A/N:

Another chapter! It's like I'm on a roll, or something. Damlone and Blueberryandhoney did the Betas. kt_valmiri soundboarded. OnceNeverTwiceAlways edited. Full and due credit to them for their inspired support and long sufferance of my endless rewrites. This was a very fun chapter to write. I had no control over where it ended up, though. It grew a mind of its own and... This happened.

Nick liked having his paws occupied. Idle paws were the Devil's workshop, after all. A saying he felt was amusing given the circumstances in which he found himself. The Devil was tempted.

Once he'd laid the little angel down to sleep, he'd faced a long night alone with his thoughts. That was nothing unusual in itself. However, sitting and staring into his memory was not a pastime Nick was particularly fond of. Until lately, it had been entirely impossible without suffering an attack. Now, he was able to—in part. Vast swaths of his memories remained locked away, but there were some he could still call up.

He'd given up trying to understand why so much of his own mind was hidden long ago. Now, things were different. He still felt the panic and pain, but it was muted. Enough for him to prod the edges a bit. His memory was like a wound. Too much attention and it would reopen, potentially leaving him a wreck or catatonic for days, and he could not afford the risk. Instead, Nick set to using his time more productively.

Once Finnick arrived, there'd be plenty of reading to keep him busy, but, in the meantime, there was still more to accomplish.

Nick set about cleaning up his Den. If he was to effectively fight this whatever-it-was he was up against, he needed to set his house in order, or at least clean out a working space. To that end, he began with organizing and clearing up the vast labyrinth of crates and boxes that cluttered his home. Silently. This required some time and considerable effort. His home was large, and he did not want to disturb the bunny. This, in turn, created another problem. It made using his power on a larger scale very costly. Mostly, due to his self-restraint.

He was already hungry, and his Sins were starting to chafe under his will. It didn't help that he had an angel lying asleep—and completely vulnerable—in his bed. He could slake his desire and feed his Sins as easily as invading her dreams. He could take her then and there. It was even likely she would welcome him. The scent of her desire and her tumultuous emotions had been his intermittent companions for days now. A stray draft of air would carry her scent to his nostrils, and the Bond kept flickering open and closed, entirely outside either of their control. It was tantalizing.

He knew she was cracking and tearing herself apart because of it. He was elated. Thrilled! The corruption of an angel was one of the greatest legends in House Luxuria. Supposedly, a pleasure beyond comprehension. Nick was achingly close to confirming the myth, and his prey would be the Heir herself! The anticipation set his teeth on edge. Then, the memory of their enemy's order to take her flitted through his mind, and his excitement soured.

He was no one's puppet.

Additionally, there was the overwhelming desire to protect the little ball of fluff that the memory had triggered. That...thing...wanted her harmed and him to be the instrument of the harming. It was all quite vexing. So many conflicting drives. It was almost as though he were growing a conscience.

That thought stopped Nick cold.

Revulsion rolled through him, and he put the rest of his musing to the side. This was why he avoided introspection in the first place. Once the main hall had been cleaned up, Nick made his rounds to the rest of his oh-so-humble abode. There was much to do, and he was just the Demon to do it.

Nick wandered the halls of his home, refamiliarizing it with his presence. The armory and storerooms were paid visits. They had plenty of supplies laid by for months if not years under siege, if it came to that, and weapons to fight with. His wards and the spells that held his little bubble-outside-reality together were reaffirmed and thrumming with renewed vitality. The very stone and metal of the foundations came to life again in his presence—reviving after too long a hibernation.

His last stop was to his sanctum where he attended to a moment of private accomplishment. It was the one place in all creation where no one else had ever been. It was his. A table and chair, a bed, a shelf, and blissful simplicity. His own tiny, personal space away from running his new kingdom, or so it had been intended when he'd planned it. His sanctum, like his plans and so many other things, no longer held so much appeal to the fox.

Before he could turn introspective again, Nick got to work.

The halo he'd recovered after Buffy's death flew from his paw and landed neatly on the post of the four-poster bed, hanging there in pleasing disrepute. Next, he summoned his chest and arranged his trophies and supplies across the small work table he kept there for later work. Then, he moved on to the rest of his gear and relics.

An hour past midnight, the room was looking much more lived in. He had several spells working and a new tincture brewing in his bowls. His daggers were clean and enjoying a meal in the company of his armor. The living liquid was quite pleased to visit with the weapons as it rested in its dish. His spear was reclining nearby, occasionally rippling in pleasure at being with his fellows again. His chest was purring in its corner. It felt good to be home.

