Riley didn’t know what to do, so she stood by Ori’s side wishing that this was just a bad dream and that Beck would wake her up and hold her and it would be all right. She clasped her hands together, rolling his ring back and forth on her finger, frightened to her very bones.

  When Lucifer’s midnight-blue eyes tracked to her, she couldn’t help but shudder. They did not speak of welcome, but of malice. This was no dream.

  The Chief of the Fallen was clad in armor, like he’d worn at the battle in the cemetery. A sword lay across his thighs, unsheathed. Did he feel so vulnerable that he had to be fully armed in his own realm? Or was this for Ori’s benefit?

  “You requested my presence, my Prince?” her escort said.

  Lucifer leaned back on his throne, stroking his chin in thought. “I have been hearing rumors that you are not happy with your tasks.”

  His voice was different than when she’d last seen him in the cemetery, more guttural. There was none of the suave trickster on display now. Was this the real Lucifer or just another persona he donned when the need arose?

  “Well? Are these rumors true?”

  “You know what I think on the matter,” Ori replied.

  “Yes, you’ve been extremely candid about that. I see your latest conquest is at your heels.” Lucifer straightened up now, eyes blazing. “How dare you bring the whelp of a master demon trapper to stand in my presence?”

  She frowned up at Ori. “You said he wanted me here.”

  Her demi-lord ignored her. “This mortal’s soul is in my charge and I do not trust leaving her without my protection. Some might feel the need to harm her.”

  “For good reason,” Lucifer replied. “Perhaps I should break the bond between you and gift her to one of my other, more loyal servants.”

  Break the bond? Could he do that? Of course, he could.

  Demons in the back of the hall laughed and hooted, the sounds scorching like acid in her veins. She twisted Beck’s ring again, trying to find some courage from the simple piece of metal.

  When her demi-lord did not rise to the bait, Lucifer settled back on his throne. “Deliver your report,” he ordered.

  Ori began to detail the executions, listing out the long demon names, one after another. The Prince remained motionless, his bottomless eyes riveted on Riley. Sweat broke out on her forehead, and her skin began to itch like it was peeling from the inside out. She desperately wanted to scratch herself, but forced her hands to remain clasped.

  Lucifer waved Ori to silence. “What of you, Blackthorne’s Daughter? What have you been about?”

  “Ah, I’ve been acting as his second,” she offered. At least that’s what she hoped he wanted to hear.

  A chorus of hisses erupted from the demons telling her that wasn’t the right answer.

  Lucifer shot up from his throne, sword in hand. “How dare you teach a mortal to slay my servants?” he roared, his voice booming off the cavern walls.

  “You refused to provide me assistance. You said I should use my imagination to destroy your enemies. I have done so. I can kill twice the number of traitorous fiends if I have a second.”

  “That is no excuse! You have given this mortal a taste of Divine power. You have favored her since the first time you saw her.”

  “You were the one who ordered me to guard Blackthorne’s Daughter,” Ori parried back.

  “An order you have taken to the extreme. When you were dying, you could have saved your own life, yet you refused to take hers to do so. Why?”

  Stunned, Riley looked over at the angel. “Is that true?”

  “Yes,” Ori conceded, answering her, not his master. “As your soul is mine, I could have drained your life energy to heal myself. I refused.”

  Ohmigod.

  “It was I who healed you,” Lucifer continued, striding up and down in front of them, his fury translating into motion. “Yet I see no gratitude for that gesture, my servant.”

  Ori stiffened. “I sought the nothingness of death and you refused me that honor. I do what you command me, my Prince, but there is no love in the task.”

  Lucifer came to a halt and laid his sword over an armor-clad shoulder.

  “It is whispered that you seek my throne,” he said, his words slitting like razors. “That you wish to overthrow the tyrant. What say you to that?”

  Ori did not reply. Behind them, the demons grew restless, scenting blood on the wind.

  We are so dead. There was no way the Prince could back down now. She’d just disappear and Beck wouldn’t know what happened to her. No, not this way. Please. I want to see him one more time.

