Z leaned toward the screen. “I am not your slave.”
“Yes, you are. Unless you can find me another angel, you’re mine.”
No.
But it was true. She’d been a blood slave, she knew how the system worked. A life for a life.
“This isn’t why I called,” Peony said. They would find a way to free Z later.
“No?” Trick settled back from the screen, returning to his usual sarcastic self.
Ass.
“I need to borrow Opal.”
“There is no borrowing. You can only hire.” A flicker of greed flashed across his handsome features.
“Opal said she owed me.”
“Fuck. I’m going to wring her neck. She should know better than to say that.”
“Please wait to murder her until after she visits me.”
Godric snorted in the background.
“Why are you even asking me?” Trick asked.
“Because I’m the ruler of the Mortus. It’s polite.”
Her former master shook his head. “Polite will get you killed.”
“Thanks for the advice. I think I’ll ignore it.” She turned to the side, as if she were going to leave. “Oh, and Trick?”
“Yes.” He sounded like he was grinding his teeth.
“The Infernus tried to steal Z back. Thought you might want to know.”
She hung up to the sound of Trick cursing. Resettling herself in the chair, she muttered, “Now, I need to call my mom.”
*
A few hours later, Opal rubbed her hands together as she stared at Peony. The Radiato demon’s aura was black. “You’re the new Mortus queen? No one believes it.”
Peony rolled her eyes. “They had better.”
Opal sniggered. “So, what can I do for you? Trick said you were calling in a favor. He was so annoyed, it was wonderful.”
Her friends really had socialization issues.
Peony motioned to Z, who was leaning against a bookshelf in her study. “Can you have a look at him with your X-ray vision and tell me if you see anything unusual?”
The Infernus’ raid had been bothering her. Why had they come for Z, knowing that Trick would retaliate with the full force of the guild if they were caught? There weren’t that many demons who were foolish enough to take on the Halcyon Guild.
Opal tilted her head to the side. “That’s it? And define ‘unusual’. The dude has wings.”
“Unusual, aside from him being an angel.”
“Right.” Opal leaned in close to Peony and whispered, “You do know it’s super-weird you’re friends with an angel?”
“I’m friends with Metcalf.”
The Radiato demon pursed her lips and nodded. “Fair point.”
Then Opal looked at Z. She was still and silent for a good two minutes, and Z started to sweat. From the radiation? Worry spiked inside her.
How well was he, after his recovery?
“Are you done?” Peony asked, concerned.
“Yes. The guy is fine, aside from being overweight.”
“Overweight?” Z’s voice was strangled.
Well, Opal had different standards.
“Nothing else?” Peony prodded.
Maybe her theory had been too crazy.
“He’s fine. Aside from the lump of stone in his abdomen, he’s good as gold.”
Excitement shot through her, but she tried to keep her expression blank. “Thanks, Opal.”
“That was it?” The demon looked disappointed. “You saved my life. I had hoped for something a little more grand.”
“I needed to make sure he wasn’t suffering from any health issues. You know me, I can’t stop being a doctor, even after being crowned.”
The skeletal demon lowered her voice, concern written over her features. “Were you worried because he’s fat?”
Peony bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. “Yes.”
“Ahhh.” The Radiato nodded sagely.
“Can you keep this visit quiet?” Peony asked.
“Of course.”
“Blood swear it?”
Suspicion crept into Opal’s gaze.
“Do you want people to know you helped an angel?” Peony asked. “This way you can’t admit it, even to Trick.”
“Hells no. That’s a good idea.”
Minutes after the oath was sworn and Peony had bandaged the cut on her forearm from completing the ritual, Opal left, ushered out by Godric.
When they were alone, Z sat down in one of the chairs set before the desk. “I have a rock in my stomach?” Z asked, running a hand over his face.
“Apparently.”
“Do you know what it is?” he asked, eyes shadowed.
“I have an idea. Let me make a call.”
Chapter 38
Z looked around the Mortus infirmary, wincing; the scent of antiseptic brought back unpleasant memories. A laptop was set up on a trolley, the screen showing a close-up of Selene, Peony’s mother. To the left of the trolley, the god Osiris stood, looking surprisingly suave in a set of blue medical clothing—scrubs, Peony called them.
“Why is he here, again?” Z asked.
It was bad enough that Peony wanted to operate on him, let alone having a deposed god in the room while she did it.
“Oz is a pathologist,” Selene said from the computer.
Z frowned, unsure what that meant. Warriors in Heaven didn’t have a lot of time for human occupations.
“He performs autopsies,” Peony said.
“He works on dead bodies?” Z asked. That one, he was familiar with.
“The anatomy is the same, dead or alive,” Osiris said, his voice bland.
The door to the infirmary opened, admitting Azrael and Dru. “Sorry we’re late,” Dru said. “Do we trust this guy?” She pointed at the god.
“I vouch for him,” Selene said.
Peony nodded.
Z didn’t trust the god, but he did trust Peony.
Once the door closed, Osiris snapped his fingers, and gold fire licked up the walls of the room. “The silence spell will last until the door is opened again.”
That was useful.