The last of his preparations was done.

He returned to the main hall, leaving his gear to their respective meals and company. He felt no danger at being separated from them, as they would return to him with a thought. Instead, the order of the moment was a pot of coffee. A perfectly paw-ground helping of arabica beans and heated water, just on the edge of boiling, were combined in an insulated stainless-steel coffee press. The result was pure caffeinated transcendence. He set it on the table in what was, he supposed, the temporary kitchen in the main hall and settled in to wait for the rabbit. He even placed a second mug on the table in anticipation.

How domestic of me.

The thought was not welcome. It was another puzzle added to Nick's list of annoyances and things he didn't want to think about. There were simply too many questions and too few answers. The worst of them being the things he knew the angel was hiding. The Bond—first and foremost—but that was something he couldn't push on just yet. The last time he'd tried, it hadn't done anything useful.

A close second were his wings and why they looked like mangy feather dusters. He'd never been a fan of leathery demon wings, but one learns to accept what one must. After he'd lost and then regained them, he was sure they'd be the same misshapen umbrellas that they'd been since his arrival in Hell. Now, they were tufted haphazardly with black feathers, and, when he used power, veins of gold shone through the skin. Peculiar to say the least. It was reminiscent of black marble and strikingly pretty, he had to admit. The feathers, though, were itchy and threw off his aesthetic.

Nick was moderately relieved that he didn't actually need his wings to fly. With the feathers, the aerodynamics of his wings were thrown off hideously. He'd fall straight out of the sky! Besides, they tickled.

Judy was less than calm as she stared at the most recent of her failed attempts at distracting herself. The file that she was trying to read was a mass of gobbledygook as far as her mind was able to ascertain. Any facts she should have been able to pull from it were lost in either her self-recriminations or the fire coursing under her skin.

Her day had been a disaster, and she couldn't focus on anything. Nick walked past after setting up his map and tracking spell. Judy had to amend her statement.

Almost anything.

Her eyes were glued to him as he passed her seat on the throw pillow by the fire. She hated herself for how badly he was affecting her. He wasn't even trying!

The start to her day was a near horror show for the frazzled angel. In the wake of the betrayals of the previous day, Judy was embarrassed to admit that she had fallen asleep on the fox's shoulder. The last thing she remembered was working up the courage to ask for a hug so she could pretend that she was safe for a second. She was not expecting to actually feel safe in the demon's embrace, let alone pass out. Then, the rapturous sensation of having her ears caressed had overwhelmed her. She had felt safe, comforted—completely trusting. She was out cold before she had realized she was tired. She had never slept better, or so she'd like to say. Her manner of waking, however, cast a severe shadow on her night's rest.

She had slowly drifted towards consciousness on the wings of an excessively erotic fever dream, which had been embarrassing enough. Waking up with the aftershocks of pleasure trembling through her limbs was worse. There had been a huge wet spot on the bed under her, and she was soaked halfway to her knees. Judy had immediately checked the Bond, but it had been closed tight, for once. Nick was being true to his word. His powers were not in play. He was not using them to make her dance to his tune. That fact sinking in left her feeling thrilled and disgusted with herself.

"I just…. Oh, heavens help me."

Then, she remembered what the heavens had planned for her. It didn't do anything to help her state of mind. The mess was all her—as was all of the lead up to that result.

Judy had scrambled off the enormous mattress in mortification before flailing into her next big mistake. As quickly as she could, she shucked her clothing and dumped it in a ball on the stained sheets. She muttered incantations for self-cleansing, followed by layered spells for concealment—all while checking the Bond in paranoid terror. To her brief satisfaction, it remained quiescent through her panicked spellcasting. With a deep breath, she set about her next task.

She went to rummage through one of the many boxes of clothes by the bed, only to find that the boxes been moved, as had the bed. It took her a moment or two to comprehend that everything in the now-expansive space was different. Her urgent need for clothing made it a moot point, however. She was completely naked and in the den of an incubus, after suffering severe porn dreams. The last thing she wanted to be was naked.

Or at least, she kept telling herself that in the hopes she could make it true.

The one thing she was grateful for in that moment was the fox's consideration. He'd arranged a changing screen to partially shield her apparent bedroom from the rest of the cathedral-esque space. If he was going to see her naked, it would be in a manner of her choosing.

That thought brought her up short. A breath later, she was frantically digging through boxes.

