Revenant

Again.

His boot hit the filthy dungeon floor with a thud that echoed through the massive torture chamber. It was apparently a slow day today, with none of the apparatuses in use and only two demons hanging from chains on the far wall. Two halls broke off from the main chamber, leading to what had been his childhood recreational area: cell blocks, kitchens, and rooms set aside for storage, equipment repair, and specialty torture.

Ah, memories.

Instinctively knowing where he’d find the king of demons, Revenant took the hallway on the right. The hallway that led to the cell where his mother had been kept.

Sure enough, sitting on a wood bench inside the cell was the Prince of Lies himself. He was leaning back against the stone wall, dressed like he was in for a day of work at a law firm. Only the massive black horns sprouting out of his head kept him from looking the part of a lawyer.

Or maybe the horns completed the look.

“Interesting choice of meeting sites,” Revenant said casually, although he felt anything but.

“I thought you’d appreciate it.” Satan ran his hand almost lovingly over the bench. The bastard knew Rev’s weakness, and he was using it well. “Your mother’s blood still stains the wood.”

Revenant had had a lot of practice controlling his emotions, and the rage that welled up now was no exception. Inside, he was burning with it, but outside, he kept his expression blank, his mouth shut. But someday, he swore, he would make Satan pay for what he’d done to Mariel. How, he had no idea, especially given that he didn’t have Heaven’s backing.

Satan looked up. “How is Gethel?”

“As hideous as ever. The doctor doesn’t think she’ll survive Lucifer’s birth.”

“Shame,” Satan said, but he didn’t sound all that broken up. “This doctor… her name is Blaspheme, yes?”

Mother. Fuck. Revenant quickly tamped down the sudden, searing panic that winged its way through him. He didn’t like that Satan knew about Blaspheme. At all.

“Yes.”

Satan nodded. “Bring her to me.”

Oh, hell no. “My Lord, I don’t think —”

“Bring her to me!” Satan’s shout shut down every sound in the dungeon. “Since you’ve failed to deliver an angel, I want your female.”

“You gave me until Sanguinalia to hand over an angel,” Revenant pointed out. “But I’ll go get one now.”

“Oh,” Satan said silkily, “you will bring me an angel. But right now I want your female.”

The demon was taking way too much interest in Blaspheme, which meant he suspected she meant something to Revenant. Somehow, he had to convince Satan otherwise.

“She’s not my female,” Rev said. “I barely know her.”

“Really.” The demon’s gaze narrowed dangerously. “Have you not taken her to your home? Twice? Do you not hang out at that demon medical facility like a pathetic stalker?”

Rev’s pulse kicked up a few notches. “You’re spying on me?”

“I told you I question your loyalty now that you know you’re an angel. In fact, I’ve even had Gethel tethered to her residence. No one can remove her but me.” He stroked the bench again, his fingers tracing the faded outline of a pool of blood. “I would think you would question your own loyalty, given what was done to you and your mother.”

What was done. He said it as if he himself hadn’t ordered every horrible thing that had happened to Rev and his mother.

Revenant shrugged, but holy hell, his heart was racing. “Shit happens. I’m not welcome in Heaven. I’ve made my peace with serving you.”

As if. Revenant had decided not to turn over Gethel to the lying archangel bastards, but that didn’t mean he was going to kiss Satan’s clawed feet, either.

“Then you’ll bring me the female. Alive.”

Revenant frowned. “Why would I bring her to you dead?”

“You truly don’t know, do you?” Satan murmured.

“Know what,” Rev gritted out. Gods, he hated games.

“Your little False Angel is exactly that. False.”

This time Rev didn’t give the demon the satisfaction of a response. He was done with swatting at a toy he’d never reach.

Finally, realizing Rev was going to stand there silently, Satan shoved to his feet, his grin defining the word malevolent.

“A little Pruosi bird visited me today. Told me the False Angel is a vyrm. The very vyrm you were hunting when your memory was taken from you by the archangels the second time,” he said slowly, and Revenant’s heart froze into a solid block of ice.

No. Satan was lying. He had to be.

And yet, as Revenant’s mind spun with reasons the demon would lie, things started to make sense. Like why Blaspheme had seemed so different from other False Angels. And why he’d believed she was keeping a secret from the beginning.

She’d lied to him. She’d made him swear to keep his hands off of her while she fucked him because she didn’t trust him. And the whole time, it was she who was steeping in deception. She’d fucked him, all right. In more ways than one.

Anger and hurt twisted inside him, knotting into a huge tangle of fury. He’d opened himself up to her. He’d helped her. Protected her. He’d trusted her when he hadn’t trusted anyone in thousands of years.

He’d trusted her. Son of a bitch! He should hand her over to Satan like he’d commanded.