Cipher (Demonica Underworld #8) - Larissa Ione Page 0,48

lips and materialized next to her as she lay on the ground.

There was a spear through her chest.

Awesome.

Cupping the back of Lyre’s head, Cipher drew her in for a kiss that was as hot as it was quick. “That was one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen.” His fierce, admiring gaze held hers. “Awesome gift.”

She shrugged awkwardly, a little dazed and flustered by his unexpected kiss. Not that she was complaining. He could do that anytime he wanted to.

“It’s kind of useless. I can’t manipulate things very well. But every once in a while it comes in handy.” Which was a good thing since it was pretty much her only fallen angel ability. She gestured to Flail. “She’s not going to be unconscious for long.”

“I know,” he said grimly. “We have to finish her off.”

As much as she’d love that, killing Flail right now was impossible.

“We can’t. Bael will know as soon as her soul goes to him.” She glanced around the room, thinking they could tie her up to buy some time, but when she spotted the coffin-like chest in the corner, she got an idea. “Let’s shove her inside the torture casket.”

His brow knit together in confusion. “What’s a torture casket? I thought that chest was for storing weapons.”

“Nope.” She grabbed Flail’s wrists and started dragging her toward the stone box. “Once you put someone in it, it seals for twelve hours. The poor bastard inside gets twelve hours of terror. Nightmares of the things they’re most afraid of.”

“Huh. Demons are really creative, aren’t they?” He gestured for Lyre to stand back, and then he hauled Flail’s unconscious body up over his shoulder. “I’d rather kill her, but I’ll just make that a future goal.”

“Everyone needs aspirations, I guess.” Although it had occurred to her that, beyond revenge, she had none. It made her feel...empty.

He dropped her unceremoniously into the box and slammed the lid closed. The gold lock on the front spun and glowed, and a moment later, Flail’s muffled screams assured them it was working.

“Come on.” She took Cipher’s hand. “We need to get out of here.” She stopped, an idea sparking in her brain. “Wait. You were able to see the spell that kept you from accessing the internet. Can you see the one on your wings that keeps you from being able to flash inside Bael’s territory?”

He frowned. “I don’t know.”

As if his wings knew they were talking about them, they flapped crazily, nearly knocking him off his feet. She should probably tell him the truth about them, but right now might not be the best time. He cursed as he tried to get the dead fallen angel’s wings under control. Finally they remained still, although they quivered with the effort it must have taken him to keep them that way.

“I can see the spell,” he said, “but not all of it.” With Flail’s cries for help as background noise, he concentrated for a little while, and then shook his head. “I think I need to be able to see the entire code in order to alter it. Dammit. And why the fuck won’t my wings behave?”

She started to answer, but at the sound of voices outside the door, she thought better of it. “I’ll tell you, but not here. Come on.”

Quickly and without incident, she led him out of the building Bael had dedicated entirely to imprisoning and torturing his enemies...and anyone else he felt like slaughtering for fun. As soon as they were outside, they took flight, which went about as well as the last time, with Cipher struggling to maintain altitude and course.

He cursed the entire way to the nearby Valley of Asshole Trees, as she called it, a rift between two volcanoes that had developed into an orchard of spiky trees that produced round blackish-purple fruit. She’d discovered the valley about a year ago, one of the few places in Bael’s realm that wasn’t completely nightmarish. Even the lizard-monkeys that lived in the trees were kind of cute.

Well, they weren’t terrifying carnivores, anyway. That had to count for something.

“What is this place?” Cipher turned in a slow circle on the stubby but lush yellow grass, taking it all in. “It’s beautiful. In a weird, grotesque way. Those apples probably eat people, don’t they?”

If they did, demons would have found a way to weaponize them by now.

“No, but they’re gross. They’re like raw hamburger inside. Hell stallions and hell mares love them.” Sobering, she looked up at the plume of