Hell Hath No Fury (Razing Hell Book 3)

by Cate Corvin

  “Is it suspiciously convenient, or auspiciously present?” Azazel said, giving me a rare smirk. “Depends on how you look at it.”

  I rolled my eyes and combed my fingers through my hair, satisfaction humming through me. “I’m just going to assume that from now on, there will be suspiciously auspicious boxes located anywhere you might feel the need for wall sex.”

  “That would be a good assumption to make.” He straightened his suit jacket. “Am I presentable?”

  “Quite, sir.” Seeing that he always wore my feather on his lapel pin made me unreasonably happy. “But I’m going to interrupt our good time. We have some urgent topics to cover at home with everyone present before the Princes respond.”

  Azazel raised a dark eyebrow and looked me over. Despite our best intentions, it was pretty damn hard to look put-together after being ravished with abandon. “Would you like to leave the sneaky way?”

  “I love sneaky things,” I said brightly, and he wrapped me in his arms. I wasn’t surprised at all anymore by the sensation of melting into shadows and stars. “Don’t forget to call the others. Let’s meet on the Nightside.”

  Azazel nodded his incorporeal head and raised a hand. Three smoky little birds grew out of his fingertips and flapped away, leaving streaks of darkness in the air behind them.

  “You never fail to surprise me,” I said fondly. As the Watcher who’d taught all of humanity magic, I really shouldn’t have been surprised.

  We drifted down towards the Circles, blending with the shades of night as we fell. Two bright beings descended through the mists of the Fields, catching up to us: Lucifer and Tascius. The first cast a lambent glow, and the second wasn’t far off, though his wasn’t as bright.

  I shoved down my misgivings at why Tascius would be glowing brighter as we descended over the Nightside arena. One of Azazel’s smoky little birds had flown off to the Brightside, but I fully expected a lion to come loping down the street at any moment.

  We sank through the ceiling and dropped into the arena below. Vyra had returned home early, and was supervising several Chainlings, scowling with her arms crossed over her chest.

  When she saw us arrive and materialize, her scowl brightened. “Welcome to the Princes’ Party Planning Committee!”

  I looked over a chest filled with gold coins as a Chainling trooped by with a few bottles of wine cradled in his arms. “We’re throwing them a party?”

  “Of course. If you want people to be on your side, the least we can do is keep them drunk, well-fed, and give them shiny things during the negotiations.” She pointed to a wagon outside, with several unfamiliar horses hitched to it. “We’re setting up in the Consortium tonight. Azazel handled all of the niceties with Mister Celamentum, so we have space downstairs near the giant eyeball.”

  “Oh joy, the giant eyeball.” I shuddered at the thought of it. “Are… are you cooking for them?”

  She looked at me like I’d grown three heads. “No. I can barely make toast. He’s also lending one of his chefs from the Consortium restaurant, so the Prince of Gluttony should be happy. The waitlist to get in is booked like, three years out.”

  I nodded, glad that she’d offered to take over this part of the negotiations. My idea of a party planning committee would’ve been to brandish weapons and make threats until everyone came around to my ideas.

  Tascius and Lucifer stode into the arena, glancing at the laden cart as they passed.

  “You needed to see us, little friend?” Tascius asked, reaching out to stroke my arm.

  I nodded, trying to keep my excitement down. There was every chance my idea would be roundly rejected for the thousandth time, but now that I had tangible proof, it might be what I needed to convince them.

  “When Belial gets here-” I started to say, but he made his grand entrance halfway through my sentence. The Chainlings scattered as the enormous lion loped through the doors. If he was any bigger, he’d have had to squeeze himself through. “Okay, everyone’s here. Follow me.”

  I led them to the back of the arena, beneath the balcony with my throne of gilded wings. Glancing up at it wistfully as I passed, I realized I hadn’t once had the chance to spectate my own fighters beneath those wings.

  After Belial had gone through all the trouble to fetch them for me, I should probably look into remounting them over my bed, so I’d wake up and see them every day.

  The thought of how much that would infuriate Gabriel made me smile. I was definitely mounting them over the bed.