  A tortured howl erupted from somewhere in the vast room. Lucifer issued an order and the fiends parted, revealing a battered figure that knelt inside a broad circle sketched onto the stone, some sort of magical prison. The creature’s garments hung on its body, filthy and tattered, and there were thick metal chains looped around its body. Those chains were not stationary, but moved, sliding across the abraded flesh.

  Sartael.

  The Archangel’s mad eyes sought hers and he howled again, shouting curses at her in Hellspeak.

  “Your enemy has missed you,” Lucifer said dryly. He returned to his throne, the sword across his thighs again. “Do you understand the precipice upon which you teeter, my servant? Do you doubt that could be you in those chains?”

  “Yes, I understand, Master,” Ori replied through gritted teeth.

  Lucifer’s attention went to her and he grinned savagely. “Do not think that fate is for Ori alone.”

  Riley began to quake in terror, her lungs tightening with each sulfurous breath. She pulled her eyes away from Sartael’s endless torture and riveted them on the feet of one of the massive Fives in front of her, the claws on its toes as long as her arm.

  Lucifer rose from his simple throne, his dark wings fully visible now. Lightning danced along the walls, arcing into the vaulted ceiling and then down to ground itself in the throne behind him.

  He pointed at Ori with the tip of his sword. “Seek my enemies and destroy them. Side with them and your punishment will be eternal. This is your last warning. Now begone!”

  THIRTY-ONE

  A hysterical sob brought Beck out of his dark thoughts, and he leapt toward Riley as she wavered on her feet at the end of the bed. He gasped at the overwhelming stench of sulfur as she shook like a frightened kitten, each breath a tortured wheeze.

  “I’m here, girl.”

  “Hell . . . ” Her eyes were consumed with abject fear, tears flowing from them in torrents.

  Beck hefted Riley into his arms, carried her into the bathroom and sat her on the edge of the bathtub. She instinctively bent over, trying to pull in as much oxygen as possible. Her next breath grew tighter, and he began to panic. What if she stopped breathing? What could he do?

  He opened the window and then turned on the shower, hoping the fresh air and humidity might help. It was then he saw her right hand, the one with Hell’s inscription glowing a pale silver-white.

  My God.

  Beck knelt in front of her, making eye contact with the terrified girl. “Take a slow breath. Okay, now another one. That’s good,” he said, coaching her. Over time, and with his patient coaxing, her breathing improved. When he felt she was doing better, he reached for the top button of her shirt. “Ya need a shower. It’ll warm ya up. Get rid of that . . . smell.”

  Riley nodded and allowed him to help her undress. When only her underwear remained, he backed off.

  “I’ll let ya do the rest, okay?” he said. “I’ll go make ya some hot chocolate. Ya need anything, call out.”

  Beck reluctantly left her on her own. When he heard the shower door roll closed, he sagged against the wall outside the bathroom door.

  Why had she been in Hell? What had Ori done to her? I have to stop this. But how?

  Riley took her time in the shower, like he’d hoped. When she stepped out he had a large, warmed towel waiting to cover her so she wouldn’t feel so exposed in front of him. Then he had her stand in front of the sink as he gently towel-dried her hair and combed it. Those simple actions and the mug of hot chocolate seemed to calm her.

  Every time life sucker punched her she’d pulled herself up and kept going. It was one of the many traits he admired about her. But even Riley had a breaking point, and it appeared she’d just reached it.

  “That’s better,” he said, trying to sound upbeat. “Ya smell like my girl again.”

  Her reddened eyes met his in the mirror, her hands shaking so badly she could barely hold the mug. “Lucifer summoned us,” she said in a roughened voice. “He was furious. He thinks Ori is after his throne.”

  Beck forced himself not to react, unwilling to frighten her further. Instead, he urged her to drink more of the beverage. After she did, he placed the mug in the sink. “Let’s get ya to bed. It’ll be warmer there.”

