I lifted up enough to slide my left hand into his pocket and found a keycard. Surprise, surprise. Demons were really honest when you threatened to burn holes through their chests.
“Stay on the floor. If you try to attack me, I’ll make sure it stays in you this time.”
I kept a careful eye on him as I removed the tip of the angel feather and stood up, making sure he didn’t follow me. I slid the keycard through the slot next to the door and it popped open with a click. Belial spoke just before I opened it all the way.
“You just proved my point, you know,” he rasped, pushing up on one arm to fix me with a spiteful stare.
“Your soul is as black as mine and you know it.”
I glanced at him over my shoulder enough to send him an ice-cold stare. “I’ll learn to live with it.”
I closed the door behind me and didn’t look back.
Chapter 14
The basement floor was cold, damp, and empty. I had to swipe the keycard in the elevator just to get to it. Like I’d thought, there were hall closets and places used for storing medical supplies and patient files, but no one was on the floor except for me. It did not bode well.
However, I could hear some kind of commotion at the end of the hall coming from the last room to the right. The walls were concrete and hadn’t been painted over, so they were dark grey, almost like a dungeon. My skin sang with tension as I crept closer to the room. I could hear something and it sounded like…chains.
The door was like the one I had encountered with Belial. Only a key card could open it. This one had a window, though. Dim white light poured outward. Well, I hadn’t come all the way down here for nothing. Better take a quick look.
I pressed my right side into the door and slowly lifted up enough to see inside. What I saw made my mouth go dry.
Michael was chained to the far wall with what looked like the restraints used on patients in a hospital, except they were crusted over with some sort of red substance that may have been blood. His shirt had been torn off and deep gouges covered his formerly perfect skin. From here, I could see his bloody lip and a bruise marring his left cheek. God in Heaven, what had happened to him?
Just then, I heard a woman’s voice so I eased over until I could see the opposite side of the room where Mulciber stood. She was breathtakingly beautiful, or would have been if she didn’t have a completely sadistic expression on her pale face. Her smile was toothy and her eyes held the kind of malice you only saw in horror flicks. She wore a cream-colored tank top and navy skirt. Pretty good fashion sense for a psychopathic monster. Still, the thing that bothered me most was the object in her hand that looked like a hand-held sickle.
Mulciber hummed as she walked toward Michael, her lipstick glimmering as red as the blood on his chest. “Know where this one’s from?”
Her voice was thick with a French accent. Michael summoned enough strength to spit in her direction. She clucked her tongue, shaking her head.
“You have such bad manners for an angel, mon ami. Anyway, this little number is responsible for forty-three deaths in Scotland—ten of which were children. They say every drop of blood it spilled is still soaked into the handle. It goes for about $20,000 on the market. Think it’ll be more or less effective than the blade before it?”
Michael glared at her. “Enjoy it while it lasts, demon. It only makes Judgment Day that much sweeter when we wipe your wretched kind from this world.”
Mulciber chuckled—a malevolent sound that gave me the creeps even through the metal door. “Your kind is so confident about the end of this war. It won’t much matter if you win in the end. I promise you, archangel, that you will not leave this place alive.”
He let out a bitter laugh. “I find your lack of faith disturbing.”
She batted her eyelashes at him, lifting his chin with the curved part of the blade.
“Nonsense. I have faith in plenty of things. Like your little human pet, for instance.”
Michael’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”
“You silly fool. She’s listening to every word we say. Isn’t that right, ma cherie?”
The door whooshed open, spilling me onto the floor in front of them. Shit. I lay there for a second, cursing my carelessness while the demon laughed.
“I’m glad you could join us.”
I pushed to my feet and balled my hands into fists, murmuring to Michael. “I’m sorry.”
Michael didn’t speak to me, instead addressing Mulciber. “She has nothing to do with this, demon. Let her go.”
“Oh, but she does, dear Michael.” Mulciber stalked towards me, placing a long-fingered hand on my shoulder.
“I’ve been trying all this time to get your little boyfriend to show me his wings, but he just won’t cooperate. Perhaps you can provide him with some incentive.”
She twirled the sickle in her hand. I suspected it was meant to intimidate me. Boy, was she in for a surprise.