Free Entice: An Ignite Novella by Erica Crouch Page B

tripping over it before the day is out. The dress is a few sizes too big, as if it was originally made for someone else, and when I first tried it on, I felt like I was drowning in a bed sheet. I briefly consider cutting the hem with my dagger, ripping off the unnecessary fabric.
    A wide belt corsets the billowy fabric closer to my body, cinching the dress and crushing my ribs until I’m sure they’ll crack. It makes it difficult to breathe, but now that I have no heart, I find that I can go hours without having to scrabble for air. I can probably go longer, but I’m uncomfortable being still for too long. It’s nice to pretend that I still need to breathe.
    There are five blades tucked into my belt. It’s all I could fit with how tight I’ve had to lace the dress to me. I wish I had places to keep more, but I’ll have to make five work. A small paper is folded up into a tiny square and tucked next to where my heart used to beat. I’ve scribbled a few of my favorite words down to teach the man. Adam. I’m still not sure what Azael and I plan to do against Naamah and Botis, but it never hurts to come armed with a strong vocabulary.
    I adjust my belt and grimace. “There’s a reason for that. I’m not sure why it’s necessary to go in uniform.”
    Azael shrugs, my words bouncing across his indifferent shoulders. “Think of the angels that are guarding Eden. They’ve probably put one of the archangels on it. I’d place my bet on it being Uriel. Maybe Raphael, if they’re really desperate. They’ll be decked out in their finest red armor, wrapped up in gold. We need to make a good impression on man. A less terrifying, more relatable impression. Understated, remember?”
    “And you think the weapons will help?” I ask, lifting the curving blade of the scythe from his waist.
    He unholsters the weapon and twirls it expertly. I pull away my hand, knotting my fingers in the loose fabric of my skirt. “I think they will make the impression I want them to make,” he hisses. “Besides, who’s to say Adam won’t appreciate a little violence? He’s probably sick and tired of being weak. Time to teach him to fight back.”
    “Right.”
    Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Botis lean over to Naamah and whisper something that curls her spine with laughter. I scrutinize them carefully. They are dressed in complimenting uniforms, much like Azael and I are, but they look sleeker, more dangerous.
    A long sheath dress of black drapes delicately over Naamah, snug and perilously thin against her dark skin. There’s a large tear up the side of her long, tight skirt, allowing her a better range of motion. The hem and collar of her dress are sharp with gold wire that looks like it can be detached and used as a whip. A similar gold chain warps up her arm like a snake. Her hair is pulled tight against her head, sleek and shining as it cascades from the top of her head to the bare skin between her shoulder blades.
    Botis is particularly red today, the black brightening the color of his unsettling skin. He wears fitted leather, similar to Azael’s, with several straps for weapons. But each of his holsters sit empty, his weapons left in the training room.
    Together, they are nearly unarmed. What plan makes them so confident that they don’t believe they’ll need any weapons? Gus’s warning sings through my head. Work as a team . Work with Naamah and Botis, and succeed .
    I tap out my missing heartbeat faster.
    “You two look very formidable,” Naamah says, her voice smoky with derision. Botis smiles next to her, his forked tongue peeking out between his lips for the briefest moment to taste the air.
    I see the moment he tastes whatever Azael is feeling—probably arrogance and aggression. Before he can taste my fear about leaving Hell, about what I’m about to do, I think about something else. I conjure up every annoying thing I can think of and let him taste the bitter bite of anger. It seems to amuse him.
    “Can’t