Sprawled naked across the musty cement floor, the bloodied man merely coughed. The simple effort propelled the unspeakable agony in his fractured ribcage only deeper. He didn’t even bother attempting to sit upright, even as the footsteps echoing across the cellar walls drew nearer. Eighteen hours. That’s how long he’d been down there. He knew this, because the beatings came in bihourly intervals, and he was about to receive his tenth. He wondered if they would break his nose this time. It would be a welcomed relief, not having to smell the pungent odor of mildew permeating the dank crypt, not to mention the added putrefaction from what he could only assume was the decay of a rodent. At least, that’s what he hoped it was.
“Well, well, well. Look at what we have here.”
The unfamiliar lilt in the stranger’s voice forced the man to incline his head, if only slightly. He still couldn’t see out of his left eye, as it had swollen shut hours ago. Through the bleary gaze of his remaining eye, he could only make out a blur of brown hair and fair skin from the other side of the bars.
“Bring him to me.”
The cell door clanked open, and beefy hands seized the bloodied man by his biceps, prying him off the filthy floor. It took everything in him not to cry out as broken bones seemed to shift from head to toe. The two brutes holding him up didn’t bother setting him on his feet as they dragged him across the cellar to the lone iron chair seated in the center of the room. They didn’t even trouble themselves with putting restraints on him anymore. After the last beating, he’d lost the feeling in his legs, and the bone protruding from his left forearm wasn’t helping him either. One more strike to the area, and he knew it would pierce through the skin.
The stranger laughed, discarding his tweed jacket. “I must say, you have definitely looked better, mate.”
With the singular light bulb dangling overhead and the haze lifting from his vision, the stranger’s features at last came into focus as the bloodied man was thrown into the chair. The Englishman spoke as if he knew him, but there was nothing remotely familiar about his face, which meant one thing.
Demon.
More like parasite.
And he was the worst kind. Demons couldn’t possess human vessels for any long length of time, so even though his features may not have been recognizable, the assertive saunter and iniquitous smirk never changed.
“Raelynd.” The simple declaration had the prisoner choking on the blood slipping down his throat.
The Englishman merely smiled as he plucked out a cigarette from the pocket of his tailored vest. Taking in a long drag, he strolled over to the other end of the room, only to return with a folding chair in hand. He propped it open and took a seat, not the least bit tentative about being within strangling distance of the man. It only served as a cruel reminder to showcase how pathetic of a shape he was in.
“Are you finding your new living conditions to be hospitable?” the demon cooed.
The man answered with nothing more than a bloody spit on the floor.
“Then let’s not waste anymore of our time, shall we? Just tell us what we want to know, and you can be back on your merry way.”
Despite the effort stretching the cut in his busted lip, the prisoner laughed. “As if you of all people would let me walk out of here.”
“Killing you would serve no purpose. Why give you a one-way ticket to Eternal Paradise when things are about to get so much more interesting down here?” The demon leaned forward, pressing two fingers down on the protruding bone in the poor man’s arm.
White flashed in his vision as the man doubled over, biting back the scream threatening to break loose. He wished he could say it was because he didn’t want to give Raelynd the satisfaction, but he knew better. That kind of strain to his cracked ribs would have them puncturing into his lungs.
“Altruism doesn’t suit you, Gabriel. Why protect a woman who couldn’t give a toss about you?”
Unable to mask the agony, the man’s entire body convulsed. “You don’t know shit!”
“She rejected you, had another man’s child, and yet you still choose to be her whipping boy? Now, forgive me, mate, for saying so, but that’s just sad.” Raelynd only laughed harder, prying Gabriel’s chin up to look him in the eyes. “Where is Katalin’s daughter?”
“Fuck. You.”
The demon sighed, resting back in his seat. Upon waving a dismissive hand at his cohorts, the other men filed out of the room. Raelynd rose up from his seat, retrieving his discarded jacket, and removed the cell tucked inside an interior pocket. “Tell me, was she really worth losing your wings over?”
Gabriel didn’t dare answer.
“I figured as much. It doesn’t exactly take a genius to work out the details. If you were willing to fall from grace in order to protect her, using physical brutality to get answers would be a long shot. That’s why I took extra measures, just to be certain.” The demon strolled back over to him, seemingly far more interested by his phone than the very man in front of him. “I must say, you certainly seemed to have moved on rather quickly after your banishment. Not two months later, you found a new ladylove, and based on my calculations, already had her with child.”
What little color that remained on Gabriel’s face paled away.
“Handsome young man, your son. Looks just like you.” Raelynd gave the beaten man another onceover. “Well, on a better day, that is. What’s his name again? Reese, I believe.” He didn’t need confirmation, seeing the man before him tremble. “Ah, yes. And by the exquisite artwork decorating his arm, he’s quite the Mage as well.”
Gabriel could barely bring himself to look at the screen as the demon paraded it in front of his face. Indeed, the young man was a damn-near reflection of him, merely on a twenty-year delay, down to the coffee-toned hair and amber eyes. “What do you want with her?”
“With Katalin? Nothing. Our only interest is with her daughter.”
“Why?”
“Let’s just say there’s a Prince waiting to meet her.”
“None of the dukes’ heirs have ascended,” Gabriel scoffed. “Except one, and we know how well that ended.”
The demon no doubt frowned at the mention. “Yes, well, that was unfortunate, but we’ve found an alternative. A better one, in fact. Stronger, and dare I say, even more attractive. Quite the catch for whichever one of the lucky ladies he chooses to be his bride. He is proving to be rather finicky though. But something tells me that any spawn of Katalin’s would no doubt be fetching. And trust me, she’ll be in far better hands with him than with Samael.”
Raelynd admired whatever image was on his screen, and as he turned around, Gabriel caught a quick glimpse. It was not of his son, but another young man, with raven black hair and pale blue eyes. His heart thundered at the sight. The new Crown Prince…
“You feeling alright, mate? You don’t look so well,” the demon taunted.
“I don’t know where she is,” Gabriel muttered.
“You sure about that? Because we can always bring your boy down here,” the Englishman offered, pulling out the dagger holstered inside his vest. He admired it under the harsh light, allowing the angel to observe the encrusted brown residue staining the blade. No doubt dried blood. “Perhaps it’ll help freshen your memory, watching my Hounds peel the flesh from his bones.”
The external agony was nothing compared to what brewed within the beaten man. Gabriel forced his eyes shut, letting the tears burning behind them to pour down his face.
“Ah-ha.” The demon outright simpered at the sight. “Have we come to a compromise, then?”