“Everyone knows Tazreel,” Lanky argues, like he’s not buying my defense at all. “He was part of the original wave of Abdicated. Everyone knows that.”
“Abdicated?”
Why did I know that word? I quickly recall the blond winged dude claiming he was one, but that isn’t it. I’m pretty sure one of the guys used the term before, I just can’t quite remember.
“Yes,” he says, looking at me like I’m an idiot. “Tazreel is one of the angels who left Heaven.”
Understanding dawns on me, and I look at Lanky excitedly as I piece it together. “Holy shit, the blond dude is a Fallen Angel?”
“Abdicated, not Fallen Angel. No one fell from anywhere. Fallen…” He snorts, like the thought is ludicrous.
I stare at Lanky as my mind wraps itself slowly around what this all means. I’m in Nihil, the Center Ring of Hell, where only the Abdicated and very powerful live. I have wings. I shiver. And I’ve been hidden from the demon world my whole life up until now…
“Shit, am I the Anti-Christ?” I ask, shocked. “I mean, I don’t feel like I want to burn the world to the ground, but what other explanation is there?”
Lanky busts up laughing. I turn a glare on him, not appreciating the levity he’s experiencing during my existential crisis.
“You are not the anti anything. All you are is in big trouble for messing with Tazreel. As soon as he finds a Savor who can come on such short notice, we’ll know who you are and just what to do with you.”
“A Savior?” I ask, confused, because that sounds like a good thing and not the ominous threat that Lanky meant it as.
“A Savor,” he repeats.
“Sailor?”
“Savor!” he mouths more slowly.
“Shaver?” I ask, feigning confusion.
“SAVOR!”
I got it on the second mention, but fucking with him right now is just too good of a distraction. We go for another minute until I run out of things that sound like Savor, and he finally clues in.
Lanky glares at me, not at all amused, and silence spreads out between us like slowly rising bread. As soon as I stop talking and focusing on only the here and now, loss ripples through me, reminding me of things I wish I could bleach from my mind. Or maybe it’s just the guilt and responsibility that I wish I could run from.
A loud clang of metal on metal reaches Lanky and me, and heavy footsteps follow the sound like a haunting drumbeat counting down the seconds before I die. I gulp audibly and try to ignore the spark of excitement that flares in Lanky’s eyes.
Tazreel, in all his winged glory, comes into view down the hall, stepping out of a stairwell that I didn’t know was there. What is with this place and having secret magical doors? He’s followed by a demon who could be a dead ringer for Hoggle from Labyrinth.
“This is her?” Hoggle grunts out as they stop in front of my cell.
“This is,” Tazreel confirms, his lips pursed and his gray-gold eyes steely.
“Hmm,” the demon hums, looking me over. “She’s an interesting specimen. Her wings and hair alone make her a collectible. Are you going to keep her for your menagerie?” He asks it like I’m a puppy and not a person.
“Hey!” I voice in objection, but it goes ignored.
Tazreel looks at me for a moment. “No, I think not. I’m not drawn to this one in that way. I’ll probably trade her. I did, however, promise her I’d hang her by her wings at Luce’s next get-together, and I’m a male of my word. So after that’s been done, I’ll entertain bids.”
“You can’t sell me,” I say, fear and anger gripping my neck like they’re trying to find my pulse point. “You don’t own me.”
“Exactly. Which is why the Savor is here to find out who is responsible for you,” Tazreel barks back. “Once we know that, we can hold them accountable, and they can pay for the damage you’ve caused or trade you as payment instead.”
“What damage?” I counter.
“The damage you tried to do to my meditation room.”
“I didn’t do any damage.”
“But you tried, and your actions have consequences. When I find out who sired you, I’m going to have a strong word with them. You’re practically feral,” Tazreel accuses.
Pissed, I approach the bars of my cell. Is he seriously saying I have to be punished for trying and failing to break his stupid floor? I didn’t even scratch that shit!
I lean in toward him. “Well, good luck finding my parents and trying to make them pay. They’re dead,” I snap at him, ignoring the sting that I feel in my soul as I fling that fact around like a weapon.
“That explains a lot,” Tazreel jibes, and at the same time, I feel a flash of pain at my shoulder. I flinch back away from the bars and look to see that Hoggle has one of my purple feathers clutched in his hand.
My face goes indignant, and I instantly feel betrayed. I love the movie Labyrinth, and I expect so much better of its characters. I watch, horrified, as Hoggle puts the feather in his mouth and starts to chew it. I reel back with disgust and fight the dry-heave that tries to work its way up my throat.
That’s fucking nasty.
“Mmm,” Hoggle comments as he tilts his head to the side like he’s trying to work through a tough problem. His eyes are far away as he chews, as if he’s savoring and identifying notes and flavors in my feather like it’s some fine wine.
Savoring...I guess that makes sense given what he’s called. He’s like some creepy demon sommelier. I try not to think about what he eats if a feather isn’t available.
Another dry-heave explodes out of my throat, and this time, I can’t do much to stop it.
Tazreel and Lanky are watching him intently, ignoring