“Are you ready?” Peony placed a hand on Z’s arm, her fingers briefly squeezing his bicep. Her touch steadied him.
Nodding, he climbed onto the bench, and lifted the ‘gown’ they had given him, while Peony placed a sheet over his waist. He laid back, careful of his wings. Taking a deep breath, he held it for a few seconds before exhaling.
“Are we going to anesthetize him?” Osiris asked.
Z flinched. The last time he had been knocked out, it had ended badly for him and for the Darts. “I want to be awake.”
The god frowned. “I can do a spinal tap.”
Peony watched him with steady eyes. “I recommend it.”
Holding her look, he nodded.
“You’ll need to sit up.”
“You brought all the appropriate medications and equipment?” Peony asked.
“I don’t need to.” The god smiled and suddenly there was a second trolley in the room, covered in plastic packaging and more blue sheets.
“Handy trick,” Dru murmured.
“How long can you stay here?” Selene asked.
“Long enough. Let’s be quick.”
Within seconds, Z was sitting again. A prick in his back spoke of a local anesthetic, then he was told to hold still for a few seconds. Soon, he was being taped up.
“Lie down.” Osiris helped guide him back to a prone position, and then the sensation below his sternum began to deaden. The god held up a little packet. “This is ice, tell me when it’s cold and when it’s not.”
The test quickly proved that he was numb in all the right places.
“Let’s get started.”
Z closed his eyes and focused on his breathing as fluid was wiped across his stomach. Then all he could feel was pressure, as some
one began to operate on his abdomen.
You are pathetic. You should watch.
Yes, possibly. But he had no desire to see his innards exposed to the air, to know that this was happening because he’d been weak in the first place.
“This is gross,” Dru muttered.
“You see this kind of thing all the time,” Peony muttered.
“Not when people are alive.”
“That makes a difference?”
“Apparently.”
He almost didn’t mind the bickering—it made the experience feel strangely normal.
A few more seconds ticked by and then Osiris spoke, “I see.”
“What?” Z asked, opening his eyes but keeping his stare fixed on the ceiling.
“I’m taking a photo, and then I recommend we close,” the god said. “Here, Selene, see?”
Z turned to the laptop, and saw Osiris holding his phone up to the camera. The dark-haired woman nodded. “Yes, close him up.”
“We leave it there?” Peony asked.
“Yes.”
Fifteen minutes later, he was stitched back up, and the anesthetic was removed. Sensation came back surprisingly quickly, leaving him with an ache in his stomach. Compared to the pain he had suffered for the past several months, he could ignore it.
Osiris then turned the phone toward him. In a web of flesh lay a jagged piece of stone—clear like a diamond. Z’s veins and sinews seemed to have become attached to it.
“I really have a stone in me.”
“Not just any stone,” the god said. “That is a primordial artifact.”
“Do you know which one?” Azrael asked.
No, it can’t be.
All this time...
“Heaven’s Heart,” Peony said.
“You knew?” Azrael spun toward Peony. Z held out a hand, drawing her closer to him.
“I had a theory.” She looked at the ground. “When I asked the Orb where the stolen piece was, it kept showing me Z. I thought it was showing me my heart.” Her cheeks blazed with color.
She’s embarrassed.
“He is your mate,” Osiris said. “It was a logical conclusion.”
“All right, but now we’ve found it, shouldn’t we have removed it?” Azrael asked.
Selene shook her head. “It is hidden where it is. Since Z is not dead, it will not harm him any further.”
“What do you mean?”
“An artifact like this shouldn’t be housed in flesh it hasn’t chosen; if it is, it will slowly kill the vessel unless it’s removed. You, however, seem healthy enough.”
So it had been Heaven’s Heart that was killing him? Not a demon poison.
“I was healed by a witch.”
“No matter how powerful the witch, she wouldn’t have been able to heal you unless the Heart had accepted its new home.” The god clicked his fingers, and the surgical equipment vanished.
“That’s why the Infernus were after you,” Peony said. “They want the Heart back.”
So did the archangels. They would have to tell the other Darts about this, and fast.
We have the first piece. One out of three—already they had beaten the odds. Only two more pieces to go, and the others can have their wings back.
Osiris stepped forward and kissed Z’s forehead. His skin burned where the god’s lips touched it, and the tingle of magic washed through him, making the handprint on his torso burn.
“Uh, Selene, your god-buddy is coming on to Z,” Dru called.
“It’s the kiss of death,” Selene replied.
“What?” Peony leaped forward just as Osiris stepped back.
“You are now one of mine. The tracking spell the Infernus laid on you is gone, and if you are in danger, I’ll know. I can’t do anything about the blood-bond, though.” The god’s citrine eyes turned hard. “I don’t do this often, so don’t make me regret it.”
Z nodded. “Thank you.”
Whoever heard of an angel tied to a deposed god? But it was done now.
“How many Infernus know about the Heart, do you think?” Z asked, but he knew none of them would be able to answer.
Azrael’s voice was low as he replied, “We will just have to wait and see.”
“But what do we do about them for now?” Dru asked, playing with a knife that had suddenly appeared in her hands.
“Don’t worry,” Peony said with a smile. “I have a plan for that.”
