Dropping onto the soft cushions, I threaded my index and middle fingers through the broken chain and let it dangle in front of my face. The cross, small and delicate, revealed letters on the back of its surface.
I leaned in for a closer look, and my heart missed a beat. It was only a small phrase, yet it was enough to tell me the word was sacred...powerful. The slanted lines and symbols were a match to what I’d seen tattooed on the inside of Lucian’s wrist.
Which means I’m staring at the language of angels. Need to let Lucian know, but what does it mean?
If I’d been one of his angels, I’d have no problem reading it. But only being a lowly human with borrowed power from Lucian, the knowledge had been forbidden.
Shifting in my seat, I traced the infinity shape then trailed a fingernail over the cross.
Why would a common girl carry a necklace etched with a Word of Power? This was even more proof to stop toying with Phoebe and claim her soul, to kill her and be done with it.
After stuffing the jewelry into my front pocket, I blinked to my study.
It was a pure shame she had to die, really, because she piqued my interest. Her strange beauty, soft and gentle, stirred the beating organ in my chest. I slammed a wall between my emotion and my brain. Deep down, Phoebe was no different than anyone else.
She’d seen who I truly was and called me ugly.
And she is right.
Had that been the true reason I erased her memory? Inhaling, I forced down rising shame. Then, as I let out the deep breath, I ran a hand over my hair. “I did what I did to find out why she’s different. Why the curse my father so lovingly bestowed doesn’t work on her, that’s all.”
Being the only human who had ever survived not going mad or dying from my touch, she had to have some essence or trait Lucian could use to his advantage. Which might finally earn my wings once and for all.
I couldn’t let one girl stand in the way of finally getting my wings—and my vengeance.
What will Father think when he sees me transformed?
Yes, I would become a demon, but the only difference between angels and demons was perspective.
Angels strove for order, light, and good.
Demons thrived on entropy, darkness, and evil.
That was how it was and how it would always be. The very fabric of the universe would unravel if the balance were greatly disturbed. It was the essence of universal physics, for every action formed a reaction.
There could be no light without dark, no good without evil, no life without death.
I was more than willing to become a black angel for my side. After all, I’d never really been given a choice. Once I’d been cursed and thrown away to live alone in the wilds, Lucian and his army had taken me in and showed me where true power lay—not in love, but in dominance...control.
Walking to the desk and pulling out a drawer, I retrieved a piece of yellow parchment and placed it on the polished mahogany writing surface.
Midnight-hued wisps flowed from my finger and caressed the thick, elegant paper, waiting for my command. Knowing the dark power would create a direct connection to Hell, I concentrated on what I wanted to convey. Until I received my wings, I couldn’t directly travel to Lucian’s dimension, but at least He had granted me the power to call on him and his host when needed.
“Greetings, my Lord.” The words etched themselves onto the paper, creating tiny curls of smoke and a slight hiss as they burned across the surface with cursive letters. “I might’ve stumbled upon something important, or interesting, at least. A human girl wears a Word of Power around her neck and is immune to my mark. I’m requesting to prioritize her as my next assignment if acceptable.”
The writing stopped. A slight scent of char permeated the air. All the letter needed was my signature to open the communication portal. Afterwards, it would be a matter of waiting.
Lucian will probably send Malachi.
Imagining Malachi’s hateful grin while standing in my domain made my stomach clench, but I’d plaster a smile on my face and not let him get to me—on the surface, at least. Malachi hated me more than anyone else, besides my father, perhaps, but if that was who Lucian sent, so be it. I needed guidance when it came to Phoebe because I felt out of my depth, like a drowning man grasping toward the light above the surface of the water.
Malachi couldn’t just waltz into my abode because I’d laid strong wards around the compound, but since I’d opened a direct portal inside with my request, he wouldn’t need to slide through the barrier because the letter—and portal—were on the inside of my wards.
“Hope He sends someone else, anyone else.”
I extended my index finger, enjoying the sharp black tip of power jutting from underneath my human nail. An image of me sliding the sharp-as-glass blade down Phoebe’s skin, slicing the straps of her shirt then her bra as the clothing slid to the floor barged into my thoughts. A delicious jolt of pleasure coursed through my blood.
No. Why am I thinking of her in this way? She’ll be dead soon. Must focus on the summoning.I didn’t want to fuck it up. Malachi would love to see me dragged back to Hell once again as punishment.
