Cipher (Demonica Underworld #8) - Larissa Ione Page 0,4
Fallen angel, with fangs, wings, and no hope of Heavenly redemption.
Making it worse, the lone benefit of becoming a True Fallen was the restoration of powers, but because his wings had been bound with enchanted twine, he couldn’t access either. He didn’t even know what talents he’d gained. Some might be the evil counterpart to their Heavenly versions. Some might be unique to Sheoul. He had no fucking idea.
The most maddening part was how he could sense the power inside him, the strength that ran through him like lit kerosene, but he couldn’t touch it. Couldn’t bring it streaming to the surface in the form of a weapon or a healing wave or a telepathic conversation. It sat there, frustratingly out of reach, like a donut in the window of a closed pastry shop.
Man, he missed donuts.
“Well?” he prompted. “How many months have I been without donuts?”
“Seven, I believe.” She shrugged, and one of her breasts nearly popped out of her tight crimson corset. Why did all fallen angels wear those things?
Not all. Not Lyre.
No, Lyre was all about being ready for battle, from her boots to the dagger holstered at her hip to her sexy BDU pants or cargo shorts that emphasized a seriously perfect ass. And always a tank top. She could have stepped out of an action RPG, like his Mass Effect character come to breathing, beddable life.
If his existence ever stopped sucking long enough for him to get an erection even once, she was going to provide him with some serious fantasy material.
The way Flail used to, before she turned out to be a traitorous evil slutbag.
“Seven?” He gulped a pained breath. “You don’t know?”
“Like I keep track.” She rolled her eyes. Her traitorous evil slutbag eyes. “You were one of dozens of Unfallen I’m contractually bound to deliver to Bael and Moloc.”
The mere names of the twin fallen angels was enough to terrify any sane person, and they weren’t a threat to be sneezed at.
But if they were a sneeze, Cipher’s former employer was the fucking swine flu.
He allowed himself a dark smile at the knowledge that she was going to die even if it wouldn’t be at his hands.
“You know you didn’t betray only me,” he said. “You betrayed Azagoth.”
She tossed her head like a high-strung hell mare. “He’s powerless outside of his realm, and I don’t plan on returning.”
That was where she was wrong. Dead wrong. Azagoth’s reach extended far beyond the boundaries of Sheoul-gra. He couldn’t leave his realm, but there was no corner of Heaven or Sheoul he couldn’t touch. With eons of knowledge and secrets gleaned from the souls he interrogated, he had resources beyond her comprehension.
Not that Cipher would tell Flail that. She’d see for herself when she was pissing in those black leggings at Azagoth’s feet and begging for mercy.
“Even if he doesn’t kill you, you’ll die eventually.” He breathed deeply as the pain in his chest eased. “Your soul will belong to him.”
“Not if he’s no longer in charge of Sheoul-gra.”
He barked out a laugh. “No longer in charge? You know something I don’t?”
Azagoth had ruled Sheoul-gra for thousands of years, since the day he’d willingly given up his wings to create a holding tank for evil souls that were wreaking havoc on humans. He’d built Sheoul-gra and created its specialized demons, griminions, from the materials given to him by both Heaven and Sheoul. He wasn’t going anywhere.
“I’m sure I know a lot of things you don’t.” She twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “For example, I know that you’re going to give me the list Bael wants.”
The fuck he was. The list containing the names and last known locations for all of Azagoth’s children, those who didn’t yet have angelic powers or knowledge that they were anything but human, was safe on his laptop. Bael might have his computer, but neither he nor his minions had been able to even open the case, let alone access the list inside.
And there was no way he was giving it up to Bael. At least, not while he retained even a sliver of his current self. His fear, his crippling fucking fear, was that he’d succumb to evil and willingly spill all of his knowledge of Azagoth and his realm. Or worse, that he himself would be stupid and arrogant enough to use his knowledge against Azagoth.
“Maybe you could tell me why he wants it,” he hedged.
“Does it matter?”
“Well,” he said, not bothering to hide his sarcasm,