Immortal Rider (LD2) by Larissa Ione

punishing him when he tried to eat it. She’d never wanted to commit mass murder more than she did right now.
    “No eyes and guts today. Special treat.”
    “Fuck off. I want my usual. And don’t tell me you’re out of maggot-ridden rotting meat, because you seem to have an abundance of that.”
    “Tell you what,” she said lightly. “You can have the nasty stuff after you eat this.” She backed toward the door, hoping he’d eat after she was gone, but suspecting he wouldn’t.
    Turned out, she was right.
    She covertly watched through the sliding glass door that led from the back deck to the bedroom, as he stared at the food with a desperate longing in his eyes. Finally, when it was clear that Arik wouldn’t touch the food, she found Hekili taking inventory in the pantry.
    “I need something… disgusting-looking,” she said. “Something that’s edible, healthy, but won’t look like it’s real food.” She paused, considering the whole torture chamber scenario. “And put it on a paper plate or a cheap pie tin.”
    “I can get just the thing.” Smiling, Hekili wiped his hands on the towel draped over the shoulder of his chef jacket. “Haggis.”
    Yeah, that would do it. “Perfect.”

Eight

    Harvester hated taking orders from anyone, but the instructions she’d recently received couldn’t be ignored. She didn’t understand them, but she knew that if she screwed up, she would be in big trouble. And if she succeeded, she could be in even bigger trouble.
    What she was about to do could put her life in danger the moment she exited Sheoul and entered the human realm, where the forces of Heaven could snuff her like a cigarette. Complete with the crush of a galaxy-sized boot.
    She glanced around her residence, which, though richly decorated in artwork from around the various regions of Sheoul, was as cold and unappealing as the blackened forest all around the house. Her werewolf slave, Whine, was the only thing that gave her home life, though today he was dragging ass. She’d taken a little too much blood from him last night, and though he would never complainabout being tired, she saw it in the way he moved—slower and with far less grace than usual.
    But she couldn’t afford to feel bad, and she certainly couldn’t afford to show him any compassion. In this place, kindness killed.
    “Stop dawdling,” she snapped. “I need the guest chamber prepared immediately.” She didn’t wait for Whine to nod. She flashed straight to the one person who could help her carry out her mission, the most powerful Orphmage in the underworld.
    The Neethul, Gormesh, occupied a crystal tower on the craggy banks of the river Acheron. Guards circled the tower, which was clear as glass right now, but could change color and opacity at Gormesh’s whim. He was in his lab, walking between rows of test subjects. Unwilling test subjects, if the way they were strapped to tables and locked in cages was any indication.
    The guards didn’t mess with her, and she passed through the front doors with no problem. The moment the doors closed, the palace walls turned smoky, and in moments, the sorcerer appeared at the top of the grand staircase.
    “Harvester.” His voice was as smoky as the walls. “It’s been centuries.”
    Which hadn’t been long enough. She cut to the chase. “I need something that will paralyze an angel.”
    Gormesh whistled, long and low. “Angels aren’t easily immobilized. You know that.”
    “Of course I know that,” she gritted out. She might have left Heaven thousands of years ago, but every memory of her time as a pure angel was as sharp as one of the Orphmage’s scalpels.
    “Why not simply trap your angel with a containment spell and cut off his wings?”
    “Because this particular angel won’t be easily led into a trap, and I don’t have the time to set up something elaborate.” She started up the stairs, holding the sorcerer with her gaze. “My orders are coming from the very top, so any