“Even if it means getting the shit kicked out of you by Satan?” I asked incredulously.
Lucifer gripped one of my hands almost hard enough to hurt. “Free will. If I decide I’m capable of getting my teeth kicked in, then so be it.”
“This is one of the reasons we were insistent on training your magical abilities,” Azazel said. He dragged a hand through his dark curls. “You can heal the injuries caused by Satan’s fury. Very few Hell-born demons can claim that, but an angel… an angel, even a fallen one, has inherent abilities. Your holy provenance dispels the Dragon’s touch.”
“Lucifer…” I set my jaw, glaring up at him, but there was nothing I could do to stop him.
“Melisande?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.
I let out an exasperated groan.
“Let us be the arbiters of what we can handle, Melisande.” Azazel raised my chin, forcing me to look at him. “No, don’t glare at me like that. We will not allow Satan to have you, understand?”
“I understand,” I said quietly. Even if I hated that they put themselves on the line for me, and I had never even told them why I was here.
“Now, you promised me magical training tonight.” Azazel’s deep voice was all business again. “And you can work out your anger in the ring.”
It was impossible to not perk up at that. “What ring?”
Lucifer slid an arm around my shoulder and pulled me along, with Azazel sandwiching me on the other side. “The Consortium. Fortunately, both Morningstar and I have long-standing open invitations.”
We walked through a dusting of still-luminescent petals raining from a massive willow draped above us. “You’re just trying to distract me.”
“Is it working?” Lucifer asked, his arm tightening. My hand brushed Azazel’s, and my heart lightened a little when the Watcher didn’t pull away.
So I hadn’t completely scared him away with my half-baked plan to save his soul.
“Maybe a little,” I allowed.
We took winding streets and alleys, and cut through a garden with creatures lurking in the dark corners that never quite resolved into shape outside the corners of my eye. All I got was the distinct impression of many teeth.
Like the streets of the Brightside, the Nightside was also packed with demons, but they were all creatures of the twilight. I saw fins, scales, luminescent body parts, glowing appendages, and I was still dazzled by the time an enormous obsidian tower loomed into sight.
Its crenellations were draped with softly-glowing lanterns, and the doorway was set with gilt scrollwork.
A demon wearing a leather suit cut in sharp lines guarded the door, but he blinked all six eyes when he saw Lucifer and Azazel. “Prince Morningstar, Master Grigori. Mister Celamentum and Madame Silenda will be pleased to hear you’re joining us tonight. Your guest is…?”
The way he looked at me made it clear he knew exactly who I was, but there seemed to be some social conventions here I wasn’t privy to.
Azazel gave him a tight smile. “The Lady of Wrath, Melisande.”
The demon bowed from the waist and opened the door with gloved hands. “My Lady. Come forth and be welcome.”
I only had a moment to hesitate before Lucifer nudged me, and I followed Azazel into the dim interior of the Consortium.
My heart jumped right into my throat as the doorman pulled the door shut behind us, locking us inside. This place was nothing like Belial’s loud, raucous arena, or my own quiet home.
A dining room extended for several stories overhead, with ivy-dripping balconies looking over the main floor. Shades roved between the tables as silent waiters, some carrying flutes of bubbling, glowing drinks, others holding goblets filled with a thick scarlet liquid I was sure was blood.
“This isn’t what we’re here for,” Azazel said quietly.
I tried not to gawk as a woman in a tight snakeskin dress at the table closest to us opened her painted mouth, and an imp climbing on her shoulder lifted a fork to her lips. She had no arms at her shoulders, only thrashing tentacles that whipped at the table setting.
Lucifer led me through a short hall, where another doorman, this one crowned with horns, waited in front of a red door. He bowed at the sight of Lucifer’s wings and opened it, his gaze crawling over each one of us as we passed.
Lucifer and Azazel led me down a flight of stairs, traveling below the street-level of Wrath, and the light grew even dimmer. Smoke spiraled through the air like a living thing, redolent of spices and tobacco, and I caught sight of long couches piled with lazing demons.
They were smoking from hookahs, and when they exhaled, the smoke twisted into shapes that moved before dissipating.
“What is all this?” I whispered, taking Lucifer’s hand as he led me down yet another hall that curved like a maze.
“The Consortium is an elite club of sorts,” he said, wrapping his fingers around mine. “Invitation only, and you have to be in high places or have a massive pile of gold to your name to be asked in.”
“So we’re going further down?”
Azazel’s teeth were white in the darkness when he smiled. “It’s always further down.”
There was another door, this one glazed with pure gold, but the doorman was a tall man with piercing yellow eyes and a pair of pointed, black-tipped ears pointing out of the top of his russet hair. He wore a scarlet yukata, and several fox tails twitched at the sight of us.
“Morningstar.” His greeting was a touch cooler than the reverence of the other doormen.
Lucifer didn’t release my hand, even under the kitsune’s sharp gaze. “Haru.”
I found myself counting the waving fox tails. There were four, each luxurious with shiny red fur that faded to cream.
“Did you bring me a snack?” Haru smiled, showing pointed teeth. I felt like he could see right through me.
I narrowed my eyes in return. “I’ll-”
Lucifer squeezed my hand hard enough to stop me in my tracks. I glanced at him quizzically, but he just shrugged lazily at the fox demon. “She’s my