  Riley offered no protest, but allowed him to dress her in one of his long T-shirts and then tuck her under the covers. He climbed in next to her and she clung to him.

  If the Prince believed Ori a traitor, he’d kill her demi-lord and claim Riley’s soul. Who knew what torment she’d face at Lucifer’s hands or at the whim of his demons?

  “Tell me what happened, all of it,” he said.

  In a halting voice Riley gave him the story, how she’d seen all the demons, and the dead souls, and Sartael in chains.

  “I know what it’s like now,” she said, her voice so faint he could barely hear her. “I’m going there when I die.” She sobbed into his chest. “God, I’m so afraid. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

  Beck did. “In the mornin’ we’ll go to the masters, tell them everythin’. They’ll know how to handle this.”

  “No,” she replied, shaking her head. “Stewart will have to tell Rome that I slept with Ori. They’ll lock me up or . . . something. I’ll never see you again.”

  “I think Rome’s already got a good idea of what happened and they don’t want to push it. Not after ya kept the world from bein’ torn apart.”

  She shook her head again. “The masters won’t be able to do anything. Ori is going down and I’ll go with him. You know those chains Lucifer put on Sartael? There’s a set waiting for me.”

  He felt the panic start to work on him, like it did before every battle. The unrelenting doubts, the rampaging fear, the utter helplessness.

  Not goin’ there. She needs me. I have to be strong for her.

  As tears rolled down her cheek, Riley began to fumble with the ring on her finger, trying to remove it. Beck knew he couldn’t let her do that.

  He took both her hands in his. “No, pushin’ me away is not the answer. What we have is more than just for when things are goin’ right. It’s forever, Riley.”

  Her eyes sought his. “They’ll kill you, Beck. I can’t face that.”

  “I don’t give a damn about bein’ alive if yer not with me. I love ya and no damned Fallen angel is gonna take ya away from me. Ya hear?”

  “But—”

  “No! Ya didn’t walk away when I was dyin’ in the swamp and I’m not leavin’ ya now. We face this together. That’s the only way it’s gonna be.”

  There was gratitude in her eyes now. “I love you,” she whispered.

  “I know. We’ll make it through this,” he insisted. “We’re stronger than Hell. Love always is.”

  Riley pulled her hands out of his, but made no further attempt to remove the ring.

  “You really think the masters can help us?” There was more strength in her voice now, like she was tapping her last reserve of courage.

  Beck kept his sigh of relief to himself. “We’ll find out in the mornin’,” he replied. “Now ya . . . you get some rest.”

  “No. I don’t want sleep.” Riley kissed him on the lips and pulled him closer. “Make me believe we’ll still be together when this is over.”

  “We will be together, one way or another. I promise.”

  Even if he had to kill every demon in Hell to make that a reality.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Beck was out of bed at dawn, his mind too full of worries to rest. As he pulled on his clothes, he tried not to make any noise so Riley could continue to sleep. She had rolled over now, her hair draped on the pillow. His heart ached at the sight of her so soft and vulnerable.

  God, I love you.

  If he didn’t figure out how to shield her from Hell’s politics, she wouldn’t be with him much longer. He knew exactly what his life would become without her: It was just a matter of buying enough booze and picking which gutter he wanted to die in.

  Beck pulled the door closed then made a stop in the bathroom. After putting her clothes into the washer to remove the sulfuric stench, he allowed himself to stall by making the coffee. After that there was nothing left to do but pick up the phone and call Stewart. In some ways he felt like he was betraying the girl he loved.

  Once the grand master answered, Beck nearly choked up.

  “Riley’s in big trouble and we desperately need the Guild’s help, sir.”

  There was a momentary pause. “This have somethin’ ta do with that Fallen angel?”

  How did you know that? “Yes, it does.”

  “Bring her here at nine. I’ll call Harper.”

  Beck set the phone on the table, replaying the conversation in his head. How was it that Stewart always seemed to be one step ahead of them? He suspected the Vatican would probably take Riley to Rome for her own protection, though Beck questioned whether the Church could shield her from the Prince’s wrath.

