by Larissa Ione
Something about the cool, calm way he spoke made her internal alarms go off, and she got the sudden feeling she was walking into a trap. Her father would have told her to stay calm. Her mother would have told her to get ready for a fight.
Her mother hadn’t possessed an ounce of self-preservation instinct.
“Yes,” she said, going with her father’s line of thinking, “but without the desperate part. I’m not desperate.” She was so desperate. “And I’d rather not risk my soul. Zhubaal told me about the Inner Sanctum. No, thank you.” She bounced on her toes and crossed her fingers behind her back in a ridiculous superstitious human gesture. “So we have a deal?”
Azagoth smiled, and a chill went down her spine. “The deal is this. You are going to hunt for souls, but I’m not going to pay you.”
Before she knew it, she had a blade in her palm and was starting toward him. Oh, hi, Mom. “What the hell? What kind of bullshit is that?”
Zhubaal’s hand clamped down on her shoulder, and he yanked her backward, disarming her so quickly she stared at her empty hand in disbelief.
Azagoth didn’t miss a beat, and it was a little insulting that he didn’t think she was enough of a threat to even waste an angry tone of voice on. “You need someone to dump the souls on, and there are very few people left who are willing to risk the King of Hell’s wrath.” Her expression must have been one of surprise, because he snorted. “What, you think I don’t have my finger on the pulse of the underworld? You think I don’t know that daemani are being hunted at the command of the king himself?” He laughed, but she certainly didn’t find this to be funny in the least. “Foolish girl. I don’t need you as much as you need me.”
Son. Of. A. Bitch.
“I have to eat, you know.” She snatched the dagger from Zhubaal and jerked out of his grip. Which was nothing like the way he’d gripped her earlier, his hands pressed firmly against her hip and the small of her back. “Selling souls is how I make a living.”
Well, it used to be, back when buying and selling was a thriving market. She’d made a lot of money, but she’d lost it all when the underworld and human stock markets crashed during the recent near-apocalypse. Everything was gone now. Even her Audi and her two-million-dollar condo in sunny Florida were going to be repossessed soon.
Maybe she should have gone to college like her parents wanted instead of pursuing a career in trading souls. But come on, it was easy money, and she’d earned far more than she’d ever have made with any college career. They’d understood, but they hadn’t liked it.
Azagoth folded his hands behind his back and faced her squarely. “If you want to be paid, then I expect daily results. I don’t want five souls every three months, and I’m not going to pay per soul. You can move into one of the town residences if you need a place to stay. You will bring at least one escapee per day, and your salary will be no more than Zhubaal’s.”
She glanced over at Zhubaal, who shrugged apologetically. “Look at the bright side,” he said. “You’ll be too busy to need money, anyway.”
Shit. She was trapped, and there was no way out of it. Azagoth might be a penny-pinching miser, but he was going to keep her safe. Plus, she got to brag to everyone that she worked with the Grim Reaper.
“Fine,” she muttered. “It’s a deal. Can we get these souls out of me now?”
Azagoth turned to Zhubaal. “Leave us.”
Zhubaal went taut, his gaze shifting between Vex and Azagoth. “No, my Lord, I think I’ll stay.”
The temperature in the room dropped so fast she saw Azagoth’s breath in the air when he spoke next. “I didn’t give you a choice.”
Baring his fangs, Zhubaal put himself between her and Azagoth. “I have been searching for Laura for nearly a hundred years,” he said, his voice walking a fine line between respect and defiance, “and now that I’ve finally found her, I won’t let anything happen to her.”
Vex peeked around Zhubaal’s shoulder and instantly wished she hadn’t. Azagoth was pissed. She’d never seen eyes of flame before, and she never wanted to again. Holy crap, Zhubaal had some serious stones.
“Vex.” If Azagoth’s eyes were the fire, his voice was the black smoke. “Wait outside my office.”
No. He’ll kill Zhubaal!
