Page 55 of The River of Hatred

“Sariel.” The demon doesn’t seem surprised to find us here, or surprised at seeing it’s the fallen angel who’s in front of him. “Came back for more?”

A barely audible growl vibrates the air as Sariel takes a step forward. Itha’s arm shoots out to his shoulder, holding him back. That was clearly a dig at the loss of Armaros.

“Interesting company you’re keeping,” the demon lord remarks, eyeing first Ithuriel, then me and Mike behind me.

“I could say the same about you,” Sariel sneers, no hint of fake amity left in his demeanor. “What’s with the slacker brigade?”

The demon, Andras, looks at his companions with disinterest. “They have their uses.”

“And when they no longer do, you dispose of them?” Itha asks.

Andras smirks. “Whyever would you think that, angel?” He then looks at Mike, half hidden behind me. “What stories have you been filling their heads with, Nephalem?”

“Don’t talk to him,” Sariel snaps.

Andras fakes being taken aback. “Oh, my, such protectiveness. Have you been fucking the boy that’s been spying on us for years, Sariel? What would Armaros have said?”

Sariel’s lips pull into a razor-sharp smile. “Arma would have been all over that tiny twink ass. But we’ll never know because you and your lackeys used Belial’s hellfire to kill him,” he finishes with a hiss.

The demon lifts an eyebrow. “Did we?”

The Fallen’s hands open and close at his sides and I’m worried blood’s about to flow. I take another small step back, pressing Mike into the wall.

“What would Uncle Asmo say if he knew one of his lieutenants was in league with that scumbag Belial?” Sariel asks through clenched teeth.

Andras smirks. “I’m not quite sure what you mean. Regardless, neither archdemon is around to answer any questions.”

Itha squeezes Sariel’s shoulder. “We will take our leave now.”

The demon lord’s brows climb up his forehead at the casual contact between the two angels. Still, he doesn’t remark on it. “Why? We’ve only just started talking.” He starts pacing in front of the door as his lackeys cross their arms, forming a wall between us and the exit.

“We have nothing to say to you,” Ithuriel says dispassionately, sounding like the angel I met all those weeks ago.

Andras stops pacing and looks at Itha with feigned surprise. “Oh? Surely that boy has something to say if he’s been skulking around for so long?”

“Nope, we’re good,” Mike chirps and I elbow him with a hiss.

The cold demon taps his lips thoughtfully, then seemingly comes to a decision. “You can leave, but the boy stays.”

Sariel shakes his head. “You might not be afraid of Uncle Asmo or that bellend Belial, Andras, but surely you’re not about to provoke the Council by harming a human?”

Andras grins. “Who said anything about harming him? I just want to have a chat about his parentage. Besides, whether or not he should be considered a human is debatable. One step into Hell and he’d be nearly as powerful as a newly-created angel. Or demon.”

I glance at Mike. Whoisthis boy?

He blinks his round eyes at me, sooty lashes fluttering innocently.

“Do you want a fight, Andras?” Sariel asks coldly. “Because you’re massively outgunned.”

The cultists against the other wall grumble in protest. Idiots.

Andras’ lips tighten with the first hints of anger. He turns to the side. “Laissez-les partir,” he growls, ordering them to let us leave.

Reluctantly, the humans move aside.

Sariel goes first, not showing a hint of fear as he passes by the demon lord. Itha turns to Mike and me, beckoning for us to follow. I wrap my arm around Mike’s shoulders and pass by the cultists and their leader, my chin raised high, though my heart pitter-patters with worry for Ithuriel. No one’s watching his back. We leave the warehouse with our escort of four Cambions, the rest in attendance watching us curiously, probably wondering where we came from and why we’re just allowed to leave.

I breathe a sigh of relief once the Mediterranean sun warms the top of my head. “Oh, boy,” I whisper.

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