Reaver (31 page)

The smug expression on Reaver’s face fell. He knew what she was about to say, but she gave him

credit for at least trying to remain optimistic as he asked, “Where’s the Harrowgate?”

She pointed at the city. “In the very center. Right on Lucifer’s doorstep.”

“Fuck,” Reaver breathed.

“We already did that. But if you’re saying that we’re
fucked
, I’d say you’re right.”

The journey to the city didn’t take long, and aside from one hawk-headed Horus demon trying to rob

them, it was uneventful.

But as they approached the gates to the massive city, Reaver had a feeling things were going to get a

lot less dull.

Khepri demons—scarab-headed humanoids—guarded the gate, their skinny antennae swiveling like

radar dishes. Flanking them were Sobeks, their humanoid bodies too small for their giant crocodile

heads.

Reaver had never encountered any of these demons, which Harvester said no longer traveled away

from this realm, but the stories of their cruelty went well beyond the realm’s borders.

He leaned close to Harvester, and her scent made his body stir again.

“Are they going to let us in?”

“Of course,” she said, as if he’d asked an insanely stupid question. “It’s letting us out that’ll be the

problem if they find out who we are. And they probably will.”

Harvester was definitely a glass-half-empty person, wasn’t she? But she was right, and the guards

opened the gates that were tall enough to allow entrance to Godzilla. Inside, the gray that defined the

outskirts of the city was replaced by rich reds and greens, golds and silvers. Great pillars and statues

dotted the city, which could have stood in Egypt and no one would have known the difference.

“Charming place,” he muttered as they moved past Neethul slave markets and arenas where demons

fought to the death.

Harvester nodded enthusiastically, as if he’d been serious. “I know, right? There’s a pub a few

blocks over that serves the best pomegranate wine in all of Sheoul. Costs a fortune, but it’s so smooth.

You’d never know they use Soulshredder blood to make it.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“I hear sarcasm.” She
tsk
ed. “What is it humans say? That sarcasm is the lowest form of humor?”

He shrugged. “Only for people who don’t get it.”

She laughed, and he missed a step. He’d heard Harvester laugh before, but there had always been an

evil undercurrent to it, a morbid amusement that came from things normal people wouldn’t find

funny. But this was a pure, bubbly laugh of genuine delight, and it filled him with the strangest

giddiness, like a feather was tickling his heart.

As if she felt it too, she slid him an almost shy glance, a lopsided smile curving her luscious mouth.

He didn’t say anything, because by now he knew that calling attention to anything pleasant would turn

her back into an acid-tongued fishwife. Idly, he wondered if Eidolon had anything for her particular

brand of demonic bipolar disorder.

“We’re almost there,” she said, pulling him to the side of the road to avoid being trampled by an

elephant-like creature being ridden by an Anubis.

Almost there. If everything went smoothly, then in a few more minutes the nightmare would be

over. This part of the nightmare, anyway. They still had to face the archangels, and the things they

could do to him made all the miseries of Sheoul seem like a day at an amusement park.

The Harrowgate hung between two gold columns at the top of hundreds of steps that led to a

building Harvester said was Lucifer’s palace.

“Will we be able to walk right into it?”

“I doubt it,” she said. “Gethel will probably be heavily guarded.

At the top of the steps, demons milled about, but it was the armed Silas demons standing nearby

that hot-loaded a massive dump of adrenaline into Reaver’s veins.

“Shit,” Harvester said, her voice so low he barely heard her. “Silas demons are coming up behind

us.”

Reaver cast a covert glance back, and yep, they were being flanked. When he looked ahead, Silases

were moving toward them, too.

They were blocked.

Instinctively, Reaver reached for his power, but there wasn’t so much as a spark. Harvester had been

right. He couldn’t even kill a hellrat.

“I don’t suppose you have any tricks up your sleeve,” he asked.

“I have a lot. Unfortunately, they won’t work in this situation.” She shot a covert glance at the

Harrowgate. “I say we forget Gethel for now and make a break for it.”

As much as he’d love to end Gethel and Lucifer right now, he had to admit that without their full

range of powers, any attempt would be suicide. But that didn’t mean he was admitting defeat. No,

right now the smart thing to do was to escape and live to fight another day.

“On three,” he said. “One.” The demons behind them began to jog. “Two.” The demons in front of

them raised their swords. “
Three
.”

He and Harvester bolted toward the gate, scattering civilian demons like bowling pins. Harvester

flung several bursts of lightning at the Silas warriors, turning them to ash. They were within five yards

of the gate when a net fell on them, the threads shrink-wrapping them so tightly that their skin sliced

open, their blood sizzling when it hit the mesh. Pain tore through Reaver as they crashed to the

ground, kicking and fighting, but the netting only squeezed tighter, until they were back-to-back and

unable to move more than fingers and toes.

A huge male Nightlash shoved through the throng of Silases, his clawed feet clacking on the stone.

“Harvester and Reaver. Slag will be rewarded with such riches for this.” His sharp teeth dripped like

someone had rung the dinner bell. “I am Slag.”

No shit
. Demons were so damned stupid. Before he could say as much, a demon cut the net away.

Reaver shoved to his feet and lunged for Slag, but his limbs where heavy, if he was trying to run

through Jell-O.

“The net,” Harvester blurted as a Silas yanked her upright. “It’s like the whip that paralyzed you in

the cavern.”

There weren’t enough curse words in enough languages for this situation, Reaver thought. But he

made a noble attempt at saying them all when icy metal collars that matched the bracelets on Slag’s

wrists were clamped around their necks. Tight.

