Chaos Rises: A Veil World Urban Fantasy by Pippa DaCosta Page B

shimmered a true ebony, so dark and smooth he could have been dipped in ink. But it was the burned wings that gave him away as demon. A smattering of silky black feathers clung to ragged bits of crisped sinew and pale bone. I couldn’t see his face. He’d hunched over, burying his head under his arms, hugging himself into a tight crouch.
    Tiny glyphs throbbed where they’d been scratched into the metal. Although small, their combined effects made my skin want to crawl off my bones and scurry into a corner. The weight of those glyphs against the demon must have been immense.
    I stepped closer, pushing against the repelling glyphs. My stomach squirmed, along with my demon. Those wings... What had happened? He had to be in terrible agony. But he didn’t tremble, didn’t mummer, barely breathed.
    Whoever he was now—for Allard to have gone to such extraordinary lengths to keep him caged, hidden from the world, and subdued beneath what probably equated to tons of power—this demon had to be something, someone powerful.
    “He’s really quite the specimen,” Allard said from beside me. If the sight wasn’t enough to convince me, Allard’s reverent tone certainly was.
    “He is,” I agreed carefully. Allard was clearly hunting for compliments. Here was his grand prize, his big secret. It would be an insult if I projected anything other than absolute admiration for Allard’s prowess. Why then did I feel the need to reach out and tear the cage apart, freeing the demon? I was supposed to kill demons, not set them free.
    “How long has he been here?” I whispered.
    “Since the Fall.”
    I clamped my teeth together, stopping the gasp before it could break free. Six months hunched in an elevator cage. It would have killed most demons. This specimen was not a typical demon.
    “Who is he?” I asked, my voice small.
    Allard smiled. He stretched the pause, relishing his moment of anticipation. And then, each word smooth and precise, he said, “He has many names and just as many titles, but his chosen name is Li’el, the Prince of Pride.”

Chapter 10
    A llard had a Prince of Hell in his basement. Either he was insane, or he had a plan. Why else would he keep a ticking bomb?
    I sat on the sloped roof of the house neighboring Torrent’s, arms draped over my drawn-up knees, worrying my lip between my teeth. After Allard had told me the demon’s name, I’d spent a few painful minutes gawking at his prize and excused myself before I said or did something that would insult Allard, and/or get me a trip to the white room all over again.
    That had been at least an hour ago. I’d wandered out of the hotel grounds, my mind awhirl and no destination in mind, until I’d wandered onto Torrent’s street. The lights were off inside his house. I’d considered breaking in again but figured he’d expect me to. Besides, the coronam wouldn’t be there.
    I should have already gone back to Fairhaven, found Joseph, and demanded to know exactly what steps he’d taken to find my brother. Instead, I’d scaled the rear wall of Torrent’s neighbors’ house, found a spot where I could observe any comings and goings, and that’s where I sat, wondering why in the netherworld-hell Allard would keep the Prince of Pride.
    He couldn’t hope to sell a prince. That was ludicrous, even for a demon like Allard. He was many things: sometimes vicious, often enterprising—but stupid wasn’t on that list. So why? As a trophy? That would make sense if he had the prince on display.
    How had he even captured a prince? It’s not as if they went down easily. They were immortal, for one. And once Pride got free—which he would; if an immortal demon has nothing else, he’s got time—I sincerely doubted he’d kill Allard quickly. He wouldn’t stop there either. He’d likely wipe out every single demon in Fairhaven just because he could. Including me.
    I began to wonder if all those glyphs were enough.
    “You just can’t stay away—”
    I’d