Her Avenging Angel (Her Angel Romance Series Book 7) (2 page)

He moved deeper into the room and came to stand over that spot, looking down at it and his booted feet.

Red still swirled within the layers of crystal.

It was further from the surface now. He had made a habit of entering the chamber each day to see if the blood was sinking deeper into the crystal and always ended up wondering if it was heading towards a certain point far beyond his vision, slowly working its way down each crack and layer to the Great Destroyer.

The Devil had been his usual cryptic self when Nevar and Asmodeus had asked him for more details about the destroyer, giving answers that provided no illumination. Nevar still didn’t know if the destroyer was actually beneath all the layers of crystal below him, or whether it was linked to this place from one far away that only the Devil knew about.

Nevar sat on the raised slab, swung his legs up and lay down on it, staring at the glowing ceiling.

Light danced across the crystal shards, reflecting rainbow colours like an aurora. Whenever he grew restless, he came to this spot and lay for a while. It was peaceful and soothing, and a much-needed distraction from his heavy thoughts.

Whenever he was in this room, he felt different. He could never put his finger on the why of it though. The only way he could explain it was that he no longer felt alone. There was a presence in this room that calmed him and filled a hole in his chest, one that gnawed at him when he was beyond the chamber walls.

His eyes slipped shut and he forced them open again, stifling a yawn at the same time.

Nevar rested his hands on his chest, over the mark there, and tried to track the brighter spots of light as they slowly danced over the crystals like fireflies. His eyelids drooped again, heavier this time. He struggled to lift them and drowsily stared at the ceiling as it spun out of focus, blurring and whirling together.

His eyes closed.

Pain skittered across his chest.

Nevar frowned and rubbed the mark. Damned thing.

He grimaced and then opened his eyes. The crystal chamber came back into focus. He had fallen asleep.

“Fuck,” he growled and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the dais, and quickly looked off to his left, expecting Asmodeus to be there in the doorway, glowering.

It was empty.

Nevar huffed, planted his hands on the edge of the dais next to his bare thighs, and looked down at his knees.

The part of him that was glad his lazy master hadn’t caught him sleeping on the job warred with the part that snarled it was typical of Asmodeus not to show up to relieve him.

He could die down here and it would be decades before Asmodeus realised it.

The bastard was so wrapped up in teaching Liora how to read his magic books, and so wrapped up in her too, that he didn’t care about anything else, not even the duty the Devil had given to him as one of his servants.

Well, Nevar didn’t care about anything other than getting something to drink.

Deep breath in, and out.

He didn’t need to drink.

His stomach growled and his fangs itched, one baying for booze and the other for blood. He ignored both of them and slid off the dais, landing on his feet. He looked down at his violet-edged black greaves that protected his shins and his black leather boots. The crystal beneath them shimmered, light pulsing outwards from his feet.

His head swam and sent the room spinning.

Nevar leaned back against the crystal bench for support.

He didn’t need to drink, but he did need to eat. If he didn’t eat soon, he would pass out, and what use would he be as a guard then?

He needed to get out of this place and get out of Hell, away from the Devil who had made it his pet project to drive Nevar insane over the past month by taunting him in his head.

Away from his bastard master Asmodeus.

He needed some freedom and air.

He needed to fly.

He needed a break.

Just a small one.

Maybe it would make Asmodeus sit up and take his duty more seriously too. The Devil had banned Asmodeus from leaving Hell without his permission, and that meant the angel would have to ask his master for said permission in order to come after Nevar and would have to explain what had happened. The Devil would probably punish Asmodeus.

Asmodeus would definitely punish Nevar, but it would be worth it.

No punishment Asmodeus or the Devil could inflict would be worse than what he was already suffering.

He was starving, parched for blood, and unable to shake the quiet craving for a fix of Euphoria that had been riding him for what felt like forever. It drove him mad and he feared he would snap if he stayed down here alone much longer, and would end up in the mortal world hunting down a demon bitch.

He would deny both hungers, was strong enough right now, but he couldn’t deny the hungers for a drink and some food.

He strode to the door of the crystal chamber, cast one look back into it, and then pulled the door closed, shutting out the light.

He threw his free hand out in front of him, calling a portal. Black smoke curled out of the air and swirled like a maelstrom, growing denser as the portal enlarged to match his six-foot frame and widened enough to allow him through.

He released the door and focused on himself, using a fraction of his power to first reinstate his back and chest plate of his armour, and then cast a glamour that would change his appearance to mortal eyes. He dressed himself in black jeans, a charcoal t-shirt, and army boots, and masked the obsidian skin that reached past his elbows and the black claws that tipped his fingers.

He ran those fingers through the messy jagged strands of his silver-white hair, preening it back to ensure it concealed his small horns from immortal eyes. He hated it when people at Cloud Nine stared at them and whispered about him behind his back, and more often than not it was the horns that got them talking. The last thing he needed tonight was someone pushing his buttons when his fuse was shorter than usual because of the overwhelming combination of hunger for booze, blood, Euphoria and food.

He had the angel equivalent of low blood sugar right now and was liable to rip the head off anyone who merely looked at him funnily.

Nevar stepped into the portal and out into the wide alley in London.

The neon sign above the burly skinhead bouncer shone down on him like a light from Heaven.

Cloud Nine.

One drink, some food, and then he would head straight back down to Hell. Cross his heart. The chamber wouldn’t miss him. His master definitely wouldn’t.

Nevar grinned, flashing his short fangs.

Let the good times roll.

I
t was cold. Dark. She ached, a thousand lacerations and bruises burning on her tired limbs, the result of the battle she had survived.

Noise blurred around her, loud and piercing, a din of unfamiliar sounds.

It drove her to move.

She was vulnerable here, out in the open. Exposed.

Her stomach growled.

