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Then whispered.
“I know you…”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The demon watched me from behind those swirling black holes, her head angled to the side, her blade touching my throat. One sudden move and I knew, without a doubt, she would spill my blood all over Abaddon’s throne room floor. All around me, the sounds of struggle were starting to rise.
“It’s an ambush!” I heard Missolis yell. “Stand your ground!”
Her voice was met with the clanking of metal boots on solid, stony ground. I heard arrows go whizzing past, I heard grunting, growling, and snarling. Abaddon’s demons had known we were coming, we had been caught in an ambush, and now we were trapped in the throne room with no way of alerting the force of rebels only one door down.
“I know your scent, but not your face,” said the demon with the knife to my throat. She edged it toward my chin and tipped my head up so she could get a better look. “Why?” she pressed. “And do not lie to me.”
“I don’t know,” I said, slowly raising my arms. “I’m not armed… I’m not going to hurt you.”
“No, but I am going to hurt you if you don’t answer my question. Right now.”
I swallowed, panic rising up and into my throat from somewhere cold and deep inside me. It couldn’t be. What were the chances that, here, in the throne room of Abaddon himself, I would run into the one angel that had started this all. She was no longer that angel though, time in this place had warped her, changed her, and stripped her of everything that had once been her.
I swallowed hard. “Gadriel…” I breathed.
The demon’s eyes narrowed. “I know that word…” she said. She then pushed in close, her blade slightly biting into the skin of my neck. “Why do I know that word?”
“Because it’s… your name. Isn’t it?”
“My name is Hekata, and I am a Ravager of the Red Wastes,” she snarled, suddenly swooping toward my face. “You would do well to remember that.”
“Maybe,” I said, treading carefully with my words. “Maybe now… but once, you were Gadriel. And I am Sarakiel. We knew each other.”
Her black, lidless eyes narrowed—if such a thing was even possible. “You speak the names of dead things.”
“No, not dead. I’m not dead, and neither are you. I’m Sarakiel, and you’re Gadriel. I was with you when Medrion?—”
She suddenly grabbed the back of my head with one hand and pulled it back so she had a clear shot at my throat with her knife. “Don’t say that name!” she snarled at me. “Don’t you dare use that name here.”
“So, you do remember. You remember him, and if you remember him, then you remember me.”
“You are not her because she cannot be here.”
“She is. I’m here, Gadriel. I… followed you.”
She had warned me not to lie to her, and I had in fact just lied to her. This demon had a knife to my throat, and she was moments from using it. Worse, Malachi was bleeding out, and Missolis and the others were still dealing with the ambush. I had to help them somehow, but this felt… bigger.
It was Gadriel.
It had to be.
Why else would she recognize me? It had to be her, and if it was her, then I had a chance to get us out of this, if only I could make her remember. If only I could somehow bring her to my side.
The only other alternative was my Light. I could flash what was left of it and send the demons shrieking and running in all directions. Only I would also burn Malachi, Missolis and the others—and once it was spent, I wouldn’t be able to use it to open the portal back to Earth.
Hekata, as she’d called herself, took another deep whiff of my hair and then brushed her hand along the side of my face. Her touch was cold, ice cold, but something warm passed through her fingers and into my face. I felt tingles, pinpricks that raced across my cheek, my jaw, my chin. The demon pulled back and let go of my head, turning me to face her while keeping the knife angled toward my throat.
The tingles and prickles racing through my cheek quickly moved down my neck, chest, and arms. Looking at my hands I saw the disguise Malachi had laid on me begin to unravel, returning my form to its original, angelic, state.
Hekata watched, wide-eyed, as the rest of the glamor fell away. “It is you…” she breathed. “How… how are you here?!”
I dared to reach for her hand, hoping she wouldn’t skewer me with her knife as I did. “Gadriel, listen to me,” I said. “I want to explain, but the demons I came with—they need our help. Please, help us.”
