*Chiara

Chiara knew that walking through a hall of hell, openly, as an angel had to be the stupidest plan she'd ever heard, and here was the proof she was right: the party around them came to a grinding halt.

Logan muttered something about a problem.

"You noticed?" she replied.

A woman, human, began crying.

A demon reached with the back of his hand as if to caress her. "Lovely winged-thing, may I touch the feathers?"

Before Chiara could move back, Logan shoved him. "Touch my prize and you die."

Another demon moved, and Logan punched him, taking his huge hammer at the same time. Addressing the crowd, he hefted the weapon to underline his next words.

"This winged verbrekan is mine, won by my fighting. And none shall touch her or have her. Let it be known, the Wing-Cutter walks with his prize."

Everything he said was an axe falling on her heart.

His prize—she was chained to the wall again, a toy for him to play with.

Verbrekan—a thing of chaos, an abomination, a cross between demon and angel that should never exist. She was, wasn't she? A thing that should never exist—a weak, sinful angel willing to make any deal, sell any part of herself to survive.

Wing-Cutter. That was the worst.

He was, and always would be a murderer of angels, and her enemy. If she had any courage, she would put her sword through his back at that instant and rid the realms of him, avenging hundreds of her kind who perished only after he cut off their wings.

She couldn't do it, though.

In her heart, hid the truth. She couldn't kill Logan. She needed him too much.

Wanted him too much.

A magnificent demon wended through the crowd, taller than the others, larger even than Logan. Chiara tried to see past the external beauty of these warrior class demons, but it was no use. Except for the lack of wings, he could have walked into the Court of Stars and not a single angel would have blinked.

The new demon had no weapon, but that didn't seem to be a problem. "You should know, Wing-Cutter, that I desire what you possess."

"Fuck it all," Logan hissed under his breath.

"Wonderful," she snapped. The newcomer was obviously itching for a fight, and he wasn't the only one. "This hall is wrath, isn't it?"

Logan tilted his head towards her. "Envy."

They wanted what they thought he had....

Well, she wasn't available.

Killing demons was what she was made for—what she had trained years to do. She would not hesitate this time and she would not let them take her alive.

More weapons appeared in the crowd.

Logan growled and assumed a fighting stance. "Stay behind me, do not fight. You will draw them nearer."

Chiara scoffed. Who did this demon think he was to give her orders?

I wield the morning's light, sharp as winter's ice.

She lifted her sword. She would show them no pity and she would mow them down as an early frost destroys the field.

"Chiara," Logan whispered. "Don't—"

Her blade hissed through the air. She spun, cutting and killing as smoothly as a dancer. Screams erupted, some pain, some fear, some battle cries.

Someone grabbed her wings, but just as quickly let go with a cry of pain. Logan's sword was through her attacker's chest and he turned to kill another before the first hit the ground.

She narrowed her eyes in anger.

He was trying to outdo her in this fight—to kill more demons than her...

The crowd moved like waves in the ocean, forcing them one way and then another, but Chiara never let up with her blade. Bodies pressed tight, a blade sliced her arm—not to kill but to subdue and possess her.

She glanced upwards. There was plenty of space above the crowd. She shoved her wings outward. Demons screamed, burned by her feathers. Then a swath around her was cleared.

Logan. That killing machine.

He might have a higher count than her by then.

She gritted her teeth and bent her knees, preparing to jump.

A hand wrapped around her wrist. She thrust her sword.

It was blocked and Logan came face-to-face with her, annoyed. "It's me. What are you doing?"

"Fighting!"

"By flying?" He twisted to knock away a chair coming at his head and jabbed outwards with the spear he had taken from another opponent.

"Yes." She struck a lower class demon's neck, slicing his head off. "It's a time-honored technique."

"That every demon here will recognize as angelic," he hissed in her ear. "If you fly, fly us out of here."

"You're too heavy for me."

"Then wait for me at the door," he said. And smacked her ass with the flat of his hand.

She almost, almost cut off that hand with her sword, but he was already busy clearing the area for her.

Fine.

Besides, he was magnificent in battle...

She bent her knees, spread her wings, and faster than the eye could blink, whipped them together to launch herself into flight. The power of her wings sent humans sprawling to the floor in a wide circle, but the demons held their ground, still fighting Logan...until they realized she was trying to leave.

The crowd surged, a weirdly solid-liquid mass. Music still thumping, she clapped her wings once, twice, and one more time was all it took to carry her to the far side of the hall.

She landed. Her sword was up, ready to strike, but no one over here attacked her. They stared. Several licked their lips, desire clear in their gaze.

"My winged-sweet," a demon said, hand outstretched. "Let me worship your body as it should be."

Her lip curled in disgust. "I am not your sweet anything, foul beast."

Lust changed to wrath in an instant on his face. He lunged. Her sword slid through his chest. Others watched, curious, eyes flashing with the lights, but many turned away to continue their grinding, thrashing dancing.

A rumble of screams grew over the music. Higher pitched cries shot through.

Here comes Logan....

Chiara ran to the wide doors at the end of the hall. They were wide open. She grabbed one to pull it closed—the hinges were on the wrong side of the walls. When the crowd arrived they would push it open again.

"Fuck."

Too bad. She closed the first and then pulled the second mostly closed. She watched as the crowd waved, and suddenly parted.

Logan barreled through. Although blood splattered and marked with wounds, demons fell dead at his feet as he ran.

"Go, go!" he shouted, waving at her.

Her heart skipped and molten heat sizzled downwards as she watched. He was amazing.

He had called her his prize. But in the depths of Hell, she could take what she wanted, too.

Forcing herself to move, she slipped through the door into the next hall. It was a jarring difference with brighter lights and red carpet.

They could close the doors against the crowd, but the doors wouldn't stay closed.

*** Chiara has a touch of envy, too, it would seem... Thank you for reading and have a fabulous day. ***