Cipher (Demonica Underworld #8) - Larissa Ione Page 0,5

“since I doubt Bael wants the names and addresses of Azagoth’s children so he can send them birthday cards, then yeah, it matters.”

She thought on that for a moment, toe tapping dramatically. Once upon a time, he’d appreciated her love of theatrics in bed, but right now it was getting on his nerves.

Finally, she pasted on a smile. “Bael is planning to spoil them with ice cream and maybe a movie.”

“Real sincere, Flail.” He rubbed his sternum absently, the curious tingle there adding to his irritation. “Try again.”

“I’m not the one named for being a liar.”

“Lyre? Kinda random to bring her up, but now that you do, I don’t trust her, either. But she only shoved me into a pit of flesh-eating demon fish. You got me dragged to Hell and destroyed my chances of getting back into Heaven.”

“Pfft.” She nudged his foot with her toe like one might poke a dead thing they found in the woods. “Why would you want to go back there?”

“Because,” he said as he kicked her away, “—and I can’t stress this enough—no one tortured me there.” And what the fuck was up with his sternum? It wouldn’t stop aching.

“Give up the list and no one will torture you here either.”

Something pinched. Hard. Jerking his hand from his chest, he looked down and drew a startled breath at the weird little ivory disk stuck there, a penny-sized piece of fuckery he was sure couldn’t be a good thing.

“What. The. Hell.”

“Isn’t it pretty? It’s an ascerdisc. Ever heard of one?”

He had. His friends Hawkyn and Journey had shown him around Azagoth’s treasure room, and they’d told him it was a mysterious fallen angel weapon so rare that they believed it to be the only one in existence.

He couldn’t keep the stunned note out of his voice. “You stole it from Azagoth?”

“Oh, you simple fool. That’s not how they work. The ascerdisc in your chest was made from my bones, and I alone can control it. If Azagoth has one, it belonged to another fallen angel.” She smiled. “I’ll bet everything you think you know about them is wrong. Let’s see, shall we?”

Oh, shit. This was not going to be a good time. But hey, if he ever saw Hawk and Journey again, at least he could rub in how wrong they’d been.

Yup, as Hawkyn liked to say, Cipher could see the bright side of anything.

Chapter Three

Most of Journey’s thousands of adult brothers and sisters thought that spying on their charges was the worst part of being a guardian angel. Specifically, a wingless Memitim guardian angel, bred to live in the human realm as they worked to earn their wings and a place in Heaven. They’d rather be fighting demons or doing research than hanging out in an invisible bubble while their Primori went about their day-to-day lives. Some didn’t like feeling like voyeurs, but most were just bored out of their minds.

For Journey, spying was the best part of the job. Depending on who he was spying on, of course. Of his current four Primori, only one kept him entertained. The others, two human scientists who sat around in labs all day, and a werewolf construction worker with no social life, were serious yawners.

But he did have to admit to a twinge of shame for watching Declan as much as he did. The guy was his freaking brother-in-law. Which was actually how he justified staying so close. His sister, Suzanne, would be pissed if he let anything happen to the guy.

But the truth was that Declan fought demons for a living with the Demon Activity Response Team, and there was always shit going on. It was even better than Live PD. Much, much higher stakes.

And then there was the fact that his father had ordered him to stay close and listen closer. Azagoth had seen an opportunity to gain intel, and he’d been right. Even informal gatherings of DART members such as the one they were having now yielded tasty nuggets of information.

He braced his hip against a wall and nearly stepped on the ferret that ran under his foot. It chattered at him, and he held his breath as the critter’s owner and a founding member of DART looked over from where she was seated at the dining room table with the others. Journey knew she couldn’t see him, but some animals could, and that noisy little weasel was clearly one of them.

“Hey, buddy. You need to eat your dinner.” Tayla scooped up the