Reaper

by Larissa_Ion

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Michael said. “He must be destroyed.”

  “Fuck you,” Hawkyn growled, and Michael had the good grace to look uncomfortable. “Maybe you unfeeling assholes would be cool with your mate’s wings being delivered to you, but Azagoth was not. He wasn’t okay with his kids being murdered, either. Crazy, I know.”

  The entire group erupted in curses and arguments, some advocating for a less permanent approach to Azagoth, while others were firmly in the kill-first-ask-questions-never camp. The most vehement of the latter group stepped forward as Uriel’s puddle began to ooze into the shape of the angel.

  Reaver was morbidly fascinated by that. Revenant had some interesting and creative abilities.

  “Azagoth should have been destroyed long before this,” Camael said. “He’s been unstable for eons.”

  Gabriel came forward in golden armor that had been the envy of every angel since the first time he’d worn it in battle, and the light reflecting off it had turned demons to ash in a ten-foot radius. He’d never told anyone where he’d gotten it, but Reaver suspected it had been made by elves, which most angels didn’t even know existed.

  “Camael, the only reason you want Azagoth dead is because your mate fucked him, and your sad little ego can’t handle it.” While Camael sputtered in outrage, Gabriel addressed the entire group, his wings lifting him off the ground so he could see everyone. “Yeah, I see the truth. How many of you can’t deal with the fact that your mates or your daughters made Memitim with Azagoth? Sorel? Jeriah? Metatron?”

  Reaver’s head cranked around so hard he saw double. “Uncle?” He stared in disbelief. “Aunt Caila?”

  Metatron closed his eyes and let out a long breath. When he opened them again, his gaze was steady and unapologetic. “Caila gave birth to a Memitim before we were mated. Neither of us has regrets.” He turned to Gabriel. “I do not vote to destroy Azagoth.”

  “Look,” Revenant said, stepping forward. “I’m going to make this easy for all of you. I’ll deliver you to Sheoul-gra, and we can take him down. But I won’t let you kill him.”

  “But—”

  “No.”

  “You can’t—”

  “I said, no. And the next asshole who argues gets the puddle treatment.”

  Phaleg stormed toward them. “How dare you threaten us? How dare—?”

  Phaleg’s puddle was a little smaller than Uriel’s, but it was no less disturbing. Uriel shuddered and kept his mouth shut.

  “You people are so damned stupid,” Revenant said. “That’s why angels always take it up the ass against fallen angels. Ever watch Spaceballs? Explains it perfectly. Evil will always triumph because Good is dumb.” Revenant grinned and waggled his brow. “Fortunately for you, I’m evil. Let’s go.”

  Chapter 42

  There were few things Azagoth hated more than being betrayed. That he hadn’t seen through Maddox’s deception would haunt him for the rest of his life. It would sit there on the shelf next to Lilliana’s memory and his grief. It would eat away at him.

  And it would eventually burn everything that was left of his decency to cinders.

  Eventually was for suckers.

  He was going to burn it all down now.

  He stepped closer to Maddox, amused when Mad stepped back and slipped on a skull. All around them, the battle still raged, but Azagoth muted the sound. All those screams of pain were annoying. He only wanted to hear those kinds of screams from one person.

  “Lilliana is dead because of you,” he growled, his voice dripping with barely contained rage. “Your own brothers and sisters are dead because of you. My entire realm is destroyed because of you. And once you’re dead, that’ll be because of you, too.”

  “C’mon, Pops.” Maddox’s hood fell back, revealing a face in the final stages of healing, although there was still exposed muscle around his temples and jaw. “Don’t you even want to know why? Or how?”

  “Don’t care.” He exploded a couple of dozen demons that had been creeping up on them. “Bend over, kid. It’s time for the belt.”

  Releasing a shout of pure hatred, he blasted Maddox with the angelic equivalent of hollow-point bullets. Maddox screamed, his body jerking wildly, blood splashing to the already blood-soaked ground with every invisible hit.

  Azagoth hit faster. Harder. Bigger. The bullets were fifty-cals now, and Maddox was blowing apart.

  Die, fucker.

  He swung his scythe, but instead of knocking Maddox’s head from his shoulders, the blade caught empty air.