  What if I never see her again?

  At this point he’d do anything to keep her alive, even turning her care over to someone else. As he reached for a cup, his balance faltered, then his head spun. He reached out to grab the counter to keep from falling, but it had vanished.

  When Beck’s senses came back online, he was no longer in his kitchen, but in a verdant pasture. The sky was a bright blue and the weather sunny and warm, like midsummer. This certainly wasn’t Atlanta in February.

  “What the hell is this?”

  Then he spied the Fallen under a broad oak tree, his enemy’s wings clearly visible. Spitting out an oath, Beck marched toward him, eager to vent his fury on Riley’s seducer.

  The angel watched him approach without concern.

  “Killing me will not help Riley Anora Blackthorne,” Ori said.

  Beck came to a halt, love and revenge waging war within him. “What the hell are ya playin’ at? Where are we?”

  “A place of my own making. I like being somewhere no one else can overhear us.”

  Which meant if this bastard decided to kill him, no one would ever know.

  “That too,” the angel replied.

  “Ya can read my mind.”

  “Sometimes. Right now you’re so emotional, it’s child’s play.”

  Beck growled, but held his ground. “Why are ya takin’ my woman out of my arms and tryin’ to get her killed?”

  In lieu of a reply, Ori sat under the tree, propped a foot up and then laid his forearm on his knee. The gesture seemed human, but then this Divine had been around mortals for so long it was only natural he’d copy their behavior.

  “I’m waitin’ for an answer,” Beck said.

  The Fallen’s dark eyes turned toward him. “Our realm is in turmoil because my master did not kill Sartael when he had the chance.”

  Beck frowned. “Lucifer is not a wimp. If he thought one of his angels was a threat, that sucker would be dead.”

  “Only when that death suited his plans.” Ori plucked a long blade of grass and twisted it thoughtfully between his fingers.

  When the angel said nothing further, he took a position under the tree, but left considerable space between himself and his enemy. The wind ruffled the grass around him in rolling waves.

  Beck sighed heavily. “Lucifer’s a lot like Stewart,” he mused aloud. “He does nothin’ without a strategy behind it. Which means . . . ” He began to see other possibilities. “Somethin’ must have made the Fallen angels uneasy with their master.” He suspected that something was sitting near him. “Why are ya alive? Last I saw ya were dyin’, leakin’ blue blood everywhere.”

  The sudden fury in Ori’s dark eyes made Beck tense in response. “My master refused me the right to die.”

  “What happens when one of yer kind dies?”

  “We are sent to Oblivion. Nothingness. You mortals call it Limbo. It’s a great void—no sound, no light, nothing. If we have paid our debt, we may be summoned back to our Creator. If not, we’re alone for eternity.”

  The angel wasn’t making much sense. “Why would ya want to die if that’s where yer headed?” Beck quizzed.

  “Eternity in nothingness is what I deserve,” Ori replied, quieter now. “I am weary of . . . life.”

  Beck had never considered that possibility. If you were nearly eternal, perhaps you could grow tired of each new day. Still, he was getting closer to the real issue, he could feel it. “What do the other angels think about Lucifer not lettin’ ya pass on?”

  “Most are angry I have not been given the choice to end my existence.”

  “Angry enough to side with Sartael and his crazy demons?”

  “Perhaps.”

  Beck huffed. “Yer bein’ played, angel. Both the Prince and that crazy-assed Archangel are usin’ ya as the fuel for this war.”

  “I know.” Ori’s brows furrowed as he tossed the blade of grass aside. “That is why I have been training Riley so hard. It is vital she survives. Soon Sartael’s fiends will free him, and when that happens he will not remain in Hell. He will return to the one place in your world that has shown him defeat. Where do you think that might be?”

  “Atlanta,” he said, his heart sinking.

  “Need I warn you what he intends to do with those who vanquished him? The trappers? The necromancers and witches? Or the daughter of the master who put him in those chains?”