Above the Winter Skies [English Version]

25

The angel grabbed me with such force and threw me to the ground that I slid down the corridor for quite a distance and only came to a stop when I slammed into the wall. My head was pounding, I tasted blood, and for the first time in my life, I hoped my lip was split—hoping it was my own blood.

But I didn't have time to think about it or feel disgusted. A second later, he pinned me to the floor. He straddled me, put his hands around my neck, and applied pressure without hesitation.

Even without his hands, I would have had trouble breathing—because he was at least as well-built as Cassiel, enormous and a solid mass of muscle. His full weight on my stomach forced all the air out of my lungs.

I gasped and choked, wanting to beg him to spare me, but no sound came out. I reached for his hands and tried to push them away, but he pressed so firmly and relentlessly that his grip didn't loosen by even a millimeter. Then I searched his gaze—ice-blue eyes in which I could not find a trace of compassion. A gaze that absurdly reminded me of Eldrid.

In the next moment, he released one of his hands and hit me with full force in the face. I heard something crack and tasted more blood. Tears welled up in my eyes.

"Didn't anyone teach you not to look angels in the eye?" he roared. He spat in my face. Then he hit me again.

"Don't kill her right away, Ezrael," said the other, who had now stepped behind him. He placed a hand on Ezrael's shoulder and gently pulled him back. "Maybe she can tell us if there are more dust souls hiding down here. We must have overlooked at least ten if Michael told the truth. So, what do you say, little one?"

Michael? Was he behind all this?

Ezrael loosened his grip. "Speak!" he demanded.

The other—black long hair and a face chiseled like stone—stepped next to me. I had never seen him before, just like Ezrael. He placed his shoe on my chest and roughly pressed me down with his foot, as if I could sink even deeper into the ground with a bit more force. Something cracked in my ribcage, and I screamed in pain.

A dark smile appeared on his face. He seemed to be enjoying this immensely. "If you don't have anything important to say, you're unfortunately worthless to us," he informed me. "I'd advise you not to play the hero and tell us where the rest of the pack is. Otherwise, I can certainly break more of your bones. I've heard you humans have more than two hundred of them. That would be quite a bit of fun, don't you think?"

"I ... I'm the only one," I choked out. An answer I would have given even if it weren't the truth.

"She's lying!" Ezrael roared. His fist hit my face again, and I saw stars. I didn't want to, didn't want to give these men the satisfaction of seeing me cry, but the tears flowed uncontrollably. I was sure that my nose and at least one of my ribs were broken. My face felt oddly displaced. Eldrid had never hurt me this badly, and the pain was almost driving me mad.

"She's lying? That's the best thing that could happen." Now the third member of the group spoke up. Until now, he had stayed in the background, but now he stepped into my view. He was also nearly twice my size and at least three times as broad. His black hair was cut short compared to Gabriel's, and his face looked less aristocratic, more rough and somehow brutal. He drew back his foot and kicked me with full force in the ribs, which made me see stars again. I cried out uncontrollably and made no sound.

Then he spat on me before a nasty grin spread across his features. "Gabriel, Ezrael, you have to admit that this could get quite amusing. I already have a few ideas on how we could make her talk."

"You're right," Gabriel said. He crouched down so his face was very close to mine. Then he grabbed me by the collar and pulled me toward him. I automatically lowered my eyelids, not wanting to risk another blow, but he roughly grabbed my chin and yanked it up.