Reaver

bursts of lightning at the Silas warriors, turning them to ash. They were within five yards of the gate when a net fell on them, the threads shrink-wrapping them so tightly that their skin sliced open, their blood sizzling when it hit the mesh. Pain tore through Reaver as they crashed to the ground, kicking and fighting, but the netting only squeezed tighter, until they were back-to-back and unable to move more than fingers and toes.

A huge male Nightlash shoved through the throng of Silases, his clawed feet clacking on the stone. “Harvester and Reaver. Slag will be rewarded with such riches for this.” His sharp teeth dripped like someone had rung the dinner bell. “I am Slag.”

No shit. Demons were so damned stupid. Before he could say as much, a demon cut the net away. Reaver shoved to his feet and lunged for Slag, but his limbs where heavy, if he was trying to run through Jell-O.

“The net,” Harvester blurted as a Silas yanked her upright. “It’s like the whip that paralyzed you in the cavern.”

There weren’t enough curse words in enough languages for this situation, Reaver thought. But he made a noble attempt at saying them all when icy metal collars that matched the bracelets on Slag’s wrists were clamped around their necks. Tight.

“Obey, or…” The demon tapped one of the bracelets, and Harvester fell to the ground, screaming in raw, desperate anguish. Gasping for breath, she clawed frantically at the collar.

“Stop it,” he shouted. “Let her go!”

He dove at the Nightlash, but in half a heartbeat Reaver joined Harvester on the ground. Excruciating agony tore through him, as if the collar had sprung spikes that pierced so deeply he felt them in his gut.

It took forever for the pain to ease, and even then, he couldn’t function properly, his limbs flopping around and his head dangling on a neck that wouldn’t support it as they were dragged into the palace. Raised voices came from ahead… both familiar, and Reaver’s stomach bottomed out.

“This,” Harvester rasped, “is going to be bad.”

Reaver groaned. “You have a flair for understatement, you know that?”

Slag punched Reaver in the back of the head. “Shut up.”

Reaver and Harvester were jerked around and forced onto their knees as Gethel and Revenant approached. Gethel’s spun-gold hair fell in sparkly waves around her shoulders, but gone was the luminescence that used to surround her. Her eyes had turned as black as ink, and her once lush, shiny wings were shriveled, the feathers curled and frayed. Angels who stayed too long in Sheoul were prone to decay, and Gethel, carrying the spawn of evil, had gone rotten to the core.

Of course, her core had gone bad a long, long time ago.

Her one-shouldered emerald tunic clung tightly to her hugely rounded belly, where her hand rested protectively. Hard to believe someone with such a black heart could be protective of anything. And how had Lucifer grown so much, so fast? Maybe because he was to be born fully grown? If so, Gethel was going to be extremely miserable for another four months.

Good.

Fast as a snake and from out of nowhere, Gethel backhanded Harvester hard enough to knock her into Reaver.

“Bitch,” Reaver snarled. That earned him a blow from Revenant that made his ears ring.

“It’s good to see you both.” Gethel’s smile as she rubbed her belly made all the hairs on the back of Reaver’s neck stand up. “Extra special to have you here, Reaver.”

She grinned, flashing fangs, apparently a pregnant-with-the-spawn-of-Satan upgrade. Or downgrade, depending on how you looked at it.

“Special seeing you, too,” Reaver drawled. “I don’t think I had a chance to congratulate you the last time I saw you. I hope you suffer in agony for days before Lucifer bursts from your hideous body.”

Gethel blinked with exaggerated shock. “That’s a little harsh. As a father yourself, I’d think you’d be more sympathetic to the plight of a pregnant woman.”

Reaver shrugged. “A pregnant woman, yes. But a psychopathic pregnant troll… can’t get on board with that one.”

She went down on her haunches in front of him. “It doesn’t matter if you can get on board or not. It’s too late anyway.” She folded her hands over her huge, evil lump. “See, we’ve accelerated Lucifer’s growth. Instead of months, he’ll be born in weeks. Maybe days. The clock is ticking, Reaver, and you’re almost out of time.”

An icy blast of oh, shit blasted through him. “You crazy bitch.”

He got another whack upside the head. “Let me take them to the Dark Lord.” Revenant’s deep, eager voice resonated through the opulent marble auditorium.

“I’ve already sent word to him.” Gethel’s mouth turned up in a smile that sent a chill skittering up Reaver’s spine. “Satan will be here any minute.”

Twenty-Three

Her father was on his way.

Terror shrunk Harvester’s skin. They’d managed to stay one step ahead of Satan this entire time, and now, within sight of a Harrowgate, they were going to die.

And that was if they were lucky.

“Was it worth it?” Revenant seized Reaver by the throat and yanked him off the ground. “Was leaving your family vulnerable in order to rescue a traitorous female worth it?”

“She’s not a traitor to my side,” Reaver choked out. He sucked in a wheezing breath. “Wait… my family. Vulnerable?”

Harvester wondered the same thing. She’d call the Horsemen a lot of things, but vulnerable was not one of them.

Revenant, his annoyingly luxurious black mane obscuring his face, leaned in as if to tell Reaver a secret. “They’re recovering from an unfortunate accident. Very sad.” He didn’t sound very sad, but there was definitely an odd note in his voice. “It was so against the rules.”

“Accident?” Reaver sucked a gurgling breath. “Rules? What rules?”

“The ones you like to break.” Revenant heaved Reaver across the room.

Reaver hit a pillar and crumpled to the ground, bits of stone and dust showering him as he tried to push to his hands and knees. Revenant launched at him, and with a sick, twisted smile, Slag tapped his bracelet.

Reaver grunted, and for a brief moment, Harvester got off on his pain. Malevolence was a faint vibration shimmering along every nerve ending, feeding into her pleasure centers like an erotic drug. Daddy’s DNA was just the gift that kept on giving, wasn’t it?

You’re an angel. Your mother is an angel, and your father, bastard that he is now, was an angel when you were conceived. There’s more good in you than evil. Fight this, Harvester.

Reaver’s words in the cavern came back to her in a rush. Her mother… she’d died only three hundred years ago, an innocent casualty of a small uprising in Heaven, according to Raphael. She hadn’t known Harvester had fallen from grace on purpose, and it was one of Harvester’s greatest regrets that her mother hadn’t learned the truth before she died.

Fight this.

Reaver grunted again as Revenant pounded his fists into his face and body, and this time, Harvester took no pleasure in his suffering.

“Stop it!” she screamed. She scrambled across the floor toward them, her knees cracking painfully hard on the floor.

She dove for Revenant’s legs. She didn’t make it. An agonizing pain wrenched her neck as she was jerked to a sudden stop by her hair. Gethel, her fist wrapped around Harvester’s ponytail, hurled Harvester through the air.

She hit the wall in a crack of bones and stone, and everything went black.

When she came to, she and Reaver, his face badly bruised and bloodied, were propped against the pillar he’d