Hell Hath No Fury (Razing Hell Book 3)

by Cate Corvin

  “Lord Watcher,” one of them said, bowing his head as I became physical again. I greeted them quietly, but my mind was on one person.

  I reached through the mate mark and felt for her. She was an anchor in my soul. No matter how deep I delved into the ancient magic, it was an anchor I would always be able to hold onto and remember what I was. Who I was.

  I exhaled when I saw a dark speck in the sky, the mark pulling my attention towards it. When she was around, I was happy to remain in this physical body that usually annoyed me with its needs and solid weight. She made me feel things I thought I’d grown immune to; what was lust compared to the bone-shaking thrill of diving into forbidden arts?

  Or so I’d thought, until the little angel I’d set out to teach and use for my own ends had caught me in an invisible snare I was all too happy to be caught in.

  A presence appeared at my shoulder, watching me watch Melisande fly towards Blackchapel. I knew who it was without looking: Druzila. One of my more troublesome students, but she was an efficient Reaper.

  “The Reapers await your word, Lord Watcher,” she said, a note of tentative hope in her voice.

  I flicked my fingers to dismiss her, crushing her hope underfoot without a backwards glance.

  The speck grew larger as Melisande hurtled downwards, her wings spread wide. I felt Druzila sneer before she turned away, but the Reaper took the hint and left.

  Melisande stopped just short of barrelling right into me. She threw her arms around my neck as Lucifer came in on her heels, holding Vyra around the waist, and Tascius followed, more sedate, his expression still made of stone. Cool light spilled from his wings.

  I wouldn’t tell her now. Not until I was sure and had seen the cosmic rebalancing of the scales for myself.

  “Let’s get on with it,” Lucifer said, releasing Vyra onto solid ground and striding past us into Blackchapel.

  Vyra paused before following, glancing at me as I touched Melisande’s face and hair, perfectly happy to remain solid for the time being. “I love you,” I said truthfully.

  Melisande squeezed me tighter. “I love you, even if you’re going to make me spend a whole afternoon with these people. You can kick them out again, right?”

  “Take it to the bedroom, kids,” Vyra said with a smirk, and Melisande rolled her eyes.

  “Kind of hard to get in the mood with so many Watchers around to watch,” my angel shot back. “I have no idea how you lasted this long here.”

  “It’s called exhibitionism.” Vyra tossed her hair haughtily, then broke it by laughing. “I have no idea either, honestly.”

  I led Melisande in, feeling weightless despite my solid form. Both of the people I loved had each other to lean on for strength.

  They were going to need it.

  18

  Melisande

  I quickly decided I’d rather face a rabid manticore again than spend more than five minutes in the full company of the Watchers.

  Tascius had finally relented on leaving the containment of the arena, and stood at Lucifer’s side, scowling down at one of the Reapers. Azazel was deep in conversation with the Fates.

  And Vyra and I hung back against the wall, watching the robed figures swirl past, several hundred voices combining into an indiscernible buzz unless they were right next to us.

  “This is a mess,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest. I’d rummaged some clean clothes from my old room, and had put on the leather outfit Azazel had given me, proof against any poison and probably the shining silver scythes of the Reapers, too. “How has he managed them all for this long?”

  “He has the patience of a saint.” Vyra, try as she might, couldn’t possibly blend with the shadows with that moon-pale skin and hair of hers.

  I stretched, gazing across the crowd. Druzila and Typhon were both in Lucifer’s face, but they were making an effort not to get too close to Tascius. The look on my Nephilim’s face made it pretty damn clear he wasn’t in a negotiating sort of mood.

  And here I was, clinging to the wall like a shrinking violet. Once we got the Grigori to agree on a plan, we’d need to rally the Princes next, but it looked like the Watchers were impossible to herd together for this.

  “You should escape to your room for a bit,” I said to Vyra. “Get some alone time. I’m going to see if Azazel wants back-up for the Fates.”

  The Reapers were the real issue, but the venom-loaded look Druzila had shot me when I walked in had spoken for itself.

