All Hell Breaks Loose

by Cate Corvin

  We’d found an ancient body in the cavern, one of Azazel’s long-missing Reapers. The black robes had been wrapped around a skeleton that had nearly turned to powder when I touched it, but Vyra kept them tightly wrapped around herself now, more of a security blanket than a real shield.

  The Reaper’s scythe was buried in the wall point-first, and she had curled up behind the long handle hanging in midair, like it might afford her some protection. The skeletal remains were on her other side, half a skull and reaching arms all that were left of the unfortunate Grigori.

  Her pale face peered out from under the Reaper’s hood, rosy eyes gleaming hard and cold in a way I’d never seen from her before.

  Vyra set her lips, staring at me warily.

  For a second, I frantically searched my memories. I hadn’t hurt her, had I? I hadn’t… done anything else?

  But no. No memories of brutalizing Vyra surfaced. I’d tossed her into the cavern- roughly, it was true- but I hadn’t beaten her, cut her, or violated her.

  I knelt down in front of her. If I got a boot to the face, well… I probably deserved it. “Vyra, it’s me.”

  She gave me a narrow-eyed look. “Obviously. You’re all I’ve seen for-” Then she stopped, her mouth dropping open before she snapped it shut. “Lucifer?”

  There was so much hope and disbelief in that whisper, it broke my heart.

  “I don’t have much time.” I searched around for the supplies I knew we kept in there and pressed a skin of water in Vyra’s hands. She fumbled the lid open; her lips were chapped, and there were already hollows under her cheekbones. We hadn’t been feeding her enough. While in Satan’s grip, I doubted I cared all that much.

  She chugged the water and handed me the bottle, tucking her hands back inside the robes. “Can’t you run now?” she asked, still whispering as though Satan might hear. “Go while you’re free.”

  “I’m not leaving you here. And even if I did, I wouldn’t get far. The soul-bond would just call me back.” I looked into her face. It was my fault she was here. She deserved to lay all the blame at my feet. “But Vyra, if you have the chance to go, take it.”

  She let out a soft snort. “Lucifer, when you’re acting on his orders, it’s like you’ve got eyes in the back of your head. I already tried to escape.”

  Ah, there was the memory. Dragging Vyra back into the cavern while she screamed at me, railing against me uselessly with her fists.

  The tear stains from her frustration were still written on her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry.” The words were useless, but there was nothing I could do. She would die if she stayed, but she’d never been a strong flier. If I pushed her out into the sky now, she’d make it maybe a few miles before needing to stop… and in the vast stretch of the Irkallan wilderness, there would be no cover or shelter for her. Something would hunt her down.

  She shook her head. “I just keep telling myself it could be worse.”

  It was amazing she could hold onto any optimism at all right now. It was as bad as it was going to get for her.

  Because Satan wasn’t going to be satisfied with the mangled body I’d brought for him. He’d eventually demand a new one, a whole, fresh, still-living one… and the odds that his grip on the soul-bond would be loosened when I found that new body were minuscule. One of these days he’d get his hands on an intact body to possess, and he’d be able to do every depraved thing he could dream of to Vyra.

  It might be more merciful to kill her now.

  I briefly contemplated how fast I could make it happen. All I had to do was reach out and twist her head around, and it’d be over. Nothing could hurt her anymore.

  Somehow, I couldn’t make my hands move, even while knowing it was the greatest kindness I could give her now. Possibly the only kindness.

  “Vyra.” She looked up at me, her eyes empty. “Do I ever sleep?”

  Vyra shook her head silently.

  I cursed under my breath. I would’ve slipped her a knife, told her to cut my throat while I slept.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Lucifer.” She leaned her head back against the stone wall of the cavern. “I don’t know if I could do it.”

  “You could. If your life depended on it.”

  Not only her life, but mine. My freedom. I’d rather be dead than serving my Father like this, and yet… it was impossible to do the deed myself. Not while I held onto some small thread of hope that Melisande was out there.

