The Liberator

room down there?” He chuckles, and the sound raises the hairs on my arms. “Dante, do you know how sweet it felt to collect your girlfriend’s soul? I could almost taste her inside me.”

My rage burns brighter.

The pain in my legs and hips is forgotten.

“What I really cannot wait for is the girl herself.” Rector sucks on his bottom lip. “She is so deliciously innocent. I dream about the moment our soldiers bring her in. Once we have her here, I’ll make her mine, you know. I’ll make her my princess.”

My hands curl into fists and red fills my vision.

Kill him—kill him—kill him.

“I can’t wait until the first moment our lips touch,” he continues. “Until I lay her down in my bed and show her what it means to be a demon’s bride.”

I can’t take it a moment longer.

I use every bit of strength I have left and shove the shelf as hard I can.

It isn’t enough.

Rector kicks me in the ribs, and I bite down to keep from screaming. My energy is gone. Aspen is pinned to the floor. And Rector is standing over me like a tornado, as if every movement makes him stronger.

I close my eyes and listen to my heart whomp-whomp in my ears. The sound of my pulse seems to beat her name.

Charlie.

Charlie.

Charlie.

The darkness ebbs away as I picture her face in my mind, her bright, eager eyes and the swell of her pink lips. The way she looked the first night we were truly together, and the zooming noise she made while spoon- feeding me tomato soup. The sight of her in that sexy ballerina-inspired dress, and the way she fought against Blue to come with me here, blood staining her chest. She is my reason for breathing, the only reason I would trek back into hell.

Since the first day I met her—her cheeks reddening like strawberries—I knew she was different. Her laugh made me want to smile again, and her touch had me questioning everything. She’s the girl who fed her lunch to raccoons, who dug Skittles out of her pocket. She was unfashionable and socially awkward and easily the biggest nerd I’d ever met. And I fell madly in love with her. Even now, as every minute passes, my entire being aches for her more. To watch the way she radiates kindness. To see her smile. To kiss her.

A burning smell fills my nose.

I don’t recognize the scent at first, but when I do, my eyes snap open. Rector looks the same, so I know it isn’t him.

It’s me.

Like a crash of lightning, something Kraven said strikes my very core: “You have to call on the purity inside of you.”

But nothing inside of me is pure.

Nothing except my love for Charlie Cooper.

Pain rips through my body. I twist side to side in agony, and my back arches off the ground. My muscles tear apart, and my teeth grind together so tightly I’m sure there’s nothing left of them but dust. Something pops in my chest, and then I’m splitting open. My skin is tearing apart, and I’m going to die. I’m going to die because I don’t know how to control this, and instead it’s controlling me.

Everything stops.

The pain ceases, and the ringing in my head quiets. I’m standing upright. Rector is backed against the wall, horror shadowing his face. Kincaid has released Aspen, and the two of them cower near the floor. Everyone stares at me, eyes wide and mouths open.

Instinctually, I flex my back and feel a weight shift behind me. It’s the same way I move my arm, a simple command from my mind. But this isn’t an arm. Or a leg. Or even an open hand.

It’s a wing.

I curl the right one around my body so that I can see it, and I gasp. It isn’t waxy like Rector’s was, and it isn’t sterile white like Kraven’s. Instead, it’s something in between. An ocean of black feathers covers my wing, so dark they’re almost blue. I pull the left one in front and inspect it. They are the same. When I understand what this means, that I have accomplished the impossible, an incredible, unbridled power rushes through my veins.

My glare finds Rector.

My wings crash open.

And a growl rips through my throat.

Rector closes his eyes, and his face tightens with concentration. I know he’s trying to summon his own wings, but I’m not going to let him. I race forward and whip my left wing across my body. Then I swing it out and throw Rector ten feet from where he stands. He lands on his side and rolls three times. When he tries to lift himself back up. he stumbles and grunts in pain. I relish the sound.

In the blink of an eye, I’m on him. I use my wings to lift him upright, then circle my feathered appendages around his body, restraining him in a circle of black. His arms fly out, searching for something. But there’s only me. Pow!

I pound my clenched fist into his gut and his rib cage and the line of his jaw. From the sound of it, Aspen is tearing Kincaid a new one outside our boxing ring. I take a step back and thrust my wings against Rector’s chest. When I yank them open, he flies through the air and slams into a soul shelf. The shelf teeters back and forth but doesn’t fall.

Without hesitation, I charge toward him again. I hold Charlie’s face in my mind as I kick him one, twice, three times in the side. Then I think about the things he did to Aspen and lose myself to fury. My fists crash into his face so many times that my knuckles begin to slip against his flesh. I shake the blood off my hands, thankful that we’re immortal, that the cuff around his ankle means the torture is never ending.

Rector lies on the ground in a heap. I glance over to where Aspen is landing another kick on Kincaid’s knee. He falls but quickly regains his composure. I’ll hand it to him, he’s persistent.

“Hey, Aspen,” I say, nodding toward Rector. “Want to get some payback for earlier?”

Aspen moves away from Kincaid and toward me. Kincaid wipes the sweaty blond hair from his forehead and narrows his beady eyes. His face looks like it belongs on a wanted poster.

Aspen studies my wings warily. “I didn’t know you could…”

“Yeah,” I say, “Me, either. Not really.”

She gets closer, and Kincaid makes a movement like he’s going to tackle her from behind. I wag my finger at him. “Calm down, anus. You and I are going to play next.”

Kincaid raises his hands like he wants none of that.

I reach out to Aspen, who flinches. Our eyes connect. “It’s okay. I’m still me,” I whisper. Then I take her face in my hands. “Are you okay?”

Her gaze travels over my wings and then down to the floor where Rector groans. She nods.

I wave my hand toward him. “My gift to you.”

Aspen’s mouth tightens into a thin line. She looks one last time at my wings before turning her attention to Rector. I, on the other hand, spin around and stroll toward Kincaid.

“Want to dance?” I ask. Kincaid shakes his head. “Too bad.”

I hit Kincaid exactly six times and wing-slap him once before he drops like a bag of stones. His eyes roll back in his head. He’s not dead, of course, but he won’t be causing us any more problems.

Aspen is down in Rector’s face, whispering something to him. He clenches his jaw, but the ashen color on his face gives him away. I couldn’t be more proud of Aspen if she grew testicles.

I nudge Kincaid with my foot and confirm he’s down for the count. Satisfied with my handy work, I head toward Rector and Aspen. Aspen sees me coming and straightens. Rector spits blood onto the floor. He swishes his tongue around his mouth before spitting out a tooth.

“That’s unsightly,” I say. “People have no manners these days.”

Aspen wraps her arms around her waist and winces.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” I ask, my tone softening.