Vex shook her head, trying to rid it of Laura’s influence. And those thoughts had to be Laura’s, because Vex didn’t give a shit about the guy. Sure, he had some major appeal; he was hot as hell, probably knew his way around a bedroom, and he had giant balls...both real and figuratively. She knew because she’d gotten in a good fondle earlier by the pond, before he’d freaked out because she wasn’t his stupid Laura.
She’s not like you.
Right. Laura would probably stay and defend her adoring Zhubaal.
So Vex left him on his own.
* * * *
Zhubaal had probably made his last mistake, but right now he couldn’t care less. Every instinct inside him demanded that he protect Laura, and if he had to give up his soul to do it, he would. She’d looked so desperate standing there, just as Azagoth had said.
That was Vex. Not Laura.
Damn it, he hated that the lines kept blurring with Vex, but it wouldn’t be that way for much longer. Azagoth would free Laura and separate the two.
Zhubaal just might not be alive to see it.
“What the fuck was that?” Azagoth rounded on Zhubaal the moment Vex was out of the room. His eyes were pure flame, hot enough to scorch Z’s face. “You have never disobeyed an order.”
The fact that Z wasn’t already dead was a good sign. “I never had reason not to.”
“You still don’t,” he growled. “What the fuck did you think I was going to do to Laura?”
Anger over decades of Azagoth’s vague answers and flat-out refusals to answer questions boiled over, and Z lost his shit. His wings sprouted, his fangs punched down, and he drew every ounce of power Azagoth allowed into his body.
“I don’t know what you’re going to do,” Zhubaal snarled. “Maybe send Laura to the Inner Sanctum before I can see her? Or maybe reincarnate her so I have to go through another thirty years of hell looking for her?”
The flames in Azagoth’s eyes snuffed out as he held up his hand, genuine confusion in his expression. “Why would you think I’d do that?”
“You tell me. Why did you keep Laura from me all this time? Why didn’t you tell me anything about her identity? I could have found her. Saved her before she was killed and ended up as a welt on Vex’s body.”
Azagoth shook his head. “I didn’t know anything about her.”
Z gaped at him in disbelief. “How could you not know? You’re the Grim Reaper. Souls are your job,” he said, echoing Vex from just a moment ago.
“I authorize a specific number of souls from each level to be reincarnated every day, but after the individuals are chosen, they enter the Infernal Abyss to be cast into a waiting fetus. Who––and what––they are born as is out of my hands or realm of knowledge.”
Son of a bitch. “You couldn’t have told me this earlier?”
“Would this information have helped you locate Laura?”
“No, but––”
“Then drop it.” Azagoth’s tone was deceptively mild, which meant he was reaching the end of civility. Which, Z could admit, had gone on much longer than he’d expected.
“At least tell me why you wanted me to leave the room while you extracted the souls from Vex.”
Azagoth tapped a glass pad on the wall behind his desk, and a panel slid back, revealing a well-stocked bar, the newest upgrade to his office. “Because you don’t need to see what I’m going to do to her.” He poured vodka in two glasses and brought one to Z.
Baffled, he took the glass. “I’m not squeamish.”
And he wasn’t. He’d done things as an angel that had made his buddies puke for hours afterward, and he’d done worse as a fallen angel. But even as the words fell from his mouth, he doubted them. Vex shouldn’t matter to
him, but he didn’t want to see her hurt. She’d brought Laura to him, and that had, at the very least, earned her his eternal gratitude.
“I know.” Azagoth downed the liquor, and as he lowered the glass, shadows darkened his eyes. “But there are some things loved ones should never see.”
It took a moment to let Azagoth’s words sink in, and when they did, Zhubaal was glad he had the alcohol.
Holy crap. Azagoth was protecting him. Zhubaal had seen Laura’s remains, her chest cavity laid open and her heart removed. The nightmares still haunted him, and Azagoth knew it, thanks to his love of throwing massive annual celebrations for Sheoul-gra’s residents who had survived since the last party. At the most recent event, Zhubaal had had one too many of Azagoth’s signature cocktails, a Bloody Reaper, and he’d blubbered all about his bad dreams. The next day, Azagoth hadn’t said a word about it.
