Page 34 of Hell Sent

Azreth reached out and touched the latticework. He had crafted tools from wood and stone before, but nothing like this, which must have required such skill and time and imagination. It was a complex array of wood, lovingly shaped into organic patterns resembling flowers and leaves and animals, arranged so perfectly that it looked as if their goddess Astra might have made the wood grow that way.

Rain water was dripping through a crack in the roof, down the lattice, and a damp, green trail had grown there. The water would erode the wood and eventually it would decay into nothing, but it would still outlast the mortal who’d carved it. Perhaps that person was already gone.

Azreth looked at it for a long time. And he realized maybe Raiya was right to pity him.

Mortals didn’t waste their lives fighting each other like the kin did. They spent their time creating instead of destroying, building things that were pretty and comfortable and thoughtful instead of merely strong. There was more to their lives than just survival.

He felt deep sorrow as he contemplated that. He felt a sense of loss.

“Demons don’t think about the beauty of things.” His voice sounded remote, even to himself.

“What about you?” Raiya asked. “Do you think about beauty?”

He looked down at her. One of her smooth, dark, beautiful brows was arched at him. Knowing. Almost accusing. Waiting for him to acknowledge what was obvious.

He supposed he did think about beauty sometimes, after all.

* * *

Just when he’dstarted to fear he liked this city, they entered an inn.

It was busy and loud and filled with people carrying weapons and people who eyed them too long—or, in the case of the owner, insulted them to their faces. He was relieved when Raiya told him to wait in their rented room while she went to retrieve food.

But once she left, he began thinking of all the people crowding the main room of the inn. People with weapons. Men who had looked at him with envy. Men who had made her shrink with worry.

He sat on the bed and waited a short while, and then he got to his feet again, glamouring himself as he went out the door.

He half expected to run into her on the other side of the door, but the hallway was empty. Nor was she in the main room of the inn.

She would say he was overreacting, and that there was no danger. There was rarely danger in the mortal world, it seemed. Mortals were mostly kind to each other. She had probably just gone outside, and any moment now she would come back in and laugh at him for worrying.

But then he imagined someone dragging her away while she struggled. He recalled Nirlan shoving her into his cage, and the Paladin who’d nearly crushed the life out of her.

He weaved through the crowded room and exited onto the dark street.

He stood very still, listening. A stream of rainwater flowed from the corner of the eaves and pattered against the muddy ground. People chattered as they darted along the street, pulling hoods over their heads to keep out the rain. Everything was calm.

Then he heard a burst of something magical in the distance. Over the tops of the tiled roofs across the street, there was a faint flash of blue light.

Raiya’s baton.

His heart sped to a buzz. Raising his hands, he gathered magic.

Sparkling fractals of magic energy crackled at his fingertips as he wove them into a spell. He felt magic tingling at his scapulae, and then the magic solidified into the shape of draconic wings made of magenta light.

The people on the street stopped and stared. Azreth stretched the wings, adjusting to the unfamiliar sensation of straining muscles in his back and the resistance of air beneath him, and then he launched into the sky.

He almost fell from the air on the second flap of the wings. It had been months since he’d used them. Demons of the fourth hell were not born with wings. He’d first summoned them as an experiment based on the spell he’d designed to replace his arm, and he’d had to learn to fly on his own. But it was by far the fastest way for him to get from one place to another.

It didn’t take him long to regain his balance. He rose above the buildings, then landed on a rooftop where he could see more of the city. His gaze was drawn to a tangle of movement on the next street. A group of men in Paladin’s armor were jostling below.

A shock went through him when he spotted Raiya—though he barely recognized her. The Paladins were holding her while she struggled. Her face was a mess of angry tears. He was too far away to feel her emotions, but somehow he felt them anyway, and her rage became his own.

He dove from the rooftop.

They saw him coming just before he landed. The Paladin he was aiming for looked up, and Azreth crashed into him, pinning him to the ground before putting a fist through his chest.He resisted the urge to punch him again and again—the man was already dead.

He spun toward Raiya. The Paladin who’d been holding her was backing away, drawing an iron sword. Azreth strode forward and grabbed him by the arm. There was a click as the man’s arm dislocated from his shoulder, and he flew like a rag doll when Azreth threw him across the road.

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