“Are you the only one who benefits from this sale, or do Gharol and Skrix also get castles?”

  My words were met with silence filled only by the gentle rolling of what sounded like thunder overhead. I took that silence to mean that what I had just said had struck a cord.

  “It’s got a point,” grumbled Gharol, after the tension-filled moment. “I want a castle and a legion too.”

  “Overlords get legions,” said Azaroth. “Ravagers get to kill with impunity. Stick to what you are good at.”

  “You don’t let me do that either!”

  “What about Corruptors, then?” Interrupted Skrix. “Do we get castles?”

  “No, you do not get castles.” Azaroth sighed, cleared agitated by the turn of conversation. “Neither of you get castles, and neither of you get legions! What would you even do with a legion?” asked Azaroth.

  “I dunno. I’m smart. I’d figure it out,” replied Skrix

  “Yes,” I said, “You are smart. So smart! Don’t let him tell you otherwise.”

  “See?” asked Skrix. “It thinks I’m smart.”

  “An angel—and captive who wants to escape—says you are smart,” said Azaroth, lowering his tone. “Perhaps you’re not as intelligent as you think.”

  “Are you using big words to confuse us again?” asked Gharol, “Because that worked last time, but it’s not going to work now.”

  “Look, you’re all making a huge mistake,” I said. “If you go and sell me off to some other demon, what’s to stop them from making me destroy all of you with my Light?”

  “I know you don’t possess enough Light in you to do that,” said Azaroth. “I don’t know why you’re here, or why you fell into the Pit wearing armor, but I know you can’t destroy us. You would have already.”

  “Okay, then in that case, your estimation of my value is totally wrong.”

  “What does it mean?” asked Skrix. “What do you mean, angel?”

  “Well… I’m either strong enough to destroy all of you with my Light, in which case I’m incredibly powerful and valuable like Azaroth says… or I couldn’t hurt you if I tried. If that’s true, then I’m worth nothing. I can’t be both. If I had the power to destroy you all, wouldn’t I have done that already?”

  The cart I was being moved on suddenly stopped. “It’s got a point!” hissed Skrix. “It hurt us, but it didn’t kill us. What if it’s worth nothing?”

  “What if we get laughed out of the city for bringing them a worthless trinket?” asked Gharol.

  “Light or no Light,” said Azaroth, “This creature will still be entertaining to watch in the arenas. It will fight for its life. It will fight like no demon ever could. That alone will be worth a prize fit for an Overlord.”

  “And will you share those prizes with us?” asked Skrix. “Or will you keep them all for yourself and only throw us the scraps?”

  “If you continue to doubt me, you’ll get nothing. Is that understood?”

  It’s working, I thought. If there was one thing I could count on when it came to demons; they were all opportunists, and any loyalty they had towards each other was purely based on fear and control. Azaroth was clearly their leader, but if he couldn’t control them then they were likely to turn on him. If they could be made to turn on him, then maybe I had a shot at getting out of this.

  All I had to do was keep them talking.

  “Wait,” Gharol said suddenly. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” asked Skrix.

  “That. Listen.”

  I couldn’t hear anything. I certainly couldn’t hear whatever had caught this demon’s attention.

  “You can barely hear anything at the best of times, Gharol,” said Azaroth. “Those metal plates around your ears do that sense a disservice.”

  “I’m telling you, I heard something.”

  “Like what?” asked Skrix. “Hang on—over there!”

  I heard the ringing of blades, of steel being drawn. “The rebels have found us,” came a fourth voice that sounded almost like a whisper on the wind. Was that the demon who had knocked me out? Okaras.

  “Take your positions!” barked Azaroth. “Ready your weapons.”

  “I saw one!” Yelled Skrix. “Wait, no, where’d they go?!”

  “It sounds like they’re all around us!” roared Gharol.

  “Hold your positions,” Azaroth demanded, “And close your ranks!”

  It sounded like they were all shuffling around me. I heard the scraping of boots on rough ground, the rush of wind, and a faint whispering somewhere nearby. Gharol still couldn’t see whatever Skrix had seen, and no one could hear what he was hearing. It was chaos, and I was still tied up and not going anywhere.

  The rebels have found us.

  Rebels?

  What rebels?

  “There, over the rocks!” yelled Skrix. There was a shout, a thud, and then the clashing of blades. I heard grunting, yelling, and shuffling.

  Some kind of battle was clearly unfolding around me, and I couldn’t see or do anything about it. I tried to struggle out of my bindings, but it was no use. At one point, someone toppled over my cart, knocking it onto its side.

  I fell to the floor with a thud, and while I still couldn’t move or get out of my bindings, I thought I may have been able to start lifting the bag I had over my head by scraping the side of my face against the ground. It was hard and uncomfortable work, but it was working.

  All the while I was hearing yelling, grunting, and the metal ring of blades. Lightning crackled, but it didn’t seem to come from above—it sounded like it was right near my head, and it brought with it an acrid scent that assaulted my nostrils.

  It was hard to concentrate on what I was doing with the constant threat of injury looming over me, but I worked at the bag over my head until I managed to get it up and over my nose, allowing me to just about catch a glimpse of the combat if I angled my head just right.

