“Apologize to your sister for what you did and let bygones be bygones.” He practically sighs the words out. Like this whole ordeal is beneath him.
“Fuck your apology. We had afucking deal.You said my men would be spared!”
He shrugs and sits back down on his throne. “Your brother will be castigated for his actions. What more do you wish of me?”
I take a breath, my power humming through my blood, my Prod purring in my ear. I know what she wants; I know the violence and vengeance she craves because it is my own. We are one now, she and I.
I am her, and she is me.
We are one.
“Blood for blood.”
The Messenger laughs at my bold words, but it’s not to him I look. It’s to our father and the response I know he will give me. Because he’d never meant to protect those I care about in the first place.
“Your loyalty lies with this family now,” he says dismissively. “I promised at your behest, I gave in to your whims and fancies, but the Messenger is your brother. You cannot expect blood for blood. He is family. One does not betray family.”
Azazel’s words come back to me, and I repeat them with a smile on my lips, loud enough for everyone to hear.“What kind of world would we live in if we can’t even trust our own family?”
It was like he’d seen into my heart, into my soul at that moment and had known what I’d done and why.
And what the inevitable outcome would be all along.
Azazel had known precisely what I’d hidden behind the gleam of manic violence and my bicolored gaze, and he’d smiled.
“Forgive me, Father,” I say slowly. “For this is the only way.”
And I turn and fly toward the Messenger of Chaos, unleashing my magic, shoving it down his throat until it’s choking him.
My father gave me this power. I took it, knowing what would happen. I knew he wouldn’t fully trust me until I gave myself over to the violence of my Prod completely. I knew the power it would give me. How much stronger it would make me and what I would lose in my acceptance of it. I knew what I would have to do.
I knew, the moment I’d taken my father’s hand and let the power of my Prod consume me, that I would use it to destroy them all.
* * *
My magic is a punishing force of fire and energy. It shoots down the Messenger’s throat, cutting off his growls of rage and consuming him. The fire spreads inside his body like the very rivers of golden fire that thread through the veins in my wings. Black spots spread along his gray skin like embers burning in a fire. His mouth drops open and meaty hands reach up to clutch at his throat.
He dies all too quickly.
His arms splay out at his sides, and the screams of rage explode along with his body in a shower of rocky chunks. I stand firm, even as the flying rock abrades my skin and pounds my flesh.
The force of the explosion sends creatures flying back, but not my father. I watch, grains of dirt raining over me, theremnantsof my half-brother, as my father stands and absorbs what just happened. His expression changes in an instant. Those strict, collected features snap into a mask of rage and betrayal.
But it isnothingcompared to what I’m feeling inside.
“What have you done?” my father grinds out. I can hear the underlying tone of hurt in his voice and that violent thirst for vengeance.
“You took my mother from me.” I can still see her weeping face in the Forest of Woe. I can still see her expression as she sees me and cries because I’m an abomination not meant to exist. “You manipulated me,trickedme—”
“I gave you your power.”
I smile then. “You gave me life. But this power ismine.” Fire flares to my fingertips and spreads, swirling around my body. “And Ialwaysplanned to use it against you.”
I lift my hands up and blast him with my power, but it bounces off his body and doesn’t even harm him. It’s then that I fear for myself. Not for what I’ve done, but for the retaliation gleaming in his eyes. For the fact that I might die without having set out to do what I meant to do.
Destroy the King of Hell.
Tears seem to glisten in his eyes, but beneath that is a well of rage so profound, I could never hope to see the bottom. I am acutely aware of this moment. Of the snarls at my back as the demons try to herd me toward my father. I know I’m cornered. I know I likely have no way to escape.
