Her Black Wings (The Dark Amulet Series Book 1) Read online

  Yeah right.

  Aza’zel entered the room, clacking all the way across the marble expanse toward Elliott. His eyes were glazed over.

  The angel whispered, “There’s no plan is there?”

  “I’m working on it,” the demon said out of the corner of his mouth.

  The lesser demon went over and stood sentry next to the gilded throne. The grand chair dwarfed Aza’zel. Blackened skulls adorned the front of the armrests and the red velvet covered seat was wide enough for two large males or a large beast to sit comfortably. The back, composed of clawed wings, rose a good three feet above the demon’s head.

  This was probably the worst position Elliott had been in so far—chained, dirty, and without any means to thwart an attack. Oh and yes…naked. The situation wasn’t funny. He had an urge to laugh anyway. There was nothing else left to do, except talk to himself. “What did you do today? Well, let’s see…I’ve been jabbed with hot pokers, had my wings cut off, and walked across a lake of skulls, cried, screamed, cried some more. Oh, and screamed. Had my jeans shredded from my body and was carried by a goat-legged demon. And now, I’ve been chained by my wrists in the most vulnerable—”

  Elliott stopped his rant when someone clapped behind him. With his back to his audience, he had no idea it was the top devil himself.

  “I’m glad you’ve found my realm so pleasurable.” Aba shoved one of his shoulders into Elliott and spun him.

  He twirled until the chain kinked at the top. Then he twisted back around again. Nausea started his gag reflex. He dry-heaved. Closing his eyes offered little respite. Someone further away from him huffed. As he rotated, there had been a moment when the angel thought he glimpsed another person in the room besides Aza’zel and his master. He exhaled when Aba ended the dizzying revolution.

  Elliott opened his eyes to find the Devil studying his face close up. He leaned his head away from the Supreme Demon. He knew what Aba looked like in his own realm. Handsome, horned, wearing a crown of thorns, dressed in all black, except the horns were missing. Wait…not missing, lopped off. By whom? And why?

  Aba snickered, low and menacing. “Am I not what you expected?” He took a few steps away.

  “You are.” Elliott tried to keep it cool.

  Aba turned. “Good. You are not what I expected.”

  “What did you expect?”

  “Wings, for one.” The Devil pursed his lips and stroked his goatee.

  “Funny. Some of your goats cut them—”

  “Did I ask?”

  Boots shuffled.

  “Amalya, my queen, this is the surprise I was telling you about. Elliott the Redeemer has come to take you away from me.”

  The angel’s mouth dropped open. Aba knew his name and station? A hand pushed him aside. He swung like a pendulum so he closed his eyes again, willing the motion to cease. When Elliott finally stopped swinging, he opened his eyes.

  Elliott’s breath caught and he gulped. His skin flushed and a sheen of sweat materialized all over his body. Before him was a woman. Not some plain girl either. Bright, shiny, caramel eyes stood out against pale skin. A red dress hugged her petite curves. He tried to look down because he didn’t want to piss off Aba anymore by staring, but failed. She walked forward on elegant legs. Black feathered wings pressed to her back.

  Open them, please.

  Her eyes locked onto his. Then she winked.

  She glanced down his body. He followed the imaginary line created with her eyes.

  Ah, oops.

  Standing perpendicular to his body was a massive erection.

  What the what? His timing was impeccable.

  Skulls…grandmothers…baseball…football…old man balls…something, anything. Think! You idiot!

  “Ahem,” the Devil cleared his throat. “As I was saying before, Elliott has come to save you. Isn’t that right? And by “save,” I mean take you away from me.”

  “I want to stay here,” Amalya pouted with her head down, but her eyes stole a glance at Elliott.

  Elliott watched her lips as she spoke. She could have been reading from a newspaper for all of what he’d heard. Her tongue snaked out and she licked her lips.

  Not helping.

  If Aba had noticed the angel’s steel cock, he didn’t acknowledge the fact. Thank God for small miracles.

