Cipher (Demonica Underworld #8) - Larissa Ione Page 0,50

a Hell realm.

“I think...I think I’m...I don’t know.” Drawing in a ragged breath, she searched her brain for the right words. “I feel...relieved. Like I don’t need to hold on to that anger anymore.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still pissed.” His wings flared and flapped for no apparent reason. “And these stupid things aren’t helping. Seriously, what the fuck?”

“Oh, ah, about that...”

He shot her a what now look. “Do not tell me that they’re cursed or some shit.”

How could she put this gently? “Do you know of a fallen angel named Asher?”

“Why would I—” He broke off, and then nodded. “As an angel, he was from the Order of Thrones. He was lead on the Ten Plagues of Egypt debacle.”

“That’s the one. Terrible mess. Humans got the stories all wrong.” She blew out a breath. “Anyway, after he got the boot, he joined up with Moloc and Bael. Revenant killed him last year.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Realization dawned, and his eyes shot wide. “Oh, shit. My wings—”

“They belonged to Asher.”

Chapter Eighteen

Numb with shock, Cipher wheeled away from Lyre. His wings—Asher’s wings—folded and spread of their own accord, and he had the sudden desire to rip them off. No, not even a desire. A desperate need.

With a roar of anguish and fury, he reached over his shoulder and seized one by its bony ridge. Pain streaked through the wing and up into his neck as he tried to wrench it from his body. He was going to rip it in half. Shred it. Break it. Whatever he had to do in order to free himself of a dead angel’s wings, he’d do it.

“Cipher, no!” Lyre tried to restrain him, but he threw her off like she was one of those freaky little reptile-primate things.

“How long have you known?” he yelled, the sense of betrayal hitting him harder than he figured it should.

He knew she’d been employed by Bael all this time, knew she’d do anything to get the revenge she yearned for. But this...this was sick.

“I just found out.” She came toward him again.

“Bullshit!” Rage throbbed through him and he tugged harder, gritting his teeth against the agony. The other wing struck at him as if defending its partner, its claw ripping at his head.

Lyre grabbed the thing in an effort to make it stop, but it fought her as hard as it fought him. Son of a bitch! This was creepy and twisted, and what kind of sicko transplanted wings?

It was a stupid question given where he was. Sheoul was filled with sickos, and he was bound to become one of them if he didn’t get the fuck out of here.

His struggle with the wings knocked both him and Lyre off balance, and they went down on the grass, his wings wrapping him in a tight cocoon. Increasing pressure compounded his muscles and made his bones ache as the wings tried their best to squeeze the life out of him.

“Roll onto your back.” She grunted as a wing kicked out and struck her in the gut, but she managed to wrestle the thing and hold it against his shoulder.

He rolled, pinning the bastards under him. Finally, he could take a breath. Lyre stretched out next to him, panting with exertion.

“I swear to you, Cipher,” she said between breaths. “Bael just told me and I went straight to you.” Her hand came down on his forearm, and he found himself hoping she’d leave it there. After being so alone for so long, he craved more than a fleeting touch. More than the usual pain others doled out every time they laid hands on him. “I tried to tell you back on the island, but things were kind of crazy.”

Were crazy? The crazy was still well underway. And despite his freak-out, he was grateful Lyre was here to help. She didn’t have to tell him the truth, and she didn’t have to rescue him from Flail’s evil clutches. Hell, she’d been his sole link to sanity for months. What would his life have been like without her? His other handlers had been as depraved as Flail, bringing him food that was either too long dead or too alive, torturing him for fun, fucking with his head every chance they got.

There’s no way they would have saved him from Flail or told him his wings weren’t actually his.

And what the hell was up with that, anyway? Now he understood why Flail had said his wings would help him create viruses. That