Zeb nodded. “You have our armies.”
“You don’t speak for me,” Levi snapped.
Showing no reaction, Zeb turned to her. “You know it makes sense. And if we turn our hordes over to Wrath’s command, we can do what we do best.”
Levi appeared mollified as she asked, “Which is?”
“Get into places we’re not supposed to be.” A wicked grin made Zeb look deliciously sexy.
Levi must have thought so too, because her eyes twinkled as she said, “You mean…”
“Infiltrate the rebel horde,” Zeb said. “Shatter them from the inside while Wrath keeps them distracted and very, very busy.”
Chapter Twenty
Wrath frowned into the swirling, churning mist covering Belphegor’s demesne. He was nearly certain it hadn’t been there the last time he’d visited. How long ago was that now? He couldn’t remember the last time Belle had invited any of them into her demesne.
Sliding her hand into his, Haziel grimaced. “What is it?”
“Mist.” He couldn’t resist the urge to tease his angel.
She giggled and rolled her eyes. “I can see that, but can we cross it?”
That was the pressing question of the day. They’d stayed with Levi and Zeb to plan and left with the new light.
Wrath stepped close enough to feel icy condensation against his skin.
Haziel moved to stand beside him.
He held up a hand to stop her. No way his angel was going into that shit unless he knew it was safe. “Don’t come any closer.”
“Wrath.” She glared at him.
“Haziel.” He stepped in front of her. No matter how much it infuriated her, he was not going to risk her getting hurt. He stretched one arm into the mist and widened his power senses. Fine moisture clung to his fighting leathers and the mist felt like sloth. Not exactly surprising as the dense barrier was guarding Belle’s demesne. He didn’t sense other demonic signatures, so it was reasonably safe to assume it hadn’t been generated by the rebellion.
“Anything?” Haziel peered at his submerged arm.
Shaking his head, he took a step. Vapor closed around him, coating his skin in an icy embrace and smelling like earth and grass. It seemed like a normal mist.
Not prepared to risk being wrong, he unsheathed his sword. Mist dipped and swirled around the blade. Over his shoulder, he could barely make out Haziel’s shadowy shape.
This shit was thicker than any mist he’d encountered.
“Wrath?” She called, her voice sounding muted and distant.
“I’m fine,” he called back, but his instincts prickled a warning. Making War: A Beginner’s Guide. Never go into a situation where the danger is concealed. Lesson two: Never enter a situation without planning your exit.
It was extremely unfortunate for him that not speaking to Belle wasn’t an option. They had no idea about the state of her seal or her demesne. In the gatherings, she’d only admitted to experiencing the same trouble as the rest of them without sharing details.
If Wrath was going to mount any sort of offensive against the rebel horde—and he was—he needed every demon he could get his hands on.
Wrath walked deeper into the mist and stopped. The silence was absolute. Rivulets of water ran down his fighting leathers and his blade. He could have been the only being in the entirety of creation.
His sword weighed heavy in his grip. Lifting it made his arms ache. He couldn’t remember why he was carting the stupidly heavy thing anyway. Wrath dropped it. The sword clanged against the mist concealed ground.
Why was he trying to penetrate this fog anyway? Straining his senses to hear, see, smell, even taste some clue was exhausting, so he stopped walking.
Yes, he needed to speak with Belle, but that didn’t answer why he was still pushing through her annoying barrier. One of the others could do it. He’d done enough. There were five other hell princes and seven archangels who could tackle this shit. His wasn’t their fucking savior.
It was peaceful here in the mist. No beings to talk at him all the time and make demands of him. Horsemen of the Apocalypse, end of days, wah, wah, wah…
In fact, fuck it! He was going to sit right there and have a rest. Let someone else save creation. He’d lived a long life, done his part. Guarding his seal, managing his demons, it all made him so weary, and he was done with it.
Maybe later, he would get up and do…some stuff. Maybe not.
Stretching out on the ground, Wrath lay down. See, this was nice. He tucked his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. It was a bit damp, but not a bad place to take a nap.
The mist boiled and a figure appeared beside him. “Wrath.”
Too much energy. So intense. Haziel should leave him alone. “Go away.”
“What the hell, Wrath?” Haziel tugged on his arm. “Get up.”
“I’m tired.” He yawned. “I want to stay here and rest.” He patted the ground beside him. “Come lie with me.”
“No.” Haziel stood astride him and gripped the front of his fighting leathers. “Get up, Wrath. We need to get you out of this mist.”
He loved Haziel. He didn’t want to fight her, but all that energy was too much. “You go. You do the thing.” He couldn’t be bothered to remember why he was here anymore. It took too much brain stuff.
“For fuck’s sake.” Haziel released his chest armor and grabbed his ankles. “I’ll drag you out of here if I have to.”
His head scraped against the ground as she hauled him. It hurt, but it would demand more energy than he was willing to give to let her know. “Just lie here and rest with me.”
“Not giving in to this.” Haziel gave another heave.
His head hit a rock. “Ow.”
“Must fight it.” Haziel staggered forward a few more steps and stopped. She swayed. “This is stupid. I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“See.” He sighed. “It’s all fucking stupid. Just lie here.”
“Oh, no.” A figure, no taller than Haziel’s waist split the mist. “Not you too. Come on, angel. A few more steps.” He tugged Haziel by the waistband. “One foot in front of the other.”
Wrath knew the demon but couldn’t be bothered to remember its name.
“Go away, Yesterday.” Haziel batted Yesterday’s grip on her. “We don’t want to talk, and he’s heavy. We don’t want to do anything.”
