says, “Well, well, well. If it isn’t little Kastros come back to play.”
“Cat got your tongue, little demon?” the second one, Sabaoth asks. “Oh no, wait. That’s right. I have it.” He snaps his fingers, and a shriveled strip of what looks like jerky appears in his hands.
I’m frozen solid.
I can’t move.
My mind is screaming. These sick fucks have a piece of me. And they’re taunting me with it. My power builds to earthquake levels, until my body can’t contain it and it comes bursting out. The fury alone knocks down the lesser angels in a shockwave of anger.
But not these fuckers.
They don’t even blink.
Instead, the third one, Tabbris, lets his hand shoot out. He grabs me by the neck, his fingers a noose, strangling me as he lifts me bodily.
I’ve never, in all my existence, been the small guy. Never except for that one night. And now.
Tabbris picks me up until I dangle uselessly like some little doll in the fingers of a girl. He licks his lips, and his eyes flash a little wildly. “I can have my little ones eat him from the inside out.”
The hum of his insects grows louder, as if they’re excited by his offer, as if they know what’s happening. My hands flail, and I try to reach up so that I can pry his fingers from my neck, but it’s so far…too far. I feel everything inside me start to slow as I’m deprived of oxygen.
My eyes flicker to the side looking for help. But I can see at least three angels wrestling Zolroth, and Akor’s hand punches through one’s gut as another swings a knife at his head.
Help won’t be coming.
Tabbris turns his gaze to the biggest guy, the one with lightning in his hands. Bariel. Sounds like burial, my dazed mind tells me as my gaze starts to blur at the edges.
My thoughts drift to Katrina.
Raz will get her out. I feel confident about that. Comforted by it. If it means I have to distract these bastards and sacrifice my existence so she can go free…so be it.
I hear Akor give a war cry behind me. But the sound is distant, like someone’s put cotton in my ears.
Everything’s starting to fade, even the pain at my neck.
Tabbris suddenly jerks forward, and his hand loosens around my neck. He drops me, and I fall, gasping for air.
I watch as something long and wooden protrudes from his abdomen. A huge orange and yellow streak spreads across his abs, staining his skin strange colors, and I blink, confused. Until my eyes focus enough to realize it’s the handle of a paintbrush. Someone stabbed Tabbris with a sunset paintbrush.
Blood starts to trickle out beneath the jagged wooden brush handle and mix with the yellow splatter on his skin.
Tabbris stumbles, and my eyes lift to look behind him.
Floating there in the middle of the room, her hair swirling around her like a goddess, is my worst nightmare.
Katrina’s here.
With the angels who tortured me.
Angels who will most definitely kill her.
27
Katrina
Holyyyyy. Crap.
Am I allowed to say that? Is there some rule in Heaven that I don’t know about that states you can’t call crap holy? I mean, for all I know, crap could be holy in this neck of the woods. Maybe you poop out rainbows? Gemstones? Holy water?
Katrina, focus!
But it’s pretty damn hard to do that when I’ve just stabbed an angel with a paintbrush and am currently floating a few inches in the air. Something crackles just beneath my skin—something raw and feral and primitive. It stirs the hair around my head like a tornado is rushing through the enclosed hall.
Power.
So many questions run rampant in my head, but I can’t answer them. Not when the two angels—Lightning and Water, because I don’t know their real names—have both turned around to stare at me, murder emanating from their eyes.
Hopefully they weren’t too attached to the guy I just paint-kababed.
Raz and Van both move to stand protectively in front of me, Raz holding his sword and Van a pair of sharp throwing knives. Akor and Zolroth move so they’re surrounding the two powerful angels from behind. And Kastros? He appears stricken, his normally tan face ashen.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” the one I’ve dubbed Lightning inquires with a savage grin.
“This explains so much,” the other one adds, almost languidly. If he’s scared at all that he’s surrounded by five fierce demons, he doesn’t show it. His posture is almost nonchalant, as if he’s