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“Seth’s mind is more than a little twisted, but the son of a bitch has one hell of a sense of humor.”
Kellen shook his head. “There is no way I’m getting in there. Are you crazy?”
Azaiel remained silent and watched as the door liquefied and yawned, opening as wide and as tall as it needed to. Sulfur, thick and strong, drifted toward him, and he felt the heat against his skin. The pull began in earnest, and he stepped forward, though he spared a glance backward just before the portal pulled him in.
“Stay or come. The choice is yours.”
Azaiel had one moment of intense heat, then he was free-falling with the sound of wind and screaming in his head. He let go of all conscious thought, and the darkness swallowed him whole.
When next he opened his eyes he lay beneath a large fountain, one that spewed liquid gold. The tinkling sound it made as the golden showers hit the marble tub was musical, like notes falling from an angel’s lips. Azaiel had listened to it many, many nights as he sat in the darkness and dreamed of a world as rich as the sound the water made.
Azaiel jumped to his feet and spied Kellen a few feet away. Rowan’s brother was just coming to, and Azaiel held his index finger to his mouth as Kellen opened his eyes.
They were in the main courtyard, just outside the palatial residence belonging to Seth the golden. There would be guards, several at the very least and more than a few hellhounds, to pass in silence, or possibly ones they’d have to kill to silence. This meant nothing. As was the way of it here nothing stayed dead for long. No matter how badly one prayed for death once sentenced to Hell, death was an eternal state of mind there was no escaping from.
Seth’s home was a vast oasis plopped in the middle of the dunes—one of the most unforgiving places in any level of Hell. Azaiel would hazard a guess that it was akin to the Lilith’s own corner of darkness, hidden deep within District Three.
He withdrew the charmed dagger hidden within the folds of his pants, and Kellen did the same. They moved forward, two intruders who didn’t belong, past the ornate fountain, along the perfectly groomed grass and trees that bordered a golden path that led around the side of the main entrance.
Azaiel spied two hellhounds sniffing around the doorway, and he scooped up a handful of golden and jeweled stones that littered the walk and tossed it back behind the fountain. The pebbles echoed into the quiet as they hit the marble, and the hellhounds took off, nasty snarls rumbling from their chests.
The two men ran, silent shadows sifting through the gloom, and Azaiel did not hesitate once they were upon the door. The knob turned easily in his hands, and he and Kellen slid inside, leaving the hellhounds yapping crazily behind them. They were in a dimly lit corridor, and Azaiel kept his weapons at the ready as he strode forward with purpose. He knew exactly where he was going.
They encountered several guards along the way, and Azaiel was impressed with the way Kellen handled himself—the young man had skills, that’s for sure. It made him wonder . . . what exactly Kellen James had been up to all the years he’d been estranged from his sister. Once back in the human realm, he was going to make it a point to find out.
They left behind a trail of corpses, hidden of course, but ones that would rise within twenty-four hours. Time was running out, and there was still so much to do.
He led the way down a long hall, with windows that overlooked a sea of blue. It was an illusion—this Azaiel knew firsthand—but a thing of beauty regardless. Seth the golden had an eye for it. You had to give the demon that.
When he reached the end of the corridor they turned left and came upon yet another that looked nearly identical to the one they’d just traversed.
“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Kellen sounded a little worried, and Azaiel nodded as his hand reached for the first door on his right. He clenched his teeth together tightly, felt his heart speed up, and when the surge of adrenaline shot through him he turned the handle.
The room was in darkness save for a candle burning beside the massive bed that was several feet in the air, high upon a pedestal. Pale sheets of peach-and-white gauze fell from the ceiling and caressed the edge of the bed. Several floor-to-ceiling windows brought the blue sea inside, and the breeze that tugged at the light green wisps of fabric on either side of them was sweet and warm.
A voice stirred the silence—a drowsy, feminine one.
“Is that you? Come this late to my bed? I don’t know if I should be angry or insulted.”
He and Kellen glanced up as a spill of long golden hair twisted in the wind, snaking outward like Medusa’s pets. Azaiel felt . . . nothing. Absolutely nothing.
“Sorry to be late, but I’m here to collect a debt owed.” Azaiel watched as the blond hair gave way to golden skin and eyes the color of the brightest sky, beneath the brightest sun imaginable.
“Who is she?” Kellen asked in wonder. Azaiel knew he was entranced by her beauty. By the flawless features, perfect skin, and voice full of sex and promise. He needed to nip that in the bud right away.
“She’s Toniella the betrayer.” He glanced at his companion. “Trust me when I say guard yourself with this one. She’ll eat you up and spit you out like yesterday’s garbage and come back for seconds.”
Azaiel glanced back up at the woman who’d ruined his life. He smiled and beckoned her down, his fingers motioning quickly.
Kellen’s eyes narrowed. “And you trust her?”
“Hell no.” Azaiel stepped back, his face grim. “But she’s the only shot we have.”
Chapter 24
Toniella stood in front of Azaiel in silence, silken hair falling to her waist, eyes wide in surprise. She wore nightclothes—if you could call the flimsy gown such. Gossamer soft, it was nothing more than a whisper of silk against her golden flesh. It did nothing to hide the perfect high breasts with their hardened pink nipples, nor the juncture between her legs, which he noted was free of hair. How could you not? Her legs were spread, just so, an open invitation by a woman accustomed to using sex for whatever it was she wanted. He knew that all to well.
She’d wanted him at one time . . . and he . . . Azaiel shook such thoughts from his mind, his eyes narrowed with scorn.
