The shock of Asmodeus’ words scorched Gabriel to her soul.Rocked her almost as much as the echo of pain in her own back as the whipburned across his shoulders. She caught her breath at the pain and at hiswords.
As you love me, he had said.
Could she? Was that even possible? Her heart wrenched. Howlong had she looked for that and yet never found it? She couldn’t deny thatsomething in him called to her, had called to her from the moment she had seenhim standing there, so strong, so brave, so impossible. Hours it had been.Less? More? Forever.
She clenched her hands into tight fists at the sound of thewhip striking his flesh.
It flashed through her mind that Asmodeus had known thiswould happen. She fought back the stinging in her eyes, the tears she dared notshed, for his sake as he’d asked.
It was also clear that Templeton definitely enjoyed what hedid as he brought the lash down again and again, the chant keeping Asmodeuslocked immobile, helpless against the torture. If Templeton had not been ableto take his pleasure from watching them, he would take it from Asmodeus.
Blood ran down Asmodeus’ broadly muscled back in thinstreams and pain etched every line of his strong, handsome face, limned everytaut muscle of his body. His wings were tucked to each side in a vain attemptto keep them safe, to protect them from the rip and tear of the lash.
Every stroke tore at her heart as it tore into his flesh.
The sound was indescribable. It was even more horrible towatch, but Gabriel could not turn away. Each time the thin little strands ofleather struck, a half-dozen stripes would appear on his skin, beading withblood, and Asmodeus would jolt, however much he fought not to.
“Stop it,” Gabriel cried, unable to bear it any longer. “You’llkill him.”
Templeton sneered at her. “He’s a demon. He can’t die.”
A sense of something from Asmodeus gave the lie to thatthough Asmodeus himself said nothing.
Greater horror ran through her.
Asmodeus was neither immortal nor indestructible as Templetonclearly assumed. He could indeed die given enough punishment. And if a part ofhim wished to, wished for an end to this agony, to his imprisonment. She couldsense it. Something deep inside her went still as a new kind of pain torethrough her, a new kind of grief.
“You bastard,” she said to Templeton, tightly, furiously.She knew he reveled in her impotent outrage but she couldn’t hold it back.
Though it was heartfelt, it was much less than what shewanted to do, to say. Would have done if she could, if Asmodeus had not askedher not to. Every muscle in her body was taut with the need to lash out, tofight, to defend and protect. It was what she was, who she was. It was why shehad joined the FBI. She had promised. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t breakit. As futile as the gesture might be, she wanted, needed, to fight…and shecouldn’t.
The first stroke of the lash had taken Asmodeus’ breath awayas it always did. The pain, no matter how often he suffered it, was alwaysshocking in its intensity.
In a corner of his mind Asmodeus was intensely aware ofGabriel, of how furiously she struggled not to fight for him. Spirit to spirit,he knew what it cost her to stand aside and do nothing, despite knowing anyaction would be a useless gesture in this place, against such odds. But he knewshe would have fought for him, had he not asked her to stay her hand.
The lash came down again and again, until the torture of itobliterated all thought and there was only agony. All there was within him wasthe thought of Gabriel and the determination never to bow his head to the manwho held the whip.
It ended at last with Asmodeus braced on a forearm againstthe floor, his head bent but not bowed, breathing heavily from the pain asblood ran down his sides to drip onto the floor in a steady patter that soundedlike rain. He would not break. Most especially not now, with Gabriel here.There had to be a way to end this, to escape, although he had searched for itconstantly all these long months.
Every inch of his body ached from fighting the constraint ofthe spell but his back, shoulders and wings felt as if they were on fire fromthe whip and its wicked little iron balls. The pain was terrible, sickening.Each spot where they had ripped into his skin burned. He fought the fear thathis wings had been permanently damaged. The thought that he might not fly againwas nearly as much torture as the cat-o’-nine-tails.
“Be ready in the morning, demon,” Templeton said as hetossed the bloodstained whip to his subordinate and glanced toward his otherminion to indicate that he should stop chanting. “I will have a use for youthen.”
He and his people stepped through the shimmering gateway andleft. It closed behind them.
In an instant, Gabriel was on her knees at his side as hestruggled unsteadily to his feet, lifting one of his arms over her shoulder.Pain shot through him sharply and he did not know if he could have gained thescant comfort of the bed without her aid.
“Asmodeus,” she whispered.
“No, my angel,” Asmodeus said, but she put her fingers overhis lips.
Don’t speak, not aloud. It is no more than Templetonwould expect me to do, being one of the good guys. Asmodeus, you should knowthat his people can watch and listen to us from a distance.
She used her mind to send images of hidden cameras andlistening devices as she helped him to the bed.
When he had conjured the smoke, he had only done so toconceal them from the watchers. But this. Shock went through him, along with abitter understanding. Suddenly much made sense.
So, that is how he knew.
Knew what? she asked.
That I could contact my brothers on the other plane.His mouth tightened. Thinking myself alone, I spoke aloud to them. Theywould have come to rescue me but they would have come here, where they wouldhave been trapped as well so I forbade it. Templeton wanted
