“Semantics are irrelevant.” Uriel frowned. “It was in a secured vault and she violated Jehovah’s hospitality. He’s calling for a trial.”
“Yeah, and those are always so fair,” Judas snorted. “No go, dude. She stays in Hell.”
“Then allow us to speak with her there.”
Judas jabbed a finger towards Michael. “That isalsonot happening. After what you did to Luce, you think we’d let you anywhere near him?”
Michael tried to conceal his recoil, but Uriel saw it, and he bristled. “You don’t have to be a dick, Judas.”
“It’s kind of my thing,” the young man retorted. “Just ask my brother.”
“So you’re saying that Lucifer makes a habit of surrounding himself with slimy traitors.”
Judas’s eyes went stormy, and he grabbed Uriel tightly by the bicep.
“Say what you want about me,” Judas growled, “but do noteverspeak poorly of Mags in my presence.”
There was a snapping sound that echoed in Uriel’s ears before his body processed what had happened. A second passed in blissful confusion, and then white-hot pain lanced through his left arm. Uriel bellowed, sagging hard against Judas for a moment as his body registered the clean break in his humerus. The Fallen pulled him close before shoving him away, and the pain increased tenfold at the rough handling and the inevitable collision with Michael’s chest.
“Bastard,” Uriel growled, unable to conjure a more devastating insult as the pain lanced his senses and Michael did his best to keep him upright.
The demon made a noise curiously similar to a boiling tea kettle and dug at his own eye sockets with clawed finger bones.
“Judas!” he groaned. “Why do you always do this? Now we need to fix that one!”
“We don’thaveto do anything,” Judas huffed.
“If we send him back damaged, it’s an act of war.”
Uriel whimpered. He wasn’t looking to give Jehovah more fuel for his fire, but he wasn’t as keen as Michael on going to Hell. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like they were going to be given very much choice.
Michael was out of his depth. The strange little demon had insisted on blindfolding them to protect the location of the Gates to Hell. He had no idea where they had been taken, which was a tactician’s nightmare. He tried to time their travel by counting his footsteps but gave up somewhere around twentyminutes. Not knowing the direction of travel would render his calculations essentially useless anyway.
At some point they stopped moving, and he heard Judas speaking in a low tone, followed by an affirmative noise from Zaj, and then footsteps rapidly departing. Soon after, their demonic guide yanked the blindfolds off, looking as apologetic as a skull could manage, and shrugged.
“Can’t take chances, you understand.”
Michael did. They would have done the same thing, if required to invite demons into their sanctum. Realistically, though, he knew Jehovah would let an enemy rot sooner than heal a servant of the damned. What he was most displeased about were their current surroundings.
It was a dark room hewn from rough stone that was cool and slightly slick with moisture where he touched it. Unsuitable for climbing, even if there weren’t a low ceiling of the same stone hemming them in. The only light came from scattered torches set in iron sconces securely bolted to the stone. A chill wound through the air, and Michael frowned.
“This is hardly an appropriate place to treat an injured man.”
The demon stared blankly then gave a snort of derision. “This is just the foyer. You’ll follow me to the welcome center, then we’ll sort out your visitor passes and head to the estate.”
“Visitor passes?” Uriel echoed as they followed the monkey demon into the dim corridor. “What in hell?”
The demon looked at him with disdain. “Yes,Hell. I assume in Heaven you just let them wander in willy-nilly, unaccounted for and undocumented? Do you even keep records?”
“Peter keeps the ledger,” Uriel said defensively. “He confirms inbound souls are listed, and then they can enter the Gates.”
“Terrible.” The demon clicked his skeleton jaw, the sharp incisors snapping. “So casual, so unorganized.”
“And I guess your system is flawless?” Uriel was aiming for condescension, but the pain from his broken humerus had him speaking in a strained tone instead. His arm gave an itchy throb as the muscle tried to knit back together around his bone fragments, and he cringed. This was going to be a messy healing.
“Watch your step,” Zaj ignored Uriel’s weak comeback and paused as a glimmer of light appeared around a curve in the hallway, turning to give them a grin. “There’s a few steps down coming up when we cross the threshold.”
They rounded the corner and the light grew, making Michael blink after the darkness of the passage. When his vision cleared, he kept right on blinking in stunned surprise at the sight that unfolded before them.
