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He was no different than the eagle shifter, and yet he’d managed a second chance while she toiled below, here in the Hell realm. Was there justice in that?
No. Azaiel cleared his mind and concentrated on the task at hand. He couldn’t afford to linger in the past, so much of the future depended on what happened right now.
Time ticked by, and just when he was about to knock down the door and take the key himself, Toniella appeared. Her gown was ripped, her breasts and arms marred by mottled blue-gray bruises, as were her thighs. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, and her left cheek was swollen below her eyes. Were those tears that stained her face?
Toniella tossed him the key. “You owe me now, Seraphim. Lintos was entertaining some friends. I had to fuck half his garrison in order to get this for you.”
She looked away, shoulders hunched forward and for a second, something inside Azaiel cracked—just a little bit—but then she tossed her golden hair behind her, the bruises already fast fading, and smiled. “No matter. At least the exercise will aid my rest.”
Azaiel pointed back to where they’d come from. “You’ll sleep when we get inside the treasury.”
Her eyes narrowed at that. “If I get caught helping you . . .”
Azaiel was already moving forward. “Then don’t get caught.”
Kellen followed after him, falling in line as Toniella hastened to keep up. The three of them slid through the shadows with ease, and it didn’t take long to retrace their steps though this time they turned left at Toniella’s room instead of right. After a few moments they exited the main building through a nondescript doorway hidden behind a waterfall.
Once outside not more than a few steps away stood a large golden dome that looked to be the size of several football fields.
“This is not something you see every day.” Kellen‘s eyes widened as he took in the sheer magnificence of the building. Overhead a perfect moon shone, its beams falling upon the dome in an embrace of mist that reflected back like a dazzling blanket of jewels.
It was quiet and still. Much too still. The eerie silence made Azaiel nervous.
Kellen whistled softly. “Man, I think this Seth guy is overcompensating for something.” He grinned at Azaiel. “One guess as to what that is?”
He ignored Rowan’s brother and crept forward, stopping abruptly. He motioned to Kellen, indicated that there were two guards straight ahead, and shot one more look of warning toward Toniella. He didn’t trust the woman. At all.
Kellen went to the right and he to the left. The guards were demons, hellhound shifters—not the regular hellhounds found prowling the dunes. These were upper-echelon and from the looks of them, heavily trained in combat.
Azaiel held his dagger loosely in one hand and cocked the gun in his other. He decided that a direct approach might be the best and ran forward, firing point-blank between the demon’s eyes and swinging hard with his knife hand. The shifter spun forward and took Azaiel down with him, but the knife was true, and with a mighty heave, Azaiel cut the bastard’s neck clear through to his spinal cord.
He rolled to the side and strode to the door after making sure that Kellen was fine. Time was of the essence and something that moved differently down here. What seemed to Azaiel to only be a few hours could be days or even weeks topside. What if they were too late? What if Mallick . . .
He couldn’t finish the thought.
The key wasn’t really a key in the normal sense but more like a medium-sized trinket that fit inside a device next to the entrance. Azaiel inserted it, and his heart beat in anticipation as the doors slid back in silence. He and Kellen dragged the bodies in with them while Toniella followed on their heels.
“Holy Mother of God,” Kellen said quietly, as Azaiel straightened, and Rowan’s brother took in what was undoubtedly one of the most spectacular scenes he’d ever had the pleasure to witness.
The interior was a lot larger than it looked to be from the outside. Overhead lighting was muted, but it was enough to illuminate the vast, seemingly infinite number of items Seth had on display.
Kellen walked toward a massive ship and shook his head. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Azaiel stood next to him and gazed up at the large craft. USS Cylops. “It’s a boat.”
Kellen snorted and shook his head. “This isn’t just a boat. It’s a famous boat from World War One, though it sure as hell isn’t famous for combat.” Kellen walked forward and reached for the hull.
“Don’t touch anything,” Toniella whispered. “Are you stupid?” She glared at the two of them, but Kellen ignored her.
“This boat disappeared with a crew of over three hundred and was never found. There were crazy stories about its disappearing in the Bermuda Triangle, but . . .” He fell silent as he gazed to his left and saw five small planes parked in formation. “Son of a bitch,” he whispered. “Flight 19. This is the Bermuda triangle. Unbelievable.”
Azaiel was irritated. “Grimoire?”
“Grimoire? That’s what you’ve come for?” Toniella looked confused. “Whose grimoire and why?”
“None of your business.” Azaiel thought for a second. “Where would Seth keep such a thing?” There were hundreds of thousands of items to sift through, and they didn’t have the time.
Toniella shrugged and remained silent, but he knew by the tilt of her chin and the slant of her lips that she knew.