  Vyra nodded, and I slipped through the crowd, dodging scythes until I made my way to Azazel’s side.

  Miriam was perched on a table, her feet up on the bench, but this time she’d put away her cat’s cradle of glowing strings. The Fate gave me a warm smile when I approached, and I returned it without betraying any of my nerves.

  “Your strings are bright,” was what she greeted me with.

  “Thank you?” I was totally nonplussed. Was that good?

  Another Fate, a young man with long gold hair tied in a braid, spun a string around his finger. “Good luck getting the Reapers and Handlers to agree to this. We’ve already divided our positions among ourselves.”

  “So you’re in?” I uncrossed my arms, feeling welcomed among this particular faction of the Grigori. “I was wondering… do you think you could use those to influence the Princes into meeting with us?”

  Miriam looked down at the ball of string in her hands. “Like Satan, the Princes are nearly elemental forces unto themselves. We can tug at them, perhaps… but it would take all of us together to weave a fate that coincides with their agreement, and it would be wiser to preserve that effort for larger game.”

  That was a clear no. We’d just have to hope the Princes were willing to risk being caught in the act of planning regicide… but if the reactions of the ones who’d had their women sacrificed were anything to go by, we’d have at least three at our side.

  “We’re in for sure,” the young man said. He glanced at the Reapers nearest us. “But Typhon needs convincing.”

  I bit back a sigh. Typhon and Druzila were the last people I wanted to talk to while I was here, but if the Reapers fell in line, the Handlers would follow.

  “We’ll send some missives early, then,” Azazel said. He’d reached out, seemingly without thinking, and was tracing circles in the small of my back. “I’ve been scouting the city for an ideal meeting place, and there’s only one with the amount of protection we need. Mister Celamentum has agreed to loan us the use of his Consortium’s neutral ground for six hours, at a time of our choosing. Miriam, I’d like you to deliver the invitations to Balaam and Belphegor. Hastiel, you have Asmodeus.”

  Golden-haired Hastiel stood up, tossing his long braid over his shoulder, and Azazel held up a hand in the air.

  Smoke swirled around his fingertips, condensing into a shadowy shape in his hands. Stars prickled and brightened until the shape took on the weight of a solid object, and when the smoke dissipated, three rolled-up scrolls sat in the palm of his hand.

  A black wax seal had enclosed each one, imprinted with the symbol of a star and a scythe. He passed two to Miriam and one to Hastiel, and with silent nods, the two Fates took their respective scrolls and strode to the door, their wings spreading in anticipation of the drop.

  “Three down,” Azazel muttered. “Three to go.”

  “I thought there were four more,” I said, frowning. Lucifer, as the ninth Prince, and Belial as the seventh, were clearly in on it already, but one was missing.

  My Watcher’s violet eyes were frosty. “I’d rather not hand the Prince of Treachery any reasonable evidence that could be used against us.”

  “But his Circle is the closest to Satan,” I said. “We could use his aid.”

  Azazel sighed. “I’ll consider it. Perhaps the Prince of Fraud would be willing to pass the message along.”

  I was about to say something else in favor of asking for Treachery’s help, but a loud, feminine voice rose above the incessant chatter, and
many of the Grigori fell silent, looking around. A pulse of fury went through the mark on my chest.

  Druzila was planted in front of Lucifer with one hand on her hip. The other was jabbing him in the chest.

  “Don’t you understand what she’s done?” she snapped, punctuating her words with more jabs. “She’s killed one of the fucking archangels. Satan is far from the worst thing we need to fear now.”

  Her angry gaze found me clear on the other side of the cathedral. I stared back, keeping my head high, and strode over.

  “You’re all idiots if you truly believe Heaven won’t retaliate for this. And all for protecting- what? A fallen angel? How many of you have there been over the centuries? One more isn’t special, and you’re going to get half of Dis slaughtered over her-”

  She stopped talking abruptly. Tascius squeezed her hand, leveling her pointer finger away from Lucifer’s chest. “I killed Gabriel,” he said. His voice was quiet, but I was close enough to pick out the words in the dead silence.

