Azagoth: A Demonica Novella (1001 Dark Nights) (6 page)

Azagoth was rarely taken by surprise, but that news did it. When angels traveled to the past, they did so within an impenetrable bubble known as a
shrowd
. The
shrowd
rendered them invisible and limited their ability to interact with the residents of the era. One of the most important and heavily enforced rules for time travelers was that they never leave the
shrowd
.

Maybe her infraction was what got her sent here. But why had she done it in the first place? Had she been running from something? He knew it was possible for angels to leave the
shrowd
in order to reside—or hide—in the past, but he didn’t know how they avoided getting caught. Apparently, Lilliana didn’t know either.

“Why did she break out of the
shrowd
?”

“No idea.”

Disappointing. “What about lovers?” he asked. “Does she have any? Did she have to leave a male in Heaven to come here?”

Please say no.
Not that he personally gave a hellrat’s ass, but if he was going to have to put up with a crying, broken-hearted female for all eternity, he’d like a heads up and a lot more rum.

Jim Bob shrugged. “If so, she kept it quiet. The only relationship I found was with a male named Hutriel, but that ended decades ago.”

Excellent. Azagoth stared into the fire as he contemplated everything he’d learned. When he looked back over at Jim Bob, the angel stopped pacing. “You look puzzled,” Jim Bob mused.

“I’m just wondering why she wasn’t destroyed for breaking out of the
shrowd
. Was mating me her punishment?”

“Perhaps.”

How not helpful. Azagoth ground his molars in frustration. “Can you at least tell me if her ability to time travel was removed before she was sent here?”

“It was not.”

Well, wasn’t this all unexpected. He recalled how Lilliana had seemed so amazed by his
chronoglass
, so clueless about what it was and what he did with it, all the while knowing she possessed an ability that could activate the device.

It seemed as if his new mate had been keeping important information from him. Time to find out why.

And, perhaps, remind her that he dealt in death. Not forgiveness.

Chapter Five

Lilliana had no idea how she was going to get that giant
chronoglass
out of Sheoul-gra. For a few minutes after Azagoth left her alone, she’d tried to lift the thing, but it soon became clear that without her powers, she was going to have to drag it out. Which was going to take time and was going to make a lot of noise.

She’d have to plan this heist well.

She always thought best when she was walking, so she’d gone out to explore the buildings Azagoth had said were empty.

And they were...of people. Hellrats and other strange little demonic critters scurried around, and the pulsing, maggoty-pale vines had climbed walls and penetrated windows and doorways. As she wandered through structure after structure, she found evidence of what must have, at one point, been a bustling community.

One entire building had been dedicated to living quarters complete with private bedrooms. In another building, she found several long-empty community baths. There was even a huge hall filled with long tables and chairs. Wooden and stone food trenchers still sat at some of the seats, as if waiting to be filled.

Who had lived here? And why had they left?

It was all so eerie, and that was
before
she reached the Roman-style colosseum, its sandy basin littered with demon bones. Ancient weapons, none newer than about two hundred years old, hung from racks on the walls.

The soft thud of footsteps echoed through the structure, and it took all her years of training not to make a run for the nearest scythe. Panic in a strange place never ended in anything but death. In a controlled spin, she whirled around, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw Azagoth, his long strides eating up the distance between them with effortless grace.

But her sense of relief was short lived. His mouth was a grim slash, and his glacial, calculating gaze left her feeling trapped, as if he was a gladiator and she was a declawed, defanged lion. For a split-second, she reconsidered grabbing a weapon. Instead, she squared her stance and met him head on.

“I’ve been exploring your buildings,” she said, going on the offensive. “Seems you left some information out.”

“Your righteous anger falls flat, given that you withheld shit from me too.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—” Suddenly, they were no longer standing in the arena. They were back in Azagoth’s library, and as he gestured to the
chronoglass
, her gut twisted.

“You failed to mention that you can time travel.”

Oh, shit.
“It wasn’t a secret.” Not...really. The truth just complicated things. Things like trying to steal a
chronoglass
. “But out of curiosity, how did you find out?”

