Page 3 of Angel's Enemy Omega

Chapter 2

NUR

The feast tableis empty except for bones. The cavernous hall echoes with the Hollow King’s footsteps as he strides back and forth before his throne, waiting for Nur. His eyes glint dangerously in the low light.

Nur holds his breath from the shadows. Maybe he should turn around.

“You’re here. Bring me good news.”

Not quick enough.

He steps forward. “There’s none to be brought. The generals are adamant they will not deploy new companies to the Seraphim Wall.”

The words clatter into the silence of the hall like bones spilling across the marble. “Liar!” The King lashes the table with his monstrous red hand. A long, white rib skids to a halt at Nur’s feet. “I told you to bring them to heel.”

“It’s impossible,” Nur says shortly.

“I created you for one reason only, and you can’t even do that right?” the King snarls.

“You didn’t create me,” he retorts. Even when he’s a cringing coward he can’t stop his tongue from going rogue. He must bemad. But he’s sick of chasing after the King’s mutinous generals, nipping at their heels and getting the whip for his trouble.

The King lunges across the table. “I put you in the Hellspring and made you real, you ungratefulcur.”

Nur ducks the red claws coming at him. That blood-red fist is the only weapon in Hell that can end the pitiful existence of hollows like him. Nur felt its touch once before and he has no desire to feel it again. He skitters out of reach.

The King growls deep in his chest. “Get back here!”

“I eat demons—I don’t negotiate with them. Do you want me to kill them all?” Nur demands.

“I want you to make them fall in line!”

“I can’t force them to obey you.”

The King begins to pace again. His rage is tinged with desperation—it’s written across his face. He no longer has control of the Court, and he knows it.

He stalks from one side of the marble plinth to the other, his claws ticking against the stone. “What happened to loyalty? I gave them bodies. I gave them purpose. They’re nothing without me. Now they conspire under my nose, as if I’m blind—I see their snake’s tongues flickering.”

In spite of himself, Nur’s twisted, blackened heart twitches in sympathy. The Hollow King is ruthless, murderous, and cruel. But like all tyrants, he didn’t start out that way. Nur has seen his shadow side, the deep, untouchable loss in him.

Still, it’s dangerous to sympathize with a madman. Where others would subsume their grief, a madman starts a war he can’t win.

“Evenyouare nothing without me.” The King’s face darkens. “And now you dare defy me?”

“What do you expect from me?” Nur demands, his voice rising to a pathetic whine. He hates what he’s become after a century under the King’s hand: cringing, obeisant, slavering atthe King’s heel for scraps. “You treat them like animals when they have the souls of men. They tire of it.”

The King scoffs. “Every one of them murdered his way into my court in exchange for new life. Their souls are twisted beyond recognition, just like mine. It’s the path they chose.”

His long, shadowy cape flares as he walks to and fro. As usual he’s naked, a sight Nur has grown used to. His heavy cock is knotted at the base and huge, an obscenity that demands to be witnessed. The body he built in the Hellspring is immense and carved with muscle, and scars litter the landscape of his skin. Once upon a time he built his Court with claws and sword. But he’s weaker now.

“Maybe both of you chose the wrong path.” Nur’s treacherous tongue won’t stop.

The King’s mouth twists into a sneer. “Maybe my problem isyou. I made a mistake, keeping you around. I’m more powerful than I’ve ever been. I don’t need my generals—I’ve relied on them for too long, while they’ve done nothing but lose me ground. No, I must do what I should have done long ago and face the angels myself. And you!” He points a clawed finger at Nur. “If you can no longer control my Court I have no use for you. I end our contract.”

Nur’s stomach sinks. “What?”

“You’ve gone soft and useless. Be gone from the Court. Go wander the Hell-pit for all I care, but get out of my sight.” His eyes are cold as the void.

The shadows of the feast room shudder. Icy fingers sink into Nur’s chest. His throat closes up, squeezing dry the arguments he might have made if he weren’t such a coward.

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