Black blood flew in every direction and splattered the moldy brick wall of the dank, fetid alley. Ramiel’s dinner threatened to come back up as urine, feces, rotting food, and death mixed to create a noxious cloud. The withered flesh dangling from his fingers didn’t help matters.

“Nasty piece of fucking shit,” Rami snarled at the demon in his clutches.

Black blood dribbled from the demon’s mouth as it opened and closed its massive jaws. Disgusted, Rami dropped the dried-up husk that was once a tongue.

“Fuck!” he cursed.

Why didn’t he obtain the needed information before hacking off the appendage? Now he would have to wait until the creature regenerated and that could take a while.

More and more upper-level demons had crossed from the Underworld before all access was shut down. That went against everything Rami believed in and posed a severe threat to humans.

As an Angel of Retribution, he dedicated his existence to eradicating demons from Earth. Some of his fellow AORs were hell-bent on annihilating drug dealers, drunk drivers, or murdering humans. The focus of an angel’s energies depended on what led to their death. Only wrongfully killed humans or paranormal became AORs after death. It took the rage pouring from their souls at the time of their demise to prompt their vengeance.

But that wasn’t what gave Angels of Retribution the infamous black wings. Once they became angels, they had to pass several tests tailored to challenge each person. Only then did they earn their position. Izzy was Ramiel’s final test. Putting aside his love for Elsie and seeing beyond his bitterness and hurt were the hardest things he’d ever done. Not only had Elsie found the love of her life, but Rami kept her and Zander’s love child safe from harm. To say it pushed his limits was an understatement.

Thankfully, Izzy made it a pleasure. Her laughter tinkled brighter than the choirs of heaven. Her smile was infectious and her love and loyalty, even as an infant, was a shining example for everyone she encountered. Nothing should mar her innocence. His insides writhed, and his fists curled into tight balls, wanting to bash the skull of the demon before him for being a part of the world that held her captive.

Rami continued to try and connect with Izzy but couldn’t detect much through their bond. He did sense her fear, as well as, her determination which told him she was alive. That didn’t surprise him. She was Elsie’s daughter, and like her mother, Izzy was stubborn and allowed nothing to stand in her way. He imagined her running around the Ninth Circle of Hell, taunting Lucifer with her tiny outstretched hand that could end his putrid existence.

The image caused a chuckle to escape Rami’s throat. The demon’s brow furrowed as he stared at Ramiel.

“You’re one crazy fucking angel,” the Daeva demon choked out as he spoke. His partial tongue slurred the words, but Rami could make out enough to understand him. “I already told you. I can’t help you. The only way I’m getting back into the Underworld is if you kill me.”

“I’m happy to oblige,” Rami snarled as his fist met battered flesh once again.

It was highly insulting that this demon possessed the ability to don a human guise. How were real humans supposed to identify evil with such an attractive face?

“What do you want from me? I can’t take you with me even if you kill me,” came his pitiful wail.

“Tell me where the entrances are. I know there’s at least one open. Otherwise, there would be none of your kind left here,” Rami growled.

His patience was wearing thin. With no demons crossing the sealed barriers, the Warrior angels surely would wipe every last one from the planet. For a time, Ramiel considered joining their ranks until he got a glimpse of the AORs. After that, he was determined to do whatever it took to earn the black wings.

When Camael told him of his final assignment, Rami almost caved. He visited Elsie as a Dominion angel then fled back to Heaven, pleading for another task. Seeing her again brought all the longing and pain to the surface. His boss refused, saying his choices were to take on Izzy or keep his brown wings. That meant he would be Camael’s errand boy for eternity. No fucking way.

Black blood dripped from the Daeva’s nose and hit the asphalt with a sizzle. The stench in the alley was quickly choking the fresh air, and Rami gagged. A glance to the open street told him the coast was clear and Rami was sorely tempted to end the demon’s sorry existence, but there was no way was he giving Camael the satisfaction of punishing him for this transgression, too.