  It was entirely selfish, I knew. Selfish of me for wanting to stay alive for her when I was nothing but a danger to them all. I’d almost killed her once, and I couldn’t bring myself to do the honorable thing.

  “We’ll get through this,” she said quietly.

  I laughed bitterly. Just do it now, Lucifer. End it before she actually has a reason to beg for a quick death.

  I was still laughing when she drew in a sharp breath. “Lucifer…”

  There was no need for her to tell me what the problem was. I already felt it.

  It started as a prickling on my skin, like thousands of tiny needles driving into my flesh over and over. My dark tattoos were beginning to lighten, the black giving way to scarlet.

  Satan was awakening, and his mind was clamping down on mine.

  “Do what you have to,” I hissed at Vyra, and got to my feet, striding quickly from the cavern. The farther I was from her when I lost myself again, the better.

  The pain was growing, driving from my limbs and into my chest, a vise-like pressure squeezing around me and stopping my heart.

  The Dragon stirred in the chasm. Enormous scales flaked away, peeled from his skin by the sharp rocks of the mountainside.

  I had minutes. Maybe seconds. For a brief, desperate moment, I reached out to Melisande through the bond, hoping she was there.

  There was a brief spark of light on the other end, and then the pain ate everything, washing away all trace of my mate.

  “Did you bring it for me?” My father’s voice was like thunder, echoing into the sky.

  I nudged the corpse with the toe of my boot. “Here.”

  One of the Dragon’s heads rose above the abyss. It blinked at the body, and sneered at me, baring sharp fangs. “It is imperfect.”

  “It’s the best you’ll get for now.” I drew a breath into tight lungs, barely able to stay upright, clinging to the last vestige of myself with everything I had.

  “Then release me from this shell.”

  Satan reared up, sending boulders crumbling down into the chasm. I picked up my spear from where it leaned against a rock and spread my wings.

  The flight was agonizing, ripping through every feather and pore. I hefted the spearpoint and plunged downwards, ripping a gash through the Dragon’s chest that would’ve killed any other demon, but on him… it was barely a pinprick.

  I returned to the outcropping, lowering my spear and waiting, sweat springing up on my forehead as the soul-bond pulsed inside me.

  One by one, the Dragon’s writhing heads dropped, the snake-like necks going limp. Rocks squealed against each other as the reptilian corpse went slack and began to sink into the chasm. I stepped to the edge and looked over.

  The wound in his chest was leaking. Gouts of blood sprayed over his scales, but the flow was eventually stemmed by something thicker.

  The darkness that oozed from the wound was thick as tar. It moved like liquid at first, dripping down his pale chest, but then it moved.

  A hand formed from the darkness, reaching up to grip the scales of the corpse. It was followed by a featureless head, a second hand… Satan’s essence, abandoning his body like so much trash.

  It crawled upwards, over scales and through his blood, and found the chasm wall.

  I stepped back as the thing scaled to the top, dragging its oozing body behind itself. Tarry fingers dragged it through the ashes, leaving a broad clear swathe behind it as he sniffed out his new body.

  As he passed, he glanced at me, showing only faint impressions of eye sock
ets in that face. The soul-bond squeezed me tighter, growing hot as coals.

  The essence climbed over the demon’s corpse, blindly peering at it, and began to pour into its mouth. The dead demon’s limbs jittered and shook as Satan filled it, fingers cracking as he stretched his new extremities.

  Finally, the last of Satan’s essence pushed itself inside. Smears of fresh, glistening blood covered the body.

  He blinked. Once, twice. Wiping away the ashes that had built up on its open eyes.

  Then he sat up and smiled. And the pain consumed me, wiping away everything I was.

  18

  Melisande

  I woke up with a gasp, clutching my mouth and chest.

  It’d felt so real. The dream had been vivid, like I’d been standing right there in Lucifer’s body, watching as Satan crawled out of the dragon and possessed the dead body lying in front of us.

  It’d felt too real.

  I lowered my hands, assuring myself that the inky black figure crawling over the ground wasn’t here in my bed, about to climb into my mouth and possess me.

