Cipher (Demonica Underworld #8) - Larissa Ione Page 0,61

of Hell. Surely you’re not going sit back and lose your throne to an insurrection.”

“Oh, I have plans for Moloc,” Revenant drawled. “I’m more concerned about you.”

“Isn’t that sweet.”

Revenant smirked. “Not that kind of concerned.”

Of course not. Why would he give a shit about Azagoth’s family? “You’d better get concerned,” Azagoth growled. “Or the entire underworld is going to read your inaction as cowardice.”

Revenant bared his fangs, his eyes went nightmare, and before Azagoth could even blink, the guy was in his face. “Call me a coward again.”

“Step off, asshole,” Azagoth warned. “This is my fucking realm, and you have no power here.”

A flash of light nearly blinded him as Revenant lit up like a supernova, proving just how wrong Azagoth was.

“I can melt you if I want to, soul boy.”

An invisible force knocked Azagoth into a mausoleum, triggering his temper and his inner demon. He unfurled into his beast, his horns and great wings reaching skyward.

“How dare you.” His voice, warped by his fury and his form, made the very ground shift under their feet. “How dare you attack me inside my realm.”

Revenant hissed and shook off Reaver’s restraining hand. “You attacked my realm by sending souls to do your bidding in violation of the treaty. What’s your next move? Freeing Satan?”

“Never,” he snarled, his shock at the very idea bringing his fury down a notch.

Revenant’s wings spread wide, the bony claws at the tips clenching as if they wanted to shred Azagoth like pulled pork. “Are you sure?”

Was he sure? Satan had blackmailed Azagoth for eons, threatening his realm and his children if Azagoth refused to reincarnate the souls Satan wanted. He’d slaughtered griminions. He’d demanded loyalty Azagoth refused to give, and always it was one of Azagoth’s children who paid.

So fuck Revenant and the hell stallion he rode in on. “Do not question my hatred for Satan,” Azagoth roared.

Blood boiling, he attacked. He could have used any of a thousand weapons at his disposal, but what he wanted was to feel flesh rending between his teeth and blood streaming between his claws.

Revenant hit him head on. The shockwave of the impact blew structures apart for as far as Azagoth could see in the brief glimpse he got before Revenant’s fist pounded his face and broke every bone in his head.

The pain as his skull knitted itself back together only pissed him off more, and he clamped down on Rev’s throat in a bite that crushed the angel’s windpipe and spine. Blood poured down Azagoth’s throat, hot and powerful, and then Reaver wrenched them apart, blasting them both a hundred yards in opposite directions.

“Enough!”

Suddenly, Azagoth found himself hanging in the air at the end of Reaver’s fingers. Revenant was at Reaver’s other hand, clutching his mangled throat. Good. Fucker. Inside the Inner Sanctum, he wasn’t healing as quickly as he should have.

Reaver dropped his brother to the ground. “Are we done?”

“He started it,” Revenant rasped.

Shaking his head in exasperation, Reaver turned to Azagoth and dropped him next. “How can we know you won’t conspire with someone to release Satan?”

Baring his teeth, he put everything he had into what he was about to say. He felt this to the depths of his soul and in the blood that ran in his veins.

“I. Will. Die. First.”

Silence stretched as the stench of char swirled around them. Then, finally, Reaver nodded. “Okay. Give Lilliana my best. And congratulations on becoming a father again.”

“Ditto,” Revenant rasped. “Asshole.”

Azagoth inclined his head and watched the brothers leave before surveying the damage to the Inner Sanctum. As he’d noted earlier, everything all around had been flattened and scorched. A few souls might have been disintegrated, but he didn’t care. What he cared about was the fact that a small section of the barrier between the Inner Sanctum and Sheoul had weakened. Just a single, tiny, hairline crack in the veil that no one else but Hades would be able to see.

Smiling, he brushed himself off and whistled a jaunty tune as he headed toward the portal back to Sheoul-gra. But when he stepped into his office, he checked up hard.

Lilliana was sitting there in his chair, her expression drawn, one hand clutching a sweating glass of ice tea.

“What is it?” He rushed to her. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “You tell me.”

“Nothing is going on.”

She looked at him like he was a dumbass. “I’m not a fool. You’re covered in blood, your horns are out, and something rocked Sheoul-gra hard enough to topple statues