  Azagoth growled and spun around.

  “Where are you?” he called out. “Don’t make me send you to bed without supper.”

  “Oh, now you play the dad card?” Maddox’s ragged voice, steeped in pain, came from everywhere and nowhere. “Fucking deadbeat.” There was a slight pause and a low chuckle. “But, hey, thanks for whacking Moloch. That fucker skinned me alive. Said it was necessary. Probably was, but he enjoyed it way too much.”

  How was Maddox doing the invisible thing? How was he doing anything down here? As a Memitim who hadn’t ascended to earn his wings yet, he shouldn’t have this much power. Despite what he’d told Maddox about not caring about the answers to his questions, he really was curious.

  “Show yourself, Maddox.”

  A low, blood-soaked chuckle echoed through the air. “It’s Drakiin now.”

  “Dumbass.” Azagoth snorted. “Do you know what it means?”

  “Do you know what it means?” Drakiin mimicked. “Fucking duh. It describes who I was before I learned the truth.”

  “And what is that truth, larvae?” Azagoth exploded a couple of demons who were coming too close for comfort.

  There was a long, drawn-out, dramatic pause. “That you’re not actually my father.”

  Well, that would explain a lot. “Yeah? Great. Makes it easier to absolve myself of any blame for what a piece of shit you turned out to be.”

  Azagoth stood still and let his gaze go unfocused. Sometimes invisible objects became visible when you weren’t looking specifically for them.

  “You’re still my—you’re my father,” Drakiin blurted, his voice shrill. “But you’re not my blood.”

  Azagoth nearly laughed as he turned slowly, his gaze still unfocused. Drakiin had sounded so disappointed in Azagoth’s reaction.

  “When I was a baby, the Dark Lord had my blood swapped out for his. He planned for the day he would need to be freed from prison, and he knew you’d be the person to do it. Moloc and Bael were in on it since the beginning.” Drakiin’s laughter surrounded Azagoth, and he clenched his teeth in irritation. “It was fun watching you freak out about them, when all the while, I was the one pulling the strings.”

  Azagoth blinked, ruining his focus. “You?” He’d assumed Maddox had been a lackey, not a boss.

  “Not at first. I didn’t even know I was a sleeper agent until Aunt Flail showed up to recruit me for Bael and Moloc’s cause. She woke up my royal blood and didn’t even know it.” He laughed again, sounding stronger. Recovered from the barrage of angelic rounds. “Bael and Moloc, the idiots, thought they were in charge. Moloch thought he was going to rule Sheoul until Satan was released. He had no idea I was giving him his power. That I was getting orders directly from the Dark Lord, which included slaughtering my brothers and sisters just to piss you off.”

  Well, fuck. Satan had been in contact with someone. Maddox. And it had been possible thanks to Maddox’s proximity to Satan’s prison, as well as the crack that had allowed some of his power to leak out.

  “But you know what was the most fun? Watching Lilliana eat the treats I poisoned. I’m just sorry the whelp didn’t die.”

  Concentrating on keeping his temper under control, Azagoth went unfocused again, so ready to end this.

  “What’s the plan now?” Azagoth asked, figuring if he kept Drakiin talking, he wouldn’t be attacking. Maddox had never been good at multitasking.

  “Do you think the Dark Lord doesn’t
have countless contingency plans in place?” Drakiin asked, and there…Azagoth spotted a blur in the air. “I’m going to make a few of them go active. After I kill you.”

  Azagoth blasted the blur with a gazillion volts of everything he had. Drakiin shrieked, becoming visible, his body sparking and sizzling. This was it. This would end the bastard—

  Suddenly, the ground beneath them erupted, and Azagoth was thrown into the air, pelted with boulders and corpses. He spread his wings and stabilized, but something struck one, and he spun wildly out of control, crash-landing against the side of a mountain.

  He lurched to his feet and shook it off as his body healed. Where was Drakiin?

  The ground below still shook, and he watched as a massive, scaly paw reached out of the crater left by the eruption. Then another paw, tipped with massive claws like the first. The extremities were followed by a snout the size of a school bus.

