He slammed in, letting out his own groan of satisfaction when he came. I was still shaky with the aftereffects as he slid out and carefully adjusted me so I was laying down facing him, without my wing being crushed under me.
“I love you,” he whispered. A star bloomed and died near his face, leaving a streak of light across my vision.
“I love you, too,” I told him, tracing the contours of his face with one hand. Times like this, when Azazel stripped away his armor and stern countenance, were the best of times. It felt like floating in a night ocean, just the two of us under the stars.
His eyes were already heavy-lidded with sleep. “I promise,” he breathed, before they finally slid shut and his breath evened out.
I couldn’t sleep yet. He’d promised me he’d find them, and I believed him with every fiber of my being.
I laid awake for a long time, staring at the stars floating around the ceiling, with new worries chewing at me. Every time he dove into the deep magic, it was harder for him to come back.
How far would Azazel have to go before that darkness consumed him entirely, and he became a being of shadows and electricity, unable to retake this form?
It felt like hours had passed, but it was still dark when a soft rap sounded on my door. I carefully slid out from under Azazel’s arm and pulled on a simple black dress that only needed to be tied around the neck before answering it.
I wasn’t entirely surprised to see a hooded demon at my door. The Chainling’s namesake clinked softly from his sleeves as he looked up at me, eyes gleaming like marshfire under their hood, and spoke in a deep but quiet voice.
“We’ve been waiting for you, Lady. The Chain calls. It is time.”
10
Melisande
I spared a backwards glance for Azazel, but he was still dead asleep. The Chainling waited patiently, his hands clasped in front of him and covered by his robes.
I’d meant to talk to them, anyways. Maybe their holy Chain had been anticipating me, as well.
I nodded and crept into the hall, pulling the door shut behind me as silently as possible. A faint spear of guilt stabbed at me: the Chainlings had been following me for months, and I hadn’t taken the time to really understand them until now. All I knew was that they worshipped this mysterious binder of fate and destiny, and that they were a vague offshoot of the Grigori.
The Chainling turned and swept down the hall, and I followed obediently. When I caught up, the hood tilted in my direction.
“The Chain has chosen you for us to follow, but we have not yet given you our histories,” he said, keeping his voice low. The arena was nearly silent, only other Chainlings patrolling. Tascius and Belial were in the Ninth Circle, having answered a summons from Adranos. “You know only the superficial.”
I ducked my head, feeling the shame again. All their help, and I’d never bothered to find out. “Yes. I know that you were once part of the Grigori, but… that’s it.”
He nodded. “Our founders were once part of the Fates of the Grigori. It was through their strings that the original Chainlings discovered the unholy mysteries of the Chain, the power that links everything in the universe.”
We walked into a long, unlit passage, and the Chainling ducked his head as he spoke. “The disagreement between them created an insurmountable breach. The Fates believed that the strings were meant to be manipulated, that they were the masters of outcomes and possibilities. But our founders… they believed that twisting and weaving the strings was to defy the power of the Chain, and upset the delicate balance the universe had created.”
The Chainling pulled out a small candle and lit it, holding it aloft. I squinted down the empty hall, one I was quite sure I’d never seen before.
He looked at me, eyes glowing eerily under his hood. “When the Fates use their strings, they change outcomes. It could be a small thing, just the influencing of a decision from one course to another… but when that tiny change is made, the revision ripples outwards, starting in the strings and affecting the wider universe until the Chain itself shakes. That is why they chose to leave the Grigori; we believe it is our destiny to serve the desires of the Chain, not to force the Chain to serve our desires.”
He strode down the hall, motioning for me to follow him. There was a strange density to the air in the corridor, along with the faintest scent of smoke.
I kept close to the Chainling’s side, even though we were still in my own arena, surrounded by my own people. It was like the threshold had been a liminal doorway to another world, and I’d unknowingly stepped into it.
Either that, or it was the pull of the Chain I was feeling. I shivered a little at the thought of a sentient,
universal force tugging at me, reeling me in like a fish.
“Our temple was destroyed by the emergence of the Great Red Dragon, but we do not worry or fear. The Chain had already chosen a new location for our temple, a sacred site,” the Chainling said without glancing back.
“It’s right under us,” I said, my lips feeling numb. “You’ve been building your new temple here the entire time.”
He nodded, casting strange shadows on the wall. “From the moment we stepped foot on this ground, we knew. The Chain rang out with the sound of joy that we had found our new home.”
If my stomach had been churning a little from nerves before, it was now a full-blown hurricane in there.
I should’ve known… even from the days of being called No Saint, of little girl demons dressing in paper and wire wings, the Chainlings had been there, silently watching and waiting.
Following the links in the Chain straight to me.
We reached a spiral staircase descending into a black pit. The Chainling started downwards without looking back this time. He already knew I would follow, and now it was a call that couldn’t be resisted, a thrumming energy building in my bones.
“We once had a queen,” the Chainling said mournfully. His voice echoed up and down the stairs, bouncing back in eerie echoes. “The Chain loved her deeply, but even it can’t change its own links. She was murdered, leaving us bereft of her light, and her followers were scattered when the original temple was burned.”
I realized after several more steps that we’d descended below the ground-level of the arena. This was uncharted territory for me, oddly terrifying in a way. Slight wisps of smoke filled the air, rising from the depths below.
“We’ve moved from place to place since, faithfully following the links. Centuries of wandering, finding a home nowhere… and nearly three decades ago, the Chain spoke again, louder and clearer than ever before.”
