Cipher held Lyre’s hand as they stood near the portal that would get them into Sheoul-gra. Well, it would if they had permission. Apparently Azagoth had recently sealed it after the death of one of his children.
“Can you see it?” Lyre asked, referring to the spell that kept the entrance closed.
“Yup.”
“Having second thoughts?”
“What, about breaking a spell that the Grim Reaper put in place to protect his realm?” He snorted. “Nah.”
She squeezed his hand reassuringly, well aware that he was having second thoughts. Third thoughts. Fourth thoughts.
There were a whole lot of thoughts going through his head right now.
“We don’t have to do this,” she said. “We could disappear somewhere. Live away from everyone else.” She shrugged one battered shoulder, still bruised and bloodied from the battle. Her major wounds had healed already, the fractured bones and lacerations, but without wings his damage was taking far longer. “I heard Pestilence lived in a cave for centuries. So, you know, there’s that.”
He knew she was kidding about the cave—probably—but no matter what, life as a fugitive from Azagoth’s wrath and his friends’ scorn wouldn’t work for him. He’d always been an act first, ask forgiveness later type of guy, but he did always ask forgiveness.
“I can’t run, Lyre.” Both literally and figuratively. He was pretty sure his right femur was shattered.
“I know,” she sighed. “It’s just...I saw enough of you being tortured. I don’t want you to go through that again, and I’m guessing that if anyone is an expert at causing pain, Azagoth would be it.”
“And you would be right.” He brushed a lock of hair back behind her ear, needing an excuse to touch her where Bael had put his filthy mouth. “Lyre?”
“Hmm?”
“What did Bael say to you? You know, right before you did your vapor thing?”
Lyre gave a casual shrug, but he’d seen the look of terror on her face when Bael was bent over her, his teeth grazing her ear.
“Apparently, virgin fallen angels are hard to find,” she said. “He and Moloc decided to use me for some kind of mating ceremony to make themselves whole.” She shook her head. “I have no idea what that means. Anyway, when Bael sensed that I was no longer ‘pure,’ he got a little cranky.”
“I wish the bastard wasn’t dead,” he growled. “I want to kill him again.”
“Well, there’s always Moloc and Flail,” she said as she channeled a wave of healing power into him. She’d been sending pulses through him every couple of minutes as her power recharged. He wished he could do the same for her, but there wasn’t any guarantee that he’d develop that skill. He couldn’t wait for his new wings to find out.
“I’m sure Azagoth will handle Moloc.” Flail, however, was his.
The mention of Azagoth’s name put a shadow of worry in Lyre’s eyes, and he wished he could reassure her, but he wasn’t a hundred percent on the likelihood of surviving the rest of the day.
“So who are we going to talk to first?” she asked. “Azagoth? Your friend Hawkyn?”
“I don’t know. Whoever we see first, I guess. I have to apologize to everyone. I’m responsible for the death of a child who was the sibling of every Memitim in Sheoul-gra. I owe them all an explanation.”
“Okay.” She went up on her toes and kissed him, her warm lips giving him the courage to get this done.
Except “getting it done” took longer than expected. The battle with Bael had drained him of power, leaving him with a single drop that was barely enough to interrupt the spell protecting Sheoul-gra’s entrance. He was so weakened, in fact, that he couldn’t completely bring it down. He could only pause it.
“We have five seconds,” he said. “Let’s go.”
They materialized on the landing pad, and almost immediately, Zhubaal arrived, his expression a storm cloud. Cipher stepped in front of Lyre, putting himself in the path of Azagoth’s chief enforcer. No one got to manhandle Lyre but Cipher.
He was about to make that clear when he heard Hawkyn call out his name.
“Cipher!” Hawk charged past Zhubaal and tackled him in a massive bear hug. “You’re alive! Fuck me, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” He stepped back and looked him up and down. “Are you evil? Tell me you’re not evil. I don’t want to have to put you down.”
Cipher laughed. “I’m surprisingly myself.”