  The skeletal thing climbed out of the pit, a pitch-black dragon-like beast with giant wings of leathery membrane and sharp bone. Its eyes burned as orange as the deepest firepits as it dipped its head and allowed Drakiin to climb onto its back.

  Son of a bitch. He was not getting away.

  Azagoth sent a hellspawned vortex at them, a whirlwind of fire and summoned demons that clawed and bit at Drakiin and the beast. The creature screeched and set its sights on Azagoth. It came at him in a streak of smoke, its gaping maw spewing lava.

  Azagoth dove off a rock ledge, barely avoiding a splash of molten pain. Spiraling around behind the creature, he hit it from the front with another pass of the hellspawned vortex. The beast reared up, knocking its rider from its back.

  Drakiin tumbled, and Azagoth took a steep dive, but just as he was about to snatch Drakiin out of the air, the beast caught him with his claws and whipped him right out of Azagoth’s hands.

  No. This ended now. It all ended now.

  Azagoth had lost most of what mattered to him, and what remained, his children, were safe with Ares.

  He had nothing left to lose, and if he destroyed himself in the quest to end Drakiin and the remnants of Moloch’s army, so be it.

  Rage mounted as he chased the bone dragon across hundreds of miles of lava beds and over mountain ranges as expansive as the Rockies. They weaved through valleys and canyons, and when the dragon skimmed a lake of offal, it threw up a wave that nearly knocked Azagoth out of the air.

  All the while, Azagoth sent volleys of attacks, constantly knocking the beast off course, and nearly unseating Drakiin a dozen times. One particularly well-placed strike took off part of the dragon’s back foot. The thing let out a bellow and banked hard to the left—directly into the path of a plume of volcanic ash.

  This was Azagoth’s chance. He pressed the creature forward, the onslaught of his powers driving the thing toward the mouth of the volcano. Drakiin fired off a dozen different weapons that shocked Azagoth with the strength of their potency, but no matter how many times they struck him, no matter how much he bled or was burned, he kept going.

  His rage and need for revenge was everything to him.

  Everything.

  The dragon shrieked as the acid steam surrounded it, the ash clogging its throat and dissolving its eyes. It was headed for the crater, and Drakiin tried to steer it away, his desperation intensifying with every flap of the beast’s wings.

  And that, apparently, was Drakiin’s weakness.

  No wings.

  Smiling darkly, Azagoth rammed a spear of lightning right up the dragon’s ass. The thing screamed. Drakiin screamed. The beast’s wings locked and, suddenly, it was rolling in a death spin. Drakiin held on, but Azagoth nailed him with another spear, and then Drakiin was tumbling, along with the dragon, into the mouth of the volcano as it spewed lava into the sky.

  Azagoth sailed across the crater, dodging plumes of steam and bullets of magma, searching for signs of the dragon or Drakiin. The heat scorched him, and the gasses burned his eyes, but still, he looked. Finally, he accepted that proof of death wasn’t likely. They’d probably burned instantly in the magma chamber.

  They were gone, but Azagoth wasn’t done. He wouldn’t be finished until there was nothing left of the enemy army.

  Nothing left of him.

  Crimson rage took over. He blasted everything in sight.

  He was destruction personified as he strafed the armies—Moloch’s, his, it didn’t matter. Everything needed to die.

  “AZAGOTH!”

  Dozens of voices rang out as one.

  As Azagoth banked around, an invisible force pressed down on him like the sole of a boot on an insect. He was thrust, fighting the entire way, to the ground, landing on a hill just south of Moloch’s castle. As his boots hit the dirt, he found himself surrounded by angels. Dozens of them. Hundreds.

  Oh, and Hawkyn. Perfect.

  Fucking angels. How were they here? How could they be here?

  Revenant.

  That guy continuously lived up to his name. And he was the only being besides Satan who could open a forbidden-to-angels region in Sheoul.

  How desperate Heaven must be to trust that Revenant wouldn’t suddenly change his mind and trap them all.

  The current King of Hell strode toward him, cloaked in darkness. “Chill out, soul boy,” Revenant rumbled.

  “Where the fuck have you been?”

  “Long story, tell you later.” Revenant halted a few feet away, and Reaver flashed in next to him. “Stand down.