  Whoever had attacked Azaroth and the others hadn’t identified themselves, they hadn’t made demands, and they weren’t taking this lightly. They were armed, motivated, and it looked to me like there were more of them than there were of the demons who had initially captured me.

  I was about to get the bag up past my eyes when I felt someone’s hand on my shoulders. They spun me around so I was face down in the dirt, undoing all the work I had just done. I was about to protest when that person spoke right next to my ear.

  “Don’t move,” came the new voice. “I’m going to undo your bindings, and you’re going to come with us.”

  “Who are you?!” I said, “I’m not going with anyone.”

  “You either come with us, or you take your chances with these monsters.”

  Whoever this was, they took the time to slide a blade into the gap between my hands and cut the bindings holding my wrists together. Another moment or so, and they’d cut the wraps around my wings and feet, freeing all of my limbs.

  I wasted no time taking the bag off my head and tossing it aside.

  The demon I saw looming over me had skin the color of a bruised plum, sharpened canines, and eyes that burned with an emerald fire. He also had thick horns that ran up and along their skull; white horns that ended in reddish peaks.

  I had questions.

  So many questions.

  But my burning desire to get away from Azaroth and his band of idiots was greater than my need to ask those questions and get answers. I picked myself up off the floor, took a moment to gather myself, and started to run after the demon who had just freed me.

  He had wings that at one point looked like they had been feathery, but those feathers had started to mottle and fall off long ago. Still, this demon was more than capable of using those wings to take flight.

  “Azaroth!” yelled Skrix, “It’s getting away, look!”

  Glancing around my shoulder, I watched Azaroth—a knife in one hand, a whip in the other—turn to face me. He pulled back his whip-arm just as I started to run. I heard it crack in my direction, but I was fast enough to duck and roll my way out of its reach. As I came back up to standing, I used my wings to propel myself off the ground and take to the air, following the demon that had freed me.

  It wasn’t long before I was joined by the others who had been keeping Azaroth and his minions busy. Each of them was monstrous in some way. They were demons, I knew that much. However, I owed them my freedom, though whether or not they allowed me to keep that freedom was a different story.

  But even in Hell, flying through the air beat being dragged around on a cart any day of the week.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Soaring through Hell was unlike anything I had ever done before. It was a barren, desolate wasteland where the only light came from the florescent rivers of lava flowing freely from the volcanoes. There were barely any signs of life beneath us—no plants, and certainly no animals to be seen.

  In fact, the only sign that anything could survive here at all was the one, small, isolated pocket of what might have been a settlement in the distance. Our flight group intentionally avoided them, choosing to take the long way around them rather than fly overhead.

  The clouds above us looked so thick they were almost solid, and they reflected the green glow below giving them a strange, sickly hue. I had no doubt that flying into them would mean death, choked by the volcanic fumes they held. The air under them was no better; hot, difficult to breathe, and even harder to fly through as I kept gliding through thermal drafts and finding myself much higher—and closer to the clouds—than I had intended to be.

  The demons—rebels—ahead landed on a cliff nestled in between other craggy mountains and valleys; one spot out of countless others, unmarked and uninspiring. There were no lights here, no demonically made structures, no natural landmarks that would make this place stand out.

  In other words, it was the perfect place for a secret rebel base.

  I landed, looking around for some hint of a door or entryway, but was stopped by my new hosts, who had begun to encircle me, drawing their weapons as they did. I raised my hands and spun around, taking stock of just how many demons looked ready to skewer me with their blades.

  “Hold on, now, I thought we were on the same side,” I said, trying not to sound threatening.

  “That remains to be seen, angel,” came the voice of the demon who had freed me. He approached, the other demons making room for him to enter the circle I found myself in.

  “Then why rescue me if you’re only going to kill me?”

  “Kill you?” he repeated, “No one has said we are going to kill you.”

  “Then why all the weapons?”

  “I think the weapons make my point for me, yes?”

  “You mean ‘take one step out of line and you’ll be on the receiving end of one of these points’ sort of point?”

  “Exactly.”

  I nodded. “This isn’t my first time as a captive, I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  The demon took a deep breath and walked around me, examining me, sizing me up. “My name is Malachi. I have brought you to our sanctuary,” he said, “But before you enter, I must give you a warning.”

  “Warning?”

  “You’re about to encounter many more of our kind. Most of us have never seen an angel as whole as you before—unbowed, unbroken, and full of Light. Some may be hostile towards you. It is important that you do not wander, do not make eye contact, and do not speak to anyone but our leader.”

  “You aren’t the leader?”

  “I am not.”

  “Who is then?”

  “All in due time. Give me your hand.”

  He held out his hand, plum palm up, to receive mine, pulling out a small dagger and staring at me intently, as if he expected me to outright refuse. “Why do you need my hand?” I asked.

  “Our sanctuary is protected by demonic magic. It will flay the skin of anyone not marked for entry… a potent defensive mechanism that has protected us for many years.”

  “It sounds… unpleasant.”

