Cipher (Demonica Underworld #8) - Larissa Ione Page 0,35

of his uncontrollable weapons, even better.

Petty? Yes. Did he care? No. Because once he had his powers under control, he was going to zap her intentionally and fatally.

“Did I interrupt something?” Flail asked, all fake innocence and wide eyes as Lyre scrambled to throw on her pants. She gestured at the entrance to the apartment. “Lyre, you know you can set wards to protect your place from prying eyes and unwanted visitors, right?” Fake innocence turned into mocking pity. “Oh, I forgot. You can’t.”

Cipher had no idea what she meant by that, but Lyre’s red-faced fury made clear that she knew.

“What do you want, Flail?” He moved toward her, preparing to toss her off the balcony. He wasn’t confined in a cell anymore, his wings weren’t bound, and he held a hell of a grudge.

An aura of energy bloomed around her. She was prepared for him to attack, which proved she wasn’t stupid. “I come bearing good news.”

“Let me guess.” Cipher stopped, curious enough to hold off tossing her into the abyss below. It would be pointless anyway, given that she could fly. But it would be fun, and like he’d told Lyre, he was operating with a pleasure deficit. Especially since the bitch had interrupted what would have been a lot of pleasure. “You’re suffering from an incurable disease that will slowly and painfully kill you. Is that it? Because that would be great news.”

She didn’t look amused. She’d always been lacking in the humor department. “Sorry to disappoint you, but this might be even better. You’ve earned Bael’s trust. To some degree,” she amended. “He has an assignment for you.”

“Okay, I’ll bite,” he said, his voice laced with skepticism. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

“Your list panned out.” Cipher’s gut hit the floor as Flail plopped down on the leather sofa and kicked her feet up on the makeshift coffee table made from an old crate. “We took out one of Azagoth’s children. Nearly got a second, but the damned Memitim arrived and ruined everything.”

Oh...damn. Oh, fuck. Oh...fuck!

Cipher’s knees went liquid, and he had to force himself to stay upright. To pretend he wasn’t affected by the news. But in reality, he wanted to puke.

He was responsible for an innocent child’s death. And not just any child. Azagoth’s child. An angel.

“Anyway, congratulations. You’ve proven your worth.” She tossed him the flash drive he’d downloaded the damned list onto. He wanted to step on it. Break it. Smash it to bits. “That contains the names of a few of Bael’s enemies. He wants you to devise a computer virus that will kill them. He also wants a virus that will spread through the human population. Something gruesome. Can you make zombies?”

Still sick to his stomach, he stared blindly at the drive. “That’s not how computer viruses work.” His voice was flat, numb, and he hoped Flail didn’t notice.

“You’ll make them work. We have confidence in your abilities. And your wings will help you.”

His wings? “What will help me is my laptop and access to the internet and demonweb.”

“That,” Flail said with a knowing smile, “is not an option. You can use your laptop, but it stays where it is. If you need access to the webs, Bael’s is available to you.”

Screw Bael’s devices. No doubt the fallen angel was watching every keystroke on every computer in the region. But Cipher made sure his computer was unhackable and essentially invisible on a network.

“Now,” she said as she came to her feet. “I have Memitim to hunt. Azagoth will join our cause, or he’ll lose everything he loves.”

“You bitch.”

Uncontrollable rage slammed into him. He knew he should control it. Knew he couldn’t let these evil fucks know that he still gave a shit about his old life. His old friends. But knowing they’d killed an innocent child and were still planning to kill Azagoth’s offspring boiled off all his logic and laid-back nature.

Opening himself up to the evil surrounding him, he roared in ecstasy and fury as the oily burn of malevolence seeped into his cells. Then he struck out at Flail with whatever fallen angel ability surfaced first.

A stream of fire shot from his palm, but Flail blocked it with an invisible shield. He changed tacks, pummeling her defense with a series of ice shards. She fell back under the intense assault, but suddenly his powers went crazy, and the shards turned into fucking snowballs that burst into acid powder on contact. Powder that burned holes in Lyre’s floor, walls,