“I’m out of here. Get ready, Bro, because all hell is going to break loose.”
Literally.
Thirty-One
Revenant stood outside the entrance to Satan’s private baths, inhaling deeply. Again. And again. This was it. He was either going to do the impossible… or he was going to die.
He entered without knocking. Steam that reeked of sulphur swirled around him as he walked toward the bubbling pit in the center of the black-tiled room. Satan was in the pool with three females and a male, all different species.
Revenant didn’t wait for Satan to show surprise that he’d entered without an invitation. He blasted the four demons in the pit with a sweet Shadow Angel weapon that disintegrated the fuckers into nonexistence. Not even their souls survived.
“Revenant,” Satan hissed. “What the fuck are you do —”
Revenant attacked, tackling the demon as he rose from the water. They crashed onto the stone deck with a wet thud. Before Satan could even blink, Revenant slammed his fist into his throat.
It was like hitting a steel pipe.
Satan struck back with an uppercut into Rev’s gut, knocking him into the sacrificial table used to drain the blood of victims into the pool. The stone tabletop smashed into a dozen pieces, showering Rev with dust and pebbles.
“What the fuck is going on?” Satan’s roar of fury sent the ghastbats in the rafters into an explosion of squeaks and flapping wings.
Revenant pitched to his feet. “I got your damned angel. I’ve proved my loyalty, so you’re going to leave Blaspheme alone.”
Satan laughed. “You stupid bastard. I will have Blaspheme. No angel could be worth what I plan to do to her.”
The smug son of a bitch. “Not even an archangel?”
Instant mood shift. Satan wiped blood from his chin and stood a little straighter. “An archangel, you say.” A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth, and Revenant swore he saw a little drool. The bastard was taking the bait, just as Gethel had. “Is this archangel dead?”
Revenant shook his head. “I figured you’d want him alive, so I didn’t bring him here.” No living angel could enter this region of Sheoul, and if Revenant – or anyone – tried to flash a Heavenly being inside, he or she would materialize dead.
Yeah, Satan was drooling. “Where is he?”
“The Temple of Gog.”
The Prince of Lies nodded in approval. “Nice. His power will be limited there. Not that it matters, of course. I can kill him with my pinky.”
“I’d like to see that, my lord,” Revenant said. He’d pay to see that.
Satan narrowed his eyes. “Then why did you attack me?”
“Because,” Revenant said. “You questioned my loyalty. Don’t fucking do that again.”
Now Rev waited. The demon would either respect what Revenant had done… or he’d fry him. Probably literally, given that one of Satan’s favorite torture methods involved a giant iron skillet and rendered Gargantua lard.
Finally, just as Revenant was contemplating the spices that would go best with Shadow Angel stir-fry, Satan’s black eyes locked onto him.
“You have balls made of brimstone, Revenant.” He bared fangs as sharp as blades. “But do it again and I’ll cut those balls off and feed them to Blaspheme. Understood?”
Rev inclined his head in the shallowest nod he could get away with and still appear respectful.
“Good. Now who is this archangel?”
“His name is Raphael.”
A slow, malevolent smile spread across Satan’s face, and his eyes glowed with unholy excitement. “I can’t wait to break him,” he said almost breathlessly. “Let’s go.”
Revenant and Satan materialized inside the Temple of Gog at the same time. In the next heartbeat, Reaver was there, snapping a Tal around the demon’s throat. Revenant leaped away as Satan roared in fury, his body contorting and expanding, growing taller and wider and fuck, this wasn’t going to be good. Rev hadn’t expected the Tal to work, and sure enough, they might as well have collared the demon with a silk ribbon.
“Now!” he shouted. “Hurry!”
Reaver didn’t have a chance to carry out the next phase of their plan. Satan’s snarl became a physical thing, a wall of hellfire that shot from him in a 360-degree shock wave of pain.
Revenant heard Reaver’s scream of agony even over his own hoarse cry. His skin blistered and peeled, layer upon layer, until he could see his own bones peeking out from charred muscle.
The Dark Lord’s giant fist, now the size of a Volkswagen, swiped Revenant aside as if he were a mere fly. He sailed through the air, striking the Gog statue with a crash of broken bones and marble.