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I nodded, and he pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead.
Chapter14
Vassago
The stench of my demonic form’s rotting flesh filled the room when I entered it from the void. I stretched out my bony hand and pulled at the blanket on the foot of the bed. The body under it rolled and groaned with sleep.
“Celeste . . . are you there?” my victim called out.
“She is none of your concern. Rise and face punishment, putrid swine.” The otherworldly voice that emitted from my skeletal mouth sent a wave of panic through the air.
“Who the fuck is there?” He scurried up to the headboard.
I salivated. It had been too long since I’d inflicted pain on one of Father’s beloved humans. And longer still since I’d been the hand of retribution.
“I am your death.”
I stood my ground, knowing my larger form was the wall between my prey and his only exit.
“Celeste! Oh God. Celeste, where are you?” The octave of his voice went up with every terrified word.
He bolted from the bed and dashed from one wall to another. The scent of his adrenaline and sweat seeped from his disgusting body.
I reached over to the wall next to me and turned on the light. His eyes widened in horror, and all color bleached from his face. The gruesome being standing before him was a nightmare he’d never escape.
With God-like speed, I was standing over him with my hand clamped around his neck, shutting off the scream that had been building there.
He gasped and worked his mouth like a fish on a hook.
“Neither my Father nor my gift can save you,” I rasped. “Do you know what happens when you taunt the breathing embodiment of sin?”
“No. No. No.” He fought against my grip, but I only tightened it until his face turned a deep shade of red.
“You become the object of my disdain. For too long, you’ve stood between me and my one reason for existing. Let’s remedy that, shall we?”
The sounds of his struggle followed us through the void and into the wasteland where lost souls and the most depraved hellions dwelled.
Purgatory.
* * *
The pair of hellhounds at my hip gashed and snarled, the thick chains around their necks strung tight in my grasp. I’d borrowed them from a duke who said they were thirsty for blood. They’d been caged, watching as I tortured Duncan when we’d first arrived. A motley of pained wails and snuffs of impatient growling had set the tone perfectly, but now it was the beasts’ turn and they were ravenous.
There would be nothing left of him.
Duncan’s blood trailed from the post he’d been bound to. To give my accomplices an unfair advantage, I’d fileted the skin from his chest and shoulder with a dull blade. I’d let him run for an hour before getting the pooches ready for their hunt.
The hellhound on my left sniffed the air and snapped its jaw.
“Ready or not . . .” I let go of both chains.
The hellhounds ran toward a line of trees on the edge of a swamp. The misty terrain didn’t slow them down, but I had to rely on the sounds of screaming to know whether they’d caught up to Duncan.
When I reached the scene, the hounds had descended on Duncan’s legs. The flesh had been torn away, revealing bare bones and snapped tendons.
I held up my hand and the carnage stopped. Both mutts growled, the muscles in their shoulders tense, ready to finish their feast.
Duncan was shaking. He was close to going into shock and was losing all of his remaining blood as his heart betrayed him by pumping as hard as it could. His gaze panned unsteadily up at me.
