Winged Passion, page 5
part #3 of Heaven's Heart Series
But Hades surprised him by not smiting her. “I’m not a fallen angel, so no.”
“But—”
“Sweetcakes, I rule Tartarus. I referee souls. I don’t have time to go running around trying to find knick-knacks. But I’m rich as that fucker Croesus used to be, so I pay people to do it for me. That’s where you come in.”
“I see.”
“You’d better. You’re new, and you’re about to work for me, so I’ll give you some slack. But be warned; I have no patience for people who annoy me.” He looked meaningfully around the hall.
Seraphina’s chocolate-hued gaze followed, confusion marring her face.
Trick decided to fill in the blank. “All these statues are people who angered Hades.”
Every gargoyle here was a demon or human who had gotten on the wrong side of the god and been magically transformed into a stone figure, placed here for eternity. Or until Hades forgave them.
And Trick had never heard of anyone being forgiven.
Her eyes widened. “You can turn people into stone?”
“Clearly.” Hades waved a hand in the air.
Her lips compressed into a thin line.
Maybe she had finally realized that she was in over her head.
Yeah, I doubt that.
Trick had the feeling she never thought anything was too hard for her to achieve. Which wasn’t a bad thing, he realized. He was much the same. Hell, he’d carved a new life out for himself, and had been kicking goals ever since.
“So, what’s this mysterious artifact?” Trick asked. He leaned forward, trying to work out what the gargoyle closest to him had been before its transformation. Possibly a Yolar demon? They had four genders, and delicate pointed features that reminded him of the legends of the Sidhe.
“It’s called the Amenonuhoko.” The name rolled off Hades’ tongue with perfect intonation. Japanese. That was about as much as Trick could ascertain.
“The amen-what?” He rubbed his jaw.
“The Amenonuhoko. Translated, it means the ‘Heavenly Jeweled Spear’.”
You could have led with the English version. But whatever. A name was a name.
“What does it do?” Seraphina asked.
Trick sighed. “It doesn’t matter what it does. We steal it for Hades, we get paid, that’s how it works.”
Hades laughed, the sound booming around the room. “I knew there was a reason I liked you, notwithstanding your enslaving of angels.” He clapped Trick on the back, the force almost knocking him off-balance, and Trick was no lightweight.
That guy is way too strong.
The god turned his attention to Seraphina. “The Amenonuhoko was used to create Onogoro-shima, a primordial landmass. The spear was given to two gods by primordial deities. It is a tool of power. You want to know more, Google it. I’m not your fucking encyclopedia.”
A primordial artifact.
There had once been many; now there were just a few left in the world. Most had been locked away by ancient gods, afraid that they would be used against them. Odin’s Orb, which Trick had hoped to steal a mere month ago, was one such artifact. Heaven’s Heart was another. Legend had it that the Heart had been broken into three parts to prevent it being used by the wrong hands. Two of those pieces had been missing for millennia.
Trick had a habit of keeping up to date on legends—you never knew when they’d become profitable—but he’d never heard of the Heavenly Jeweled Spear.
The HJS. There, that was better. He couldn’t be bothered saying the full name every time.
Seraphina frowned. “But why can only a fallen angel touch it?”
“Only a fallen angel can retrieve it,” Hades said.
“But—”
The god sighed. “Lucy—I mean, Lucifer—stole it a thousand years ago. To prevent the rightful owners from stealing it back, he put a spell on it.”
Of course, he did.
Nothing was ever easy.
“Only a true fallen angel can remove it from its protective casing,” Hades said.
“So, we just need to go to Sheol and get it back?”
“That’s the thing. I have spies in Lucy’s main residence, and they say it isn’t there. So, if he’s got it, it’s not in his Tower of Tortures.”
Lucifer’s name for his Sheol residence.
It does sound more menacing in ancient angelic.
“So, when do you need it by?” Trick asked. “And have you hired anyone else?”
“There aren’t too many fallen angels around, you know? They have a habit of dying in Hell.”
That didn’t really answer his question.
Hades raised his hands, as if he was about to clap them. “Oh, and you have a week to find it. If you fail, you die. Gotta run. Errands and shit.”
There was a boom, and they were back in Seraphina’s room, Hades nowhere in sight.
Great. A week to find it, or we’re both dead.
“Can he do that?” Seraphina asked, shock lining her face.
“Yes.”
Trick answered to Hades, that was how being a guild-owner in Tartarus worked. But the god had never pulled rank before; he’d let Trick run his business autonomously. To force Trick into this job meant that the god really wanted that spear.
What else can it do?
“Does he mean it? If we don’t find this artifact, then we’re both dead?”
“That’s what he said.” But Trick would read the contract that was no doubt waiting in his inbox, to make sure those were the true conditions. Not that Trick could negotiate; Hades’ will, was, well, Hades’ will.
Seraphina sat on the narrow steel-framed bed, her head hanging low for a few heartbeats. Her dejected appearance tugged something in the vicinity of his heart.
Don’t be stupid.
Then her head rose, and she met his stare with furious determination. “We’d better get started then. I have no intention of dying by your side.”
