Page 33 of The River of Hatred

It brings me such pleasure to see the flush spread over the angel’s marble-pale skin.Yeah, you little two-faced feather duster.

“So, this Nephithar killed a lot of angels?” Jessica interjects, ever the knight in shining armor – though that’s more Itha’s appearance. I snicker to myself and earn an appalled look.

“I was thinking of something else, jeez, don’t skewer me with those pale eyes of yours,” I say to both.

“Any eyes are pale compared to yours,” she says from the corner of her mouth. Itha moves his surprised glare onto her and my laughter echoes in the oppressive silence of the trench.

“He had a thing for hacking off angel wings,” our angel says, clearly attempting to salvage the conversation with the facts of history. “It has been recorded that it was out of jealousy for not receiving any of his own upon his creation.”

Jess forces herself to sober up. “When was this? Was it recorded in hieroglyphs or something?”

“Cuneiforms were used to record words at the time,” Itha says so pompously that I roll my eyes. He was always good at remembering things. “Though the mortals had only just begun to write properly, us angels already had our own established written word, one that Syriniana expanded as well.”

I roll my eyes. “It was about five thousand years ago, poppet. The dominant human civilization were the Sumerians, later Akkadians, though other civilizations began emerging then as well.”

“Bet Lana would love to pick your brains about that,” Jess giggles.

“Trust me, she tried,” I grumble. No idea why Father’s main squeeze doesn’t want to talk about more fun things, like Roman orgies.

Jessica taps a finger against her lips. “Did anyone see Nephithar or Syriniana die?”

Ithuriel frowns. “Not that I know of. I never thought to ask how they died and it wasn’t in any records I’ve read. There were so many casualties on both sides.”

The petite human rolls her lips together. “And did Syriniana ever write about Nephithar?” she asks.

“Why, yes,” Ithuriel replies, obviously surprised at the question. “In fact, her last entries were solely about that demon. We know what he looked like and how he fought in astonishing detail for someone who had perished eons ago.”

The Nephilim waggles her eyebrows. “Uh-huh.”

“What?” I drawl. Where is that mind of hers going?

“Don’t you find it a bit suspicious that two notorious beings perished at the same time, no one knows who killed them, and one was obsessively writing about the other?” There’s a glint of superiority in her eyes.

Ithuriel seems taken aback. “I would not say she wrote about him obsessively. She was merely a devoted archivist.”

The puzzle pieces she was putting together click and I scoff. “I’m with Itha, poppet. You think an angel and demon fell in love on the battlefield and ran away together, faking their deaths? And no one knew about it? You read too many romance novels.”

She ducks out from underneath my arm and rounds on me, her hands braced on her hips. Sexy.

“And why not?” she asks with her cute nose up in the air. “Lana’s grandparents were an angel and demon and they fell in love.”

I look at Itha at the same time as he looks at me and we both avert our gazes.

“That is so extremely rare, poppet,” I murmur.

“For an angel to forsake Heaven for a demon,” Itha says incredulously.

“For a demon to care for another being above everything else,” I add.

Jess’ eyes bounce between us as we avoid looking at each other.

“Uh-huh,” she says again. “Completely unheard of.”

Chapter 17 – Ithuriel

The Malebolge:The Trench of Thieves

“What’s that sound?” Jess whispers over the increasingly loud hissing coming from ahead.

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