After a few minutes, she found a shirt that could easily double as a dress on her and pulled it over her head, before casting a layered purification spell on her dirty clothes and the messy mattress. Once it was going and stable, Judy checked herself over. Then, she stopped herself. It didn't matter how she looked. She was covered, and that was the important part. Judy fiddled with the buttons down her shirtfront as she left the spell to work its way through the damage she'd done and headed towards what, she assumed, was what passed for a kitchen in the Den.

There was more ambient light than last she remembered. She could see most of the room, and it was obvious she had missed a lot during the previous evening. The room itself was more like the inside of a cathedral than a warehouse basement. In fact, Judy couldn't find any trace of industrial architecture at all. If the boxes and miscellaneous knickknacks were removed, she would have sworn she was inside the main sanctuary of a massive church. Light radiated from torch sconces set into massive columns. The center of the floor was dominated by the huge fire pit, and the ceiling stretched away into flickering shadows far too high up to be underground.

She resolved to ask Nick about it as soon as she found him and then promptly forgot about it when the smell of coffee coming from the other side of the fire pit tickled her nostrils. Her nose led her along, easily guiding her towards her host, despite the inconstant light and her lack of night-vision. Her relief at seeing Nick seated at a small table and enjoying a pot lasted until she actually looked at him.

There was nothing unusual about the fox to the naked eye. She'd seen it all before. He was the same rangy frame draped in fire-red and cream fur. His great wings arched up from his back, and he lounged in his seat without a care, holding a mug of steaming liquid. An easy smile and bedroom eyes—shirtless, of course—and lightly rumpled from wherever he'd spent the night. For a fleeting moment, she wished it had been with her, but she dismissed the thought. It took far more effort than it should have.

"Morning, Carrots."

Judy realized she'd been staring and shook herself. "Is it?"

Nick's eyes blazed in the wavering light. "Technically. Dawn is a way off yet. Couldn't sleep?"

The fox filled another mug as she climbed into the seat opposite him, and she took it, happy to have something to occupy her paws with. "I slept well enough. How long was I out?"

"Several hours."

"Really?"

The genuine surprise in her voice pulled a laugh from the vulpine's throat. "Yes. We arrived yesterday afternoon around three o'clock. You've been asleep for almost twelve hours."

"I guess I was tired."

"You were exhausted," Nick chortled. "All it took was a few strokes down your delightfully velvety ears for you to slip off."

"So, that wasn't a dream…"

"You had good dreams, sweetheart?"

Judy answered by smiling into her mug, her stomach twisting in a way she was too happy with.

A few moments later, she slipped back to the floor and collected her cup. She was about to turn the corner away from the nook where he sat, when his voice brought her up short.

"Getting dressed, Carrots?"

"Of course," Judy tossed over her shoulder. "I can't lounge around all day in a thrift shop shirt, can I?"

"That isn't a thrift shop garment. It's one of mine."

"Yours?!"

"Uh huh."

Judy looked up fearfully, horribly embarrassed for misusing his clothes. Her heart nearly stopped when she met his eyes. His mug blocked the lower half of his face, but his eyes were trained on her. They burned. Not with flickering tongues of hellfire or wreaths of demonic power or even with the wavering firelight. They burned with hunger. A hunger directed solely at her. She had never felt so vulnerable, or so excited.

"I know that you're a little new to this, but you should know what you're doing."

"I'm going to get dressed," Judy answered weakly, unsure she was hiding her ignorance of what he was talking about.

"You're walking around wearing nothing but one of my dress shirts." The fox sipped his coffee in the tense silence. "Trust me, I can tell."

"I'm sorry," she stammered, beginning to panic. "I didn't mean to take it."

"If you keep wearing it like that, you can keep it."

"I don't understand! What am I doing? And why can I keep your shirt?"

"Carrots, when a female wears a male's shirt like that, it's very…distracting. To an incubus, like me, well… much more so. I'll leave it to you to figure out why that is. But here's a hint: I love watching you walk around like that."

The whole time he'd spoken, Nick hadn't moved a muscle. His paw stayed on his mug as it rested on the table. He was still lounging comfortably, and there was no notable change from when she had arrived. And yet, the tension bleeding off him was almost thick enough to see, while his voice had dropped from his usual tenor to a husky rumble. Judy retreated to the relative safety of the bed and her clean clothing. With every step, she fought down the fear that he would chase her and, alongside it, her hope that he would.

