Hector snickered, clearly enjoying the idea.
Maddox slipped his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “At first, I thought that an order was given from someone much higher up to wipe us all out. But then your friends went after my anchor, thereby bringing her lair into this mess. That was sloppy. Ill-thought out. Definitely not something the upper realm would sanction unless they wanted a war, and I don’t believe they do. There’d be no winner. There would only be death and destruction on both sides—neither wants that. Plus, there are much simpler ways to begin a war, if that was really what someone wanted.
“My guess is that an archangel recruited you, your friends, and a bunch of other halo-bearers to do his bidding. He believes that ridding the Earth of my kind will grant him a place among the infamous Seven. I would like his name.”
The angel gave him a stubborn look.
“It really isn’t wise for you to shut down now. You’ve lived this long in my company because you like to talk. So talk.”
“I will die before I betray him,” he said, his teeth chattering so hard he’d be lucky if he didn’t bite his tongue.
“You realize that if an angel dies in this realm their soul doesn’t return to heaven, yes?”
“Yes. But I will die knowing I played a part in the ascension of—” He cut himself off.
“Don’t stop now.” Maddox wasn’t entirely surprised that the angel stayed silent. His demon wasn’t disappointed, because there were ways to make him reconsider being so uncooperative … and the entity would enjoy seeing him suffer, given that he’d happily been part of a plot that involved hurting its anchor. “What is your worst memory?”
The angel frowned. “My what?”
“The most painful moment of your life. What is it?” Maddox tipped his head to the side. “Let’s find out, shall we?” He held up his hand, conjured the cold red energy that hummed constantly beneath his skin, and sent out a call he couldn’t quite put into words. Just as angels could call on a person’s happiest memory— something they usually brought to the surface of someone’s mind to help them peacefully pass on to the next life—Maddox could call on their worst.
“What are you doing?” demanded the angel, his eyes wide.
“Ah, there it is,” said Maddox as a memory played through his mind like a fast-forward video clip. “You love her, but they won’t let you have her, will they? The moment she publicly bound herself to another angel broke something inside you. Not just because she’d never be yours, but because she looked happy. You hate her for that. Still, you don’t hate her more than you love her. You wish you did, but you don’t.”
Pain flashed in the angel’s eyes. “Stop,” he bit out.
“Have you ever heard of time loops? It’s when a person has to continuously re-experience a certain period of time. And me, well, I can place a person in a psychic time loop, forcing them to relive something in their mind over and over again for as long as I please. They know they’re caught up in it. They know it can be stopped. But they cannot stop it. Only I can free them from it. I think you see where I’m going with this.”
The blood drained from the angel’s face.
“You can choose to be a martyr if you want, of course. But I won’t kill you for keeping the archangel’s name from me. I will simply torture you. I will force you to relive that moment where you had to officially accept that you’d lost her for good; that she’d never really loved you, not if she was happy without you.”
Pausing, Maddox took a step toward him. “If you think it was agonizing the first time, ask yourself how it will feel when you’ve re-experienced it for the fiftieth. And no, you won’t get used to it. Because you’ll also relive the pain, not just the moment itself. Whoever the archangel is … he’s not worth it. And if he’s truly so great, he’ll get where he’s meant to be without your help, so you’d only be suffering unnecessarily. Now … what is his name?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Holding his phone to his ear, Maddox sank into the armchair near his bed. “What do you know about an archangel named Castiel Ozera?”
“Where did you hear that name?” asked Viper.
“From a halo-bearer who tried to kill me. He told me plenty about Castiel, but it was praise, praise, and more praise. Let’s just say he’s a devout follower of Castiel.”
“But not so devout that he refused to tell you what you wanted to know.”
“I can be very persuasive.”
Viper chuckled. “I’ll bet.” There was a pause. “Well, Castiel is quite high up in the heavenly host,” he said, referring to the upper realm’s army. “He’s ambitious. Cunning. Arrogant. Seeks positions of authority to compensate for his own weaknesses— you know the kind. They need to be someone in power in order to feel they’re worth something, and then they abuse that power. He ‘collects’ people who are weaker than him yet just as ambitious—feeds them false praise, promises them promotions, and says he ‘sees’ something special in them.”