  They followed me into one of the back training rooms, where Lady Savage had set up a particular request from me.

  “What is this?” Lucifer asked, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

  I gestured to the little lacquered box sitting on a bed of ice. When I opened the lid, an icy cloud billowed into the warm air. “This is the final part of our plans. The part that makes all the difference in the world.”

  I picked up the object nestled in the ice and held it up, giving them all a good look.

  “It’s a hand,” Lucifer said, but from his sudden grumpy tone, he knew exactly whose hand it was and why I’d gone to the trouble of preserving it.

  “It’s not just any hand.” I waggled it gleefully. “It’s Gabriel’s hand. Take a good hard look and tell me if it’s not exactly like mine.”

  “Yours is prettier,” Tascius said stoutly.

  “True,” I conceded, looking at Gabriel’s stiff fingers. “But the scars. These are from the Sword of Light, from holding it over and over and over… and yet he didn’t die.”

  I gazed at the hand. In death, his golden skin had gone bluish-gray. The layers of scars were so thick it was almost impossible to pick out each individual diamond pattern on his flesh.

  This was what it looked like to grip a flaming sword for millennia. But I was convinced that with pure intentions and iron willpower, it was possible to wield the Sword with no other side effects than a few more scars to show for it.

  They all gazed at me as I examined the archangel’s severed hand.

  “I’m trying to convince you all to let me be the failsafe in this situation.” I dropped the hand back in the box of ice, my point made. Maybe I’d feed it to a hellhound later. “Let’s say we get every Prince onboard with this plan, and we have the Grigori. No one has ever declared war against Satan, except Heaven, so we’re in for one Hell of a fight. But there is one thing that we absolutely know can kill him. Not only kill him, but it’s the weapon that was meant to kill him.”

  “This again,” Azazel muttered.

  “Yes, this again.” I stared at all of them levelly. “I’m not going to let it go. I’m making an effort to make our decisions as a group, but this is one area in which I might feel free to make my own decisions regardless. I’d rather do it with your agreement, but if it comes down to us winning or seeing all of you die… I know what I’d risk.”

  “You already have my vote of confidence,” Belial said. His lips quirked up in a smile when Lucifer shifted in place and scowled. “My Lady Wrath was born for the sword. Clearly the Sword of Light has already chosen you if it left you alive.”

  “Thank you, Belial.” I turned to the others, glad to have one of them at my back. “I wouldn’t suggest this if I didn’t have faith it would work. I feel… drawn to the Sword. It wants me to come take it.”

  Tascius looked down, then up at me, his face settled now that he’d made a decision. “I believe it,” he said, exhaling in a rush. “When you told me you’d held it, I didn’t believe you at first. Nobody has ever done it before aside from Gabriel. But given what we know about him… maybe the Sword itself was choosing a new owner. So… I agree with this plan.”

  Two down, two to go.

  Lucifer was still scowling, but Azazel was gazing contemplatively at Gabriel’s hand.

  “There is a precedent,” he said slowly. “For enchanted weapons to choose a new wielder when they feel their current one is no longer serving their true purpose. I struggle with the idea s
ince it’s you we’re talking about, but Tascius has a point. You’ve survived it once. Perhaps the Sword was trying to leave Gabriel, and it has marked you as its next owner.”

  “So you’re in?” I asked, unable to contain my hope. If the Princes knew they had a failsafe with Gabriel’s Sword, there’s no way they would be able to walk away without serious consideration.

  He thought for a long moment, and finally nodded. “I agree to this as well.”

  Lucifer was shaking his head. “It’s so risky, Melisande. You hadn’t fallen before. The Sword’s allegiances might have changed since then.”

  “Maybe so.” I shut the lid on the box, no longer wanting to see any part of Gabriel. He’d served his purpose now. “But I’m still fundamentally the same person I was before. In fact, I think I was worse in Heaven- I blindly followed orders, no matter who was hurt in the end. I don’t think the Sword necessarily has the same moral allegiances we do, as long as it’s used with purity of purpose.”

