The demon and his demoness vanished.
An upper order demon staggered over from the treeline. Large, pointed horns stuck out on either side of his head, and he stood nearly eight feet tall. Muscles bulged and flexed beneath his gray skin.
At full strength, Wrath would have smashed him like the questionable crotchmonkey he was. He faced him. “What?”
“You ask a lot of questions.” The demon came close enough for Wrath to smell his fetid breath. He tried to get a read on the power signature but with his power flickering in and out, it was nearly impossible. Maybe Avarice?
“Got a problem with that?” Wrath put his hand on his sword hilt. What was one of Ava’s demons doing in Shade’s demesne?
“Pretty pig sticker you got there.” The demon sneered. “Get that while you were on your knees for Wrath?” He chuckled. “Word is he likes his demons on their knees.”
Battle lust pounded in Wrath’s blood, but he fought it down. There was a lot about this situation he needed to take note of. Firstly, the demon was an upper demon, so he should have been more wary of approaching another upper demon like his glamour depicted. Upper demons were justifiably nervous of each other because they all had nasty, hidden tricks. This posturing fucknut was oddly sure of himself. “Word is, you know that from firsthand experience.”
A good fight was exactly what he needed to get his mind working again.
With a roar, the demon attacked. Prick was stronger than he looked, and his first blow connected with Wrath’s abdomen and drove the air out of him.
Wrath ducked and pivoted, jumping back to give himself a moment of recovery time.
But the assnugget closed with dizzying speed. A knee to his balls drove Wrath to the ground. Bitchzilla had gone for the kill shot, and Wrath cupped his abused junk.
Hard hands grabbed his hair and wrenched. Wrath found his face on the receiving end of a knee and blood filled his mouth. His nose cracked, and pain lanced through his scalp.
There was an outside chance he was going to lose this fight.
Wrath grabbed the sheepshagger’s ankles and wrenched his feet out from under him.
The demon hit the ground with a boom, and Wrath lunged for him.
He rolled, and Wrath hit dirt.
A boot to the back of his head made him see stars.
Wrath rolled toward him, and crotch itch hit the ground again. This time, Wrath didn’t fuck around, he drew his dagger and plunged it into flesh in one move.
The demon yelped. Black blood spurted from a hole in his thigh.
As Wrath staggered to his feet, the demon’s wound healed, and his dagger popped out of the demon’s flesh.
No way that should have happened.
His loss of concentration cost him, and a kick to his ribs sent him staggering back.
Having the crap beaten out of him sucked. It was not an experience he would recommend, and he stepped back to give himself room to assess and plan his attack. His opponent was strong, like the demoness had said, stronger and faster than he should be.
“Come on.” The demon waggled his fingers at him. “Is that all you got?”
Wrath had to face the disturbing truth that in this moment, the demon might have gotten him on another of those sniveling technicalities, because that might be all he had.
Something whistled past his ear, and he jerked his head away from the sound.
A crystalline blade hit the demon in the throat, and he collapsed.
Haziel brushed past him, ripped the blade out of the demon’s throat and plunged it into his heart.
With a pop and a burst of ash, the demon ceased to exist. A seraph should not have been able to do that, but Haziel wasn’t any seraph; she was Ramiel’s second, which meant if Ramiel ever got tired of being Ramiel, he could transfer his power to her, and she would become the next archangel. Haziel must be closer to Ramiel’s power than any of them realized.
“Right.” Haziel holstered her blade and brushed her hands off before turning to face him. “Not my favorite thing to do, but best we destroy the evidence.” She studied Wrath. “Wouldn’t be good for word to spread there was an angel in hell.”
Surprise had him spitting blood while he tried to formulate a reply.
“You don’t look great.” Haziel stepped closer to him. “That should have healed by now.”
“My power was drained.” And it bit his ass that he had to admit that. “Healing will take longer.”
“Hmm.” She rubbed her hands together. “Let’s see what we can do about that.”
Bright white light glowed from her hands. Haziel slapped them against his chest and the light went through him like an electric enema.
“Motherfucker!” Wrath jumped back from her and her happy hands.
“You’re welcome.” She giggled.
“That hurt.” But he could no longer taste blood, and his ribs didn’t bitch with every breath.
“I’m sure it did.” She twitched the hood on her cloak back over her face. “But you’re still welcome.”
Wrath dusted off his pants to give himself time to formulate a semi coherent reply. “You shouldn’t be here.”