  “You’re going to have to destroy me,” he said, and naturally, a bunch of haloed assholes agreed. A couple even cheered. He flipped them off, a real shocker to some of the sheltered holies who’d probably never had anything but a cushy desk job.

  “We’re not destroying you, jackass,” Revenant said. “But we are taking you into custody.” He gestured to Reaver. “Well, he is. And the bunch of dicks we brought with us. But you get the gist.”

  Yeah, he got the gist. And they were about to get the same treatment he’d given Drakiin and his bad luck dragon.

  “Father!” Hawkyn yelled. “Don’t do it!”

  Too late. Azagoth was going out in a hail of hellfire and blood. Before the delegation of angels could so much as blink, he knocked Hawkyn out of the way and brought down a storm of condensed evil on the rest of them. Acid, fire, electricity, and a fuckton of summoned demons crashed into the group, sending them scattering like bowling pins.

  And then he saw the most beautiful sight.

  Hades and his thousand fallen angels. Fuck, yeah.

  The angels, still recovering from Azagoth’s attack, didn’t see the fallen angels coming. The two groups came together like a thunderclap, and the earth rumbled all the way to the distant mountains.

  Something hit Azagoth, something that knocked him to his knees and made him scream as his skin burned, and his bones were ground into powder. He heard Revenant’s low growl next to his ear, even though the guy was thirty yards away.

  “My brother warned you. Now, we do this the hard way. Which is my favorite, if you really want to know.”

  Azagoth froze, surrounded by golden light produced by a million strands of Heavenly twine, the stuff of legend. Stuff that required the abilities of hundreds of angels and that hadn’t been used on anyone since Satan.

  Stuff that hurt so bad that all Azagoth could do was moan…and eventually, pass out. His very last thought was that he hoped he wouldn’t wake up.

  There was nothing to wake up to.

  Chapter 43

  Lilliana had no problem getting out of the castle. In Flail’s armor and with her face hidden by the cloak’s hood, she’d been able to jog through the place with a purpose that kept anyone from stopping her. Not that they’d even given her a second glance, not with the apocalyptic battle taking place outside.

  The sounds of war had penetrated the thick castle walls that crumbled with every explosion, every earthquake. Screams, booming vibrations that made Mal whimper, and the clank of metal on metal had come from all directions.
Once, Lilliana had even stopped to listen to a voice she could have sworn was Azagoth’s.

  How she’d wished.

  Maleficent had phased during the journey, leaving her visible only as a flicker of shadow. They’d managed to clear both the stronghold and the moat before the battle forced her into a narrow space between two crumbling outbuildings. Lilliana had lifted a sword from the barrel chest of an ogre, and she’d been forced to use it several times. As injured as she was, as powerless as she was without her angel abilities, Flail’s superstrong armor had kept her from taking more damage, and she’d managed to take down three demons.

  She’d lost count of the demons Mal had killed, which meant that they were no longer considered a part of Satan’s army.

  Revenant was back.

  She’d wanted to do a freaking dance when she realized that. And then it had occurred to her that demons were still demons, no matter who they fought for, and the danger hadn’t gone anywhere.

  “Okay, Mal, we need to get to a Harrowgate. Can you sense one?” Preferably one that was really close.

  Mal cocked her head, and Lilliana repeated her question, but she had no idea if the hound understood. Maleficent let out a little whine and slunk out from between the buildings. Lilliana followed, dodging demons and axes meant for her head.

  They threaded through the battle for what seemed like hours, climbing over bodies and slogging through the carnage that was sometimes a foot deep. The worst of it was a field of minced gore that extended as far as she could see. She didn’t even want to know what had caused that.

  The fighting got thicker ahead, and…shit, she hoped that Mal was taking her to a Harrowgate. For all she knew, Maleficent was leading her to the local pub.

  “Mal!” she said in a harsh whisper. “I think—”

  She broke off as a tingle of awareness spread over her skin. She turned, gasping at the sight of an armored rider on a massive warhorse. The rider cleaved heads from necks as the stallion bowled demons over with his powerful chest and thick legs.

  And it was coming directly at her.

  Thanatos.