Judy fled back to her little corner and poured power into the cleansing spell. As soon as it was done, she dressed and did her best to suppress her own reaction. The look he had given her had made her feel antsy and breathless. Unadulterated hunger had seethed in his eyes, and she swore she'd heard his glittering claws pulling long curls of wood from the table top as she had departed. She had never seen desire so raw, let alone have it directed at her. It made heat bloom in her belly.

She had spent the next several minutes finding angeldown all over the floor and willing it out of existence. Since then, the fox had kept his own company.

Nick was grateful as dawn approached. Generally speaking, he loathed the time of day. The great overture of the Heavens singing their own praises had been grating to him since he'd fallen and hadn't gotten any better since. However, with things as they were, it was the only option. Once he'd initiated the Antemurale Inferni protocol, his private hidey-hole was untouchable until dawn. An irritating flaw in demonic magic, but what can one do in the face of immutable laws of existence? Dawn's light weakened the defenses enough to allow departure. He could take them down, of course, but why would he allow Heaven the victory of seeing him yield? Clearly, his Pride was suffering if he was willing to be this petty, and he knew it.

He was armored, armed, and wrapping himself in an illusion, preparing to depart, when the little angel appeared.

"I'm coming with you."

"Carrots, I'm meeting Finnick to trade a few Coins for some old books. Also, I'm the Devil. I don't need a bodyguard, though I am touched."

"And amused at the irony of an angel guarding the Devil," she cheeked at him.

He shrugged. "Humor where one finds it."

"Except, I'm not going to guard you."

Nick grinned down at her. "You aren't comfortable staying in my bachelor pad while I run errands? Really, sweetheart, I thought we were past that."

"Har har. No. Frankly, I'm scared." Judy admitted self-consciously. "I'm dwarfed by your power, but that thing backed down from me. I don't understand it, but I know one thing. The safest place for me is with you, and if that thing attacks us, I'm more of a deterrent."

"I'm…touched that you feel safest with me, and I can't refute your logic. But it really isn't necessary. If our enemy—"

Judy cut him off, sounding very put out. "Can we please give that thing a name?"

"Bothering you a bit, is it?"

"Unbearably." She pulled her ears as she griped. "I need something to call it by just for simplicity's sake. It's driving me nuts."

"How about Limax?"

Judy blinked. "Climax…"

"No. No, Limax. No 'C'. It means slug in Latin. Didn't you learn that in officer's school?"

"No."

Now, it was Nick who blinked in surprise. "No?"

"It was only an elective," she defended.

"I can't believe it. They ditched it from the required curriculum. What is the Host coming to?"

"I was more interested in practical skills. Ancient languages weren't really a priority," Judy retorted before shuddering. "You just had to remind me of that otter, didn't you?"

"Fine." Nick pouted theatrically. "You come up with something."

"I know a few words of Latin. I think Lolligo means squid."

"Lollipop!"

"NO."

"It's easy to remember and it isn't a useless, ancient language," He mocked.

"We are not naming it Lollipop."

"Lollipop it is, then!" Nick chortled as he turned towards the elevator, a cigarette sparking to life between his lips.

Judy's voice was a cross between a whine and a growl. "Nick…."

"Alright. If you'd feel safer from Lollipop with me, come on. We can go get our library books and then figure out food."

"We aren't calling it that!"

"You coming, Carrots?" the demon called over his shoulder. "Lots to do!"

"Damnit…"

For Judy, the tension was building, and there was nothing she could do about it. She was in over her head, and it had been that way for too damn long. Above and beyond her gaff over coffee and the mess she'd left on her bed, she'd been unable to tear her eyes off the demon whenever he'd been in sight. His scent was an opiate to her, his presence soothing. She was desperately in need of soothing, too. The horrors of the last week were still fresh in her mind. Dead mammals walking, cryptic conversations, constant defeats, endless mysteries, the feeling of powerlessness and betrayal.

Half the time she saw the fox, Judy wanted to throw herself at his mercy. The rest of the time, she wanted to burrow into his chest and sob. She needed an outlet, and, as she watched the ochre and char tail in front of her, she knew what half her mind wanted that outlet to be. Hollow, sucking feelings filled her at the idea, along with a crushing sense of depression.

Even if she did offer herself, she'd be a toy to him. Nothing more. She'd admitted that it was a better fate than what the Host had planned for her, but it wasn't good enough for her. If she was going to give in—and it was only a matter of time—she wanted it to at least be on HER terms. She would lose everything else when she lost her grace, but she at least wanted her self-respect. She wanted her head held high as she fell.

The absurdity of the idea made her shake her head.

"You ok, Carrots?"