  “And I want you to stay. You see, Elliott is an angel and unless he has fallen, which he has not, then he is trespassing.”

  “What’s that mean?” Amalya asked.

  “So glad you asked, lover.”

  Lover. Ack.

  Elliott groaned even though he knew the truth. He only hoped he’d been wrong.

  “It means you have a choice to make.” The Supreme Demon paced behind him.

  Confusion crossed her face. “I already made my choice to stay here with you.”

  “I know, but it’s not enough now.”

  Where the hell is he going with this?

  Elliott looked at her wings again. The whole time he’d been in Netherworld, he’d never come across anyone with feathered wings. A few of the women he’d seen had bat-like wings with a single hooked claw on each point.

  “He needs to die a spiritual death. And you must do it.”

  Elliott choked on his saliva. Sweat rolled down his body. He squeezed his eyes shut. Aza’zel’s words echoed inside his head.

  Everything here is a lie.

  That meant something. But what? And did it apply right now?

  “Um, you want me to kill him, or I can’t stay here?” Tears slipped down her cheeks.

  The Devil smacked his palms together. “Yes. I knew you were smarter than my other females.”

  “Other? Females?” She narrowed her eyes at Aba and pondered this for a moment. “Yeah, about that—”

  “About what?” Aba asked.

  Elliott cringed. He feared Amalya was about to say something stupid and get them both stranded there. The color of her feathers didn’t matter. His wings had become gray before they’d been forcefully removed. White, gray, black, they were all still feathers. It didn’t matter the manner in which you acquired them, only that they were feathers. There was still good in her. There was hope.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Amalya

  Amalya took a deep breath. She needed to stay tough, which was becoming more difficult. A renewed strength had awakened with the appearance of her wings, but was beginning to wane.

  “What other females?” She threw her hand up to stop Aba from answering. “Wait, never mind. I know who they are. We already met.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned.

  “Those bitches ruined the robe you gave me. Shit, there’s like a hundred of them,” she said.

  “Not a hundred. Ninety-nine.”

  She walked behind the angel. While she inspected his back she said, “Do you still have sex with any of them?”

  “No. Never.” Aba recoiled.

  “So you would give them all up, kick them out?”

  “You are my queen, of course…” He swallowed hard, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple.

  Amalya didn’t speak for a few moments. Down the angel’s back were two long gashes with remnants of downy feathers stuck to them, stained dark brown. The wounds had not closed. Injuries were supposed to heal fast in this realm, weren’t they?

  She studied the goat-legged demon standing by the enormous chair. Where his horns should be, there looked to be splintered bone sticking out of his head. She glanced at the angel, then back to the demon again.

  “What happened to your horns?” she asked the goat.

  A breeze blew by her, kicking up her hair and ruffling her feathers. When she looked up to see the reason the goat remained silent, Aba had him by the throat.

  “You will not answer the question,” he growled.

  The tips of the lesser demon’s hooved scraped the floor.

  “Why not?” Amalya insisted. “I’m trying to understand something here. I think I need
to know.” She crossed her arms and glared at him.

  Awk.

  Aba sighed. “Fine.”

  Clack! Thud.

  The goat sprawled on the floor gasping. The Devil kicked him. “Answer her!”

  “My horns were removed,” he said while getting up.

  “With what, pliers? Who did this?” she asked.

  “Me,” the goat said.

  “Everything here is a lie,” the angel, Elliott, whispered so only she could hear him.

  Amalya wasn’t quite sure if she’d heard the angel correctly. She decided to test what she thought she understood. “Are you lying, demon?”

  There was no answer, only blinking.

  “Why did you lie?”

  “I broke them off,” Aba said.

  The goat was behind Aba making a slice across his throat with his hand. The gesture caught her attention. “I want him to answer.” She pointed to the goat demon.

  “No!” Aba boomed.

  Amalya raised her wings. Aba took an infinitesimal step back, barely noticeable.