“A lot of people owe me a lot of favors,” he bit out impatiently. “Now, why did you keep this news away from me?”

She swallowed. She’d always been a horrible liar. Every angel had to go through espionage ability screening as a youth, and she’d gotten a record low score. Nothing like being notorious for being
the worst
at something.

“Answer me,” he demanded. “Is it because you thought you could run away? Breaking news, Angelcake, it won’t work. This device only works for an hour at a time...unless you break out of the shrowd.” He smiled, enjoying her discomfort. “Which is something you seem to be okay with.”

She inhaled sharply. “What do you know about that?”

“Does it matter? If it makes you feel any better, I don’t give a shit what crimes you committed in the past. But let’s be clear on one thing; down here, you don’t fuck with me. So tell me, are you planning to escape using the
chronoglass
?”

“That would be stupid. I’d be bringing Enforcers down on my head. I’d spend every minute looking over my shoulder for them. Eventually they’d find me and kill me.” She folded her arms over her chest and glared. “And don’t call me Angelcake.”

“Enforcers won’t find you if you cut off your wings.” He ran his tongue over his teeth as if savoring the uncomfortable pause. “Angelcake.”

Asshole. But the asshole was right. Any angel who cut off his or her wings became instantly undetectable to angelic senses. Any angel who would normally “feel” another angel’s presence under certain variable circumstances wouldn’t register her at all. Even face to face, an unobservant angel could very well believe the wingless angel was human.

“I’m not cutting off my wings,” she assured him. “I hate pain, and seriously, why is this such a big deal anyway?”

“It’s a big deal because you kept it from me for a reason. I want to know the reason. I don’t tolerate deception. I’d tell you to ask my last assistant about my low tolerance, but his soul is busy being tortured and buttfucked in the Inner Sanctum.” He laughed. “Buttfucked in the Sanctum. Get it?”

Apparently, the males of all species remained children no matter how old they got. “I get it. Sanctum sounds like rectum.” She rolled her eyes. “So clever.”

His smile remained, but his eyes were shards of ice. “Now, the truth. Why did you act like you barely knew what a
chronoglass
was while failing to tell me you could use it?” He snapped his fingers imperiously. “Let’s hear it. My patience is wearing thin.”

If he snapped his fingers again, she was going to break them. “Maybe I just wanted something for myself,” she said. “I’m in a strange place, expected to mate with a strange male, and I have nothing of my own. Not even clothes, because
somehow
they’ve been delayed. So maybe I wanted an hour to myself now and then, outside of here.” She glared. “Jackass.”

Even though she’d called him a jackass, the shards of ice in his gaze melted a little, just enough to dull the sharp edges. “I can...understand that.”

Holy shit, he’d bought it? Then again, it was the truth. If there had been no hope of getting out of this deal by stealing the mirror, she’d have felt exactly as she’d just said.

He stepped forward so suddenly she jumped. “Take me someplace.”

“Excuse me?”

He stepped closer, but if he thought he could intimidate her with his height, he was an idiot. She’d gone through battle training with males far taller and bigger than he was.

None of those males, however, could hold a candle to Azagoth’s lethal elegance and oozing sensuality. It was as if he had been born for killing and sex. The battle angel in her could appreciate the former. The female in her definitely appreciated the latter. And the thing that sucked was that she shouldn’t be appreciating anything about him. He wasn’t exactly an enemy, but neither was he someone she could afford to get attached to.

“Take me someplace,” he repeated.

She tipped her head back to meet his gaze. “Ask nicely.”

“Take me someplace...please.”

“You could have at least made an
attempt
to make it not sound like an order.”

Clenching his teeth, he ground out, “Will you please take me someplace.”

Well, it wasn’t quite what she was hoping for, but she doubted it would get any better. Besides, she was ready to get out of here for a while. “Fine,” she said. “But you should know that I’ll have full use of my powers once I’m outside your realm.”

One corner of his mouth twitched. “Should I consider that a warning?”

“Just don’t be surprised if you find yourself riding a bolt of lightning if you piss me off.”

