away from Earth?”
“All of Hell is at war,” Colin said.
“So everything’s the same.”
Lucifer had ruled Hell since he’d led his angel cohorts in a rebellion aeons ago, but in his endless grasp for power, he’d created his greatest enemy—Belial, one of the demons who consumed dragon flesh in order to produce offspring with a human.
That demon was also Michael’s father.
According to Michael, consuming the dragon’s flesh had transformed Belial in a deeper way: He’d become good. More like a man than a demon. Then the effect of the transformation had worn off, and although Belial’s physical form returned to his original angelic appearance—blindingly, painfully beautiful, with six wings and the same harmonic voice—that appearance was deceiving. He’d started a rebellion against Lucifer in Hell, claiming that he would lead the other demons back to Heaven and return them to Grace. But that was just the propaganda. Belial’s only intention was to take Lucifer’s throne—which would leave the Guardians with one bad option over another.
Belial wouldn’t be bound by the terms of the wager that had forced Lucifer to close the Gates to Hell. He probably wouldn’t bring dragons from Chaos with him, but Taylor thought Belial might be just as bad. If he secured the throne in Hell and set his sights on ruling Earth . . . She didn’t even want to think about the kind of damage that someone who looked like Belial could do to humanity. They already had enough fanatics running around. And that would be the worst of it; the Rules forbade Belial and his demons from hurting humans. But God knew what humans might do to each other in his name, and the Guardians wouldn’t be able to stop them. Any Guardian who tried and broke the Rules would have to Fall. Soon there would be no Guardians left—or they’d have to stand by and let it happen, focused purely on stopping the demons.
“Not the same,” Savi said. “Anaria has joined the fray.”
“Anaria?” She’d known that Michael’s sister intended to join the war. After Belial’s demons on Earth had slaughtered the nephilim—Anaria’s children—she’d sworn to kill Belial and avenge them. “But with the nephilim dead, she doesn’t have an army.”
“She does now. Orange juice?”
“I— What?” She glanced over at Colin, who stood beside a small table, a crystal decanter in hand and a brow arched. Most vampires couldn’t taste anything but blood. Thanks to the hellhound venom in Savi’s blood, these two could, and Colin was apparently still reveling in his renewed sense of taste. Taylor accepted a glass, primarily so that she could do something with her hands. “Where did she get an army? Did she convince a legion of demons to follow her?”
Having experienced firsthand how compelling Anaria could be, Taylor wouldn’t have been surprised. When Anaria spoke, it took an effort to think
of any opposing argument—and worse, Anaria made Taylor desperately
want
to believe her, even when Taylor fundamentally disagreed with her ideas. It was as if Anaria’s will and beliefs simply overrode her own.
“Not demons,” Savi said, scooting over to make room for Colin to sit beside her. “She’s spent the past two and a half years recruiting everyone whose soul was released from the frozen field at the same time that Michael’s was. Hundreds of thousands of them.”
Taylor frowned. “But they are just humans and halfling demons. And down there, they don’t have the protection of the Rules.”
Humans were much weaker than demons, and even halflings—humans given demonic powers by Lucifer—weren’t as strong as the demons in Belial’s and Lucifer’s armies.
“But unlike demons, they can’t die,” Colin said.
“What?”
“That’s what Selah told us,” Savi explained. “She teleported down there to see what was happening. Demons were cutting through Anaria’s army, chopping off heads, slashing through their hearts—but it