Hell Hath No Fury (Razing Hell Book 3)

by Cate Corvin

  I gently pinched his cheek. “Time to wake up, sleeping beauty.”

  Azazel made a disgruntled noise as Abaddon yawned up at me. His eyelids cracked open, revealing cornflower blue eyes, and he smiled sleepily when he saw me looking down at him.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi. Will you join forces with us against Satan?”

  He blinked, but his eyes were still heavy-lidded and already closing. “Right after this nap.”

  “Good, thank you. Sleep tight.” I stroked his forehead until he dropped off into slumber again, mouth wide open, one arm hanging down to the floor.

  When his soft snores once again filled the air, I looked up at the other Princes. “See how easy that was? Now we’re all agreed. Let’s get on with it.”

  22

  Melisande

  I might’ve been the one who managed to harass them into agreeing to this, but it didn’t take long to find myself out of my depth.

  Each Prince had his own army- none as quite as impressive as Belial’s collection of both soldiers and arena-honed fighters, but it was enough to finally tip the scales in our favor along with the Grigori.

  Lucifer dragged a table into the middle of the room and they immediately went to work, mapping out plans and key points to hold in the lower levels of Dis. I watched over Azazel’s shoulder with intense curiosity as he pointed out on the enormous map of where he’d have the different factions of the Grigori placed.

  “The Reapers will be alongside the first wave,” he said, then tapped the blueprint of a large building in the Eighth Circle. “This is where I’ll keep the hellhound handlers. They’re best in reserve. The Fates will be divided across Dis.”

  Leviathan studied the map with his fingers steepled under his chin. “My legion of Cursed Men would be most useful alongside the Handlers. Take my Witches alongside the Reapers. You’ll need them to breach the Pit’s shield.”

  Lucifer made several marks on the map with a charcoal pencil, his brow furrowed as he looked over the one-dimensional city. “We have a weak point here in the Eighth Circle,” he said. “The Bridge of Sighs. If any of Satan’s loyalists take it, they have a straight shot into the upper Circles.”

  “I’ll put men on the bridge,” Balaam said, stroking the coins on his chest as he watched.

  Eventually I wandered away to get a drink, my head spinning from the sheer amount of legions the Princes were fitting into place. The warriors of Hell organized so much differently from the Choirs of Heaven; whereas the Choirs operated like well-oiled machinery, everyone assigned a specific place and unable to deviate from it, the Princes were far more concerned with finding everyone the perfect fit to suit their own needs.

  I couldn’t say it wasn’t a far preferable method.

  Vyra sidled over as I gulped a glass of water, looking over the bent heads of the Princes and the still-sleeping form of Abaddon draped across a couch.

  “I can’t believe it actually worked,” she whispered. She was nursing a glass of wine, and had handed over the duties to keeping Belphegor fed to one of Mister Celamentum’s house servants. “I thought for sure someone would back out.”

  “Mammon did,” I said, scowling at the back of Pytho’s head. “Now we have to hold off an entire Circle along with Satan long enough for me to kill him.”

  Vyra traced the rim of her wine glass with her pinky finger and a slight ringing sound filled the air. She gazed thoughtfully at Adranos, looking much less cold than she had earlier. “Unless he takes control of it. I’ll admit I was skeptical of Belial’s plans for him, but if he really does intend to prove otherwise… perhaps it’s worth giving him a chance.”

  “I think it is, and I’m not just saying that because I’m soft for a Nephilim.” I set my empty glass on the table, feeling oddly useless now that the Princes were deep in their own plans. “They’re concentrating a lot of manpower around the Ninth Circle. Even if Adranos were full of shit and joined Mammon, treachery will have a hard time breaking through.”

  She eyed me as she sipped from her glass. “So what is your plan exactly? You’ve been pretty tight-lipped about it.”

  I reflexively glanced at my scarred palm. “Lure the Dragon out. Ideally above the city, where he won’t trample anyone, and I can get a clear shot at his heart from the air.”