  But there was light in my room, dancing faintly off the walls, illuminating the still-sleeping forms of Belial and Tascius on either side of me. I looked down at the cross Lucifer had inscribed on my chest.

  The thin strand of the Chain that linked me to him was glowing, brighter than I’ve seen it since the vision the Chain had granted me. It sparked gold, twisting through midair from my chest and reaching through the wall.

  I touched the illuminated strand until it went out, fading once again into a barely visible strand of luminescence.

  I was suddenly, completely sure that I hadn’t just had a nightmare. That dream had been real. The connection between Lucifer and myself was too strong to break, with or without soul-bonds… and I’d just watched through his eyes as I slept.

  They were still alive. Vyra was as well as she could possibly be, and Lucifer was doing what he could to protect her.

  But Satan had left his body. And unless I missed my guess, Satan in a human form would be infinitely more dangerous than being trapped in the massive form he’d previously possessed. He’d be able to fight back as quickly as I could, possibly even better than me if Lucifer managed to procure him a whole, healthy body while he was under his father’s command.

  I needed Azazel. He needed to know this, and he’d know what to do.

  I slid out from under the covers and sneaked down the bed, trying not to wake my men. It was still hours before dawn, the sky a deep navy, but Azazel almost never slept.

  I pushed aside my curtains and jumped out into the night air. My wing still ached from the day before, but it was mostly healed. I’d be able to make it to Blackchapel without plummeting out of the sky like a stone.

  Still, I fed it a little healing magic as I soared over the Upper Circles, letting the cool night air wash away the memory of blood and ashes. He’d thought of that place as Irkalla… and all I could think of was the map that the High Priestess of the succubus guild had shown me, the dark stain on the wall that had sent shivers up my spine.

  Maybe it’d been a premonition of things to come. Wherever Irkalla was, that was where I needed to be.

  The floating stones of Blackchapel came into view as I flew over the Fields of Asphodel, ignoring the shades below. The windows of the cathedral were dim, but I touched down on the courtyard and shoved the doors open without any of the Grigori barring my path.

  The cathedral wasn’t empty, though. I stopped in my tracks, staring at the hideous sight in front of me.

  Druzila and Typhon were here, but they weren’t standing guard imperiously, looking down their noses at me.

  They’d been mounted as examples in the middle of the cathedral, upside-down on enormous X-shaped crosses of dark wood, dark chains binding their ankles and wrists. Their scythes hung before both of them, the blades carefully placed just over the pulses beating in their throats.

  As I watched, Druzila struggled to take a breath, her face nearly plum from the blood pooled in her head. But the deeper the breath she took, the tighter the blade pressed into her throat.

  A thin line of blood trickled over her neck and over her ear. She gave up and exhaled, taking tiny sips of breath instead.

  This was their punishment for failing to follow Azazel’s orders. He’d told them to guard me.

  Instead, Typhon had fallen asleep, and Druzila had taken the opportunity to air her petty little concerns when all of Dis was at stake.

  I knew all of my men were capable of cruelty. It was one of the reasons I trusted them, oddly enough; they were cold enough to do what had to be done… but sometimes I wondered how far they might be capable of going if they didn’t rein themselves in.

  I had no room in my heart to feel pity for either of these Grigori, though. They’d stood back when Dis needed all the hands it could get.

  Druzila moaned as I walked past, but I didn’t look up. As a Watcher, she knew when Azazel gave an order, he meant it.

  Typhon’s faint wheezing breaths followed me down the hall, but the parlor was empty except for a shade. I checked Vyra’s rooms, the dining room, both balconies, but with the exception of the odd bat-like Grigori I came across, most of whom took pains to avoid crossing paths with me, there was no sign of Azazel whatsoever.

  I stopped on the balcony where Lucifer had gone flying with me. I felt Azazel here; his emotions were close, the mate mark warm. I closed my eyes and tugged at the bond between us, but he was concentrating hard, his mind a million miles away.

