We walked to the tunnel together. I went ahead, letting the light drifting off the Spear illuminate my path. “We’re going to go to the Between.”
If Azazel hadn’t told me about it, no doubt it was dangerous. But every second we wasted was another second where the scales of balance tipped further in one direction.
If they went too far, we’d never right them.
21
Azazel
Frost crackled under my hands as I searched the orb, scanning the lands over Irkalla.
Melisande would kill me for doing this without a guide or someone to pull me back, but my lover was far from here, her light gleaming in a completely different portion of the orb.
Besides, I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Satan’s grip on my mind had been oily and slick, but his power was easily recognizable. I avoided it for now, searching the rest of Irkalla for the thing I feared the most.
We were in luck, for the most part. Satan’s power was the only signature registering in the orb, plucking at the edges of my mind, but that was better than the alternative.
Far better than Ereshkigal herself.
I didn’t dare search closer to Kur, where she might feel me lurking in the magic webs entangled around her city, but I still felt remnants of power from an ancient battle staining the lands of Irkalla closest to Kur.
She’d spilled her sister Inanna’s blood there, humiliated her, tortured her, then ripped her heart out of her chest and ate it as we’d watched. It was the last place we should go; the land there had long memories.
And it would know me.
I exhaled and pulled my hands from the orb. As long as Ereshkigal remained holed up in Kur, we stood a chance. If she left, well…
I’d leave Lucifer to his fate. But Vyra… I couldn’t let her die like that, nor could I let Melisande throw herself into it headfirst.
I closed my eyes for several long moments, remembering when Ereshkigal had gripped Inanna by the throat and tore right through her chest, forcing her lover to watch her die.
Then my imagination superimposed Melisande, and then Vyra, in that situation.
Unacceptable.
And yet I couldn’t leave her there.
The conundrum tore at me. I’d always thought I’d be there for Vyra first, willing to sacrifice myself for her, but not if it meant Melisande would plunge in and die, too.
The only way to win was to prevent Satan from getting any closer. If he was swapping bodies, perhaps that’d buy us a little time.
I smoothed my coat and descended through the floor, leaving the silence of my library behind. Soft, agonized snuffles filled the air in the cathedral below.
I gave Druzila and Typhon a cool once-over. And to think I’d believed they would make something of themselves.
All they’d managed to do was embarrass the Grigori and treat my mate like dirt under their heels.
The rage that’d been slowly building since I realized what Satan was doing began to rise again, a slow and steady bubbling in my veins. Every bit of impotent anger that I couldn’t unleash on the one who deserved it was directed at these two, the easy targets sitting in front of me.
It was times like these that I realized I’d never be completely free of the monster inside, whether my soul was whole or not. I enjoyed their suffering, the retribution for their disobedience.
But she would be disappointed if she knew.
I forced myself to exhale. They’d been physically punished long enough. It was time to let them down from their crosses before I vanished, potentially for months.
But first…
“You two have gravely disappointed me.” I looked at Druzila’s plum-colored face, and then at Typhon. His eyes flickered, barely able to open all the way.
Druzila’s mouth moved, and she finally managed to squeak out three words. “Yes, Lord Watcher.”
It was too late for apologies. I had no use for Grigori in my ranks who couldn’t follow simple orders and wished to satisfy their own base desires instead.
“You’re free. I release you from the ranks of the Grigori. Go, and never come back.” I raised my hand. Flickering shadows grew around my fingers as the tips lengthened into sharp, ethereal claws.
I plunged my incorporeal fist through Druzila’s chest. She gasped, eyes flying wide open as I gripped the little ball of violet light in her heart, but she didn’t dare move without the scythe cutting her throat. “Please, no, Lord Watcher.”
Her whimpers fell on deaf ears. I cupped the light and drew it out, closing my fist around it. When I opened my fingers again, it was gone, merged back into my own body and magic.
Typhon didn’t moan or beg. He squeezed his eyes shut instead, grimacing as I ripped away his ability to Reap.
The magic had been a gift, entirely conditional. Neither of them would be able to communicate with or touch souls any longer.
I flicked my fingers and the scythes flew away as the ties binding them came loose. Both former Grigori fell to the stone floor, their wings folded stiffly behind them, making small noises of pain as feeling slowly came back to their hands and feet.
As soon as Typhon could move, he was up on his feet, hobbling to the doors and freedom.
Druzila threw herself at my feet instead. “Give me a second chance,” she begged. Tears dripped off her cheeks and fell to the floor, leaving dark stains behind. “Don’t take my scythe.”
I glanced up at the scythes, still hanging in midair. “No.”
Shadows swirled around the weapons and they vanished, returning to the place from which they’d been borrowed. Druzila’s face was still red and swollen, contorted with disbelief, as she watched her weapon disappear.
I knelt down and lifted Druzila’s chin, forcing her to look at me. “You put my mate in danger,” I said softly. “It was because of you and your childish taunting that she didn’t have Grigori at her back when she needed them. You’ve brought nothing but shame to us.”
Something dark moved inside me. Her soul was dim and tarnished, but it was still a soul… and it’d been a long time since I’d eaten.
I let the edges of the dark creep out from inside me. My eye sockets felt hollow, the skin on my face like a mask being pushed aside.
The little things that made me me slowly vanished. They were no longer important.
Only the soul was. Nobody would miss hers.
I inhaled, tasting rust and ash and bitterness. It was barely a mouthful, but the monstrous anger dancing inside me was pleased.
Take it. Swallow it whole, cast her into the void. Eat her alive. Make her suffer. Make her hurt forever…
“Azazel!”
I blinked. The taste of rust was still strong in my mouth, but everything came back together in a split-second.
I was about to eat a former Grigori’s soul. To condemn her consciousness to an eternity of torment.
Just because I was angry.
I was really no better than the creature that spawned me. The guilt crashed over me in a tidal wave, and I shoved Druzila away as a little figure stormed into the cathedral, carrying a Spear of Light.
For a wild moment I thought Melisande was upset that I’d come this close to eating Druzila’s soul. Her eyes flashed as she brandished the spear.
“What is the Between, and why have you never told me about it?”