Z watched from the periphery, his hand at his sword hilt, his gaze watchful but non-threatening. He was ready to take Cipher out, but he was trusting Hawkyn to handle the situation.
Cool. Cipher had always liked Zhubaal. The fallen angel had a good head on his shoulders and he was a total dick. What wasn’t to like?
Journey, Maddox, Emerico, and Jasmine, a few of Hawkyn’s siblings, sprinted toward them, all smiles. Word was spreading fast. It wouldn’t be long before Azagoth either sent for him or showed up.
Cipher wasn’t sure which would be worse.
Hawkyn shifted his gaze to Lyre. “Ciph’s last message said he had inside help to escape Bael’s territory. You must be Lyre. I’m Hawkyn.”
“It’s good to finally meet you,” she said. “Cipher has a lot of faith in your friendship.”
“Yeah?” Hawkyn looked like he was about to say something that would be completely humiliating to Cipher—because what else were friends for—but the group of loudmouthed Memitim led by Journey stormed the landing pad.
They tackled him the way Hawkyn had, all smiles and “welcome back” and “tell us everything.”
And for the first time in months, Cipher truly relaxed.
He was home.
He glanced around, frowning as he realized that shit was a mess. Statues were toppled, pillars smashed, and even a couple of trees were down. Memitim were working to clean up, although several had stopped what they were doing to watch the Cipher Show.
“What happened?”
Maddox jerked his thumb toward Azagoth’s mansion. “Pops got into it with Reaver and Revenant.”
“Why?”
Jasmine shook her dark head. “Dunno.”
“Where is he?” He was almost afraid to ask, and Lyre gave his hand a comforting squeeze.
“Last time I saw him he was with Lilliana,” Rico said.
Well, that was interesting. And potentially good news for Azagoth’s mood. “I thought Lilliana left him.”
“Dude, she’s back,” Journey said. “Like, last week. And get this, she’s pregnant!”
Cipher stared in disbelief. “No. Seriously?”
Hawkyn nodded. “She just showed up one day, nine months pregnant.”
Holy shit. “How did your father take it?”
“I’ve never seen him happier.” Hawkyn gestured toward all the destroyed shit. “I mean, you know, as happy as he gets.”
“I have a theory.” Maddox took an enormous gulp of the soda in his hand. “What if the baby’s not his?”
All heads swiveled toward Mad.
“What?” That came from everyone.
“Think about it, yo. She was gone nine months. She’s nine months pregnant. She could have boned some dude after she left, like she was getting back at him or something, and bam! Preggo. She had to come back so he’d think it was his. You watch. This baby will be ‘late.’” He added a wink to the last bit.
Journey scowled at his brother. “You’re such a jackass.”
“And how.” Hawkyn opened his mouth to say something else, but abruptly, the ground shifted and the air went still and cold.
Oh, fuck.
“Uh-oh,” Maddox said in a quiet, singsong voice. “Daddy’s here.”
Cipher shot Hawkyn a look, and Hawk dipped his head in understanding. Knowing his friend would keep Lyre safe, Cipher moved toward Azagoth, a cold knot of anticipation tightening in his chest.
At least he’s in his fallen angel suit.
It was a small comfort that Azagoth was striding down the path in black slacks and a matching shirt instead of wearing scales and horns, but Cipher would take what he could get. Especially because, even from twenty paces away, he could see flames dancing in Azagoth’s unyielding emerald eyes.
The Grim Reaper was extra grim today.
Adrenaline shot through Cipher as he prepared for whatever Azagoth was going to do to him. In Sheoul-gra, most angelic and demonic abilities were muted or useless, and even if they had been allowed and Cipher was at full strength, he couldn’t stand up against the Grim Reaper’s awesome power.
Azagoth’s boots cracked the pavers as he stopped a mere three feet away, well inside Cipher’s comfort zone. Of course, Cipher’s comfort zone with Azagoth was three miles, not three feet.
Swallowing dryly, Cipher bowed. “My lord—”
“Not. A. Word.” Azagoth’s voice sounded like it had been filtered through the walls of a coffin. “You’re still breathing for one reason. And that reason is Hawkyn.”