Chapter 39
Peony sat at her desk, one of her fancier crowns on her head. Crafted from platinum and encrusted with diamonds, it was heavy; she had the beginnings of a headache. She still wore her scrubs, though, and had her hair tied back in a bun. She wasn’t going to change who she was entirely for the Mortus; but she could put on one Hell of a show. And she wanted to let her incoming guest know that she wasn’t your typical demon.
“Do you think he’ll come?” Z asked.
“He’ll come.”
Her mate stood behind her, a solid presence that gave her comfort. He was dressed in leathers, with knives and daggers strapped to his body. He was looking healthier than he had since she had begun treating him, and he was so handsome it hurt to watch him.
He was leaving her.
But not today.
A bell chimed, and then a man appeared in the middle of the room, facing the desk. He was handsome, and wore a tailored business suit, the shirt open at the collar. His mahogany hair was swept back from his face, and his black eyes were empty.
“You are not what I expected,” the new arrival said silkily.
“I am often surprising,” Peony replied, and fought to keep her expression calm. The man’s power pulsed against her skin, and his aura glowed golden—like Osiris’ had.
Satan, the ruler of Inferno, had the aura of a god.
“Would you like to sit?” she asked.
“What? No bow? I am the ruler of this realm.” He glided gracefully forward and sat in one of the two brown leather chairs opposite her desk.
“I thought we could be more relaxed, since we’re family.”
Shit. What if he’s a real stickler for protocol?
No, go with your gut.
Show no weakness. But be polite, be courteous, and be firm. That had been her mother’s advice. Murder someone if you have to. That had been Dru’s.
She’d stick to Plan A for now.
“Thank you for responding to my invitation,” Peony said, her hands clasped together on the desk’s surface, in front of a keyboard. She’d had the office upgraded to include technology—another sign she wasn’t like the old king.
“It was difficult to ignore. The Mortus king deposed? A queen ruling in his stead? This was too interesting to leave alone. Especially since the Mortus are mine.”
I am not yours, Peony wanted to scream, but she couldn’t deny what the writings in the halls told her. The Mortus were the children of Heaven and Hell, and Peony was their queen. But unlike the regular Mortus, she was also a child of the Human Realm.
“I killed my uncle, it’s true.” She nodded at a brass urn that sat on a bookshelf to her right—a sign of dishonor in Hell. “And I have been bound to Inferno.”
“Nonsense,” he narrowed his eyes. “Only I am bound to Hell.”
Peony opened her hand, and dancing green flames burst to life in the air above her palm. Satan stared at them for a moment, disbelief etched into his expression as he studied the Hellfire. Then slowly, he smiled. It made her skin crawl. “You are the true heir of the Mortus.”
“So it has been foretold, and so it has come to be,” Peony said. Godric had told her that she must use that phrase when Satan realized what she was.
Finally, the Hell-lord’s gaze came to rest on Z, his expression turning scornful. “You mated with an angel?”
“Don’t be hypocritical, Grandfather.” Peony smiled then, wondering where the courage came from. She could almost hear Dru cheering for her in the backg
round.
Keep it up. Be like Dru, just for a few more minutes.
Satan flicked an invisible piece of lint from his sleeve. “Ah, but I didn’t mate with her. Just fucked her.”
“Fate, it is fickle, isn’t it?”
“I won’t be ruled by fate. And you should follow in my footsteps, if you wish to stay queen.”
“I’ll stay queen, and I’ll do it my way.”
“I see you’ve already begun. I have some very angry Infernus complaining that an upstart cambion has slain one of their own. Then this cambion had the audacity to send them the head of their fallen, along with a menacing note.”
“The Infernus came here and threatened my mate,” Peony said. “They are lucky the Mortus did not declare war. And you know, Grandfather, that if the Mortus go to war, then you would have to support us, even though the Infernus are also your children.”
The Infernus were Lucifer’s and Satan’s, whereas the Mortus were solely Satan’s.
The conflict would pit Lucifer against Satan. Sheol against Inferno.
It was a no-win situation for her race’s ancestor.
The Hell-lords were not meant to war against each other, except when their direct descendants were at risk.
“I will have a talk to the Infernus, and Lucifer. The Infernus will be warned your angel is off-limits.” Satan curled his lip at the word ‘angel’.
She nodded.
His dark eyes lingered on Z. “I’ve heard a rumor there is a black-winged angel hiding in Hell. Female. Vicious. Have you lost one of your own?”
“No angel is ever truly lost,” Z replied, but Peony could feel the tension radiating from him.
“What a nice saying.” The Hell-lord stood and rolled his eyes. “I will go clean up your mess, Granddaughter. No thanks required.”
“None given.”
Barking a laugh, Satan vanished.
Peony sagged in her chair.
Z’s palm stroked over her shoulder. “You were brilliant.”
She reached up to stroke the back of his hand. “Thank you.”
He moved around the side of her chair, cupping her cheek. “You amaze me every day.”
“Could there really be a black-winged angel?” Peony asked.
Z frowned. “Dina is still missing. There’s a chance it could be her.”
“I can look for her in the Orb.” Peony reached a hand out to her desk drawer, but stopped when Z touched her forearm.
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