  “It’s just, he is beneath us, my queen. And I don’t see the point in knowing. Who cares?”

  “I need to know what happened. Besides, it sounds like you’re hiding something.” She looked at Aba, narrowing her eyes.

  “Well, I’m not!” Aba stamped his foot.

  “Really? Could’ve fooled me,” she muttered.

  The Devil threw his hands up. “Whatever, ask what you want.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “A-Aza’zel,” the goat stammered.

  Amalya flapped her wings a few times and floated closer to the lesser demon. “Please tell me who removed your horns?”

  “Elliott,” he croaked.

  “Why?” Aza’zel opened his mouth like he was about the say something.

  “We had a disagreement,” Elliott said. Aba spun him around and punched him in the stomach. The angel grunted.

  “Aba!”

  “What?”

  “Stop that.”

  He groaned.

  Walking over to the angel she asked, “About?”

  “Well, he’s a demon. What other reason do you need?” Elliott smiled crookedly, although his eyes didn’t reflect joy. They were lifeless and so dark Amalya couldn’t distinguish the pupil from the iris. It was haunting.

  “There must have been a reason.”

  The angel let out a long exhale. “I’m an eye for an eye kinda guy. Or a horn for a wing.”

  “So he took your wings and you responded by taking his horns?”

  “Not exactly,” Elliott breathed.

  “How did you get in here?”

  Aza’zel took two steps toward the exit behind the throne. Amalya tracked him with only her eyes. He took another stride. She took her eyes off the goat for a moment, and when she looked back in his direction, he’d disappeared.

  “Captured and brought here. I’m a real prize. Lucky me,” the angel said.

  “Captured, or did you allow herself to be?”

  “Amalya.”

  “What?”

  Closing his eyes, a wave of pain washed over Elliott’s face. The marble under him was slick with sweat. His erection deflated. “Nothing. If you want to stay here then kill me. That’s your choice. It won’t make a difference what I tell you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just know. Have you ever taken a stand in your life? I mean, what do you even believe in?”

  “I believe in things.”

  “Yeah, like what?”

  “Things.”

  “Name one.”

  “I can’t right now.”

  “Years ago you didn’t believe in a God or the Devil, or an after-life,” Elliot said, “and now you know they exist, but you still don’t believe.”

  “What are you taking about? I’m in this room, aren’t I? Staring at an angel. And what do you mean, ‘years ago?’”

  “When you died.”

  Her eyes widened. “I only died, like, two days ago.”

  “Did you?”

  The angel’s words from earlier were stuck in her mind: Everything here is a lie. When she glanced at her lover he was looking everywhere but at her. The angel wouldn’t quit staring, unnerving her.

  “It’s only been two days,” she repeated.

  “Has it?”

  “Stop messing with me!”

  “I’m not.”

  Everything here is a lie.

  “Arghhh! Get out of my head!” She put her hands on top of her head like it hurt. She’d heard enough from the angel. Her eyes met Aba’s and he anticipated what she needed and handed her a knife. “How do I kill him?”

  “Cut out his heart, then we’ll feast.” Fire smoldered in his eyes. He laughed.

  Blade high, Amalya charged across the room, her wings fluttering behind her.

  “Ten years!” the angel screamed. Light shot out of his mouth.

  Blinded by the brilliant glow, she faltered. The knife penetrated his shoulder. Her grip slipped on the blade as it hit bone, slicing her palm. “Ow, shit!” She dropped the dagger and held her bloody hand with the other one. Sucking in a breath, she staggered a few feet to the side. Her leaking hand dripped onto the floor.

  “Finish him.” Aba kicked the dagger toward her. She scowled.

  A glow shone from behind, casting her shadow on the marble floor. The silhouette’s wings were open. Amalya knew hers were folded at her back. She whipped around. The angel didn’t have any wings, except his shadow still did?

