Demon Angel

swayed, shook his head to rid himself of the dizziness. When he focused again, Lucifer stood in front of them. At the demon's cloven feet, Sir Pup's huge body lay stretched out, bloody stumps where two of his heads should have been. He held his sword to the last of the hellhound's throats. "Choose," he said.
    Lilith went absolutely still, her features frozen in horror. "I'll kill you," she whispered.
    "Choose. Save your soul and save your pet—or save the human." He flicked a glance at Hugh. "Much longer and it won't matter anyway."
    It was true; Hugh's blood was still leaking out, and Michael couldn't replace it now. Before, it had been freshly drawn, then preserved in the Doyen's cache. The blood on his chest could not be recycled the same way. "Lilith…"
    She turned to him suddenly, her face white. "Do you agree to give your will, your life to me? Will you let it be taken in any way I choose?"
    Lucifer laughed. "You do not need his permission; why else would I have turned you into this?"
    Hugh ignored him. "Aye."
    She swallowed. "Then don't look."
    Movement behind Lucifer's shoulder. Selah, finally. Michael. Rael, his left hand regenerating half its fingers.
    And Belial. It must be: the demon looked a spirit of light, as if he intended to return to His Grace at any moment.
    Hugh closed his eyes.
    Lilith watched as Hugh closed himself completely off, then turned to Lucifer. Forced away the image of Hugh's blood, of Sir Pup's prostrate, mutilated form.
    A burst of power from Michael; she felt the injury from the nosferatu's weapon heal—but it could not help Hugh. She looked down, glanced quickly back up. Sir Pup still lay there; Lucifer must be using his magic to block it. Somewhere, on the hellhound's body, was a symbol that was preventing Michael from healing him.
    Lucifer was smiling. "I created them."
    She spoke to Michael. "Do you have any blood left?"
    "Very little."
    "Use it." Any extra time. Any.
    The Doyen didn't answer, but the intense focus told her that he was transferring more to Hugh.
    "Choose, Father:"
    Lucifer waited, smiling. He must have known Belial stood behind him, but he gave no indication of it.
    Of course he wouldn't. But his rival's presence must be distracting; even Lucifer could not monitor Michael, Belial and Lilith at once… and she would be considered the least threatening, even though she held the Doyen's sword.
    Belial came to them. He stopped beside her, and Lilith gestured to the sword in her hand.
    "A weapon for a weapon," she said to him, her heart thudding. "Rael offered me one, and I promised to repay him. I offer this one to him and his liege—but I will not if Lucifer chooses to release me from my bargain."
    Michael's face hardened, but he did not look away from Hugh.
    "Choose, Father," she said. "Right now, Hugh is dying by my hand—but he has given over his will to me. And I will allow Belial to impale him. You'll lose the wager, because it was done at my behest, but not personally by me. And after his death Michael will make him a Guardian, so I lose nothing. You have only one choice: release me from my bargain."
    Lucifer's eyes burned with hellflre. "You dare—"
    "Choose, Father." Her voice commanded his silence, and she got it. "If you release me from my bargain, Michael has agreed to release you from his wager. You won't have Caelum, but you will not have to close the Gates to Hell. Is having my soul and Hugh's temporary death worth five hundred years without access to Earth?" Her brows rose mockingly. "Are we so important to you?"
    Belial smiled. She couldn't look at him for long; his beauty seemed to incinerate her from within. "It appears you are," he said in the Old Language.
    Lucifer did not move. Humiliation was already his, simply by being put in this position. Now he had to decide between the slight humiliation of releasing her from the bargain, or losing control of the Gates—and possibly his throne, if she gave Belial the sword.
    "Choose, Father." She pursed her lips at his continued silence, then grinned. "There is little choice, isn't there?"
    His mouth curled into a snarl. "I release you from your bargain. But you will always wear my mark, Lilith."
    "Truth," Hugh said, the word no louder than an exhalation.
    A smile touched her mouth. He had closed his eyes, but he had not left her—and he had feared that Lucifer would attempt the same as she. "I know," she said. "I will always be Lilith."
    She turned and gave the sword to Belial. It flared to life