  Druzila winced, and I knew he was squeezing her hand harder than it looked.

  “His death is mine to claim,” Tascius continued. “If Heaven wants revenge, they can take it up with me and me alone, but you will not slander Melisande.”

  “We’re starting a war because of her,” Druzila hissed back, trying and failing to jerk her hand away.

  “Satan started this war when he claimed people that weren’t his to claim.” Lucifer was cold as ice, light shimmering at the edges of his being. “And I won’t allow my mate to become collateral damage.”

  I pushed past Lucifer, staring what felt like miles up into Druzila’s face. “I can speak for myself.”

  Tascius released her hand, and the Reaper backed up a step, casting him a hateful look. The other Grigori watched silently, their eyes burning into me, waiting to see how this would shake out.

  “I don’t force anyone to fight for me,” I said, stepping between Druzila and Tascius. Her eyes were narrowed to dangerous slits, but I drew myself up to my full height and glared right back at her. “This isn’t just for my sake. It’s for everyone who’s been stolen and suffered a terrible death for no reason. It’s for people like Vyra. She’s one of the few lucky ones- maybe the only lucky one. I’m not asking anyone to fight or die for a meaningless cause. My Chainlings, my fighters… they’re here for the glory of taking down the Beast and preventing more senseless death. For a Dis free from a monster.”

  Her lips drew back over her teeth, and her scythe flew upwards into her hand, pulled by threads of magic. “Spare me the pretty speeches. We’re here because Azazel is soft for you,” she spat. “Our Lord Watcher risks us all for yet another fallen angel, one of a thousand. There is nothing about you that is irreplaceable.”

  I saw a tendril of smoke from the corner of my eye, felt the thrumming rage through the star on the back of my neck.

  “Let me do this,” I whispered to him, and the smoke receded, swirling around my feet. Druzila’s lips tightened at the sight. “What do I have to say to get it through your thick head? It’s not for me. It’s for them.”

  I pointed out the window, at the rest of Dis. At all the Circles and the demons who had no Princes to protect them.

  “It’s for you, too,” I added. “You’re no more immune from Satan’s grasp than the rest of us are. Who do you think he’ll request when he decides he has a taste for a female Watcher?”

  “I’d leave.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, looking down at me like I was shit on her heel.

  “Oh, good for you,” I snapped, sarcasm breaking through my ire. “You’d just fly away. Well, guess what? Not every demon has the choice to just pack up and go. Dis is their home, and the rest of Hell is dangerous. It’s not about what you’d do. You’re a selfish bitch, you know that?”

  Druzila’s eyes glittered dangerously, and her fingers tightened around the handle of the scythe. “Watch who you’re calling a bitch, whore.”

  I laughed. “Why is whore always the fallback insult? I’d rather be a whore than a coward. Fly away, Druzila. Let everyone else handle the bigger problems if you’re too much of a-”

  Her hand snapped out, barely grazing my throat. Lucifer had yanked me back a step before her nails could rip my skin open.

  Azazel materialized behind Druzila in his shadow-form, crackling with energy. His mouth yawned open, revealing the empty abyss that’d sucked a Nephilim’s soul from its body.

  Not on my watch. Druzila might be a complete cock-up of a Watcher, but this fight was between me and her. I shook my head at Azazel, and as Druzila turned to look at the horror over her shoulder, I tensed.

  I took a step forward, driving my full bodyweight forward with a flap of wings, and nailed her on the underside of her chin with a solid uppercut. The satisfaction of my knuckles meeting the fragile line of her jaw filled me in a surge, a crack filling the air.

  She went down like a sack of bricks, crumpling over her scythe.

  I stepped back before she puddled on my feet, my fist still clenched in a hard ball.

  “Anyone else have a dissenting opinion?” I asked, raising my voice and glaring through the cathedral. “Go ahead and bring it up now. I’m sure many of your concerns are valid, but if you pretend for a single second that the women of Dis don’t matter, you get the same treatment as her.”

