As an angel trained to fight the forces of demons, Chiara knew to not let them take her alive, but she never expected to survive her first battle. Trapped in the depths of hell and tortured, only one thing is keeping her alive - the demon kept priso...
Sloth, that irresistible pull to stop fighting, stop running, stop needing, and just give in to inevitable defeat ate at Logan's will.
As a warrior class demon, normally he skipped the halls that held less interesting pass-times, like the Theater and Sloth, where there was no food, no drink, and very little fucking. He could use the tunnels or the bridge above and those fuckers that shredded humans and lesser demons, respected his sword too much to mess with him.
What he couldn't stop thinking about, though, and the most direct path out of Hell had been straight up from the Pit and the Pestilences—and he had convinced Chiara to go through the halls instead.
It gnawed his gut with tiny, razor sharp teeth. They could have tried. They could have punched their way through, using surprise as an ally. They could be free already.
No.
Sloth was in his head. Hell was fucking with him like it never had before.
They would have been killed by the thousands of guards waiting for battle orders, the ones not on leave to enjoy themselves in the halls or in the Midlands, preying on humans souls too corrupted to enter the Heavens.
Logan had made a gamble on the halls, and the halls were proving their worth. Designed by the original fallen, these halls reflected both the Duxtori and the humans who found their way in, especially the deepest three: Envy, Gluttony, and Greed. Those three changed over time depending on human influence. Different music, the lighting, the colors and heavy carpets, although the pirate theme in Greed seemed to stick longer than most.
The first two halls, oddly enough, the closest to the Midlands, remained truest to original fallen angels' vision, and represented the greatest sins: Wrath and Lust.
Lust was a place of hard marble, fire and shadows, Wrath was....
The only place he'd ever felt at home. He was made of wrath and would return to wrath in the end. That was how he would die—fighting and filled with rage.
A clink of metal on metal snicked. A hushed command to spread out sounded. Logan's nerves jumped in alarm and every muscle tensed. Chiara, next to him, her breath at his shoulder, froze. Her eyes were doe-wide and flitted through the shadows. She didn't see what he did, and he was glad. He'd kept their path near the river for a reason, and not only because the ceiling was lower there, and he nudged her closer to it now.
He estimated there were at least a hundred guards filing through the stalagmites. They were getting closer and closer to finding them.
Movement caught his eye. He grabbed Chiara, immediately pulling her into a crouch behind a boulder. Shouting. Pounding steps.
Fuck.
He guided her, head low, around the boulder, the pounding rush of the underground river filling his ears.
He bent close to Chiara. "Can you swim?"
She snorted. "Can you fly?"
"Listen, the hall is crawling with guards already, but with luck, they are only here at the edge, waiting for us. There's a river."
"Are you out of your mind?" She tipped her shoulders, sweeping her wings into his line of sight. "The second my wings get soaked, the weight would pull me under, even if I could theoretically swim."
"Fuck."
They both eyed furtive movement in the cavern, creeping steadily closer.
Guards, dozens of them were closing in.
"They won't take me alive this time," she muttered.
Logan didn't doubt she'd take her own life, if necessary. Not on his watch.
"Good thing for you, I can swim with the weight of another demon on my back." Without waiting for her to retort or realize what he intended, he clamped a hand around her wrist and dragged her forward. Between two large boulders, the river's edge appeared, all jagged rocks and white, frothing water. It spun, deep and dark, along a narrow bed along the side of the hall.
Without giving her a chance to resist, he plunged in the turbulent waters, dragging her behind. She promptly panicked, and within seconds, her weight doubled as they went under. The shock of cold water pummeling him, carrying them along, nearly ripping her from his grasp. Although twisting and caught in the river's power, Chiara climbed onto his back and he flattened himself with a hard kick. Their heads came up for a desperate gasp of air, then a vicious undercurrent sucked them down.
***
*Chiara
Chiara's lungs burned for air. Clutching hard to his shoulders, she couldn't do anything against the river's power but kick uselessly.
She was going to drown because of Logan's stupid plan, and drowning had not been on her list of ways she might die in Hell—if she wasn't smashed to a bloody pulp on the rocks first.
Logan seemed to be trying to take the brunt of the blows whenever they veered towards a rock or tumbled down a rapid, but they twisted suddenly and Chiara took the full force a boulder hitting her back and head. Her wings snapped.
She convulsed. Her arms couldn't hold her anymore. Her waterlogged, broken wings ripped at her back. In the water's icy pull, she lost Logan. The stars in her eyes changed to black holes, and she spun, falling into them. Water filled her lungs, burning and choking. Convulsions rocked her. There was no air. There was no light. She clawed at her face, at the water and the rocks.
There was no air.
*** So jumping in the raging, underground river to escape the demon guards might have been a mistake ... Hit the star and thank you for reading!!! ***
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