Wings, Flings, and Demon Kings || COMPLETE

Chapter 15: Teach me

"Nirael," said Azerath gently, "we are talking. And we need Sanmu to stitch up your wounds."

The irrational calm was fading, leaving blind panic in its wake.

"Wait," I said. "Wait! There's something I need to tell you. And it's vitally important!"

The bathroom door opened, and Sanmu stepped in. He blinked down at my naked form, his eyes raking across the slash wounds still oozing into the bathwater. Then he turned to Azerath.

"Do you know nothing about wound care?" he asked irritably. "Get her out of that dirty water immediately. There might be bacteria."

I struggled to my feet, water dripping everywhere, as Azerath hurried to get me a towel. All vestiges of human modesty had flown straight out the window—not that I'd had much modesty to begin with. Fortunately, Sanmu didn't seem to care. He peered down at my injuries, muttering under his breath, a sibilant sound that was almost a hiss. I realized he was doing some kind of spell. Magic tickled across my skin, stinging my open wounds, and I winced.

Sanmu seemed not to notice the discomfort his spellwork was causing. "Are all of these Belzifer's doing?" he demanded, frowning down at the wound on my arm.

"Yes," I said meekly.

"Did he say why?"

"I think he was jealous." I sucked in a breath. "He wanted to make a deal with me. He said he wouldn't present his evidence against Azerath at the tribunal, if I agreed to get Unmade in Azerath's place."

Behind us, Azerath muttered something—a cross between a curse and a snarl. Sanmu waved at him to shut up. His long fingers massaged his forehead, and he glared at the bloody bathwater as though it had personally offended him.

"This is actually good news for Azerath's case," he said finally. "Belzifer's stabbing you was a serious violation of the Angel-Demon Peace Accords. If we spin the story right, Azerath might have a chance at the tribunal."

Hope swelled in my chest. "That's—that's great news. Isn't it?"

"It is good news. For him."

Something in the way Sanmu was looking at me—with a mixture of warning and pity—sent alarm bells clanging through my head. "What do you mean?"

He huffed a sigh. "You also violated the Angel-Demon Peace Accords. You killed Belzifer's human body. That's a criminal offense, one that Heaven is certain to punish you for." He shook his head. "Wait here. I need to find some painkillers before I start stitching you up."

The moment Sanmu was out of the room, Azerath rose to his feet. "I can't believe—" he began, almost shaking with rage.

I stared at the ground, my stomach somersaulting uncomfortably in the wake of Sanmu's words. I hadn't even considered that stabbing Belzifer might violate some sort of carefully-laid peace agreement between Heaven and Hell. After all, Belzifer had tortured me first.

But Sanmu was right. Heaven probably wouldn't see it that way.

And yet...

If Azerath came with me...

If I told Archangel Ramiel I'd done it for a good cause—to save Azerath's spirit and bring him to the light...

Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for us both.

Azerath was still stewing, his face dark with rage. I grabbed his shoulder.

"Listen to me," I said. "It doesn't matter that Belzifer tried to hurt me! I didn't agree to his proposal, and I'm not going to let him Unmake either one of us. The reason I came to visit you again, even though you told me not to, is because I needed to tell you something important." I sucked in a breath. "Earlier today, I spoke on the phone with Archangel Ramiel, the angel who raised me. He as good as told me that you might be welcome in Heaven. That you could be safe. All you'd need to do would be to renounce Hell and prove that you're committed to turning good."