Ouch.
But whose side was she willing to die next to?
Chapter 10
One week.
That was practically no time at all to find an ancient artifact that Lucifer had been keeping hidden for a millennium. Where could Seraphina even start to look? Nibbling her lip, she mentally flicked through a list of contacts she had developed since falling to the Human Realm. There were communications managers at other mercenary firms, and a few high-powered demons, but none with the kind of intimate knowledge that could get her details on Lucifer’s stronghold.
The Tower of Tortures.
She shook her head at the name.
Pacing her tiny room, she twirled a dagger she’d grabbed from her suitcase—the blade’s movements helped soothe her, so she could concentrate.
“You could poke someone’s eye out with that.”
She came to a sudden stop, peering over her shoulder at Trick, who stood in the doorway. In his hands he had a small box, wrapped in brown paper and tied up with a twine bow.
He’s giving me a gift?
A thrill of excitement shot through her, before she managed to wrangle the emotion under control. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not a present. And it’s probably not even for you.
“Here. This is for you.”
Tentatively, she reached out to take the package, knife still held tightly in her left hand.
“Hell, it’s not a box of herpes. Take it.” He shoved it at her. “Some old woman came here, hit on me, and left it behind. Said it was for you.”
Relief swamped her. It wasn’t a present. Eagerly now, she grabbed the box and tore off the paper.
There. It was perfect.
“Lipstick?” Trick asked, glancing down at the small tube in her hand.
“Yes.” She removed the lid, idly taking note of the color: bright, cherry red. She’d asked for a clear lip gloss, but clearly Dora had other ideas.
She could almost hear the Crone’s cackle as she ran the lipstick over her lips. Her mouth burned, as if she’d been stung by a bee, then went numb.
“What kind of lipstick is that?”
Trick was staring at her mouth.
“Designer.”
Designed to hide your slave-mark.
His eyes narrowed. “Hmph.”
She was surprised that he let it go so easily.
For now.
He would no doubt bring it up later.
Time to change the subject. “Why are you here?”
He strode further into the room, and sat on the edge of her desk, looking as comfortable as if he were in a recliner. “Oh, did you miss the whole you-will-die-in-a-week-if-you-don’t-get-the-HJS-thing?”
“The HJS?”
“The Amenonuhoko. Heavenly Jeweled Spear. You know, the thing that Lucifer stole, and we have to find?”
“Yes,” she ground out. “I just hadn’t realized you’d already given it an acronym.”
She wanted to smack the smugness from his face.
I will not die next to this man.
Seraphina had sold her soul to save Z. She wasn’t going to waste it.
“I am all about efficiency.” He flicked out a hand. “Now, we need to find out which stronghold Lucifer has stashed this artifact at. Any ideas?”
“Oh, yes. Let me just check the list of his properties I have on hand.” She rolled her eyes.
“Sarcasm, while generally a very useful thing, is not useful now.”
“I was just trying to think of any contacts I might have who would know about Lucifer. But I didn’t really come into contact with anyone who worked closely with him. Have you done any work for a Great Duke of his?”
Each circle of Hell was run independently of the other. Hades ran his like the very profitable business it was. Satan ran his through coercion and greed, with demons often enslaved to do his bidding. Lucifer had a collection of lords and ladies, with his Great Dukes the generals of his vast army and empire.
Trick nodded to himself. “I know of a former Great Duke.”
Surprise lanced through her. “You do?”
“Honey, I know a lot of things. I collect information like some people hoard treasure.”
“Honey?”
“You’re right. It doesn’t work. I’ll think of another nickname.”
“Nickname?”
“Seraphina is such a mouthful. Can I call you Sera?”
“No.”
“Good, I’ll stick with that for now. But I will think of something else, don’t worry.” He patted her shoulder as he walked back to the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To call the Great Duke. Are you coming or not?”
She grabbed the knife’s sheath from the bed and strapped it on. “Do I need to lock the door?”
“I would.” He tossed her a key.
She quickly locked up, then followed him down the hall. “Why can’t you just call him now?”
“I need someone to give me his private number.”
They emerged into a large chamber with three hearths, a long table, and a gaudy golden throne.
Is this Trick’s throne room?
The seat itself might have been called opulent, if not for the sheer brazenness of its design. It reminded her of rich old ladies who wore their entire jewelry collection in one go, to show off their wealth.
Trick nodded to the series of demons who were scattered around the room; some on sofas in front of the fireplaces, others at the long bench, and some milling in dark corners. He came to a stop next to a lithe, handsome male demon, with chestnut-colored hair and baby-blue eyes. He was handsome, in a GQ-model kind of way.
He’s not as attractive as Trick.
No. She did not just think that.
“Sylvester.” Trick clapped the demon on the shoulder, oblivious to Seraphina’s internal horror.
“Boss.” He nodded his head at her. “Stranger.”
“I’m Seraphina.” She stuck her right hand out, and the demon stared at it for a few seconds before shaking it in a firm grip.
But he withdrew his hand quickly before turning to Trick. “Fallen angel. Another one.”
