Sweet Temptation - Wendy Higgins Page 0,147

his station at the door. His cheeks tighten as if he’s holding back a grin, and that seals my earlier wonderings. He’s golden.

The Dukes are raising their voices now over confusion about the prophecy. Rahab’s version completely leaves out the pivotal bit about the demons being given a chance at redemption—he thinks the prophecy is only about banishing them from earth, back to hell. Anna watches them intently, her forehead pinched.

The first true wave of terror hits me when I hear her speak. Her voice reaches above them all. “You’re all being given a second chance at heaven!”

Rahab’s hand flies back and he hits her so hard she falls to the floor. I am on my feet, but I’m not alone. Our entire row has stood.

“What are we waiting for?” Duke Thamuz yells. “Let’s kill her!”

If he goes near her, he will be the first to see the edge of my knife this night. I watch him carefully for any sign that he’ll pull a weapon. But he is shushed by the other Dukes who want to find out what Anna’s talking about.

Now they’re fighting over whether or not to let her talk and whether or not to believe her. They finally decide to let Anna state the prophecy in its entirety, and Jezebet, the Duke of Lies, confirms that Anna’s telling the truth. But none of this is working. They’re too thick to see this is a good thing for them. The Dukes hate hell, but they love earth. Here, they are gods. Why would they want to return to heaven, where everyone is equal? They want to kill Anna purely for suggesting it.

Father yanks Anna by the hair and grabs her, putting an arm around her throat. I move forward quickly, but Ginger grabs my back pocket to hold me in check. I push her hand away and stare at Anna—they’re scaring her to death. I can’t bloody stand here much longer.

Duke Thamuz is practically drooling, his eyes bright red. “Enough games. I want blood.” I palm my knife in my pocket. If it’s blood he wants, I’ll give him his own.

I search the walls and ceiling desperately for that bright light, thinking now would be a brilliant time for the angels to show, but there are only demons and Neph.

Father chuckles and I seethe at how he holds Anna against himself, eyes bright with hunger for his prey. “We will savor her. I won’t even have her first. She’s my little gift to you, brothers. Just be careful not to kill her yet, because she needs to suffer in every possible way. Heaven is watching. Let’s give them a show.”

I can hardly breathe as the Dukes move toward her, their eyes glowing red—Mammon, Thamuz, and Sonellion—Dukes of Greed, Murder, and Hatred. My eyes dart across the walls. Where are the bloody angels???

Anna struggles against Father as he laughs, darkly, getting his kicks off her fear, feeding off the rabid look in the others’ eyes. I can’t take it.

“Father . . . ,” I call.

“Not now!” He doesn’t even turn.

Mammon, the bastard who killed his own son, Flynn, is mere feet away from Anna, and he’s unbuckling his pants. I glance at Kope, his eyes severe, and he gives me a nod.

I zone in on Mammon as he licks his lips lewdly and reaches for Anna. Before I can blink again, my knife is out, opened, and flying directly toward its target. It imbeds deep in his eye, only the handle showing.

My God.

I hold my breath. He staggers back, then to the side as he tries to right himself, and ultimately falls to his knees. His spirit starts wrenching itself out before the body is dead, frantically fighting to release itself as if it’s on fire. I pull out my second knife and snap it open. All eyes are on Mammon, in horror and confusion.

Father turns abruptly, dragging Anna sideways. His face is contorted, livid, and he sprays spittle when he snarls at me. “What have you done?”

“Just a bit of holy water on the blade,” I tell him.

Mammon’s body dies with a thunk on the floor, and his spirit writhes in midair, in agony.

“You,” Father whispers. He advances on me, pulling Anna, and my stomach twists. I have publicly shamed him in the worst possible way, and if something doesn’t happen soon, it could get very ugly. “I trusted you.”

I nearly laugh. “No, you didn’t.”

Father gapes. Neph and Dukes alike gasp at my backtalk. I have to

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