But he had poured Z another Bloody Reaper, because apparently, Z had looked like he’d needed “a little hair of the hellhound.”
“I still want to be there when you free the souls,” Zhubaal said. “If it were Lilliana, wouldn’t you want to be there?”
“Fuck, yeah,” Azagoth said. “And no one could tell me no. But it would be a mistake.” He clapped his hand on Z’s shoulder. “Trust me, Z. You don’t want to see it, and I can’t have you interrupting. There’s a powerful soul inside Vex that could put up a fight, and I’m going to need all my focus to draw it out.”
Z got that. During battle, even the most minor distraction could be deadly. Azagoth wouldn’t be in any danger, but Vex could be. And if Azagoth had to destroy the evil soul inside Vex, the other souls could get caught in friendly fire. It wouldn’t be the first time Zhubaal had seen it happen.
“Fine,” Z agreed reluctantly. “I’ll send in Vex. But I’ll be right outside the door.”
He didn’t wait for Azagoth’s response. He put down his glass and stepped into the hallway where Vex was waiting, lounging back against a pillar, one foot propped against the stone behind her.
“Took you long enough.” She popped away from the wall. “Is he ready?”
He gestured to the door. “Go on in.”
She started to go, but paused after a couple of steps. “You’re not coming in, are you?”
The way she said it, her voice an impossible mix of hope and disappointment, made his gut twinge. He liked her. She might drive him insane, but there was something about her that made him want to learn more about her. He wished he could blame his desire on any influence Laura might be having on her, but it wasn’t true. It was Vex’s spiky hair he wanted to touch. It was Vex’s lips he wanted to kiss. It was Vex’s body he wanted beneath him.
“No,” he croaked.
“’Kay.” Abruptly, she spun around and kissed him. She tasted like rainwater and flowers, reminding him of the pond and how good she’d felt against him. Just as abruptly, she bounced back with a cheeky smile. “Wish me luck.”
With that, she disappeared into Azagoth’s office while Zhubaal stood there, his excitement to see Laura tempered by his worry for Vex.
Chapter Six
Vex had no idea why she’d just kissed Zhubaal as if they were a real couple and she was seeking a good luck kiss before a job interview.
Wish me luck!
Ugh. She was an idiot. An idiot who was about to reunite him with the love of his life. And, apparently, afterlife.
Mentally cursing herself, she strode across the floor to where Azagoth was waiting expectantly by the fire. He watched her approach, and the closer she got, the more the room closed in on her. It had seemed so big before, but now it felt like a bathroom stall at McDonald’s.
“I’m not sure how this will go,” he said. “But we’ll try the easy way first.”
Oh, yes, she was all for the easy way. She’d gone through this a bazillion times, and everyone had a different method––most were quick and painless. But then, the souls she was selling always wanted to be freed, probably because they didn’t know they were going to be captured by someone else. This current batch of souls knew, and they were already starting to claw at her mind.
Azagoth stepped up to her, stopping mere inches away. She expected him to start chanting like the warlocks, mages, and sorcerers she usually dealt with. Or that maybe he’d mix a potion or slice her palm and make her stand inside a protective circle while she bled on the symbols. Instead, he simply placed his hand on her forehead.
The souls went ballistic. Pain shot through her, a searing, mind-bending agony that felt like someone was pulling her spinal cord out of the top of her head.
“Stop,” she gasped. “They don’t want out.”
“Of course they don’t.” He stepped back and the pain melted away, leaving behind a faint headache and wobbly knees. But the souls, stunned as far as she could tell, had quieted down to almost total silence. “Inside you, they feel safe. But they can sense me, and they know what I am. They know where they are because all but one have been here before.” Shadows seemed to writhe in his eyes, and for a split second, she swore she saw a demonic face looking at her from behind his handsome one. “They know I judge harshly, they know Hades is waiting for them, and they know I’m going to send them to him.”