Lysia shoved her bloodstained hands against the green earth and pushed herself up into a sitting position. Verdant nature closed in on her from all sides, and beyond it pricks of bright yellow lights. Where was she?

She tried to remember how she had come to this place.

Sharp pain stabbed behind her eyes and she screwed them shut, unable to bite back the whimper that slipped from her lips. The fierce fiery ache subsided and fragments of memories of the battle took its place, speeding through her mind, distorted and bringing their own form of pain as her head throbbed and her body throbbed with it. Each blow she recalled echoed on her body, pain that burned in her limbs and seared every healing gash anew.

She forced her eyes back open and scanned the area around her, focusing on it to push the memories to the back of her mind. No sign of the battle she had taken part in. It hadn’t happened here.

Lysia thought back to it again and pain blazed through her bones, setting them on fire, and she cried out as it seared her mind. She collapsed against the grass, breathing hard, each inhale filling her senses with the smell of it and the sweet coolness of the dew that clung to each blade.

The memories ended with the darkness of sleep.

She could only surmise that she had stumbled here from the battlefield and had passed out.

Lysia pushed herself up again and studied her surroundings. They were unfamiliar, noisy and strange. She could see great stone buildings beyond the trees and odd colourful growling creatures that roamed beyond the boundaries of the patch of nature. Their bright eyes swung her way at times and she shrank back, her heart pounding, fearing they would come for her while she was weak.

She needed a haven. Somewhere warm that would provide her with sustenance so she could restore her strength.

She stumbled onto her feet and closed her eyes, tipping her head back and her face to the inky sky.

Deep within her, she felt a familiar stirring. Demons were nearby. She would be safe with them.

She followed the sensation, using it to lead her to them. When she reached the edge of the trees, she hovered in the shadows, watching the growling boxy beasts as they rumbled past, seemingly patrolling the area but not acknowledging each other. Thankfully, they didn’t seem to notice her.

There were a few mortals on the path ahead of her, between one set of the great buildings.

She was in their world.

She waited for them to disappear from view before scurrying across the black smooth rock surface to one of the buildings. From there, she stayed close to it, hurrying along the paved path, tracking the demons. She was closing in.

The sensation led her down narrower paths into darker areas, and she slowed her pace, sensing mortals ahead of her. Where the demons were.

Why were the demons with mortals? Were they feeding?

Her stomach growled again, the noise loud in the quieter air.

In the distance, she could hear the distinct chatter of voices, and a heavy tribal beat. A gathering?

Perhaps there was a sort of feast happening.

Her stomach made a stretched out series of gurgles, whistles and peeps at that. She rubbed it and hurried forwards, stopping only when she came upon the mortals. She lingered in the shadows of a building, hidden behind the corner of it, and peeked around to view the feast and gauge whether it was safe.

A string of mortals were lined up against a wall, a large demon ushering them one by one into the building. He eyed them all closely and turned some away. Was he in charge of picking the best from the worst? He flashed a toothy grin at two females and raked dark eyes over them as they entered.

Lysia had the impression he had earmarked them for himself.

A bright colourful sign hung on the wall above the door, the language unfamiliar.

She studied it until her eyes hurt and the words were burned onto her retinas, trying to make sense of it, and then shrugged. It didn’t matter. She would enter this place and there she would find sustenance. She needed to be inside, out of the cold and safe. She would be safe inside. She felt sure of it.

Lysia scurried across the flat cool expanse of stone to the door. The big demon looked her way and his eyes widened.

She smiled and he staggered backwards, his eyes dropping to her body and widening further. Pleased that he was allowing her entrance, she hurried inside and immediately clapped her hands over her ears. The noise she had heard from outside was even louder inside, pounding at an ear-splitting volume. She growled beneath her breath and searched for food.

And paused.

The demons in their human forms were not eating the mortals.

This was not a feast.

Many of the demons were occupied in dancing with the mortals, grinding against them and almost fornicating in front of everyone.

She hovered by the entrance, unsure whether to enter or leave. Her stomach gurgled again, making her decision for her. She had to stay. There were colourful glass bottles lining the wall to her right and demons there were serving drinks to people who lined a long black bar. If they had mead and other liquids then perhaps they had food for her.

She moved deeper into the room and everyone turned to stare at her, their eyes wide. She frowned at them all. Why did they stare? She thought them all strange but she wasn’t being rude by staring at them. If she hadn’t been so hungry, she would have asked them, or forced them to tell her the reason.

She pushed through a group of male demons, all of which were wearing their human forms, and they turned on her. Their growls died as their eyes fell on her and they parted, staring as she passed.

Lysia leaned against the tacky black bar top.

A man walked over to her, tossed a rag over his shoulder, and smiled.

“What’ll it be?”

“I require sustenance.”

He frowned, a puzzled edge to his dark eyes, and shook his head.

Lysia tried again. “I must eat.”

He waved his right hand and another man joined him, a blond with pale eyes.

“Problem?” the blond said.

“Not getting this one,” the brunet responded.

The blond raked his eyes over her, his right brow quirking. “Taking things a bit far, aren’t we? You want something?”

She nodded. “I need sustenance.”

He looked at his friend and shrugged. “I don’t understand her.”

What was there to understand? She only wanted food.

The two men walked away, serving others who seemed to have no problem ordering what they desired and receiving it. She cursed them and everyone who communicated with them with ease. While she could understand many languages, she could write and speak only one. Without being able to speak to the serving staff, she had no chance of getting blood.

A woman beside her cast a glance her way, looked down at herself, and slipped off her seat and walked away, disappearing into the heavy crowd.

Lysia sighed, perched herself on the seat, and leaned on the bar with her forehead resting on her arms. She was warmer inside this noisy inn but still hungry, and still tired. She needed to feed. How?