“What are you—” Mammon yelled, but his voice cut off abruptly when Belphegor planted the bottom of his stiletto on the side of the cauldron and pushed hard. It wobbled back and forth, the liquid inside sloshing loudly.
“Stop! Belphegor! What are you doing?” Mammon was beside himself, too caught off guard to do anything more than gape as Belphegor kicked the cauldron again.
This time, it tilted farther, just enough for some of the water to slosh out the side.
“I’m doing what I should have done a long time ago, Mammon,” he gritted out. “It’s over, babe.”
The third kick did the trick. The cauldron fell off its stand with a clang and toppled, pouring a gush of boiling broth down the dais. Goblins screamed, fighting to get out of the way, but manyweren’t fast enough. They crumpled beneath the wave, their skin blistering the moment the hot water hit them.
Most of the soup spilled into the great pit in the middle of the forge, hitting the lake of lava with a violent hiss. Smoke billowed, wafting up the hole and swallowing the dais, obscuring my view.
“Belphegor!” Mammon yelled. His flaming wings flickered through the smoke as he took flight, but Belphegor was already dragging me back down the stairs.
If I wrenched my arm free, I could have lost him in the smoke. I could have darted off and found a place to hide, but without the shapeshifter, my chance to escape disappeared. If I wanted to live—and be subjected to whatever twisted fucking torture Belphegor had planned—I had to get out of the forge.
This was exactly what I’d wanted, for Belphegor to take me for himself. It was my only chance at survival, and I reminded myself of that fact as Mammon barked orders, commanding his servants to find us.
My pulse fumbled as Belphegor finally released his death grip on my arm. He was shifting again, into something large and animalistic. My eyes strained through the smoke, struggling to make out his newest shape.
White fur spread over his body, giant, pointy ears growing from his head, and large wings sprouted from his sides where his arms had been with skin so thin, you could see the complicated network of veins running through them.
The giant white bat launched into the air, his feet grabbing me by my ankle and ripping me off my feet.
The acrid air thrashed my hair and whipped my face as we dipped dangerously close to the lava.
Mammon’s bellowing roar ripped through the fortress as he seemed to spot us through the smoke and launched after us. Even with me in tow, Belphegor seemed lighter and faster,sailing through the air as Mammon’s bulky, flaming form failed to keep up.
With the combination of the heat, the speed at which we were flying, and all the blood draining to my skull, darkness closed in. As unconsciousness swept in to take me, the last thing I heard over another of Mammon’s cavernous growls was Belial’s silk-wrapped baritone calling my name.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Rayven
The moment I openedmy eyes, antlers came into view. The familiar charms and chains draping the bones had tears rolling down my cheeks instantly.
“You’re crying… Why are you crying?” The panic in Belial’s barrage of questions had the tears flowing faster. “Who hurt you? Was it Mammon?”
“I’m fine, I—I think. I just hate that this isn’t real. You’re not really here.” This was another dream, the power of the plum magic uniting our minds while I slept.
“No, treasure, but I’m coming for you.” The sincerity in his storm-gray eyes calmed some of the crushing sadness churning through me. “Cecil procured the soul book of a renownedengineer, who is sure he can break a mechanism in the gate. He’s working quickly and won’t be long now.”
At the mention of Cecil, I swiveled my gaze around, but there was no one here. It was just the two of us on a gondola, bobbing in the middle of the River Styx, the enormous iron gate of the fifth circle looming over us.
“Cecil’s here?”
He nodded. “Holga too.”
There was a platform on the back of the gondola, where I ventured the ferryman was supposed to stand while he ferried souls around, pushing his oar behind him. I could practically see Belial standing there, leaning against his oar decorated with the heads of his brothers, eyes glazed over as he immersed himself in my mind. All the while, Cecil bickered with the engineer at the front of the vessel.
“I’m surprised you let them come.”
“They insisted.” A smirk played at his scarred lips. “Good thing, too. I wasn’t anticipating the gate; it’s new. Well, new as in built after my last visit several centuries ago. With Cecil’s quick thinking, I’ll be inside soon. I’ll kill Mammon, and we can go home and put this nightmare behind us.”
Home.
At my agonized expression, Belial’s strong arms gathered around me. He sat down on the bottom of the gondola with his back against the ebony wood, pulling me into his lap.
Normally, I’d feel ridiculous in this kind of position, since he was cradling me and gently rocking me like a baby, but after all I’d been through, I needed the comfort of his embrace. “What happened? Tell me everything, Rayven.”
