15
Melisande
I washed the blood off myself, leaning against Tascius as he worked shampoo through my hair, closing my eyes and pretending I couldn’t still see the sight of the demon’s heads rolling away.
I realized I wasn’t sorry. They’d been willing to sacrifice others, and they’d gotten what they deserved.
Tascius let me have my silence in peace, knowing I was struggling. If I could make orders the demons would obey, then I not only had the power, but the responsibility to ensure their safety, and the weight of it felt like a boulder on my chest.
We dressed and I opened the bedroom door to a surprising sight: Azazel, with his hand raised in the air.
“I was going to knock,” he said, his eyes lingering on my still-wet hair.
“You don’t have to knock.” I took a chance, and stepped forward and rose on my toes to kiss him.
Instead of turning to stone or pushing me away, his hands rose to cup my face, his tongue parting my lips. I was breathing hard, my heart pounding in my throat, when he finally released me and looked up at Tascius.
“Maybe choose somewhere that isn’t next to a conveniently-close bed if you’re going to start that.” Tascius’s eyes were growing dark with Nephilim lust.
I stepped back from Azazel. Appealing though the idea was, I still needed to make sure Vyra was okay and that the women were taken care of.
“No beds right now. We need to find Lucifer and discuss something.”
I was done with Satan. The time for waiting was long past.
“To Blackchapel, then.” Azazel held out a hand to Tascius, who scowled only briefly before taking it and allowing the Watcher to dissolve him into smoke.
“I’ll meet you there.” I brushed my fingers through their stars and headed to the window, taking flight and following their glittering trail.
“Vyra.”
I ran my fingers through her hair soothingly, like she was a child. The succubus was curled up on her bed, wrapped in sparkling pink sheets and staring at the opposite wall.
When I’d opened her bedroom door in Blackchapel, the last thing I’d been expected to be greeted with was an explosion of pink and black. An entire wall was studded with nails that necklaces and bracelets were draped over, and several dress-forms still had half finished projects pinned to them. A multitude of baskets spilled over with every color and finish of fabric imaginable.
She sighed, clutching her sheet a little tighter. “I’m sorry I ran.”
“Don’t be.” I made her lift her head and pulled a velvet pouf under her. “You’ve already had to deal with enough bullshit. Let us deal with Satan, but when I made you a promise that he’d never have you, I meant it. If you’d feel safer here in Blackchapel, then you should stay here.”
She blinked lashes that were incongruously dark against her pale skin. “I’m so tired of running away, Melisande. Sometimes I think everything will be fine, but when I see them, all I feel is that despair again. It feels like he’ll take me, that they’ll parade me through the streets, and nobody will be able to do anything to save me.”
“None of us would let you go.” I stroked her back until her pale bat-like wings stopped shivering. “Belial went out and saved some of the women. He claimed them as tribute. I know we didn’t save them all, but some of them will get to go home.”
“That’s better than none,” she whispered, closing her eyes. Purple shock-circles had formed under them.
“Go to sleep. When you wake up, you’ll feel better. Some of the women will need you.”
“And what about you?” she asked, cracking one eyelid open.
“Well…” I looked down at my other hand, clenched in my lap. “I have some bloody work ahead of me.”
A faint smile crossed Vyra’s face, and when her breath evened out, I crept out of the room and shut the door.
Azazel and Tascius waited for me in the parlor, and the moment I swept into the room, Lucifer landed on the balcony. He swiped a forearm over his mouth, wiping away the blood from his split lips.
Weariness gnawed at me as I beckoned him over. He sat obediently on the couch, and I summoned the white fire of my healing magic.
As long as Satan lived, Vyra would always live in terror, and Lucifer in torment.
There was no more time to waste.
“You know why we’re all here, I think.” I released my magic when Lucifer stretched, his wings spreading and pulling back in. Under the glaze of blood, he was healed. “That was my last straw. I’m not going to wait around while he takes women just because he’s pissy about something, and we know what we need to accomplish it.”
“The Sword of Light is out,” Azazel said, his violet eyes sweeping over me, and I knew what he was thinking: that if I touched it now, I’d be burned alive in an instant.
“But there was another option.” I glanced up at Lucifer. “The inverse sword.”
Lucifer leaned back on the couch, settling his arm around my shoulders and drawing me close. “The problem is that an inverse sword doesn’t exist yet. We would need to have one made.”
I chewed my lower lip, mulling it over as Azazel leaned forward. “I’ve done a little research into the issue of an inverse sword, and we’re in luck, for once. The finest smith in Hell resides not far from Dis, at the foot of Hekla Fell.”
“What is Hekla Fell?” I asked, squinting at him.
Azazel smiled. “The Forge of the Gods. A volcano on the outskirts of the wastelands. There was once an entire sect of smiths who lived there, but if my research is accurate, there is one left who might be able to help us.”
“So we make a new sword, or we find a way to turn the Sword of Light. We’d have to take on Gabriel, and probably Raguel and Barachiel, just to get our hands