  What the…

  Light streamed out of the angel’s mouth and now his eyes. She had to squint to look at him. The beams intersected, creating a single ray. His blood flowed down his body and dripped off his foot, splashing onto the floor. The wound healed before her eyes.

  Although she’d witnessed her own injuries healing, this was different. The blood dried up, no, disappeared. Melted away. Just like the stab wound, it was as if it never existed. Maybe it hadn’t.

  Everything here is a lie.

  With a groan, Aba bent to pick up the knife. Was there something special about it? Or was it her?

  “How long have I been here?” she asked the Supreme Demon, meeting his gaze.

  “Two days.”

  She stomped her feet. “In Earth time.” Her eyes darted over to Elliott. His eyes and mouth had returned to normal.

  “Ten years,” the Supreme Demon said.

  Impossible. There was no way. A tear traveled down her cheek.

  The blade in Aba’s hand grew bigger. A blue flame danced along the razor-sharp edge. He took a few jogging strides toward the angel then charged him.

  “Noooo!” Letting an innocent die wasn’t what she wanted to be remembered by, even if no one else here cared or would know. Her wings listened to her mental commands. She flew up over Aba’s head then tucked and rolled, placing herself between Elliott and the blue flaming oversized knife. Her eyes were saucers. As the blade sunk in, the fire sizzled out, releasing steam.

  With the dagger buried deep in her chest, the Devil jumped back, a grin on his face. “And you thought I’d kill an angel.”

  “You, I th-th-ought—”

  “Th-th-ought what?” the Devil mocked her. His laughter rose to the high ceiling. “We are kin. I was once an angel. Before I came to my senses. Elliott the Redeemer is nearly mine. Killing him was never an option. Well…to be honest, I was going to kill him eventually, until you decided to grow feathers.” The last word he said like it left a foul after-taste in his mouth.

  Amalya dropped to her knees, coughing into her hands. Blood coated her palms and the front of her dress. She wheezed, her breathing labored. The floor tilted then spun—faster and faster until she couldn’t stay upright.

  She lay on the floor, her teeth chattering. “S-so c-cold.” Odd. She remembered the marble being almost excessively warm. Her eyelids sagged. The edges of her vision fuzzed. She couldn’t keep her eyes open. Elliott murmured softly, his quiet,
rhythmic voice soothing her.

  “For fuck sakes,” Aba yelled. “Shut up!” There was a bright light. “Oh, what now?”

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-ONE

  Aza’zel

  Aza’zel closed in on the portal to Earth’s realm. Another ten feet and he’d be able to stick his head through. Five feet. Three feet. The realms of Earth and Netherworld were in different dimensions. A membranous portal linking the two worlds existed where the barrier naturally thinned. This phenomenon only occurred in one spot as far as he knew, and for only brief periods of time. According to rumors, Aba had walled off the tunnel leading to the door after being unsuccessful at closing the portal. However, the wall hadn’t lasted long.

  The portal measured three square feet around. Just enough room for a being to pass through. Humans weren’t likely to find the weakness. It was three feet off the ground on the Netherworld side.

  The barrier was nearly invisible. On this side, the portal edges warped and blurred the rocks behind and could be seen with the naked eye. The other side, Aza’zel had no idea what he’d find. He’d likely have to remember its location.

  The demon pressed his hand into the middle of the area. Resistance. He pushed harder. Then something happened. A breakthrough. His hand felt colder. He twirled his wrist around on the other side. Nothing bit him or tried to remove his hand so he got braver. Now with both hands in, enjoying the cooler air, he shoved his whole body through, no debate with himself about whether or not he should. He went for it. All or nothing was his new motto.

  It was bright. Aza’zel shielded his eyes as he got to his hooves. The doorway wound up being ten feet above the ground. He’d dropped like a sack of sand. After a couple of minutes of squinting, his eyes adjusted to the light.

  Startled by the forgiving feel of the Earth beneath him, he bounced from hoof to hoof. He looked down. Debris littered the ground, making a rustling sound with each step.