Page 40 of All's Hell That Ends Well

“Let’s go,” I said to Haniel, and then I launched myself into the air with a vertical takeoff that came as easy as breathing.

CHAPTER 12

Azazel

The sunset painted the sky in hues of orange and burnished red as I stood atop the building near the border with the Vatican. Below me, the hustle and bustle of Rome continued on, the humans unaware of the supernatural entities in their midst. I spotted the soul of a recently departed woman milling about the entrance to the building on the opposite side of the street. My power pinged in recognition of the mark for Hell that she carried, yet I didn’t move.

Reaping souls wasn’t what I was here for.

Someone else would find her soon and then collect her.

My eyes scanned the street for the sign I was waiting for, my stomach cramped in anticipation of the confrontation that was about to take place.

If she even came, that was.

She might just ignore my call, knowing full well what it was about. Then again, she’d never been one to shy away from conflict.

A flash of turquoise caught my gaze, and I zeroed in on those eyes glowing with an unnatural inner light. If humans could have seen her, they’d have known immediately they were dealing with a being that defied their scientific logic.

Naamah locked eyes with me for a second, then continued on down the street, weaving in and out of the crowd.

I extended my wings and flew the short distance down to the sidewalk, the pedestrians unconsciously making way for an obstacle they couldn’t actually see. Tucking the wings away again, I followed Naamah on her meandering path, checking the area for signs of surveillance.

Satisfied that she’d indeed shaken her guards, I ducked into the open doorway she’d vanished into. Cool, slightly musty air enveloped me immediately, the building old and constructed to keep the stifling summer heat at bay. I tracked her up the shadowy stone staircase to the topmost landing, where she waited for me. Her auburn hair was braided over one shoulder, a dark purple sari wrapped around her small form.

My anger was a vicious, snarling beast in my chest as I faced her. I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I remained silent, trying to get a handle on my emotions. Seeing if she would cave under the silence and take the first step.

She did.

“Azazel,” she began, her features pinched as if apprehensive. “I know you’re angry.”

My power vibrated like a struck tuning fork, the air turning heavy and biting. I reeled it back in with utmost effort. “Do tell me how I feel.”

She pressed her lips together and crossed her arms. “Get it out.”

I stared at her.

She waved with one hand. “You have things to say that lie heavy on your chest. Until you hurl them at me and relieve yourself, you won’t hear what I have to say in turn.”

I took a deep breath, that phantom weight on my chest she mentioned pressing down on me, damn it. “I trusted you,” I bit out through clenched teeth. “Zoetrusted you. She thought you were her friend, thought you cared for her, yet all the while you were planning on delivering her to the person who’dpublicly humiliatedand mentally tortured her!”

By the end of my outburst, my voice was loud enough to rattle the old building. Naamah glanced at the shaking walls, then calmly reached forth a hand and sent out a pulse of power to stabilize the stone.

“Go on,” she said, bringing her gaze back to me. “There’s more. Let’s hear it.”

I sucked in a breath through my nose, my nostrils flaring. “You stole her chance to say goodbye to her mother. It was the one thing she asked for, and it meant the world to her. You took away her choice, uncaring of the consequences. I thought you were different.” I curled my lip. “But in the end, you’re just like him. Callous and ruthless.”

That one hit home. I could see it on her face, in the way her lids twitched, her composure cracking.

“And there’s the part of him in you,” she said quietly. “That temper. Those quick conclusions, that hotheaded judgment, when you don’t know the whole picture.”

“I am nothing like him,” I snarled, and flames shot out to lick over the floor and walls, burning the doormats on the landing to ash.

Naamah waved her hand and put out the fire before it struck the wooden doors.

“Too alike for your own good,” she said with a sigh. “Part of the reason you two butt heads so much is that you are sosimilar—but the both of you only see the worst traits of yourself reflected in the other. And that mirror image drives you to lash out.”

“I am not here,” I snapped, “to have you play therapist.”

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