  He rubbed his jaw, eyes narrowed. “There’s a lot of ‘I think’ and ‘maybes’ in there. This is all supposition.”

  “So is killing Satan,” I said, trying not to plead. “All of this is supposition. Every part of it. The Princes have never been united against a common cause outside of Satan’s will. The Grigori have never joined forces with them. Dis has never been subject to a coup. Every part of this plan is built on shaky ground, but if there is one thing I’m absolutely sure of, it’s that I was meant to take the Sword.”

  He stared at me, but I stared right back, refusing to look away first.

  “Fine,” he said, almost startling me. I’d expected more arguments. “On one condition. You don’t go after it until the very last minute, understand? Not until all hope is nearly lost.”

  I considered that. It was about the best I was going to get out of him. “I agree to that. So we’re settled?”

  They all nodded, one by one.

  “When we meet with the Princes, that’s our last resort, then. If nothing else will get them to agree, knowing we have the Sword on our side might change the tide.”

  Later that night, I found myself on the rooftop with Azazel. Vyra had delivered the shipment to the Consortium, and was preparing for the gathering that might not happen. Belial had left on a mission of his own, refusing to give any details. I frowned at the dark city, wondering where he was.

  Dawn was just breaking when several silent Grigori dropped from the darkness, their bat wings folding behind their backs. They each handed Azazel a scroll, the wax seals emblazoned in a number of colors and patterns.

  He read through each one, his face tense, and finally relaxed. “They’ve agreed. They’re coming.”

  I exhaled a deep breath, looking out over Dis.

  Tomorrow night, one way or another, we’d find out if we’d be able to pull off the impossible.

  20

  Melisande

  I perched on the edge of my seat, nervously chewing my lower lip. “Are we sure this will work?”

  “Not at all, but it’s the best we’ve got.” Lucifer filled a glass with red wine and started to hand it to me, and Tascius cleared his throat meaningfully.

  “Right,” the Prince of Hell muttered, looking askance at the wine and then my stomach. He handed me water instead, which I took with much less enthusiasm.

  I really could’ve used a stiff drink right at that moment.

  Vyra had made every effort to make the neutral ground of the Consortium a welcoming place for each Prince: she’d arranged a circle of sofas down in the depths of the tower, so we would be able to talk face to face. They were spaced widely enough that none of us would be brushing shoulders.

  Tables were filled with refreshments from each Circle. There was the spicy red wine from Lust, a glittering gold liquor from Greed, and something that looked quite a bit like blood from Heresy. Trays of roasted meat, cheese, and grapes had been piled high for Gluttony.

  I looked glumly at my glass of water. If I was going to be surrounded by Princes, all of whom were likely to be tense and argumentative, a buzz would’ve been appreciated. Instead I settled for patting my stomach, reassuring the child of Wrath that I could stand to miss out on it.

  Everything was ready. Mister Celamentum and Mistress Silenda had provided the refreshments and bowed out. We had everything we needed to come to a comfortable agreement and unite the Circles.

  Or so I’d hoped.

  But the clock showed it was twenty past our agreed-upon time, Belial was still missing, and none of the other Princes had arrived for our meeting.

  “What if they don’t come?” Vyra whispered. She lurked behind the couches by the wall, her arms wrapped around herself.

  I glanced at the empty doorway. “They’ll come. It’s like herding cats, remember?”

  Azazel collapsed on the couch next to me and slung his arm behind my shoulders. “If Belphegor doesn’t show up, feel free to eat his share of the spread, Vyra.”

  The succubus rolled her eyes at the back of her brother’s head. “I had it all made just for him,” she sniped. “What was the point of all this effort, let alone returning their Brides, if they were just going to blow us off?”

  He cast her a coolly amused glance. “When’s the last time you saw all the Princes together in one place?”

  Vyra opened her mouth to answer, but the curtains blocking the door parted with a tinkle of bells, and a massive form stumbled into the room.

  He was clearly a Prince, but unlike any I’d seen before. His blond hair was rumpled with bedhead and the skin under his eyes was violet with exhaustion.

