Page 128 of Legacy of Chaos

“Tell us what happened on the oil platform and what happened to Hutriel,” he snapped, shaking her so hard her teeth rattled. “Tell us now.”

“I don’t know anything,” she yelled, struggling to free herself from his iron grasp. She opened herself up to her gift, prepared to weave a defensive spell into the nearest tech.

But there was nothing there. Not even a spark of magical energy.

“What are you doing to me?” she screamed, struggling even harder, but she might as well have been trying to fight a statue.

“My touch negates a demon’s power,” he said calmly and then backhanded her so hard she saw spots.

A furious roar vibrated the room. “Release her!” Stryke stormed toward them, hisdermoireglowing, his eyes crimson pools of rage.

Golden Mane intercepted, throwing up a translucent shield. “What if I told you I have something you want.”

Stryke slammed his fist into the shield, the impact making it vibrate. “What I want is for you to die.”

As if Stryke’s fury was no more bothersome than a gnat, the bastard calmly held up his hand, a little ball of light bouncing at his fingertips. “Do you know what this is, demon?”

Stryke sneered. “A Heavenly lantern? An angelic anal bead? I have no idea.”

Dove Gray snorted and jerked Cyan roughly. “There will never be a time when I won’t hate demons.”

Yeah, well, she was rapidly learning that angels were no saints either.

Golden Mane tossed the orb into the air and caught it again. “This,” he said, holding the ball of light up to study it, “is a soul. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

The crimson rage in Stryke’s eyes faded, and Cyan wondered if she looked as confused as Stryke did. “What’s your point?”

“You,” Golden Mane said, “are a much-debated topic in my realm. How much power and influence should you be allowed to have? What should we do if the weapons you create to kill demons are used against humans? And there are entire tomes written about how your past shaped you. It’s fascinating. Really. No sarcasm intended. I wrote one of those tomes. That’s why the Thrones sent me. I’m kind of an expert.”

“Maybe you could sign a copy for me,” Stryke said. “Before I cause you a whole lot of pain.”

Golden Mane laughed and looked over at her captor. “He’s cute, isn’t he? I told you he’d come up with an empty threat.”

Cyan held in a snort. This douche thought he was an expert on Stryke? Moron.

Stryke didn’t make empty threats.

The douche turned back to Stryke. “A long time ago, you got your baby brother killed,” he said, and Stryke’s face paled. “You must have wondered where his soul went, given that he was born during this unprecedented and glorious period of no demon births. Was his soul demonic? Human? Otherworldly?”

Oh…oh, gods. Cyan stared at the luminous orb with growing horror, her knees quaking.

Chaos. That orb was…Chaos.

Golden Mane rolled the orb across the back of his hand, weaving it in and out of his fingers. “Tell us how Hutriel died.”

“I don’t know.” Stryke stared at the glowing ball, sweat beading on his brow. “I wasn’t there.”

“Whatdoyou know?” Golden Mane released the shield, clearly no longer concerned about a physical attack. “Very few beings have the power to destroy souls,” he mused, holding up the orb again. “Do you think I’m one of them?”

“If you do anything to that soul,” Stryke said, his voice warping with rage, “I promise I will find a way to destroyyou.”

“I believe you’ll try.”

“If you’ve done your research,” Stryke said in a voice as cold as a grave, “you’ll know I’ll succeed.”

Golden Mane didn’t appear too concerned. “I don’t have to destroy it. I can do other things to it.” A flame appeared on the tip of his finger. Smiling, he held the flame to the orb.

Stryke screamed, a soul-deep, bloodcurdling sound that tore Cyan’s heart to shreds. He lunged at Golden Mane, but Dove Gray released her and flashed behind Stryke. In a hard, fast motion, he slammed Stryke to his knees.

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