“Not on my orders.” Lysander edged his eyes to his left, to where Mihail stood. “When did this happen?”
Mihail’s stony face gave nothing away. “It has not happened. The abomination speaks lies.”
“It has happened,” Asmodeus snarled. “You four came to Hell and took Nevar from Lysia.”
“How long ago?” Lukas said and Asmodeus shifted his red gaze to him.
“Two hours… not more.” Time moved strangely in Heaven and Hell, but it was in harmony. Two hours in Hell was two hours in Heaven. It was anyone’s guess how long it would be in the mortal realm. Probably days.
Lukas shook his head, his expression grave. “Then I am afraid you are wrong. It isn’t possible these angels took Nevar from Hell because they have been in a meeting for the past day, ever since they returned from first discovering her on the island. I know because I was there with them to discuss how to stop the Great Destroyer from awakening.”
Apollyon looked as if he believed him. So did Marcus.
Asmodeus stared at him and then at Lysander and the four angels accused of taking Nevar.
He pressed his hand to his chest and focused on his bond with Nevar, placing all of his power into calling him, willing to weaken himself if it meant reaching Nevar.
I command you to return to me.
The tug in his belly came this time, faint but there.
Leading him downwards.
Asmodeus released Lysander, his shadows shrinking back into his hands and settling around his feet. He looked from the blond angel to the four flanking him, a cold weight pressing down on his chest.
Heaven hadn’t been expecting them because it had been unaware of what had happened to Nevar. These four angels had had nothing to do with it, but Lysia wouldn’t lie about who had taken Nevar. She had seen four angels who looked like the ones standing before him.
“If you did not take Nevar, who did?”
Their blank faces said they didn’t have the answer to that question.
His every instinct told him that he knew who did.
His master.
The Devil.
CHAPTER 23
Erin placed her hand on Veiron’s armoured forearm and closed her eyes as darkness engulfed them. The others could follow at their own pace. She had a bone to pick with her father and she was damned if she was going to wait while they all discussed plans of action and other factors.
The inky black dissipated and she stared at the landscape stretching below the plateau. Heat rose from the great lava river hundreds of feet below them. In the distance, the cragged black spires that formed the curved wall around the courtyard of the Devil’s fortress spewed golden magma as they continued to repair the damage done to them by Asmodeus’s battle with a dragon and Amelia’s fight against the army of Hell several months ago.
That had been the last time Erin had set foot in Hell.
“We don’t have to do this,” Veiron rumbled beside her, his gravelly voice a sign that he was on the verge of losing his cool and turning demonic. “You don’t have to do this.”
She knew that. “I have to speak with him, Veiron.”
Dante wriggled in Veiron’s arms and she stroked his soft pink cheek until he settled again. His first visit to Hell.
His first meeting with his grandfather.
Her stomach somersaulted and she breathed slowly to calm the doubts that began to surface at the back of her mind and the fears lurking in her heart. She wouldn’t let the Devil near her son. He would never be a vessel for her father.
“It doesn’t look good though.” She stared off at the obsidian fortress that rose in jagged spires into the dark cavern of Hell, each taller than the last, until the very tops of them blended into the shadows, too high for her eyes to make out.
Veiron grunted in agreement.
There was a new moat of boiling lava surrounding the curved walls of the courtyard, the churning golden liquid belching fire in places and launching blobs of magma high into the air in others.
Her father was in a bad mood.
A very bad mood.
“Never seen it like this before.” Veiron shifted Dante in his thickly muscled arms, cradling their son closer to his black breastplate.
The boy squirmed again and Erin cooed at him, stroking his cheek and keeping her fingers constantly against his skin so he would know she was here with him too. Nothing was going to happen to him. Veiron had ensured that in his own charming way. He had used his angelic powers to materialise tiny armour for their son, a near replica of his own red-edged black armour. It covered his chest and stomach, and his hips, shielding his most vulnerable parts over his black romper suit.
With her other hand, she caressed Veiron’s arm to soothe herself, reassuring herself that he was here with her and he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. She traced the black and red tribal tattoos that curled around his biceps and over his shoulders, losing herself in following the ink and using it to give herself a moment to push all her fears to the back of her mind.
“Shall we?” Veiron murmured and she nodded, wrapped her fingers around his arm and teleported them into the courtyard of the Devil’s fortress.
He was waiting for them.
Her father sat upon his black throne on the raised curved platform at the base of his castle, his legs crossed at the knee, revealing crimson socks that matched his shirt beneath his crisp black tailored suit. He leaned his left elbow on the arm of the throne, his cheek propped up on his knuckles and a faraway look in his red eyes.
Something had pissed him off.
Something had pissed her off too.
“Did you take Nevar?” she snapped and stormed towards him, shadows beginning to stream from her back, fluttering around the straps of her short black dress.
His crimson gaze slid to her, narrowed briefly, and then he sat up, bringing his leg down beside the other one and placing both hands on the arms of his throne.
“No.”
“Someone has.” She didn’t slow her approach. Veiron kept pace behind her, staying in line with her, so her body blocked her father’s view of him. He was protecting Dante, keeping him hidden from the Devil.