  The Prince yawned widely, eyed the sofas, and strode over. He collapsed right next to me and leaned his head back with a groan as his lashes fluttered shut.

  And promptly began snoring.

  I stared at his sleeping form with amazement. “What the hell just happened?”

  Lucifer blew out a sigh of exasperation. “Meet Abaddon, the Prince of Sloth.”

  Abaddon drew in a honking breath and let out another snore. He was completely limp and in danger of sliding right off the sofa.

  I poked him in the ribs experimentally and got nothing but a garbled mutter in return. “Is he just going to sleep through the whole meeting?”

  “Most likely. Want to trade places?” Azazel waved at the space he occupied.

  I glanced at Abaddon again, whose mouth was hanging wide open. “No, he seems pretty harmless as far as Princes go. And at least one took the invitation.” Even if he clearly thought it was just an invitation to nap.

  Lucifer scowled at the clock. “One down, six to go.”

  A wave of apprehension went through me. Where was Belial? He’d promised to be here, but he’d been missing for the entire day. Another five minutes ticked by as my anxiety mounted.

  “Well, at least we’ve got a Prince who could snore Satan to death,” I joked, trying to lighten the grim mood. “That’s better than nothing.”

  As soon as I finished speaking the bells tinkled again. This time I recognized two of the Princes: Leviathan from Heresy, with his red body paint, and Balaam from Greed, every step chiming from the sheer amount of coinage hanging off his body.

  Leviathan settled on the sofa opposite us, staring at Abaddon through the holes in his skull mask. He waved off Vyra when she offered him a cup of wine.

  Balaam, on the other hand, took several.

  “Where are my brothers?” he asked, looking around like he expected them to jump out from behind the couches and yell, “Surprise!”

  “You’re the only ones who have come so far,” I told him, clutching my empty glass. There was something about Leviathan’s cold glare that put me on edge. Five Princes in a room was four too many.

  Balaam just shrugged and drained a glass. A few droplets of wine spilled over his chest plate of coins.

  I was so intent on watching the new arrivals that I almost jumped out of my skin when something feathery touched my shoulder, tickling my skin. Abaddon’s
next snore was right in my ear. The Prince of Sloth had slumped over and had his head pillowed on my shoulder.

  “Looks cozy. How about you let me use your lap?”

  For a moment I forgot all about the Prince snoozing on me. The new voice was like liquid silk, deep and seductive.

  Asmodeus, the Prince of Lust, had stepped into the room with almost cat-like silence. He was all amber and copper, his skin practically glowing bronze, and most of it was on display.

  I felt, rather than heard, Azazel’s low growl.

  “My lap is taken, sorry,” I said coolly, taking my Watcher’s hand and pulling his arm across my thighs. “But maybe Balaam is feeling generous.”

  The Prince of Greed laughed loudly, spraying wine. He patted his thighs. “Have a seat, Asmodeus.”

  If Asmodeus heard him, he gave no sign. He brushed a strand of copper hair out of his face, smiling at me in a way that was clearly supposed to make butterflies flutter in my stomach.

  One rogue butterfly flapped its wings. He was a pretty sight, for sure, but Azazel’s fingers were practically crushing mine.

  Asmodeus strolled around the room with panther-like grace, circling the back of the sofa we sat on. He leaned over Abaddon, peered into his sleeping face, and touched my hair. “So you’re what Belial’s been hiding from me. It’s a shame my outriders were too late to capture you.”

  I held back a sigh. How many higher demons had sent people looking for me when I’d fallen? It seemed like everyone wanted a piece of me.

  “She’s claimed and not for sale.” Lucifer’s brows were etched in a scowl.

  I held up my hand, revealing Belial’s swirling mark, and pulled down the sparkling top of my dress, showing Lucifer’s cross.

  Asmodeus twisted his lips and settled on the sofa adjacent to us. He sat with his legs sprawled, giving me a good view if I wanted to look.

  I kept my eyes firmly above his waistline.

  “Let the lady choose,” he said, his eyes dancing. “If she has two marks, what’s one more?”