Usually when demons said they were going to send you to Hades, they were being all blowhardy. But Azagoth sold it and made it fresh. Really fresh. She was about to pee in her favorite leather pants.
“Okay, I get why they’re resisting, but you’re the Grim Reaper.” Did she really have to point this out? “You deal in souls. Shouldn’t you, of all people, be able to suck some souls out of someone?”
“Yes.” He looked troubled, which could only be bad. Really, really bad. “I should be able to extract the weaker ones without even trying.”
“Then what’s going on?”
Crimson glints flashed in his eyes, burning like angry embers, and she wondered if the flamethrower eyes would come next. She took a step back, just in case. “The powerful soul is holding them back. They want out.”
“What?” She looked down at the marks on her arm as if the newest glyph could provide answers, but it wasn’t any different than the others. It hadn’t grown horns or teeth or formed demonic symbols. “The thing inside me is so bad that they’d rather deal with you?”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not,” he said dryly. “But in any case, the evil inside you is ancient. Perhaps as old as I am. It’s going to take more than my command for her to leave your body.”
Her? “I knew it!”
“Knew what?”
“That the super evil soul was female. Females claw more than males.” Males were more about the blunt force trauma.
“I see.” Azagoth clearly didn’t care. He raked her with his gaze. “Now, take off your clothes.”
“If this is some kind of bullshit ploy to get me to have sex with you––”
“I have a mate.” His eyes glowed orange now, as if they were sucking the colors out of the fire, and the blood in her veins froze. And at the same time, a stab of envy pierced her because Azagoth’s mate was lucky to have a male who was so fiercely faithful.
“Okay then,” she said brightly, because awkward.
It took only a minute to strip down, and then she stood there, shivering even though she wasn’t cold, as she waited for whatever he was going to do. She’d never been shy or self-conscious about her body, but there was something unsettling about being naked in front of someone who could probably see all the way to her soul.
As he moved toward her, he unbuttoned his shirt. “This is going to hurt.” For the first time, there was a touch of sympathy in his voice. Which couldn’t be a good thing. But neither could the fact that he’d just tossed his shirt onto the desk and was reaching for his belt.
What was he doing? “Will it hurt bad?”
“That depends.” He stopped a foot away and peeled off his pants.
He was a commando guy, and holy shit, he was beautiful. It made her w
ant to see Zhubaal like that, to see the six-pack she’d felt under his shirt and the erection she’d caressed with her lips. But this wasn’t Zhubaal, so she snapped her gaze up to his face and locked it there.
“Depends on what?” she croaked in a humiliatingly rough voice.
“On whether you think agony is bad.”
She nodded. “I do.”
He laughed.
And then he punched his hand through her rib cage. Searing, ripping agony exploded through her entire body. The souls screeched and tore at her from the inside. The pain became all-consuming, the smell of blood made her gag, and she swore Azagoth’s hand was wrapped around her spine.
She screamed as he yanked a bloody, squirming mass from her and threw it to the floor. Through her haze of pain, she managed a gasp of surprise. The thing writhing a few feet away was one of the demons that had been inside her, but it was in solid form. She’d never seen them as anything but ghostly wisps. Most of the time she couldn’t even make out their species.
But the thing moaning on the floor was a female Umber demon nearly twice her size.
A two-foot tall creature in a brown hooded robe skittered into the room from out of nowhere, snatched up the bloody demon, and chained it to the wall. A griminion, she thought, and then she was immersed again in pain as Azagoth smashed his fist inside her body.
Twice more she went through the agony, but on the fourth try, she thought she was going to die. The room spun and turned into swirls of red and black and gray, and sharp, sharp teeth. She thought the teeth belonged to Azagoth, but he didn’t look like a big, horned, dragon-demon. Right?
Delirious. She was delirious, wracked with fever and broken bones.
“Fuck...hold on...fuuuuck!”
Was that Azagoth’s voice? She could barely hear, could only feel pain.
At some point, she realized she was lying on her back, and she thought her eyes were open, but everything was dark. No, there was a face... handsome... smiling... Zhubaal?
