You saw the worst, and your mind shattered.
Israfel kissed Angela’s hair, wrapping his large wings around her like she’d always dreamed. Sophia’s lips pursed in that dangerous way, her frame shivering. “That’s right,” Israfel continued, “it’s because you can’t. It’s because, no matter how much you threaten and curse, other people can control you, lock you, seal half of you shut. Because you’re nothing more—”
Her gray eyes were full of pain.
“—than a thing.”
Twenty-seven
Love is desperation. Always.
—The Demon Python, UNKNOWN ORIGIN
“Do you miss this piece of yourself?” Troy snapped at Naamah, and they collided in midair, wings spread wide.
Instantly, both tumbled to the cathedral floor in a ball of feathers and hands, knives and teeth. The demon swiped at Troy desperately, aiming to murder her with the poisoned blades on her fingers. “You—annoying shit.”
Troy scampered aside, and they lifted into the air again, two birds locked in combat, their hair windblown and their speed terrible. Naamah stared at her lost wing bone, tied in a knot of hair near Troy’s ears, and her eyes glittered like cold obsidian. The bloody residue from her wings already slicked Troy’s fingers with the consistency of oil, and more spattered around them as she flew, crazy with rage. She was like all her kind, emotional at the most crucial times. Today it would probably cost her dearly.
Troy waited for her, still aloft and snarling with excitement. “Oh, so now you recognize my little trinket?”
The demon was closing in fast.
“Remember how much it hurt,” Troy continued, “when I tore it out of you, bitch?”
“SHUT UP.” Naamah sliced for Troy’s neck, but attempted to shove her away just as quickly.
Troy bit for the wrist yet again, scraping a mess of bloody bandages with her jaws.
A shrill scream echoed above the storm.
Stephanie, the witch, was running for them, her eyes streaked by water and her hair as wild as the demon’s. She was hysterical, and it took a second longer for Troy to even realize the human was calling Naamah’s name.
“GET AWAY FROM HER—”
“Stay out of this,” Naamah screamed back at her, finally disengaging with Troy.
The demon landed on the opposite side of the platform at the head of the church, clutching at her wrist and panting with the pain. Nearby a stone table had been set at the forefront, its surface half draped with a white cloth and rows of brass candlesticks. A few novices lay dead around the table, and temptingly close by lay a severed head capped in white. The church stank of blood, and the hideous scent of the Supernal Israfel, a mixture of flesh and flowers that reminded Troy of a rotten nest. She landed with Naamah, wiped the blood from her mouth, and hunched down on her hands and feet, flipping her ears back against her hair.
Stephanie, though, was far from obedient. Changing direction, she rushed for Troy head-on. She tore off her sleeve, revealing a tattoo above her elbow that matched the demon’s. A witch’s mark. But before the human could make another move, energy sparked from Naamah’s hand and blasted her onto the floor.
Troy hissed, blocking the light from her eyes.
When she glanced up again, Stephanie had crumpled into a ball, cursing. Then she was on all fours like Troy, her face hidden between the mess of her hair, her eyes wild, screening her rage.
“Don’t make me break your legs,” Naamah said between her teeth.
Troy licked her lips, gazing at Stephanie with new interest. These two shared a bond that went beyond the typical for a witch and her demon. “Perhaps I could do it for you,” she said, smiling at Stephanie.
Stephanie opened her mouth to reply, but Naamah gestured sharply at her and turned back to Troy.
The demon’s tattoo seemed to twist, dancing in the shadows.
Like all those in service to Hell’s Prince, the inked number marked Naamah as Lucifel’s property; the Fourth in a ranking system based on ambition and cutthroat policy. Troy had never entertained the pleasure of meeting the other Three, nor did she have the desire to.
This one represented the younger, copper-skinned generation, and she was horror enough.
“Aren’t you aware of what’s going on down in the Underworld?” Naamah shouted, flexing the blades in her fingers. The pain of having them inserted in the first place must have been considerable. “Your race is merely a step away from extinction. Once the dimensions crumble, where will you go, Jinn? I’m telling you, there will be another alliance between the angels and demons to crush your rats’ nest, only this time, the battle will start where it hurts most. Home.” Naamah glanced at the human corpses, and her dark eyes brightened. “Don’t waste time hunting demons when you have traitors slithering in your caves. You’d be smart to ally yourself with me, as a protection for when the greater battles begin.”