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...
His plan had been perfect and had seemed to be working after only two days. Zeigfel wasn't any worse than Dirk, but Logan's resistance was wearing thin after all the time he'd spent in the dungeon. It wasn't that difficult to convince Zeigfel he was at the point of breaking.
Instead of clenching his jaw or giving the occasional middle finger during the cutting and burning, he begged for Zeigfel to stop or reconsider. The screams were genuine, as always, but a little louder, a little quicker. He let his head drop more and more. He didn't shove back when his hands were free or stand on his own feet.
He was almost there.
Zeigfel, rat's ass that he was, was already getting bored. They both had better things to do with their time, and Zeigfel knew it. The angels were closing in on the territory the demons recently took from what Logan was able to pick up from whispered mutterings between Dirk and Zeigfel.
Logan was on the brink of being freed.
That burning fact turned in his mind. It was dark, the middle of the night. Chiara slept unmoving, crumpled in the same spot Dirk dropped her in after Zeigfel was done with her. Rage ate at him. His daemonium threatened to burst free. He breathed slowly, tamping it down. It wouldn't help for him to go berserk. The chains were designed to stop the worst daemoniums.
Muscles tensed. He breathed. His arm jerked at the cuff reflexively, testing it. He breathed.
He had been so close to being freed.
Zeigfel didn't want to waste his time on a low-bred like Logan, especially one who cut a swath of death through the battle field. He simply needed to make an example: Touch my women or my expensive liquor and I'll nail you to the wall and roast you alive, until you beg for my merci. Then I'll cut off your balls and toss them to the Hounds. Then you can go back to the ranks and fight.
End of story. Every injury would heal, any missing parts would regenerate. Logan could feel in his bones he'd been close to getting out, which meant he could have set his other plans in motion.
And Chiara's courage fucked it up. She ground the whole process to a halt and drew Zeigfel away from him and to her instead. What game was she playing?
Her bravery was unbelievable.
The sound of her voice when she spoke out.... Something in his chest ached. Her voice echoed in his head. Her salt and honey voice, sweet and iron strong, protecting him from what she thought was his end. What he couldn't figure out was why. No angel would willingly protect a demon, and her own end was closer than his.
Fuck. That was it.
He had to get her out of this dungeon soon.
She thought she would die. That was why she did it.
Logan knew they would never let it happen, but he didn't know how they planned on walking the fine line between keeping her alive in a place designed to kill her kind and to prevent daemonium from taking over her angelii, creating the vicious, blood-thirsting tenebrist. A twisted, fractured monster, torn between two worlds, belonging to neither. Wanting only to kill both.
He knew it was possible, though. There were rumors of captured female angels living for years in the chambers of the most powerful commanders. Not many. But a few.
Zeigfel was one of those commanders, in fact, centuries ago, not that he could admit it openly. It was whispered there was a living child, a daughter, born before the angelic mother managed to kill herself.
Across the room on the floor, Chiara's hair and angel feathers hung in matted clumps. Despite the darkness he could make out more and more scars, and worse, the fresh cuts and burns from today weren't healing. They were stark red on her pale skin. Her lips were white where they weren't cracked and purple bruises marked her entire body.
Fury at what Zeigfel did to her had the buds of his horns pounding at his skull, trying to break through. He breathed, keeping them down.
Keep calm.
You can't help her unless you keep calm.
Sleepless hours passed. He matched his breathing to hers even though he couldn't sleep. Slow and deep.
Logan sensed a change in the air. Scuffling steps sounded from the ledge outside. Dirk slid open the bolt with a metallic screech and stomped inside. Zeigfel swept in close behind him.
And it begins...
"How is my sweet angel this morning?" Zeigfel asked as Dirk dragged Chiara to the wall. She hung limply.
Logan's teeth stretched in his mouth. Never had another demon enraged him, wakening his daemonium so quickly. Only Zeigfel, years ago, and now. The pits of hell weren't deep enough for the pain Logan would inflict on him the second he was free.
Chiara tried to lift her head, her eyes glassy and dazed. Zeigfel leaned to her ear, whispering. She shook and whimpered, but still not fully conscious. That bastard was getting in her head. It was his specialty, one of his talents. He tore through minds faster than a grinder tore through meat.
"So another day of dicking around here, Zeigfel, while the real warriors are busy with angels who fight back?" Logan asked. "It must be tough for you, nothing important to do with your time."
"For a demon hoping to be freed one day, you sure run your mouth a lot," Zeigfel said. He let Chiara's head drop.
"What else do I have to do? Oh, and I wouldn't worry about what the other commanders say about you while they are out there fighting and you are in here, having fun. They have nothing but respect for you, I know that for a fact."
"For a fact?" he asked through clenched teeth.
"Nothing but respect."
Zeigfel lunged forward, face contorted in fury. Then he paused. He looked back and forth between Logan and Chiara.
Look at me, you bastard. Come for me.
Logan smirked. "They haven't seen how you cower behind your troops, scared shitless of angelic blades like I have. Or maybe they have seen it."
Chiara glanced up at him, eyes narrowed. No, she mouthed.
Oh, my darling angel. You aren't the only one here who plays games.
Zeigfel's first blow landed, snapping rib bones. And Logan's day began.
*** Thank you for reading! ***
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