*Logan

In an instant, Logan understood the water that Lucius had thrown at her was from the Fountain of Life. The bastard could have healed her at any time. Now an angel in full glory stood before them. The glow of her wings nearly blinded him.

She recoiled in horror at the sight of him. Lucius locked a pair of Ferrum cuffs on her, the power in them giving control of her and her angelii to the demon lord.

Anger whipped through Logan and he growled, unable to stop himself. That Lucius would dare be her master....

The instant the cuffs were in place, Lucius lunged to the side into her blind spot, getting a chain around her neck.

Still dazed from being healed, she struggled, but was too slow. As Logan strained to free himself, she was driven to her knees by Lucius who managed to get behind her. A knife flashed at her throat.

"Have you ever seen a more breathtaking creature, Logan? I'm not surprised you are envious of my prize," Lucius said. He pulled harder, cutting off her air.

Under him, Chiara scraped at her neck. He had her pinned, though. This was Logan's chance. He heaved harder. Any more and he'd take off his hand.

"Mine! Let me," he cried. "I've been locked up in here with her for weeks, let me do it."

"And what is it you want to do?" Lucius asked.

Chiara whimpered and whipped her wings. Wind whirled in the small dungeon, sending the scents of sand and salt-sea around them.

He knew what he had to say.

"Let me cut off her wings."

"No," she choked, shaking her head.

Lucius grinned. The torches dimmed with his daemonium's power. Logan felt it bringing his own darkness to life. The Dark Flame in him yearned for death and destruction. Lucius dragged Chiara across the floor.

"Take her wings and all will be forgiven. You will join me at the Fountain for the next battle, my greatest fighter. You will go free."

"Angel blood will flow," Logan said.

"And we will drink it," Lucius replied, finishing the pledge. He tossed Logan the key.

Logan unlocked the cuffs at his wrists and snapped for the blade. Lucius gave it to him with an approving grunt. It gleamed with the red and gold flames of torch-light. The weight reminded him of training with his twin brother, of the placing contests, where each initiate is paired with another. It took Logan less than ten seconds to finish his opponent and earn a place in Lucius's troops.

He hefted the long, wide knife, letting Chiara see it before Lucius forced her to turn.

Another whimper escaped her throat, but then her spine straightened. She unfurled her wings to their full length. The brighter they shone, the heavier the darkness grew in the corners and around Lucius. But their light was winning.

"Do it, and prove yourself," Lucius said.

Prove himself—what he was best at.

Logan nodded curtly. He grasped Chiara's wing joint near her spine. It burned hotter than a glowing poker.

This was part of his power, his unique talents. Not many demons, even among the duxtori could withstand the touch of angelic wings, even wearing gloves. He held on bare-handed, calling up just enough of his Dark Flame to give him strength.

Gritting his teeth against the sizzling pain, Logan lifted the blade. Memories of hundreds of battles crashed through his mind—the dizzying power of stripping the angels of their most prized possession, sending them falling down to earth before he killed them.

He was baptized in angel blood.

Logan whipped the blade downwards at the same time as he pulled her wing. Chiara arched backward until she faced upwards and for a split second their eyes met. Logan twisted the blade, sliding it past her neck and straight into Lucius's chest. The blinding white of his daemonium—that fallen angel—burst from the wound.

Chiara grabbed the chain dangling from her neck and pulled it loose while pivoting to stand. In one quick movement, she was behind Lucius. The chain found his neck. She shoved him to the ground, knee in his back.

Lucius, his demonic form struggling to come to the surface, gagged, clawing at both the knife sticking out from his ribs and the chain. Twisting the chain tighter, she freed one hand.

"Stay back," she hissed at Logan.

"Don't kill him," he said. "The stain on your heart—"

She yanked the knife free from Lucius's chest. It crunched against the bones. She plunged it in again. Lucius slumped forward, existence ended. The harsh light emanating from his skin and gaping wounds faded, then blinked out.

"You think I haven't killed your kind before?" she asked. She scraped at the cuffs, pulling them off.

Lucius hadn't locked them....

A new glow grew in the dark dungeon, radiating from Chiara's wings. Her skin paled to powdery silver. She was shifting.

Too late, Logan remembered she was a trained warrior, not the hurt, lonely creature he had comforted in the dark. Wary, he raised his hands. Not only was he unarmed, his feet were still chained to the wall. Where the fuck was the key?

If she went full angelic, he was dead.

"Chiara..." Surely he could negotiate a truce. His own daemonium grumbled in his chest, clawing at his mind to get free. It sensed the angelic in Chiara and wanted out. It wanted to fight. "Every demon in hell will come to the siren call of an angelii."

She dimmed. She was Chiara again.

She pointed the blade, dark with demon blood, at his heart. "Follow me and you will be next."

Without another word, she turned and in one beat of her wings, she shot through the door, exploding it from the hinges and disappeared.

"Fucking hell," Logan shouted. With a mental wrench, he banished his demonic form. He needed his brain for this. The key was on the floor, covered in blood.

Lucius's face was already blackening from rot. Logan freed his legs and ripped the armor off him, then searched his tunic for hidden weapons.

Then remembered there was entire fucking table of weapons right in front of him. He scooped up as many as he could carry. The flask from the Fountain lay on the floor, open. Emptied. Even so, he might just need it. He grabbed in, snapping the lid in place, and ran for the ledge outside.

Chiara was at the top of the natural, stone ceiling, near the wide hole that led to the next level. This was the Pestilences' path when they were called to spread death. And speaking of the little fuckers, they were swarming Chiara already. She'd never get to the next level, much less topside. Soon, all of hell would know an angel was loose in the bowels of their pit. As soon as the other demons found out about her, they would find out who had been in the dungeon with her with Lucius was killed.

Logan wasn't going back on the wall.

And he wasn't giving Chiara to the Pestilences.

Dropping the other weapons, he kept an axe and a spiked mace. He walked to the edge of the precipice.

Chiara was being dragged from the top by a black cloud of nasty, cat-sized demons. She hurtled downwards, sending a breeze of freshly-fallen-rain scent past him.

"All right, you ugly maggots, I'm tired of messing around."

Logan jumped.

*** Logan is proving himself to be other than what he was... Thanks for reading! Hit the star and have a wonderful day. ***