She sensed the others appear, Asmodeus coming out of the portal first with Lysia beside him, followed by Apollyon, Amelia and Marcus. It seemed Apollyon had managed to convince the others to remain on the island and wait for their return, but it had been a risk to bring the Great Destroyer to this place.
The Devil’s gaze began to shift towards Lysia and froze on Veiron. His eyes widened. His face paled. His lips parted to reveal a hint of fangs.
He was on his feet in an instant and moving to the steps down to the courtyard where Erin stood with Veiron now beside her.
His gaze didn’t leave her husband, or more precisely, the precious cargo he carried.
A maelstrom of emotions flickered through her father’s eyes, tangled together and impossible for her to decipher. He was shocked though, taken aback by the sight of Dante. Not the reaction she had expected from him. She had thought he would take the sight of Dante in his stride and merely demand she hand the boy over to him now.
His mouth moved but no words came out as he stared at her son, unblinking.
She had never seen him so awash with feelings, things he would call a weakness if it was another exhibiting them, and she knew it wasn’t because he wanted the baby as his vessel.
Dante’s presence was affecting him.
He was as weak as the rest of them, caught off guard by the sight of a baby, left open to his emotions. They were wreaking havoc on him. His fingers flexed at his sides, his black claws shortening into nails, and he took the first step to the courtyard and then the second. His gaze remained locked on Dante, abject fascination in it as his irises melted back to golden, their normal colour.
He took the final step down and she couldn’t believe her eyes.
Her father had lowered himself to stand at the same level as those he viewed as beneath him.
/> He ran a hand over his black hair, sweeping it back from his face, and she swore it had been trembling.
“May I hold him?” the Devil said without the usual commanding and confident edge to his voice.
Veiron growled and twisted with Dante, shifting him away from his grandfather. “Bugger off. Hell will freeze before that happens.”
The Devil snarled, flashing white daggers as his eyes briefly blazed red and his nails became long claws. He recovered a split-second later, smoothing his hair again as he fought for composure. She had only ever seen him react in such a manner when someone had mentioned the G-word. He hated it whenever she said God. Sometimes she did it just to make him lose his shit whenever he was bugging her via their telepathic link.
“He is my grandchild.” There was the smooth tone she had come to associate with her father and the charming edge to his expression and air. Charisma and silky persuasiveness that she felt sure he had been born with rather than honed through practice.
Unfortunately, she knew it wouldn’t work on Veiron.
“He’s my kid,” Veiron shot back and tucked the bundle closer to him.
Dante wriggled and kicked, evidently not impressed by his father squashing him against a hard metal breastplate.
Erin waited, sensing that her father was edging towards losing his shit again.
He surprised her by sidestepping closer to Veiron and cooing at the baby from a distance, making all manner of soft noises and murmuring what she supposed he thought were sweet things to him. Erin had been on the receiving end of her father’s clumsy attempts to pet and soothe before. It didn’t come as a shock that he hadn’t improved much in that department and thought that speaking in a soft voice about making his father pay for his insolence was the right thing to do.
“I could calm him.” The Devil held his hands out, his claws shrinking back into nails, and smiled winsomely.
“Fuck off.” Veiron stepped back and her father snarled at him and raised his hand.
Erin stepped between them. “You be nice. No trying to squash my husband like a bug. Anyway, Dante protects him. He can withstand your power just like I can.”
She could almost feel Veiron poking his tongue out at her father from behind her.
The Devil’s eyes burned crimson and he bared his fangs, and for a moment Erin felt sure he was going to attempt to crush her husband anyway, just for kicks.
He huffed, folded his arms across his chest, and stomped back up the steps.
Throwing a hissy fit now?
What was with her father today?
He slumped onto his black throne and glared at Veiron. She could almost hear him slowly dissecting Veiron piece by piece in his head.
“If you didn’t take Nevar, who did?” she said and he turned his cheek to her.
Erin closed her eyes, inhaled slowly, and prayed for a modicum of patience. Just a sliver would do. She sighed and did the only thing she could to make her father help them, hoping she wouldn’t regret it.
She bargained.
“You can get a closer look at your grandson, but not touch him, if you help us.”
The Devil deigned her with his attention again and leaned back in his throne, crossed his legs at the knee and settled his hands in his lap.
“What do you desire to know, Daughter?”
It was a start. She just hoped he played nice and didn’t send them around in circles or speak in riddles. He had a tendency to make things drawn out and difficult for others in order to amuse himself.
“No,” Veiron snapped from behind her and she shot him a glare over her shoulder.
“We’re in a pinch and we need help. Nevar needs us, remember? I’ll let him look at Dante a little closer if it means we get Nevar back in one piece.”
Veiron muttered dark things beneath his breath and rocked Dante in his arms, settling the squirming bundle. The poor thing was probably too hot in all his layers of romper suit and armour. She would let him laze around butt booty naked later when they were back on the island. He loved that. Which made him just like his daddy.
“Now where were we?” She turned back to her father.
He was staring at her son again. “Dante? You named him Dante?”
She shrugged. “It started out as a joke name because he’s probably going to grow up traveling to and from Hell and he lives in paradise… on the island. It sort of stuck. We think it suits him.”