  My friend shook her head, her sheet of hair spilling around her face. “I also can’t believe you talked them into letting you take the Sword.”

  “We don’t really have another choice. Besides, Gabriel’s hand was all the proof I needed- I bet he was the one who wrote the self-aggrandizing prophecy in the first place, all to keep other people from trying to take the Sword. You just have to have the conviction.” I stroked the lines on my palm, already anticipating the fiery burn of the Sword’s might tearing through my veins. It’d hurt the first time, and I’d been pure then, unfallen.

  I could only imagine how much more it would hurt now.

  Vyra bit her lower lip, abandoned her wine, and took my hand. “Come on. I need to walk and get some air. We’ve been down here for hours.”

  I let her pull me across the room, touching Lucifer’s shoulder as I passed and gesturing towards the door. He inclined his head slightly, his silver eyes warming as he looked at me, but Asmodeus claimed his attention again.

  Haru was guarding the door, just like he’d been doing the first time I’d ever met him. He kept a hand on the hilt of his katana, his ears pricking up as we passed.

  “Need company, pretty demon?” he asked, leering at Vyra.

  How she’d managed to go this long without punching him was a complete mystery to me.

  “Not from you,” she said coolly, pulling me down the corridor to the upper levels of the Consortium. Instead of going onto the street, we kept climbing the tower until she found a door that opened on a balcony that overlooked the drop into the abyss of Dis.

  She took a deep breath, bracing her hands on the balustrade. “I feel useless, Melisande. You have your place, and so do the Princes and the Watchers. Everyone has a part in this but me, but I have more hate for Satan than all of you combined.”

  Vyra spit the words, her nails scraping against the marble as her fingers curled up.

  “I’ve been relegated to feeding the Princes like the best thing I can accomplish, because I have nothing else going for me. I’m the most useless succubus to ever walk Hell. All of my sisters can fight, but I’ve always been worthless.”

  “You’re not worthless.” I gripped her shoulder, hating the way she was beating herself up. “So you were never trained with weapons. That’s not your fault.”

  “It’s not just that.” Her dark pink eyes glared out at the city, every muscle in her body taut. “I can’t even fly. After I was taken, I was too afraid to be out in the open. My sisters have all achieved their full forms, but I’m not- Melisande, I’ve never even slept with anyone.”

  I stared at her for a long moment. “Ever?”

  “Ever,” she said, nodding miserably. “All that shit about having fun with mammoth cocks- I was just playing along with what people expected of me. I’m a succubus who’s never even had sex. How pathetic is that?”

  I blinked, piecing together everything I knew about Vyra and how she used to talk about sex casually to bring me out of my repressed shell. She didn’t like close contact or being alone with men.

  I could absolutely believe everything she was saying was true.

  “That’s not pathetic at all.” I wrapped my arm around her and rested my chin on her shoulder. “You shouldn’t have sex with people because you feel like you should.”

  She blew out a breath, still scowling. “That was why Satan wanted me, I think. A virgin succubus- unheard of. Everyone would laugh in my face if they knew. I’ve seen people before because everyone thinks I’m doing what we’re supposed to do, but I’ve never done more than kiss them, and it’s why Azazel keeps giving me the easy things to do on the sidelines. He knows I can’t shift into the full succubus form,
and it’s not something he wanted to advertise. Not when Satan wanted me so badly. But I couldn’t bring myself to sleep with someone just to make myself less appealing to him.”

  “And what is that, exactly?” I asked. “Your full form?”

  She held up her hands, her silver talon-rings catching the light. “These would be real, for one. Everyone thinks succubi are all about sex, but there’s more to us than that. We’re meant to be protectors, fighters. My sisters can fly, they can grow horns, claws, tails.”

  “I’ve never seen a succubus with horns,” I admitted.