Ramiel was ordered to let the issue of Isobel go, but there was no way he could leave the child in the devil’s clutches. And now he was missing those insufferable weekly meetings they held in Heaven. Who needed to attend Spiritual Awakening Sessions (SAS) anyway? It was a bunch of singing and shit, and Rami didn’t care for them. If Camael discovered the reason he was absent from his session, Rami would be thrown into the pit again. He couldn’t rescue Izzy if he were detained, so he was treading on thin ice by taking a chance.

“Surely, a high-level demon like yourself has a way into and out of Hell. Lucifer wouldn’t allow such a powerful being at an angel’s mercy,” Rami muttered, trying to appeal to the selfish nature found in every demon. The first thing Ramiel learned about demons was their entitlement and bloated sense of importance.

“I’ve tried them all, but they’re closed. Every single gateway. But not for long. If Lucifer has sealed off Hell then that means he has the amulet,” the demon replied in panting breaths. “Soon he will be free to take control of Earth. Oh my, is that a tremble I feel, Angel?”

“No, you fuck. That’s me trying not to kill you,” Rami mumbled and called his sword of light to his hand.

The fire from his weapon glinted off the demon’s terrified eyes and his efforts to escape renewed. As he squirmed in Rami’s grasp and tried to shrink into the moldy brick wall behind him, Rami realized he wasn’t getting any further information out of the piece of shit. It was time to move on.

As Rami lifted his sword into the air, the demon shouted, “Wait. Don’t kill me. I might know of a Fallen.”

“What’s a Fallen? And why should I care?”

“Have you forgotten your brethren so quickly?” the demon asked as he cocked his head.

“You mean your sperm donors? The fallen angels? They aren’t my brethren. You were hunting my brethren earlier this evening and will pay for that,” Rami promised as he tried to hide his eagerness for the information.

He believed there were no fallen angels on Earth or he’d have hunted them down by now. The Fallen betrayed God, not to mention all Angelkind, and there was nothing Ramiel hated more than traitors.

“If you kill me, you will never learn of where you can find Zakara. And without my knowledge, you will never find her. It’s how she’s remained hidden from your kind for centuries. She’s a ghost amongst the living,” the demon replied.

Rami slammed the demon against the wall, causing some of the brick to crumble and fall to the ground. His rage spiraled as his body came to life when the demon muttered the fallen angel’s name.

Zakara, Rami whispered in his mind. She held the answers. That’s why his blood quickened and stirred in his veins. There was hope of getting into Hell, and this Fallen was the key.

“Is Zakara related to Crocell?” Rami muttered, trying to contain his excitement. He recalled Illianna’s brothers saying the blue bitches were fallen angels. It would be a boon to eliminate a sister of the evil spawn that took Izzy.

“No. She isn’t related to Crocell,” he replied.

The demon’s declaration smothered some of Rami’s enthusiasm. The prospect of killing this Zakara after she gave him the information he needed, and hurting Crocell in the process was too good to be true.

Ramiel put his sword away and grabbed the creature’s shirt, bringing the Daeva close to his face. “Tell me who this Zakara is and where I can find her,” he spat.

“Promise you won’t kill me,” the demon countered. Stupid fucking piece of shit. Rami’s fist repeatedly slammed into his flesh before he regained control.

“Promise, Angel,” came the rasp when Rami stood there glaring and heaving as his raw knuckles bled from the acid burns caused by the demon blood.

“You’ve got five minutes,” Ramiel growled.

The Daeva didn’t waste any time snagging his chance to live. “Zakara owns a hidden bar called Seven Lively Sinz located in New York City. Only demons can find it. She’s got some fucking powerful connections to stay hidden from your kind. There, I’ve told you what I know. Now, let me go.”

Ramiel itched to end the demon’s existence. But it was imperative he keep his promises. It was one of the cornerstones between Light and Dark. Ultimately, Rami’s desire to get to the city that never slept had him releasing the demon. The creature scrambled from his clutches then melted into the shadows moments later.

