“You still care for these wounded, ugly souls,” he said. Swallowing, Claire nodded. “What is worse—somehow, you have acquired a soul of your own.”
She stared at him, shock clear on her face. “I can’t—I have no explanation, Master.”
“I am not asking for one. You cannot stay, beloved. The care I could, perhaps, overcome in time. The soul, however—it is pure, and not mine to take. It will never be mine to take.” Grief edged his voice. Annie stared, not expecting that emotion from—well, one of the lords of Hell. “You may have found your way home.”
“Azazel—”
“Hush. Take your rest, while I deal with your tormentor.”
He moved so fast Annie didn’t see it until he had both hands wrapped around Natasha’s throat. From her reaction, she didn’t either.
“My Lord—” He cut off her strangled whisper.
“You killed without leave, took the souls of the innocent.” One hand released her, picked up an object that glinted in the torchlight. Horror shot through Annie, primal and icy. All she saw was black-edged gold before long fingers closed over it. That was more than she ever wanted to see again. “And used what should never have been taken beyond these gates to do so. It is fortunate you have chosen the body of one already well down the path to Hell. I will not have to separate you.”
He threw her at the gate. Annie flinched, waiting for the smack of impact. Instead, the gate shifted—and a hole appeared, like a greedy mouth. Screaming, Natasha grabbed for the side of the hole. Her fingers slipped through the gate like it was black water, and she disappeared.
Claire stood on her own, tears sliding down her face. “There was no way to save her?”
Annie frowned at the humble tone in Claire’s voice. Then she looked at Azazel, and decided that humble was the safe course.
“Above all, you would know the darkness of her soul. She was always meant to come to me, to us, from the moment she understood her power.” Claire stilled when he moved to her. His body changed from one step to the next—Annie sucked in her breath when the hideous, hunched figure towered over Claire, clawed fingers reaching for her. “You must go. Already, our brother screams for your blood.”
Claire went white. “You can’t tell—”
“Lucifer will know nothing of this. But you must go now, while I can still protect you.”
“Azazel—”
The gate behind them shivered, then bulged outward. Two giant hands formed in the surface of the gate—and thrust out, headed straight for Claire.
“Go!” Azazel pushed her out of the way and caught the oversized wrists. Claws gouged his chest. “I free you, beloved. Now go!”
His scream of pain as the claws punctured him tore through Annie. Claire darted forward. Azazel thrust out one hand and she flew backward, landing in the shrouded darkness, beyond the reach of the torchlight. Somehow, Annie could still see her, clear as day.
She pushed herself up, tears staining her face, and ran forward again. Azazel dropped to his knees as she reached for him, gripping the hands tearing into his chest.
“Master—”
“He will always lust for what he cannot touch—you know him, my sister.” Annie fought to move, to cover her ears and drown out the agony, the anguish in that voice. She might as well have been a statue. “Keep yourself safe, and do not think of me, even in dreams—”
“I won’t leave you here—”
“You will.” Azazel, took in a ragged breath. “You must.” One bloody hand brushed her cheek. “Live your life, Claire.” She jerked when he spoke her name. “With your soul comes mortality. You will live much longer than the humans surrounding you—but there will be an end. Now go—it is time to finish this argument on equal ground.”
With a furious roar he stood and rushed the gate. It seemed to swallow him, the surface liquid as he leapt through it. Then the gate became solid, and finally showed Annie the horrors carved into that surface.
Claire backed away, hands clenched into fists. When she turned around, Annie saw the grief that carved new lines on her face, that filled the blue eyes. Eyes no longer laced by the silver Annie now knew marked her as a demon. Those eyes widened, startled, and she halted.
“Heaven above—no, please no—” Despair laid over the grief. She stumbled forward, then froze, her voice a tortured whisper. “Annie?”
With a panicked gasp, Annie bolted awake.
She fell out of bed, sweat slicking every inch of her. Grabbing her cell off the side table, she crawled over to the corner of the bedroom. She needed something solid at her back. Something real. Her hands shook so badly it took several tries to punch in his number. Relief started to leak in past the panic when he answered.