“So bring her to me. I don’t care what condition she’s in when you do, as long as she’s breathing.” Satan glanced around the cell as if it were an old friend. “She’ll look good in here, don’t you think? Just like your mother.”

Twenty-Six

Six hours after returning to the safety of Underworld General, Blaspheme had made some progress on the cryptic information Eidolon had given her regarding a solution to her False Angel problem. The Pruosi book of necromancy was definitely the source of Eidolon’s information. Bane, after recovering, with no memory, from the trance-like state he’d entered in the Harrowgate, had been able to translate some of it, but Blaspheme had done most of the translation work herself, and she thought she had a pretty good handle on it.

She needed the DNA of whatever species she was going to disguise herself as, plus… the blood of some powerful immortal being she couldn’t yet pin down. The DNA would be the easy part. Getting blood from some immortal stranger was going to be the challenge.

The sensation of being watched came over her, and she looked up from her table in the clinic cafeteria to see Gem walking toward her. The bright blue streaks in Gem’s black hair matched her scrubs, but she wore ghastly orange rubber clogs that matched precisely nothing. In the universe.

“Interesting place to work,” Gem said, eyeing Blaspheme’s layout of papers and books all over the round table.

“I didn’t feel like being alone in my office or the library,” she said, sweeping aside a pile of crap to make room for Gem. Even with the sideways glances she got from staff members who must have heard the gossip about her fuckup with the blanchier demon, she preferred being here over being by herself. The activity in the cafeteria made her feel safe. And kept her from losing her mind. Or thinking about Revenant.

Gem didn’t sit, instead remained standing across the table from Blas. “There’s something… different about you today.”

“I don’t know what,” Blas said lightly. “Nothing’s changed.”

Everything had changed. She just wished she didn’t have to lie about it.

“No, something’s definitely different.” Gem cocked her head, studying Blaspheme so intently that she squirmed. “I couldn’t see any scars on you until today.”

Blaspheme broke out in a cold sweat. Gem was half Soulshredder, a demon that could see physical and emotional scars that were invisible to everyone else. The breed, one of the most evil on the Ufelskala scale, exploited those scars, fed on the pain and misery of the victim. As far as Blaspheme knew, Gem kept that side of herself under control, but that didn’t mean she didn’t still possess the desire to use the abilities and instincts unique to the species.

“Don’t worry,” Gem said quietly. “I won’t tell anyone what I see.”

Blaspheme was afraid to ask, but she might as well know. “What do you see?”

“I see a strange overlay, like a second skin that’s peeling off of you.” Gem’s hands flexed at her sides. “It makes me want to rip into it and expose whatever is beneath.” Gem’s green eyes sparked with an eerie glow, and the tattoo around her neck, the one that she’d had inked to contain her inner demon, began to pulse. “Blaspheme, whatever is going on with you, you need to fix it, because it’s not looking… right.” She took off like her feet were on fire.

Shit. Seriously, could things get any worse?

As if she’d cursed herself, the lights in the cafeteria began to flicker. And then, out of nowhere, Revenant appeared in a maelstrom of lightning and swirling black clouds. His wings were spread high, nearly touching the ceiling, and his eyes, dear Lord, his eyes… the black irises had swallowed the whites, leaving him with oily pools of hate framed by thick, inky lashes. He was horrible and beautiful, terrifying and magnetic, and fear clawed at her.

People in the cafeteria screamed as the force of the storm surrounding Revenant lifted them off their feet and slammed them into the walls.

The writing on the gray walls, the spells and incantations that prevented violence, glowed with an intensity she’d never seen. And they clearly weren’t working.

“You lied to me.” Revenant’s rumbling voice could have been dredged from the deepest, darkest depths of hell, and sheer terror gripped her heart.

She stood up so fast her chair tumbled to the floor. “Revenant, I don’t know what you’re —”

“I trusted you. I cared about you. I fucking saved your soul, and you lied!” Tables and chairs overturned, and trays with food and dishes crashed to the floor. Anyone who was still conscious scrambled for the exits.

Oh, bloody hell. He knew. Panic frayed her thought processes, and the only thing she could do was play dumb. And wait… he’d saved her soul? She wasn’t even going to ask.

She paused, giving the last conscious person in the room time to scramble out of the cafeteria. This wasn’t a safe place for her, let alone anyone else.

“I’m still not sure what you’re talking about,” she said as the metal door clanged shut.

Thunder shook the building. “Are you honestly going to deny that you’re… vyrmin?”

A shiver of fear crawled up her spine, and Bane’s earlier words screeched through her brain. I can see death coming. It’s all around you, Blaspheme. It’s coming, and it can’t be stopped.

She was dead. The only question was whether Revenant would make her death happen quickly or slowly. Merciful or painful. Either way, she supposed she had nothing to lose.