  Vyra shook her head. “They don’t usually walk around like that. But if I could achieve my full form, I wouldn’t be so helpless, so useless. I thought about going out and finding some nice, accommodating men to take care of the problem, but I don’t want to sleep with them if it means nothing.” A humorless smile crossed her face. “Another way I’m different from my sisters. It’s normal to them, but it seems so empty to me without feelings, and I’ve never had feelings for someone so strong I wanted to give myself to them like that.”

  I hugged her tighter, wishing I could squeeze all her insecurity right out of her. She was perfect as she was, no matter what she decided. “Then don’t. There’s nothing worse than forcing yourself into it if you really don’t want to. And you don’t need your full form to be a badass, Vyra. I’ll teach you myself. Maybe someday when you’re ready you’ll achieve it, but for now, you need to be true to your own feelings. And I, for one, have never, ever thought you were worthless.”

  She leaned her head and bumped it against mine. “Thanks, Melisande. I just want to be able to contribute something that isn’t serving food or painting nails. I’m tired of feeling like I always need to be the one that’s protected, when I should be a protector.”

  I took her hands, looking into her eyes. “You will be. Let me train you. We can start now.”

  Vyra finally relaxed, the tension fading from her face and shoulders. “Right now?”

  “Well, in five minutes. Let’s tell them we’re going home. I want to get you started on basic weapons training.”

  We went downstairs and I whispered in Azazel’s ear, letting him know where we were going- I had every intention of barring the doors to the Nightside arena and using the entire floor to train Vyra for the rest of the day.

  The Princes barely looked up from their planning. The map was now thick with charcoal marks.

  With a shrug, I dragged Vyra out of the Consortium and back to the balcony.

  “Street is down there, Melisande,” she said doubtfully, and I braced myself for the first part of the lesson.

  “Well, the thing is… we’re not walking.”

  Vyra gave me a look of dread.

  I tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace. “Yup. We’re flying.”

  It could’ve gone better, but it also could’ve gone worse.

  We managed to make it to my arena with a minimum of accidents. Vyra’s unused wings were shaky and she had zero confidence in herself, but I remained close by, ready to catch her if she veered off-course.

  I had to give her credit for approaching it without whining.

  “It’ll come natural,” I told her, poking her wings and forcing her to spread them wider as she stood on the balustrade. The snowy whiteness of them was almost as blinding as Tascius’s feathers. “What you will need to work on is stamina and muscle tone.”

  “That’s a long drop,” she breathed.

  “I’m going over with you.” I hopped up on the balcony edge alongside her, my wings quivering with anticipation. “Just keep them wide to catch the wind and bank towards the street. If anything happens, I’ll catch you before you fall.”

  She braced herself, squeezed her eyes shut tight, and stepped off the edge.

  “Vyra! You have to keep your eyes open!” I shouted, plunging alongside her and catching the same draft of wind.

  We sailed past the Consortium and over a low building dripping with ivy, and Vyra finally opened her eyes, screeching as she narrowly avoided being caught by a lamp post.

  I had to yell instructions a few times, but she managed to sail smoothly after that, and finally landed in a shivering heap on the lawn of the Nightside arena.

  I dropped down to earth next to her as the succubus hugged the grass. “Sweet, solid ground,” she whispered, pulling her wings in tightly.

  I knelt down and stroked her back until she was steady enough to get back to her feet. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  Vyra still looked vaguely greenish. “No… it was fun. I guess. Maybe.”

  “Good. Because you’re going to be doing it a lot from now on.”

  23

  Melisande

  “Keep your arm up a little higher,” I said, nudging Vyra’s bicep.

  She raised her arm several inches, pretending to block a blow from the dummy she was facing off against. A dagger was clutched in her other hand, angled from her chin for a strike to the throat.

  “Now… he’s still holding his knife, but you have an opening. Go for the throat.” I stepped back, watching her form as she kept her feet planted right where I’d put them.

  Vyra let out a little growl and lunged forward, burying her dagger in the dummy’s wooden neck.