Ramiel took a moment to compose himself. Several deep breaths later he found his center. After connecting with his higher power, his molecular structure dispersed and his essence floated toward the sky. He barreled toward the east coast at the speed of light. He was going to save Izzy, and this Zakara was going to help him, willing or not.

* * *

Zakara wiped circles on the bar as she watched a rowdy group of demons arguing. She debated whether she should end the altercation now before they had a chance to destroy one of her favorite tables. She loved the piece of furniture and didn’t want to see it ruined. The regulars at Seven Lively Sinz rarely got to the point of smashing her belongings because they knew she’d kick their ever-loving asses and she hoped they weren’t testing her tonight.

As one pus demon stood up and pounded fists on her lovely teal table, she reconsidered. The slimy green goo could be wiped clean, but the crack left by the Melcom demon was another matter.

She usually allowed her patrons a certain amount of freedom to work through disagreements, but she liked that table. In fact, she couldn’t find that color of paint anymore. It wasn’t just any shade of teal.

The table was custom-made by a human female she met in Costa Rica decades ago. She immediately fell in love with the colorful décor in the country. Kara liked the bright colors and used them in her living quarters located on the ground floor below the bar, as well as, throughout Seven Lively Sinz.

Her barkeep, Joe, wasn’t going to be happy when she told him to fix it. The male was skilled at most tasks, but matching paint color wasn’t one of them. Too many years of blood, booze, and grime made it impossible for the match to be accurate and she was always left disappointed with the outcome. And no doubt he would insist on a blowjob for his efforts.

Tossing the dirty dishtowel over her shoulder, Zakara grabbed Fred, her trusty spike-covered bat, as she stalked from behind the bar. Her feet stuck on the messy floor and demons stopped what they were doing when they felt her immense displeasure radiating in waves. She was the most powerful demon on Earth, and most days her mere presence kept the patrons in line, but there were always those too stupid to follow simple rules.

“What seems to be the problem? And if you pound that table one more time I will bash your fucking skull,” she said as she tapped the bat against her palm.

As she peered closer, Zakara realized the crack wasn’t as bad as she initially thought. She’d have Joe patch it and paint a colorful bird to cover the mar. A handjob should suffice for such a simple task.

The pus demon chittered and pointed at Serin, the Melcom demon. Humans would balk at the sight of green, gooey creatures but it was the norm in Seven Lively Sinz. Zakara shook her head, her short purple locks flying with the movement.

Demons were possessive creatures, and it seemed Serin was hunting in the pus demon’s territory. Zakara didn’t bother asking the whereabouts. It didn’t matter if it was the entire city, a block, or a dirty old mattress. Demon’s number one rule…you never hunted in another’s territory, and there was no missing that rancid smell a pus demon used to mark their area.

“He didn’t mark the alley,” the Melcom insisted.

The other male stood tall, highlighting his slim stature. His weasel-like face didn’t detract from the pheromones he was throwing off. Zakara knew better than to judge a demon based on its appearance. The most attractive could kill you while they fucked you, and the ugliest could give you the shirt off their back. For a price, of course. Personally, Kara judged others based on their actions, not their looks.

“I would never have stalked the female down that alley if it contained his mark. You’re too dense to mark what’s yours,” Serin continued.

That got the two of them yelling again, and a chair was kicked over, breaking one of the legs.

She’d had enough and took two steps, swinging the bat at the pus demon. The nail-studded wood sank into the green flesh and came away with chunks stuck to the end. Green slime oozed from the abdominal injury, while at the same time, Serin held out his hands and backed away from the weapon. The other patrons began chanting kill as she glared at the demons in front of her.

“There’s no need for that, Kara. I didn’t break the chair,” Serin insisted.

A wave of her hand silenced the room. “You come into my bar after you knowingly hunted in another’s territory, and expect that shit to fly? I will take you down motherfucker,” Zakara bellowed as her rage infiltrated the room. As a fallen angel, she wasn’t born with the red eyes of a demon. Instead, her light blue eyes turned a reddish-purple when she was angry.