Of that, Cipher had no doubt. He inclined his head in a respectful nod and looked back, meeting Hawkyn’s gaze.
Thank you.
Again Hawkyn gave a solemn nod of acknowledgement before a flash of humor crossed his face and he mouthed, You owe me.
A thousand times over, buddy.
“Tell me why you gave the names of my children to my enemy,” Azagoth continued, his expression as cold as his eyes were hot. “Now you may speak. And be careful. Hawkyn only holds so much sway with me.”
Cipher took a deep, bracing breath, and when he spoke, it was with determination, sincerity, and a need to show Azagoth that he wasn’t the devil-may-care playboy he used to be, but he was as loyal as he ever was.
“My lord, I’m sorry about your daughter. I’m so sorry.” He raised his voice, needing everyone to hear this. “I gave the names of Azagoth’s children to Bael in exchange for a chance to escape. I thought I was tricking him. I thought all of those children had already been brought to Sheoul-gra. I didn’t know any were still out in the human realm.” He met the gaze of every single Memitim before turning back to Azagoth, who stared in silent judgment. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, even though it wasn’t enough. There weren’t enough apologies in the universe for this. “I’d take it back if I could.”
“It’s true!” Lyre shoved past the ring of Memitim before Hawkyn could grab her. “He didn’t know. He was devastated when he found out. He wanted revenge as much as anyone.”
“Not as much as anyone,” Azagoth snapped.
Lyre cursed as Hawk snared her arm and gently reeled her in. “Cipher killed Bael with an aural from Bael’s own armory.”
Azagoth’s sharp eyes bored into Cipher. “You killed Bael? It wasn’t my souls?”
Cipher would have been content to let Azagoth believe that his souls had taken down Bael, but Lyre would have none of it, and she shrugged out of Hawkyn’s grip.
“He could have waited for one of your souls to do it,” she said boldly. “But he didn’t. He wanted Bael to pay for what he’d done.”
Cipher swore storm clouds were brewing over Azagoth’s head. “Who are you?”
“My lord,” Cipher said, moving to intercept, “this is Lyre. She helped me escape, and if not for her, Bael wouldn’t be dead.” He turned to her, awed by her bravery. She might claim to have weak powers, but she was a warrior from the tips of her wings to the depths of her heart. “And if she’ll have me, I would have her as my mate.”
Lyre’s eyes flared, her mouth fell open, and he nearly groaned. Was it too soon? What if she rejected him in front of all his friends? What if she rejected him anywhere? He was alive because of her. He wasn’t drenched in evil because of her. He was home because of her.
He owed her everything, and he’d already given her the one thing he never thought he’d surrender.
His heart.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I would love to be your mate.”
Relief and elation left him momentarily frozen, but once his feet could move again he gathered her in his arms. He wanted to celebrate properly, but it could wait.
Azagoth wouldn’t.
Cipher kissed her, a peck with a promise of more later, and turned back to Azagoth. “Lyre didn’t have to help me, but she did. When she learned all that Bael and Moloc planned to do, including murdering your children, she turned against them.”
Azagoth’s gemstone eyes once again flashed with intensity, but when he spoke, the razor edge in his voice had dulled. “The daughter on the list, my daughter who died...she was part of a plan. I can accept that. I don’t like it, but it’s beyond my ability to change. Prove to me Amelia didn’t die in vain.”
“I will,” Cipher vowed. “I swear.”
Silence stretched, a make-’em-sweat tactic Azagoth had trademarked. “Hawkyn insists you’ll be an asset to Sheoul-gra,” he finally said. “Time will tell. But if you do anything, and I mean anything, to make me regret this...” Azagoth paused, his lips peeled back from deadly fangs. “I don’t need to go on, do I?”
“No, sir, I’d rather you didn’t.”
With a hint of a smile and a nod so shallow Cipher questioned whether it happened at all, Azagoth flashed away, leaving him with all he’d ever wanted.
His home, his friends, and now, Lyre.