Entice: An Ignite Novella Read Free

hiding a more serious injury, I drop his arms and step away.
    “You are an imbecile,” I tell him.
    “I’m a bloody hero, thank you very much.”
    “You.” I step closer to him, pointing my finger in his face accusingly. His smile widens and I’m engulfed in rage—in an anger that expands with fear and the possibility of what could have happened. The probability of what should have happened...but didn’t. The almost is unbearable. I curl my finger into my fist and, before I can reel in my temper, throw the hardest punch I can muster. I hear the bones in his jaw break.
    He doesn’t even blink. He just puts his hand, dark with dried blood—is it his?—to his jaw and laughs, short and irritated. “Not the typical way to reward a victor, but I appreciate the gusto.”
    Hot tears burn the back of my eyes. “You could have died .” My voice comes out in a harsh whisper, and I’m suddenly very aware of all of the eyes trained on us. “What were you thinking? Were you even thinking?”
    “I was thinking it was time to win this war,” he says with a grimace, removing his hand from his now broken jaw. He gestures behind him to Michael. “I was thinking that it was time for him to die, that I could help speed things along and assure us respectable positions in Hell. I was thinking my sister would be thrilled at an actual, noteworthy title.”
    I look over his shoulder at the crumpled form of Michael. He’s bloody and broken, bruised and beaten. The light he once held is drained. He looks dull, more than dead—he’s gone. For some reason, I can’t force myself to consider this a win.
    I left Heaven with Azael to fight for an admirable cause. We were promised eternal glory and a chance to fight in an army that valued each of its members. With Lucifer, we were to be remembered, not just another name and number in old books. But isn’t that all we are now?
    Azael didn’t give us fame; he assured us infamy. We can never return to Heaven. Not now.
    Lucifer walks up to us, gliding over the rocky clay like mist. “Siblings,” he notes, looking between us. “Oh no, much more— twins .” His cold eyes burn into me like frostbite, and suddenly, I feel overexposed. It’s like he can see to my core, identify my strengths and weaknesses in one breath, and decide whether he wants to exploit me or destroy me. He smiles and I feel like I’ve just told him all of my secrets, like my skin has been turned inside out and emptied. “Such power lies in the blood of twins. What are your names?”
    I cross my arms, angry with Azael and the lies I believed from Hell. This war wasn’t an admirable cause. It was desperate, needless bloodshed in the name of ego. Powerful angels using their subordinates as soldiers, as pawns on their chess board.
    The angels aren’t the only ones who wear masks; maybe Hell intends to do the same, to disguise its cruelty as justice. I owe nothing to Lucifer and am content with staying silent, but Azael answers for me.
    “I am Azael.” He kneels at Lucifer’s feet and bows his head. “This is my sister, Penemuel.”
    Lucifer looks from Az’s shoulders to me, as if he expects me to bow down to him too. I shift on my feet and look around at the fallen angels and demons at the base of the mountain, dead. No one makes any move to give them a decent burial, to respect their deaths. No one even tries to cover them up or to close the eyes of those who can no longer see.
    This is not what I signed up for .
    If the dead deserve no respect, then neither do the people who ordered their execution. I straighten my stance and square my shoulders. I will not bow to him.
    “You’ll have to excuse my sister,” Azael says, looking up at me. The muscles in his jaw tense, like he’s chewing on words he wants to hurl at me. He’d say something now, but he’s saving it for later. Wouldn’t want Lucifer to end up in the middle of our fight. “She’s ignorant of respectful conduct amongst...well, amongst