Judy looked up into the eyes of her demon and realized it wasn't just her dignity she wanted. She didn't want to be a conveniently disposable passtime. She wanted to be worthy. To the Host, she was worth nothing, and that was all she had ever considered. Her worth to the Heavens and their cause. Now, that was gone. And all she had left was him. She wanted to be worthy of the Devil.

Nick snapped his fingers. "Judy!"

"Huh?"

"What's eating you?"

"Nothing."

"Lie!" Nick crowed. "And I don't even need the Bond to know it. You're staring into space, even when you're looking at me. It's pretty clear you've been somewhere else in your head a lot. And your ears are droopy."

Judy blushed and looked away.

"And what is that deal with that?" He sounded more curious than annoyed, but both were present. "You said there would be dire consequences if I lied, but all you can do is tell that I did. I was expecting a lightning bolt or crippling pain. Or at least a dope slap. What is the deal with that?"

Judy sighed. She knew she was caught. "It's not meant to be a disciplinary tool."

"It's not?"

"It never was."

Now, he only sounded annoyed. "What the hell, rabbit?"

"It's called a hustle, sweetheart." His put out expression pulled a tiny smile onto her muzzle.

Nick crossed his arms and glared. "So, what are the dire consequences?"

It was easier to say without seeing him, so she closed her eyes. "The Bond removes the capacity for deception with the understanding that hurting your partner by lying was a greater punishment than any physical pain you might receive."

"Carrots…"

She cracked an eye to glance up at him. "Yes?"

"That doesn't sound like a communication spell."

Judy could only shake her head.

"Or a locator."

All she could do was close her eyes again and hang her head.

"This isn't the time." She could feel the anger in his voice. And, to her shame, a tiny thread of hurt. She wanted to shrivel up and blow away. "We have to deal with Finnick, but you will be explaining that as soon as we are back in the Den. I have been patient and now I will have my answers."

Judy nodded weakly. The disappointment she felt through the Bond was enough to make her wilt. She may have conned him and done it despite the strictures of the Bond, but it was a hollow, possibly pyrrhic, victory. Truth will out, and the price for her deception was hers to bear.

Nick felt queasy as the elevator doors opened. Yes, he was angry. Being deceived did that. He did have to give her credit. Pulling a fast one on him was damn impressive. Under normal circumstances, he'd praise her and let it go. Honestly, she deserved due acknowledgement for the con and slapping the spell on him, let alone stretching it as long as she had. Hell, if she'd pulled that on him in Hell, he'd have offered her a job on the spot.

It hurt, though.

For some reason, the deception hurt. The guilt and sense of failure that seeped through the Bond into his mind only made it worse. Why would she feel poorly about this? There was a reason. There had to be. Therefore, if the angel felt bad for deceiving him, he should be upset. That was normal. Wasn't it? It had to be. It didn't make sense, otherwise. If he only knew why he should be upset, he'd feel a lot better. This was not the time for irrational emotional reactions. It didn't help that the Bond had slipped open as though it had a mind of its own, filling him with her shame and regret.

Nick slipped out of the elevator car and through the maze of dusty carnival equipment. The subdued patter of little feet following him gave him some sense of satisfaction, but it wasn't to last. His day took another unexpected turn as soon as the warehouse doors opened. The last thing he needed was the non sequitur of a bonsai imp and a Cursori running for their lives from a House Invidia hunting troop. Before he could react, the demon felt a rush of air as a grey blur shot past him.

This was simply not his day.

Elation drove her forward. It was perfect. She hadn't had a decent fight since the Fringe, and her two times squaring off against Nick had been abysmal failures and unsatisfying, to say the least. Now, she had an outlet. She skirted the fennec and gazelle, coming in low and fast. The enemy was exactly what she needed: a challenge and an outlet. A Devil's Dozen Brood, a Hunt Master, four Guardsmen, and a Lash. Judy dove in with a relish.

The Brood wasn't a concern. They were an insane, drooling mass of bodies that barely resembled living things and only did as the Hunt Master ordered them through their collars. As soon as the Master was down, they'd lose cohesion and attack whatever was nearby, including each other. As they were all focused on their prey, they weren't a threat to her. Judy's tomahawk flickered into being, occupying one paw. Her long kukri occupied the other. Power seethed through her as she was finally back in her element.

