Cipher (Demonica Underworld #8) - Larissa Ione Page 0,8
been missing since Cipher disappeared. They were finally going to help save their friend.
But after seven months in a Hell realm, how much of Cipher would be left to save?
Chapter Four
“Say it, Cipher. Don’t make me have to hurt you again.”
Cipher’s fiery curses didn’t melt any of the ice in his cell, but they made him feel better. Flail had spent what felt like hours making him say stupid shit, because if he didn’t, she punished him through the bone ascerdisc embedded in his skin. Which was seriously gross.
In any case, up until now he’d done what she wanted and said the stupid shit, avoiding major pain. But at some point she was going to stop toying with him and get serious about the torture.
Still, this particular sentence was especially stupid, and he’d initially refused. His chest throbbed like a sonofabitch from that little act of defiance.
“Cipher...”
“Fine.” He rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. “My dick is the size of a cocktail wiener.”
When she giggled and clapped, he threw his head against the wall and looked up at the remaining hundreds of icicles hanging from the cavernous ceiling, some as big as he was.
They hurt a lot when they fell.
Too bad one didn’t fall on Flail.
Carefully, he shifted his weight, keeping his wing anchors from supporting too much weight. The binding rope around the base of his new fallen angel wings, deep inside his back, hurt like hell. Any pressure was agonizing. The worst part about it was that he hadn’t even seen his wings yet. Bael had ordered them to be secured before they had a chance to emerge.
“How long did it take you to break, Flail?”
She blinked. “Break? No one broke me. After Heaven rejected me, I entered Sheoul willingly and proudly.”
“Rejected you.” That was too absurd to waste a laugh on. “Next you’re going to say you’re innocent of whatever got you kicked out.”
“I wasn’t innocent in the least,” she said, her words clipped with irritation. “But it was still bullshit. I mean, so I killed a few humans without permission. So what? Most of them were scum. What happened to me was completely unfair.”
“Unfair?” Was she insane? “Killing humans without cause or authorization is the worst offense on a long list of offenses—by far. You broke the number one rule, and you’re surprised that you lost your wings?”
She made a sound of disgust. “I understand that I broke the law, but the law is ridiculous. Humans are like an infestation of insects. How can it be wrong to kill them?” He must not have schooled the shock in his expression, because she jammed her fists on her hips and scowled at him. “I’m not alone in feeling that way.”
“No shit,” he said. “It’s kind of why Satan and his cabal of evil assholes were kicked out of Heaven.”
“Thanks for the history lesson,” she said dryly. “But you’re clearly not grasping the size of the anti-human movement amongst Heavenly angels.”
“How would you even know?” he shot back. “You’ve been fallen for what, eight hundred years?”
She eyed one of the icicles above, the pointiest one, and he made a mental note to avoid being under it. “That span of time is but a blink of an eye for angels. You know that. But you’re wrong. I lost my wings fewer than three centuries ago.”
“Yeah, well, I was in Heaven far more recently than that, and no one was talking rebellion.”
Her lips, which had at one time brought him a lot of pleasure, pursed in annoyance. “They wouldn’t speak openly of it. Some of the people you think you know the best probably agree with me.”
He wanted to tell her how wrong she was, but now that he thought about it, he’d heard stirrings of discontent. Angels of the old guard, those who had been around since before the Earth supported life of any kind, had waited a long time for humans to prove themselves worthy. Many of those who hadn’t supported Satan’s rebellion and who had preached patience were beginning to rethink their positions. And younger angels who had come along later in human evolution saw only a species that was destroying itself and the planet they’d been given.
It’s like humans are devolving, Tuvol, one of Cipher’s oldest friends, had said once. We had such high hopes for them, but they’re a failed experiment. It’s time Father ends it. The other living things on Earth will be better without their cruelty and selfishness.
As shocked as Cipher had