The pus demon slumped to the floor, keening as he tried to shove his guts back inside. Its high-pitched wail threatened to break all the glass in her establishment. She noticed the patrons were miffed and some got up and left. That meant she was losing money which was a no bueno in her book.

“Stop being a pussy. Guts grow back,” Kara declared as she swung Fred again, dislodging green chunks with the movement.

Patrons jumped out of the path as green flesh and slime covered the bar. Gristle splattered the concrete floors, and the brightly-painted walls were dripping with it. She would need to call Chelsea to help clean the colossal mess.

The wailing stopped, and the pus demon lowered his head. Chittering started immediately as the pus demon scrambled to get a towel and clean the mess Zakara made with his flesh. The idiot didn’t know his head from his asshole, but at least Chelsea’s job would be easier.

Serin picked up the broken chair and sat it upright, but it fell back to the ground with a dull thunk. The remaining patrons went back to what they were doing once they realized the altercation was over.

“This needs repairing,” Serin stated as he closed the distance between them.

The male was good looking enough, and when her gaze traveled south, she saw the evidence of his desire. It had been too damn long since she’d had sex. She wasn’t picky about her partners and found pleasure with many unlikely sorts.

When Serin’s claw-tipped fingers traveled over the barbells pierced through her spine, she shuddered with pleasure.

She recalled the night Jared, the fucking asshat, took her wings. Now, thick scars marred her spine, but she didn’t hide the proof she was a Fallen. Fuck no. Instead, she wore tube tops and leggings to showcase the result of her life choice. If only she could shove it in the judgmental fucker’s face, but that would require he leave his lofty cloud and that would never happen.

Serin’s black eyes narrowed to slits and his beak-shaped nose flared as he continued to scrape the metal embedded in her back.

There was no denying the arousal that flooded her system from his touch. Piercing the scarred flesh transformed her agony to titillation. She didn’t understand the physiology behind it, but she relished the sensation of the metal in her flesh.

Her life was vastly different now than it was in Heaven. That was a time when she foolishly loved with all she had. She willingly gave her devotion to a male that squashed her heart like it was an annoying cockroach. Now, she scoffed at that pathetic female.

She couldn’t recall how long it had been since she’d fallen from Heaven, but it still seemed like yesterday when she appeared on Jared’s doorstep and saw him fucking a Joybringer. Devastation washed through Zakara as her boyfriend stood there in his naked glory, staring as if she’d lost her mind.

She’d never forget the asshat’s calmly stated words, “Why the tears, Zakara? Did you lose a charge? Perhaps you should go see Raphael.” The urge to claw his eyes was just as strong today, many centuries later. The emotionless fool didn’t deserve the suffering he’d caused her.

The worst part was Zakara wanted him as her mate. What a mistake that would’ve been. He didn’t have a loyal bone in his sorry-ass body. Inevitably, Jared’s betrayal ripped her rose-colored lenses away and pushed her into the arms of Lucifer and the Underworld.

Zakara shook her head, releasing her past, and pushed Fred’s blunt tip into the demon’s gut. “Not tonight, Serin. I’m still pissed, and I have a huge mess to clean, thanks to you and your fucking friend.”

“Next time,” Serin called out before heading toward a Djinn seated at a nearby table.

Serin would be indulging in the demoness in no time while Zakara mopped pus and tended bar. Life wasn’t perfect, but at least she called the shots.

She loved the fast pace of New York, and Lucifer hadn’t sent his goons to find her and force her back to his domain. Long as she kept hidden from the rest of the world, she didn’t see any reason her sire would search for her.

As the evening settled into usual chaos, Zakara went about her business, filling drink orders and moving her body to the oldies but goodies blaring from the corner jukebox. She lost herself in the feel of the music and swayed her hips, enjoying her freedom.

When she felt eyes on her backside, Zakara glanced over to see Serin and the Djinn smiling seductively in her direction. Yeah, she needed to get laid. Perhaps she’d join him and the demoness for a few hours, after all.