So, he’d known about Z. And from the disapproving tone, he hadn’t been happy about it.
“She traded her soul for his. What could I do?” Trick held his hands out, palms up.
“Right. So, he’s no longer on the look-for list?”
“Oh yeah, I should cancel that.” Trick whipped out his phone, fingers flying across the screen as he typed rapidly. “Sent. Thanks for the reminder.”
She could get whiplash from the speed at which he changed tack.
Sylvester spun away on his heel. “Anytime. Now, I’ve gotta run. Got a date—”
“About that...” Trick said.
“About my date?” Sylvester pivoted back toward them.
Trick flashed him a charming smile. “Could I get his number?”
“No.” Sylvester crossed his arms over his chest. “He’s mated. To me.”
“Oh, not for sex. Even though we know he’d totally want me.” Sylvester glowered at him. “If he was single.”
“Then why do you want his number?”
“I need to chat to him about Lucifer.”
Challenge sprung to life in Sylvester’s blue eyes. “Why would he know anything about Lucifer?”
He’s very combative for a slave.
Did Trick allow all his blood slaves to talk to him like that?
He lets you.
Maybe Trick was more relaxed than she’d thought?
“Want me to spell out that answer?” Trick asked.
“Fine. Come with me. But the angel stays here.”
Trick shook his head. “No can do.”
“She’s a hindrance.”
“True. But Hades gave her and me a mission, unfortunately. We have to do this together. So, she comes with.”
She was both insulted and pleased by Trick’s response. Sure, he had ridiculed her—again—but he was willing to work with her to achieve their goal. He could have snuck away and done this behind her back, calling her in at the last minute. He didn’t have to include her. She was only required for the final retrieval.
Sylvester sighed. “I’ll text you the address. Meet me there.”
“Can’t I just call him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Phones can be traced.”
Then the demon strode out the hall, leaving Trick to check his phone.
“Do we follow him?” she asked.
“No.” He took hold of her hand and she gasped slightly at the heat of the joining. Warmth radiated up her arm, pooling low in her stomach.
A breath later, they were standing beside a sleek pool, the water a clear crystal blue. In front of them perched a glass-walled house of elegant, modern architectural design, complete with polished concrete floors and industrial lights. The backyard edged onto a forest, and the air was crisp and cool with only a hint of pollution.
Whoever lives here has money. Lots of it.
Inside the house, Sylvester emerged into the main living area, a male of similar height by his side. Human? Demon?
Probably demon.
The doors opened and a blast of power hit her with physical force, but she gritted her teeth and stood her ground.
Demon. Definitely demon.
The figure beside Sylvester was dressed in an immaculately tailored suit—probably a Burberry—with a white cotton shirt, and highly polished Guccis. Dark red hair was swept back from his widow’s peak, and he surveyed them with hard brown eyes. The only thing that marred his appearance was a series of faint scars on one cheek, crisscrossing lines that made his handsomeness brutal in its intensity.
“You wanted to meet me?” the stranger asked, his voice gravelly, liked he’d smoked a cigar a day for a century, or he’d roughened it through screaming.
“You’re not a Murmur demon.” Trick’s voice was accusatory, but it just made the powerful demon smile.
“Oh, I’m a Murmur all right.”
Her eyes widened at the admission. Murmur demons could control a person’s thoughts; they could make a person hand over millions in cash, fall in love, or even kill themselves. After the Mortus and Infernus, his species were perhaps the most feared.
“Don’t worry,” he said to Seraphina. “Most angels are immune to a Murmur’s talents.”
That’s what they said in Heaven, but she couldn’t bring herself to be relieved just yet. She’d learned that what Heaven said and what actually happened were two different things.
Blasphemy.
Maybe. But she wasn’t a blinkered fool anymore, to believe that what everyone told her was fact.
Lies, she’d found, could be disguised as truth.
“I love your strength, your loyalty, and your beauty,” Paschar had said.
Not, “I love you.”
He hadn’t been lying, and she had elaborated the rest. She should have realized then that Paschar’s motives weren’t pure, but she’d been so in love, so willing to overlook his faults, that she was blind to the reality of their relationship.
No longer, she thought. No longer will I blindly accept another’s word.
No.
Next time she fell in love—if she ever did again—it would be because she was shown, not told, that she was valued, cared for and loved.
Chapter 11
Trick tried to ignore Seraphina’s sudden melancholy. Why was she sad? Was she thinking of Heaven again?
You’re meant to be ignoring her.
Right.
Easier said than done, apparently.
But he had to get his head back in the game. The demon before him was no ordinary Murmur and Trick didn’t like the fact Sylvester had been keeping secrets.
“Why do you have the power of a god?” Trick asked.
Sylvester flashed the demon-slash-god a sharp glance. “I thought you were cloaked,” he muttered.
“Some people can see or feel power, no matter the glamour,” the god whispered back.
And Trick was one of them.
Trick had sent the cambion to do a protection job—something that Sylvester didn’t particularly enjoy doing—and Sylvester had ended up nearly dead, and mated to one of the most powerful demons in the Human Realm. Or Hell.