  Azazel’s shadows faded, revealing his more natural form as two Reapers stepped forward, one to haul Druzila out of the way and the other to pick her scythe up from the floor.

  Where there’d been blatant condescension in the eyes of many of the Watchers before, some now looked like they were at least a little inclined to hear me out.

  A sudden chill ran over me. After fighting as No Saint, I was used to having hundreds of pairs of eyes on me, but this was completely different. They weren’t here to watch me ruin someone’s day, but to hear us out, and our success hinged on having the might of the Grigori behind us.

  “Most of you know Vyra,” I said, glad she wasn’t in the room. She’d be trying her best to melt right through the floor. “So when you think of the people who are taken by the Dragon, think of her. Would any of you hand her over to Satan?”

  A few shook their heads. It was better than no reaction at all.

  “There will never be another Vyra if we pull this off. No more Brides. We need you, and we need the Princes. Now, which of you are willing to carry the missives? Invitations must be delivered directly to the Princes of Sloth, Heresy, and Fraud. This step is absolutely crucial to our success. You must be convincing.”

  For a minute, I thought I’d managed to just drive them all away.

  Then a Handler stepped forward, his reins and whips heavy at his side, and another female Reaper with brilliantly scarlet hair followed him. A second Handler joined them- Marduk, no longer looking quite like he wanted to shove me into the abyss.

  “I’ll deliver to Sloth,” the woman said, and Azazel conjured a scroll.

  Marduk took Fraud, and the other Handler received Heresy’s invitation. They all swooped off the balcony, leaving a fraught silence in their wake.

  “Now figure out where you want to be posted,” I added, no longer scowling. “We’ll expect plans by tomorrow morning, as the Princes will want to know our exact movements if they agree to join us.”

  I turned to go and realized I was wreathed in Azazel’s shadows. No wonder they’d agreed to everything I said, since I looked like something that’d just walked out of a nightmare.

  I forced myself to walk, not run, down the hall to the empty half of Blackchapel, and Azazel rematerialized as soon as we hit the parlor.

  His arms wrapped around me and I felt his lips against my ear.

  “It’s very sexy when you take control,” he whispered, sending a shiver down my spine. “I should have you handle them more often.”

  “No way, that’s all on you.” That was more than enough Grigori for me.

  My body suddenly went light as Azazel threw his magic over m
e, making me incorporeal, and carried me right through a wall.

  19

  Melisande

  He took me hard against a wall, holding my hips as he pushed into me.

  I braced my hands on the cold stone, pushing against Azazel as his own hips pounded, pressed close to reach around and tease my clit.

  Heat pooled low in my stomach, rising through me as he thrust. It was my favorite way to see Azazel, gasping against my neck, losing all of his iron self-control as he gave in to his baser desires.

  His groan made me shiver as he drew out and slowly pushed in, his thickness stretching me apart. I was so wet I felt it on my thighs, my legs shivering with the need to come.

  Azazel felt me tighten. “That’s it,” he whispered, riding me hard again. “Come for me, angel.”

  He swept a circle around my clit until I arched against him, my knees almost giving out when I came. I shuddered against him, moaning when I felt his cock pulse and explode inside me.

  I couldn’t take my hands off the wall or I’d collapse. My heart pounded, my deep breaths feeling like tiny sips of air.

  Azazel wrapped his arms around my waist and leaned into me, still buried deep in my pussy. “I love it when you’re feisty,” he said, his voice still rough.

  “Good thing for me it’s a natural state of being,” I said, finally regaining control over my shaking legs. “We can do this more often. Even if I have to stand on a box every time.”

  “It’s not my fault you’re so short,” he said, muffling a laugh. He slowly pulled out, and I hopped down off the crate that had just happened to be against a wall in his bedroom.

  I glanced pointedly at the crate. “Some might call this box suspiciously convenient,” I told him.

  He cleaned me up with a warm cloth, rearranging my clothes so I wouldn’t walk out looking like I’d just been fucked against a wall by a Watcher.