No, something much, much bigger was in play here.
Hades lunged, sending a stream of white-hot electricity at the demon. The Orphmage flipped into the air, avoiding Hades’s weapon like he did it all the fucking time. As he landed, he whirled, and in a quick, violent motion, he stabbed the Unfallen in the chest with the sparking end of his staff. She screamed, a sound of such suffering that it somehow drowned out the violence of the battle and reduced the cries of the wounded to muted whispers in the background.
Hades froze. He finally recognized that voice. And that hair. And, as her scream began to fade into a tortured rasp and her body went limp, he recognized her clothes. Faded, torn jeans. Black and emerald corset. Bare feet.
Cat never wore shoes.
The Orphmage stepped back, his head covered by a burlap hood, but Hades could make out a sinister grin stretching his thin lips into a hideous slash. He raised his staff to strike Cat again. With a roar, Hades hurled a series of fireballs at the demon even as he charged toward him. Somehow the demon blocked the fire, but the force of their impacts against his invisible shield still knocked him backward with each blow.
In Hades’s peripheral vision he saw one of his wardens go down, his body going one way, his head going another, and dammit, Geist might have been a sadistic tool, but he’d served Hades well for nearly a thousand years.
Quickly, Hades put the dead fallen angel out of his mind and charged up the rocky slope, using his mind to continue throwing shit at the Orphmage. A crude arrow punched through Hades’s arm, and as he yanked it out, several more pierced his legs and back. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he hauled himself up the incline and leaped onto the plateau where demons had been making their sacrifices and where Cat was hanging limply from the crucifix.
“Cat,” he breathed. “Cat!”
He ran toward her, ignoring the volley of projectiles raining down on him. Pain wracked him, blood stung his eyes, and his battery of powers was draining, but none of that mattered. He had to get to Cat. She was only about thirty yards away, but it felt like he’d run miles by the time he unsheathed a dagger and sliced through the ropes holding her captive.
Awkwardly, he threw her over his shoulder and reached out with his senses to locate the nearest portal. It wasn’t far, but naturally, a horde of well-armed, giant demons were standing between him and the way out.
“Hellhounds!” he shouted into the flashing sky. From out of nowhere, two inky canine blurs shot up the side of the canyon toward him. “Make a path!”
Instantly, the hellhound veered toward the group of demons and went through them like bowling balls through pins. Hades followed in the beasts’ wakes, reaching the portal as a demon with a missing arm swung a club at him. With relish, Hades sent a blast of power into the bastard’s head, exploding it in a fabulous gore-fest.
The portal swallowed him, and an instant later, panting and exhausted, he stepped out of the 5th Ring’s mausoleum at the graveyard. He flew the short distance to the wall where portals to and from Azagoth’s part of Sheoul-gra were laid out and triggered by only his and Azagoth’s voices.
“Open,” he barked. Nothing happened. Frowning, he tried again. “Open.”
Again, nothing. What the hell? Reaching out, he smoothed his hand over the dark stone surface. It felt the same as always, so why was it not opening?
“Open!” Gods, he might as well have been talking to a wall. He snorted. Sometimes he cracked himself up. “Damn you, fucking open!”
Given that the passage was the only way to get out of the Inner Sanctum, this was not good. Had Azagoth sealed the door on purpose? Was this a weird glitch? Or had the demons in the 5th Ring had something to do with this?
Hades wasn’t sure which scenario was the better one.
Cat groaned, and shit, he needed to get her someplace safe where she could recover from whatever the Orphmage had done to her. And as soon as she was able to talk, she had some serious explaining to do.
Chapter Seven
Everything was gray. Light gray. Dark gray. And every shade of gray in between.
Cat blinked. Where was she? Squinting, she shifted her head from side to side. She was lying down, apparently inside some sort of lidless stone box. It was huge, about the size of a king-size bed, and like a bed, it had blankets and pillows. Who the hell slept in a giant box?
She sat up, but she was so weak that it took two tries, and as she peered around the room, her head spun.
“Ah, Sleeping Beauty awakens.”