  “And it is. So, if you’d like to keep your skin…” he bounced his outstretched hand as a reminder of what I was meant to be doing.

  Reluctantly, I gave Malachi one of my hands. He took it in his and paused, curiously examining the deep purple tone of my fingertips and the slight elongation of my fingernails. Malachi turned his eyes up at me and regarded me with curiosity.

  “These aren’t angel hands,” Malachi said.

  “I can assure you, they are,” I said.

  “I’ve never seen angel hands tarnished in such a way… why are yours like this?”

  “How about we make a trade? I answer your question, if you answer one of mine.”

  Malachi’s burning green eyes narrowed. “I accept your terms. Ask your question.”

  I had to consider my question carefully if I was only going to get one. I was sure that questions like ‘why did you rescue me’ and ‘how did you know where I was’ would be answered as soon as I was marched in front of their leader.

  I glanced at the demons surrounding me, noting their varied appearances; some had lashing tails, others had sharpened teeth or more than two eyes. Horns. Claws. Scales. I hadn’t realized until now, but Malachi had cloven hooves! These people weren’t angels, not anymore, and yet they had saved me.

  There was only one question to ask.

  “You aren’t like the other demons I met… who are you?”

  Malachi paused, considering how best to answer my question. “We are the Twice Damned. Sinners sentenced to the Pit for our crimes against God… only to reach this place and choose to rebel against its malignant influence.”

  “Are you saying you’re… good demons?”

  “There is no such thing,” he laughed. “We rebelled against God, some of us rebelled against Lucifer, but all of us rebel against Hell. We refuse to sink further into demonism, as futile a task as that seems at times. So, we do what we can to disrupt Hell’s plans, to stop its workings or at least slow them down. In doing so we hope to cling to some piece of what we once were.”

  “I… I didn’t even think that was possible.”

  “Neither did we. But we persist.” Malachi paused one more. “I answered your question, now you answer mine. What happened to your hands?”

  I took a deep breath. “Well… I don’t know if you’ve heard, but God is dead.”

  “We may be demons, but we felt her death all the same.”

  “O-kay,” I shook my head at the absurd realization that I was in Hell, explaining the Burn to a demon. “When She died, Heaven kicked us out and all of Her angels fell to Earth. Something about the Fall must have changed us, because sinning… well, sinning leads to this.” I raised my hands. “Some of us are marked in harsher ways than others… they don’t get worse over time, but the more sins we commit the more warped our bodies become.”

  “But God is dead… how can you sin against Her?”

  “I don’t know how it works. Honestly, I assumed that’s how things worked down here too, why you all look like⁠—”

  “No. It is the mere nature of this realm that warps us, remakes us in its image.” He looked at my fingers again, inspecting them from every angle before asking, “How did you sin?”

  “I… accidentally killed some mortals. I hadn’t meant to. Now I wear their blood on my hands.”

  Malachi’s eyes narrowed, “None of what you say sounds possible. The fact that you’re here, and that you came here through the Pit, tells me you could be lying.”

  “I’m not lying. I swear it.”

  “You’re telling me you fell to Earth; how did you wind up in the Pit from there?”

  “That’s way more than one question. I’ll answer if you let me ask another, if not, we should get on with this—your fellow demons must have lost feeling in their arms by now.”

  Malachi nodded, and—to their relief—gave his rebels the order to put down their weapons. “Very well,” he said. He ran his blade across his forearm, then took some of his own blood and smeared it on my hand. Given what we had just talked about, I wondered if the symbolism was done on purpose.

  “Is that it?” I asked.

  “That’s it,” he confirmed. “Now, come with us.”

  The demons made way for us to move through them and fell into step behind us. Together we walked a short way along the mountainside, toward a natural crevice against the mountain that couldn’t be seen from the air, or even from where we had landed. I thought we were heading into a hidden cavern, only the crevice ended up being a solid, black, rock wall.

  Malachi approached the wall, turned his head to look at me, and then stepped through the wall as if it weren’t there. One of the demons at my back nodded for me to proceed, so I did, walking confidently into the wall and closing my eyes as I reached the threshold.

  Crossing it didn’t feel like… well, anything. There was no resistance, no strange tingling, nothing at all to tell me I had just walked through a solid rock wall. It was un-magical and also a bit disappointing, until I reopened my eyes.

  I was standing on the lip of a circular walkway, hewn out of the mountain rock and lining the edge of a central chamber—a hole that seemed to be as wide and as deep as the mountain itself. In the middle stood a tall, stone structure, perfectly cut and carved, with many bridges set at different levels connecting the central column to the outer ring we were on.

  Lights shone from the many windows and doors along the structure, and everywhere I looked where demons, their voices carrying and echoing throughout the mountain. There were so many of them, all taking different forms, and in different stages of their transformation; it was hard to believe that some of them had started as angels at all.

  The whole place made me think of a busy marketplace, albeit underground, but just as vibrant and active. I could hear music from one of the levels below me—Music, in Hell?—and I was fairly sure I spotted a demon walking some weird half crocodile-half fish pet. At least, I hoped it was a pet.

  These demons looked content in their damnation, happy even.

  And I stood out like a sore thumb.