“I’m into kinky shit, so that works.”

He gripped her palm, and she sucked in a sharp breath at the shock of awareness that shot up her arm. She stole a glance at Azagoth, but apparently he hadn’t felt a thing, because he was as snarly-faced as ever.

Well...good. They didn’t need to be having any kind of mutual “moments.”

Although, really, it was a little insulting that he didn’t react. At all.

Shoving aside her irrational annoyance, she reached deep inside for what angels in her field called the Triple T...the time travel tingle. Independent of her other, currently unusable, angelic powers, it started deep in her pelvis and spread outward, until it was as if she could actually feel time and space inside each and every cell. Now all she had to do was think of a specific time period...then a location...and there it was.

Instead of reflecting their images, the
chronoglass’s
surface became a window, beyond which was an ocean of drifting desert sands.

“Ready?” At Azagoth’s nod, she squeezed his hand tight and led him into the mirror.

Instantly, dry heat blasted them as their feet sank into the hot sand. Releasing Azagoth, she glanced around at the scenery. It was exactly as she’d known it would be.

Utterly desolate.

She’d dropped them in the middle of the Egyptian desert, where there was nothing but rolling dunes of sand. Only the cloudless azure sky added color to an otherwise monotonous field of beige.

Take that, Azagoth.
He’d wanted to go somewhere outside of Sheoul-gra, so she’d brought him to the most boring, featureless environment she could think of.

Feeling smug, she pivoted around so she could soak in his disappointment.

Turned out, she was the one in for a letdown. Azagoth’s eyes were closed, his face tilted toward the sun.

“Egypt,” he sighed. “Damn, I miss the desert.” Inhaling deeply, he smiled.

She gaped. “Seriously? You
like
this?”

“I miss...warmth.” Gripping his collar, he yanked, ripping his shirt and popping buttons with such force that one pinged her in the forehead. “And the breeze...ah, damn, I miss the breeze.”

He flung his ruined shirt to the ground, and good Lord, he was ripped. Muscles flexed under smooth, bronzed skin and made the multitude of incredibly lifelike tattoos plastered on his chest dance. She let her gaze rove hungrily over him, committing his body to memory, because she had a feeling no male would ever match Azagoth’s savage beauty again.

He came off as detached and calm, but his ruthlessness as one of Heaven’s most decorated and successful Interrogators was well documented. Humans, demons, and fellow angels alike died at his hand, but not before they endured a lot of pain.

Azagoth’s skill with his hands extended to females as well, but instead of agony, they felt pleasure. His bedroom exploits were legendary, and now all Lilliana could do was wonder how many females had let their fingers play along the lines of the serpent tattoo that curled around his left pec. How many had dragged their tongues down the hilt of the sword on his breastbone, all the way beyond where the blade disappeared under his waistband. And how could Lilliana possibly touch him in ways no one else had?

Not that there would be any touching.

He kicked off his shoes and socks, tossing them aside without any care at all. Which made her wonder where he got his clothes. She hadn’t noticed a bustling shopping mall in any of Sheoul-gra’s outer buildings.

“What year is it?” he asked as he walked in circles, his gaze now transfixed on his toes sifting through the sand.

“I don’t know exactly.” She watched him bend over to scoop up some sand, and her mouth went as dry as the desert air at the way his slacks hugged his fine ass. Swallowing against the dryness, she continued. “I haven’t been doing this long enough to aim for specific dates, or even specific years. I can usually get myself within a decade of my goal, though.”

“A decade?” He straightened. “How long have you been doing this?”

She smiled wryly. “Why don’t you tell me, since you know so much about me.” When he said nothing, just looked up at the sky like he’d never seen it before, she went ahead and humored him. “Almost four hundred years.”

Pivoting around, he looked her up and down the way a prospective buyer would examine a horse. “Sounds like a long time to still be off by ten years. Are you a slow learner?”

She stared, speechless for a second. “Am I a slow learner?” she practically sputtered. “I’m far ahead of most time travelers by this age, you arrogant ass.”