  “Looking for the Lord Watcher?”

  I nearly jumped out of my skin at the unexpected voice and spun around. Myriam stood in front of me, her red hair vivid even under the dark sky. Her strings of Fate were nowhere to be seen.

  “Do you know where he is?” I asked, trying not to sound desperate, but the dream of Lucifer, and Satan crawling from his dragon’s body, were still so bright and real in my mind.

  Myriam gave me a faint smile and pointed upwards.

  I followed the gesture but saw nothing of note. Just the high battlements of the rest of Blackchapel.

  “His library,” she said. “At the peak of Blackchapel.”

  I squinted. “It’s up there?”

  Myriam guided me back inside. “There are no windows or doors, but… I can show you where he goes in.” She gave me a conspiratorial wink. “He’s notoriously private. I can only imagine how furious he’ll be if you make it inside.”

  I set my jaw. Let him be furious; this was more important than the sanctity of his library. If he wasn’t going to answer my call, he’d have to deal with me banging on the walls.

  She led me up a spiral staircase tucked away in an alcove. The door leading into it was so unassuming and thin I’d have overlooked it a hundred times, but when we reached the top of the Grigori stronghold, it opened up on… nothing.

  Just an empty room, and a long stretch of blank stone wall.

  “Right through there.” Myriam pointed at a portion of the wall that was ever-so-slightly darker than the surrounding stone. “Good luck.”

  She turned and left me, chuckling to herself.

  I braced myself and strode to the ‘entrance’ of Azazel’s library. The faintest sensation of magic prickled at my hands as I ran my palms over the wall, hoping for a magical mechanism or lock that might let me through, but… for all intents and purposes, it was just a solid stone wall.

  I scowled at it, reaching through my mark again, and got nothing. “Are you ignoring me on purpose?”

  It wasn’t like I expected an answer, and no answer was exactly what I got.

  I stepped up to the wall and pounded on it with my fist. The magic prickled at my hands, biting a little harder now, but it was like his wards recognized me and were reluctant to do any greater harm. Unfortunately, they didn’t seem inclined to open up for me, either.

  I paced back and forth for a moment. If it was a stone wall, he clearly went through using magic. The only probl
em was that my magic wasn’t the same. I couldn’t warp space and time and teleport myself in and out of thin air.

  Which meant I needed to make a door.

  I summoned my dark fire and cupped it in my hand, tugging on the bond between us again. “Last warning, Azazel. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. It’s up to you.”

  Thirty seconds passed.

  Silence.

  “The hard way, then,” I said cheerfully, and sent the magic roaring down my arm.

  I drew my arm back and flung a blast of fire at the wall, just as the air shivered around me.

  My entire body jerked, and then I was standing in a room I’d never seen before, trembling with surprise and the odd sensation that I’d just stepped through a wall of solid liquid after being condensed into the size of a pinprick and reformed within a split-second. Every single hair on my body was standing upright.

  “What was that?” My exclamation exploded in the silence around me, and I blinked.

  I was in the library. And it was nothing like I’d expected.

  From the outside, the steeple of Blackchapel looked like it’d be no larger than a typical attic.

  This room… this room was hundreds of feet tall. Books lined the walls from top to bottom, stretching across the room to form spires and bridges. There were entire walls made out of books. Lights drifted between the tottering stacks, but they were few and far between, and as soon as one vanished the darkness seemed to pool like a living thing.

  “Don’t touch anything.” Azazel’s acerbic voice echoed through the library, although he was nowhere in sight. “And I mean anything, love.”

  I rubbed my arms to get rid of the goosebumps, my system finally getting over the shock of being ripped from one point in space to another. No fucking wonder Belial hated it so much when Azazel did that without warning.

  “Anything at all?” I took a step forward, carefully moving to the side so my elbow didn’t knock against a thick tome sticking out from one of the spires.

  I could almost feel Azazel giving me a deadpan stare. “Not a single thing,” his voice echoed through the library. “Follow the stars, please.”