“Dante.” The Devil smiled, as charming and handsome as ever. “I approve of it. It is a strong name. It means enduring… and he will endure. I will be sure of that.”
“He’ll endure without your bloody interference,” Veiron snarled.
The Devil flicked him a bored glare. “Quiet, Maggot. I’m speaking with my daughter.”
“My wife,” Veiron countered.
“I will overlook the fact that you married her without my consent, and you will be quiet for the next few minutes and tend to my grandson’s needs… but in this instance, daughter trumps wife. She is born of my loins—”
“Whoa,” Erin interjected. “I really don’t want to get into that. The thought of coming out of you repulses me. I still like to think of myself as a test-tube baby, okay? Back on topic now… who took Nevar?”
“Some angels I do not want you near.” The Devil sobered, his expression gaining a grim edge that sent a shiver down her spine.
“Who were they? Lysia said they looked like the angels of the apocalypse we met, but when Asmodeus went to Heaven—”
“Heaven?” the Devil barked and turned red eyes on Asmodeus. “Who gave you leave to venture to that realm?”
“We thought Nevar was there.” The dark angel stepped forwards, coming to stand in front of Lysia with Apollyon.
Erin was never getting used to them looking like each other. If it weren’t for the fact that Asmodeus had shorter hair and golden eyes like her father, rather than the long black hair and blue eyes of Apollyon, she would probably have spent her entire life muddling them up and pissing them off.
The Devil huffed. “Of course he is not there, Maggot. The ones who took him were not the angels you met before, but their predecessors. The original versions… those who are now fallen.”
“Hell’s angels?” Erin said. “Command them to hand Nevar back and stop whatever they’re up to then.”
“I cannot.” Her father inspected his black nails. “They are not my angels.”
“What the hell is that meant to mean?” She stepped forwards, regaining his attention, and he sighed theatrically.
“None have dominion over them, just as none have dominion over me.”
“They are true fallen… like you.” Lysia moved out from Asmodeus’s shadow and her black eyebrows met above violet-edged hazel eyes. “You are wasting our time. Tell us what you know of these fallen. I wish to take their heads.”
The Devil’s lips quirked into a smile. “I like you. You have verve. I do not think you capable of taking their heads as you are though. Perhaps you can as you will be.”
Lysia glared at him. “Speak and tell us of these fallen so we might take back Nevar. You desire it too, do you not?”
He pulled a face of mock consideration. “Do not. I do, however, desire to make the acquaintance of my grandson, so I will help my daughter, but not you. If you interrupt again, I will personally hand you over to these princes of Hell.”
“Princes of Hell?” Erin didn’t like the sound of that.
He nodded. “You would think them a victim of Heaven and Hell’s cruel games if I told you of their origins and how they came to be in my realm. Do not make the mistake of feeling sympathy for them, Daughter. This time it might just get you killed.”
She didn’t feel sympathy for anything that came out of this realm, not anymore. Just as her father had wished for her, she had become hardened to everything and everyone except those she held within her inner circle. It took a lot for her to allow people inside now. He had made sure of that.
“Pay attention, Litt
le Lambs, and I will tell you the story of Astaroth, Leviathan, Samael and Ramiel, the original four angels of the apocalypse.” The Devil stood and cast one hand out behind him and a flickering image appeared, a rectangle of light that spanned the width of the courtyard and rose high into the sky.
Upon the light rectangle, images began to morph into focus. The four angels she had met on the island, but they were different. They had no ink and their hair was different styles, and these ones smiled.
The movie of them flickered and leaped at times, jolting forwards to illustrate her father’s words, a replay of everything he told them had happened.
“In a time of darkness, when mankind seemed bent on violence and destruction, Heaven created these four to rule the apocalypse and carry out the end of days and cast judgement upon the mortal realm should it ever lose its way. That pathetic realm refused to listen to my advice—that angels were driven to fulfil their purpose, even to the point of making it happen.”
The scene shifted, revealing the four angels raining hell down on the mortal realm. It lay in ruins, an ancient city levelled and burning because of their might.
“Not long after their creation, these four angels grew restless. They stirred trouble in the mortal realm, driving men to war, unleashing divine judgement upon them, and spreading famine and plagues that ravaged the land.” The Devil smirked as the image behind him zoomed out to show the vast devastation caused by the angels in question. “Or, as they put it when Heaven finally reined them in and subdued them, they had done what they had been created to do.”
Erin could easily believe that. The four had been given the task of bringing about the apocalypse and they had.
“What happened to them?” she said.
“They were returned to Heaven, but were the source of so much discord in the mortal realm that they proved a constant pain to that realm. When they again created a war that destroyed many lives, both beast and man, they were judged for their sins and cast out of Heaven and into Hell.” The Devil grinned and the scene that flickered across the screen was so grotesque and horrific that she had to look away. “I stripped them of much of their powers, but it was not enough. They couldn’t have their true divine power and purpose taken from them. Heaven counteracted it by creating the angels you met on the island—Mihail, Gabriel, Rafael and Aryel.”
Her Avenging Angel (Her Angel Romance Series Book 7) Page 24
