There was more to that awful night 10 years ago that Irina thought she had laid to rest. She thought the worst of the terrors were behind her. In the past four years, she had not once been plagued by the night terrors of Azazel's eyes freezing her soul, but now they were back.
She garnered the ability to wake herself before the horror of the third act would commence but that didn't mean it was foolproof. Sometimes she would lay down her head, and the terror would pick up where it left off.
That's why she never returned to bed.
That's why she stayed in the library from the early hours of the morning into the late afternoon. She missed breakfast and lunch, not even noticing the pained growl of her stomach.
Her mind was more than engulfed with questions that only seemed to grow every time she found a hint of an answer.
She wanted to know more.
Her desire for truth and explanation overshadowed any hunger or drowsiness. She wanted to know what was beyond her window and the palace doors.
She knew harpies existed because Azazel had left to control the population when she was 15. Lucifer described them as savage flying beasts with large wings and beaked noses. They could sniff out blood from miles away and flock to any forgotten meat; scavenging the leftovers. She would not want to be anywhere near them or their roosts.
But what else was there?
The harpies couldn't be the only concern. Her father didn't want her leaving even with his guidance and supervision. She was certain he or Azazel, would keep her away from their massive claws.
No books in the entirety of the library answered her questions. Even Azazel's private shelf was a mystery. Blank pages and empty spines were a common theme among anything that came close to providing answers. A thick book called Nephilim caught her eye, but when she opened it, all that it contained were terrifying oil paintings.
Massive creatures, towering over houses and people. Their long fingers hung past their knees, each knuckle straining against the skin. Their horrific faces elongated and distorted, constantly appearing in pain.
They were giants of an evil eye.
Closing the book, she swiftly returned it to its place on the shelf. The dust line revealed its absence and settled when it was placed back in its rightful home.
Nothing.
Nowhere to turn.
Her curiosity ate away at her insides, gnawing on the strings of her heart. She wanted to scream and fight and hurt anything that tried to stop her. Scratch at their faces as they held her back from the truth she craved.
She wanted to see it! She wanted to know! Were their cities of towering glass just beyond the dark skyline from her window? Would she meet others that walked wingless like her? Or would they be outcasts too, just like her father and uncles?
The Surface hated them, her father said. But who else did they turn on? Why were they forced underground?
Settling down on the plush couch again, she tossed 'Once Upon a Marigold' to the side, not in any mood for magic and trolls. She wanted answers and Lucifer wasn't going to give them to her. He certainly wasn't going to allow anyone else to either so asking Belphegor was out of the question.
YOU ARE READING
Halo Of Horns
Romance"This is the kind of secret that burns through the bottom of whatever box you lock it up in" • "Stay still." He took his sharp talon and moved aside a piece of her blonde- practically white- hair, still damp from the bath, and tossed it over her sho...