“Obey, or…” The demon tapped one of the bracelets, and Harvester fell to the ground, screaming in

raw, desperate anguish. Gasping for breath, she clawed frantically at the collar.

“Stop it,” he shouted. “Let her go!”

He dove at the Nightlash, but in half a heartbeat Reaver joined Harvester on the ground.

Excruciating agony tore through him, as if the collar had sprung spikes that pierced so deeply he felt

them in his gut.

It took forever for the pain to ease, and even then, he couldn’t function properly, his limbs flopping

around and his head dangling on a neck that wouldn’t support it as they were dragged into the palace.

Raised voices came from ahead… both familiar, and Reaver’s stomach bottomed out.

“This,” Harvester rasped, “is going to be bad.”

Reaver groaned. “You have a flair for understatement, you know that?”

Slag punched Reaver in the back of the head. “Shut up.”

Reaver and Harvester were jerked around and forced onto their knees as Gethel and Revenant

approached. Gethel’s spun-gold hair fell in sparkly waves around her shoulders, but gone was the

luminescence that used to surround her. Her eyes had turned as black as ink, and her once lush, shiny

wings were shriveled, the feathers curled and frayed. Angels who stayed too long in Sheoul were prone

to decay, and Gethel, carrying the spawn of evil, had gone rotten to the core.

Of course, her core had gone bad a long, long time ago.

Her one-shouldered emerald tunic clung tightly to her hugely rounded belly, where her hand rested

protectively. Hard to believe someone with such a black heart could be protective of anything. And

how had Lucifer grown so much, so fast? Maybe because he was to be born fully grown? If so, Gethel

was going to be extremely miserable for another four months.

Good.

Fast as a snake and from out of nowhere, Gethel backhanded Harvester hard enough to knock her

into Reaver.

“Bitch,” Reaver snarled. That earned him a blow from Revenant that made his ears ring.

“It’s good to see you both.” Gethel’s smile as she rubbed her belly made all the hairs on the back of

Reaver’s neck stand up. “Extra special to have you here, Reaver.”

She grinned, flashing fangs, apparently a pregnant-with-the-spawn-of-Satan upgrade. Or

downgrade, depending on how you looked at it.

“Special seeing you, too,” Reaver drawled. “I don’t think I had a chance to congratulate you the last

time I saw you. I hope you suffer in agony for days before Lucifer bursts from your hideous body.”

Gethel blinked with exaggerated shock. “That’s a little harsh. As a father yourself, I’d think you’d

be more sympathetic to the plight of a pregnant woman.”

Reaver shrugged. “A pregnant woman, yes. But a psychopathic pregnant troll… can’t get on board

with that one.”

She went down on her haunches in front of him. “It doesn’t matter if you can get on board or not.

It’s too late anyway.” She folded her hands over her huge, evil lump. “See, we’ve accelerated

Lucifer’s growth. Instead of months, he’ll be born in weeks. Maybe days. The clock is ticking, Reaver,

and you’re almost out of time.”

An icy blast of
oh, shit
blasted through him. “You crazy bitch.”

He got another whack upside the head. “Let me take them to the Dark Lord.” Revenant’s deep, eager

voice resonated through the opulent marble auditorium.

“I’ve already sent word to him.” Gethel’s mouth turned up in a smile that sent a chill skittering up

Reaver’s spine. “Satan will be here any minute.”

Twenty-Three

Her father was on his way.

Terror shrunk Harvester’s skin. They’d managed to stay one step ahead of Satan this entire time,

and now, within sight of a Harrowgate, they were going to die.

And that was if they were lucky.

“Was it worth it?” Revenant seized Reaver by the throat and yanked him off the ground. “Was

leaving your family vulnerable in order to rescue a traitorous female worth it?”

“She’s not a traitor to
my
side,” Reaver choked out. He sucked in a wheezing breath. “Wait… my

family. Vulnerable?”

Harvester wondered the same thing. She’d call the Horsemen a lot of things, but
vulnerable
was not

one of them.

Revenant, his annoyingly luxurious black mane obscuring his face, leaned in as if to tell Reaver a

secret. “They’re recovering from an unfortunate accident. Very sad.” He didn’t sound very sad, but

there was definitely an odd note in his voice. “It was so against the rules.”

“Accident?” Reaver sucked a gurgling breath. “Rules? What rules?”

“The ones you like to break.” Revenant heaved Reaver across the room.

Reaver hit a pillar and crumpled to the ground, bits of stone and dust showering him as he tried to

push to his hands and knees. Revenant launched at him, and with a sick, twisted smile, Slag tapped his

bracelet.

Reaver grunted, and for a brief moment, Harvester got off on his pain. Malevolence was a faint

vibration shimmering along every nerve ending, feeding into her pleasure centers like an erotic drug.

Daddy’s DNA was just the gift that kept on giving, wasn’t it?

You’re an angel. Your mother is an angel, and your father, bastard that he is now, was an angel

when you were conceived. There’s more good in you than evil. Fight this, Harvester.

Reaver’s words in the cavern came back to her in a rush. Her mother… she’d died only three

hundred years ago, an innocent casualty of a small uprising in Heaven, according to Raphael. She

hadn’t known Harvester had fallen from grace on purpose, and it was one of Harvester’s greatest

regrets that her mother hadn’t learned the truth before she died.

Fight this.

Reaver grunted again as Revenant pounded his fists into his face and body, and this time, Harvester