  “Good, now he’s dead.” I pulled the dagger out of the wood and flipped it, handing it back to Vyra hilt-first. “Just watch your feet. You don’t want to get tripped up while you’re getting under his guard.”

  My head spun for a moment, and I backed away to sit down in the chair we’d dragged over. “Now do it a few more times. Really think about your feet for this one, you want to develop muscle memory for the movements.”

  Vyra obediently sank back into a crouch and faced the dummy, and I rested a hand over my stomach as I watched her.

  Away from the planning of the war, it almost seemed like the entire world had gone quiet, and I had more time to think about things closer to home. Like the next child of Wrath, and wondering if being pregnant was going to hurt my chances of picking up the Sword… or hurt the baby itself.

  When the Sword’s fire went through me, would the baby feel it, too? I frowned, suddenly unsure of my place in this war… but if I didn’t take it, there would never be a safe home for this baby to grow up.

  Everything would change. I pictured my weapons room replaced with a nursery and cringed.

  An odd feeling flickered through my abdomen, like a fish flipping around. I pressed my palm flat and felt it again, the tiniest bump against my hand.

  “It’s the baby moving,” Vyra said, wiping her arm across her sweaty forehead. “Can I feel?”

  I nodded mutely, suddenly feeling cold with terror at the reality of it. It wasn’t just an amorphous idea anymore, but a real, actual being inside me.

  She placed her hand on my stomach and laughed when the flipping-fish feeling fluttered through my stomach again. “It feels so odd.”

  “You should feel it from the inside. It feels like there’s a fish in there.” I prodded my stomach a last time before the fluttering sensation subsided.

  Vyra knelt down next to me, gripping her dagger loosely so it almost touched the floor. “Don’t be scared,” she said, looking unusually serious. “You have all of us. You won’t be alone in this.”

  “I’d never planned on having children. What if I end up being an awful parent?” I looked at my stomach, marveling that it was still flat despite the little fish in there. If I hadn’t felt it myself, I could’ve gone months without realizing.

  “You won’t be. Even if you have children, you’re still yourself.” She stood up and stretched her wings, wincing. “My wings are killing me after all that.”

  My dizziness had gone away, so I stood up and took the dagger, putting it aside for cleaning later. “You’re not off the hook yet. One more round around the yard, then you’re free to sleep.”

  She groaned, but she trooped to the door while she did it, already raising her wings. “I’m going
to sleep forever after this.”

  No one had returned by the time I released Vyra from her first training session. She immediately booked it to her room for a shower and sleep, and I found myself alone for the first time in days, looking out of my bedroom windows at the razed garden outside. Not a single vine had survived the Chainlings’ purge.

  I showered, pulled on clean clothes, and fell into bed, tumbling into sleep almost immediately.

  It was restless, filled with a dream of darkness.

  I held a small bundle in my arms, the distant cries of a baby echoing in my ears. Dis burned around us, dark flames consuming the obsidian and melting it into a tar so thick it was impossible to move.

  I looked down at my feet, mired in the pitch-like muck, and tried to take a step. The titanic shape of a dragon rose from the abyss, several pairs of eyes focused on me and the tiny creature I held in my arms.

  He was painted in shades of death and decay, a rotting and half-skeletal beast that shifted colors between rust and mildew. The dragon roared, oily plumes of smoke rising from its nostrils.

  It was gaining on us, drawing ever closer as I struggled through the mire.

  I couldn’t run, couldn’t fly. My wings were as heavy as lead, dragging behind me and catching in the molten obsidian. A ball of cold fear churned in my gut and I looked down at the baby I held.

  Vibrant aquamarine eyes stared up at me, full of perfect innocence. Perfect trust. And I was about to betray it, because I couldn’t escape the dragon before it consumed us.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, sounding nothing like myself in the dream. I sounded defeated and broken.

  I looked back over my shoulder at the Dragon. He climbed over the oozing top of a building, perching on it and looming over us like a mountain. The rotting wings spread wide, casting a dark shadow over us.