Tags:
Paranormal,
YA),
paranormal romance,
Young Adult,
demons,
Angels,
fallen angel,
Ignite,
angels and demons,
eden,
penemuel,
azael,
ignite series,
entice
Az’s words are short and clipped, verging on angry.
“That we were in competition for top tier ranking,” she says.
Botis tips his head to one side in amusement. “Whichever team can corrupt Adam first is crowned the winner.”
A deformed crown at that, I think bitterly.
Doesn’t matter, Pen. I could make even the most broken crown look formidable.
There’s a few beats of uncomfortable silence—both sides waiting for the other to speak first—before I decide to shove my words into the space between us.
“So you’re not planning on working with us then?” I ask them.
Naamah purses her lips. With one of her nails, she carves a pattern into the table again. For a flash, the words they had hidden from us appear, and I quickly devour the information before it disappears again.
Got it, I tell Azael. I know what they’re going to do.
“I think not,” she finally answers me. “Who would choose friendly over fierce competition?”
“If that’s what you both believe is best,” Az says, a sharp smirk cutting across his face. “Have it your way. See you in Eden.”
We stand together and exit the hall, leaving everyone inside staring at our backs curiously.
What’s their plan?
I wait a beat before turning to him with a dangerous smile of my own. An apple.
Chapter 9
––––––––
“A N APPLE . L IKE THE WAXY red fruit?”
I scrunch my nose. “Is there any other kind?”
“Do you think it’s a code? Maybe like...to throw us off?” He kicks out at the wall, sending a shower of ice scattering ahead. “Let’s see. Apple could be code for Adam. Ass—”
“Ass?”
“It’s kind of shaped like one,” he explains in complete seriousness. “Or fruit could be more like...money. Like ‘reaping the fruits of our labor.’ They could be planning to bribe him. Offer him a sweet, juicy stack of gold. Or piggyback off of us, ride our coattails. I’m betting it’s a code.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t think it’s a code. It’d be unnecessary.”
He looks over at me with raised eyebrows.
“She’s already speaking in a kind of code by using the symbols.”
“Because no one else in Hell can read?” he asks sarcastically.
“They were hieroglyphs.”
He shrugs his shoulders. “I have no idea what that means.”
“Exactly. Hieroglyphs—they’re these symbols, pictographs and images, that represent a word, syllable, or sound. The one she drew, it was unique, rarely used. And it only has one meaning, so there was no room for misinterpretation.” I smile, glad to have my linguistics studies finally paying off. Knowledge of language opens many doors.
Azael stares at me, one skeptical eyebrow raised. “Hiero-what?”
“Hieroglyphs. It’ll be big for a couple of centuries, trust me.”
“Characters. Little tiny pictures for words. Wow, I am not looking forward to that phase.”
“The point is that they wouldn’t know I could see the carving, let alone decipher it. Most scribes haven’t studied all of the languages. We’re usually assigned to one or two hundred. There’d be a one in 10,000 chance an angel would know that one. Well, most angels.”
“Right.”
“But I’ve learned almost all of them. At least to some proficiency.”
“Of couuuurse you have.” He shakes his head. “Didn’t you have any better way to spend your time?”
“Absolutely not.” I grin. “Because now we have an advantage over them. They’ve shown us their cards, but we haven’t shown them ours.”
“Do we even have cards?”
We round the corner and press against the wall, walking single file as a flurry of leather creatures passes by us. They puff humid breaths that evaporate in the cold air and smell like sulfur. I hear Azael grumble in front of me something about presentation. When their hulking forms squeeze down another corridor, I move back next to Az.
“Not yet.” I skip a few steps to keep pace with him as he slides around another corner. “I should
Marilyn Rausch, Mary Donlon