As an angel trained to fight the forces of demons, Chiara knew to not let them take her alive, but she never expected to survive her first battle. Trapped in the depths of hell and tortured, only one thing is keeping her alive - the demon kept priso...
Music thumped in Logan's chest, the sound pressing him physically, as they entered the hall. This had been the soundtrack of his daily life before. This music, this electric madness.
Then Zeigfel tried to sway him to join his legions—and take the fall for killing Zeigfel's enemies. Pissed off, he snuck into the Duxtori's quarters, bent on his own destruction. At the time, he'd convinced himself it was for a good time.
Chiara's steps slowed, and he watched the scene unfold slowly from over her shoulder and wing.
Bodies thrashed. Strobing lights gave snap-shot images, a choppy play-by-play of action as demons and lost humans danced, fought, and fucked. The hall was a crowded miasma of sin.
It was also immense. The end was lost in the darkness and flashing lights.
Chiara drew up sharply. "You are sure that there's no way around this?"
"I'm sure the way around isn't better or safer," he said. He stepped around her to lead. "Act like you are enjoying yourself and if anyone offers anything tell them you have other plans."
"Other plans," she muttered, but fell in step behind him.
He took her hand, the one not carrying the sword. For a moment, she resisted, hand stiff and posture angry. Then she tightened her slim, cool fingers around his.
"How far to the other side?" she asked.
"Far enough to get lost if you aren't careful."
"And then what? Portals to the midlands?"
"And then there are six more halls," he said.
She scoffed in disbelief. "Seven halls for each of deadly sins? All as big as this one, I imagine?"
"Some are bigger."
"Which hall is this? Lust?"
Nearby, two women were tangled in a writhing dance, one a rare female demon. As they danced, their mouths pressed together, hands searched out asses and breasts. The female demon, rearing her head back in passion, picked up and then set the smaller human on a table and parted her knees.
"I see why you'd think so," Logan said, answering Chiara's question.
In his former life, he might have stayed to enjoy the show, but they had places to be other than Hell. "No, the names of the halls are all one of the seven deadlies, but really, they are all mashed together."
As if to confirm his words, another couple, this time two male demons shoved their way through the crowd to fall on the ground in Logan's path, hands around each other's throats. The one on top gave a gurgling shriek and toppled to the side, knife in his ribs.
Logan barely had time to blink.
The victor climbed to his feet without a glance at the dead and joined the thrashing mélée of bodies as if nothing had happened.
Wrath.
It's a hell of a drug.
Like the other sins, of course.
Logan knew the pull of that red-hot fury, the ease of slipping into it, and the extreme pleasure in bringing the enemy down. The snuff of the flame once you have won, leaving you emptier than you imagined possible, so your only recourse it to run to the next deadly sin.
Chiara was getting wild around the eyes. Her steps were skittish and she trembled, turning her head at every new or movement noise in the hall—but there was a sea of movement and clashing sounds to be afraid of.
"Chiara," he whispered, leaning in. "Focus on me. Only me. Come on."
She nodded, stepping carefully past the demon body already drying to dust on the ground. His feet scuffed another pile of ashy dust—something he hadn't really noticed before. If the bodies didn't turn to dust so fast, they would pile to the ceiling.
Which made him ask the question about what happened to human bodies, because they came down here in the flesh, but they rarely lasted for long.
Focus, Logan.
He squared his shoulders and shoved forward, not showing fear. Fear would have demons on them like rabid dogs.
Demons live for it, drinking it up like elixir.
Then the path opened for him. The dancers slowed, moving aside, the couples and groups gyrating for different reasons, paused, as if holding their breath and lifted their heads to watch. Fights stilled. Voices lowered.
But they weren't looking at him.
They were looking at Chiara and the massive wings that trailed behind her.
He groaned. "This is a problem."
*** Will the demons recognize Chiara as an angel? And what will they do to her? Thanks so much for reading!!! ***
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