Her momentum aided her as she hooked the beard of her tomahawk across a passing ankle, and she yanked. The leg traveled with her, leaving it open to a hard, downward chop from her other weapon. The knee shattered, along with the armor defending it, and the leg crumbled to dust. The Hunt Master was too focused on the hunt to see the former Cherubim Hunter dart between his legs and wasn't aware anything was wrong until pain exploded through him. The caribou only had a moment to scream on the ground before his head was split from his neck, and he followed his lost limb into oblivion.

The next target was a corsac fox. Trading her kukri for her buckler with a gesture, Judy flicked out a back-handed strike with the rear spike of her tomahawk, catching him by surprise. His knees gave from the pain of a sudden emasculation, leaving his neck at the perfect level for the edge of her shield to slam into his spine. Bone and flesh shattered, leaving another corpse to vanish in the predawn light. A wolf and ibex fell next to a airborne tomahawk and an expertly wielded short sword.

That left only the Lash.

The Lashes were the spine of House Invidia's command structure and signified by their namesake weapons. They were terrors to new recruits—not because of their prowess in battle, but for the Hunt Masters and the Broods under their command. There was a trick to them. Being the embodiment of Envy, they were very similar to magpies. They liked pretty things and were relentless in pursuing them.

Judy circled her last enemy, keeping her shield low and slowly spinning her short sword in her grip. She knew the panther was hooked when his gaze shifted to the weapon and stayed there. She left it exposed and vaguely drifted it forward into range. The moment the whip in the panther's paw snapped forward, Judy gripped the sword. Before it could be yanked from her grip by the mass of leather thongs wrapped around it, she forcibly unsummoned it into the aether, taking the lash with it. Stunned, and suddenly disarmed, her demonic opponent was unprepared to defend himself.

Judy's shield shattered one knee and her kukri split the armor and flesh on his hamstring as she slipped between his legs. Before he could react, she brought her blade down on his thigh, dropping him to the earth. She ended the fight by parting one arm from his body at the shoulder and opening his throat.

It was over far too soon.

She glanced around, half hoping that the Brood was still around to be dealt with, only to see a surprising sight. Gazelle was huddled behind Finnick who was standing well back the battlefield. However, the most remarkable thing of it wasn't the Cursori hiding behind the tiny imp, but the fact that they were cowering away from Nick who was holding all thirteen of the Brood demons by the throats with the smoke from his cigarette. His wings were out, and fire poured from his eyes as he glared at her.

With a snarl and a gesture, thirteen necks snapped. She watched as he turned and stalked back towards the warehouse.

Nick was livid.

He could feel it in his breath and bones. His anger was so intense he could feel it charring his blood. Fury coursed through him, and he had no outlet. Too much of this was his own fault, which only served to whet his ire further. How could he have been so utterly stupid? How could she be so stupid? He knew how stupid Hell could be, but that was the only saving grace in this farcical situation.

Tracing the dusty path back to the warehouse, Nick felt the blind rage building. He fought it. Dawn was about to break, and that particular pain was the last thing he needed just then. Footfalls behind him drew his attention, and he turned to find his little band of companions drawing close. Finnick looked terrified and surly. That probably had something to do with how the Cursori was latched on to him. He was embarrassed by her and terrified of his boss. Surly was his default setting, so that was just about right for as overwhelmed as he was.

Judy, however, was radiant. Victory and dirt. Defiance and concern. She was everything that infuriated him. He'd finally seen her fight and win. War suited her. She was beautiful.

He wanted to strangle her.

"Nick? What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" He felt the falsely sweet bite to his words, but barely registered it consciously. "I haven't a clue, Carrots. What could possibly be wrong?"

"You seem angry." She looked nervous and a little afraid. It only fanned his anger at himself.

"That might have something to do with you charging off like that after telling me the safest place you could be is with me."

"I knew I could handle it." Judy couldn't meet his eyes, but he felt her through the bond. He couldn't name the emotion, but it was not repentance and was quickly becoming anger. He didn't understand.

"Obviously."

"Then what are you angry about?"

"Why would you do that?"

"Do what?" Indignity and defiance dripped from her words and posture. "Protect Finnick and Gazelle?"

"I am the Devil, little angel." NIck snarled. "I could have swept that troop from existence in a breath. Knowing that, why would you put yourself at risk? Why would you do something so foolish when I could have kept you safe?"

Judy exploded. "I will not be a burden! I don't need to be protected. I can fight. I want to fight! I want to be useful! Even if I end up broken in Hell, I want that little bit of self-respect before I fall. So I can hold my head high one last time."

"And you chose to needlessly fight demons one last time for the sake of the Heavens. Well done."

Nick felt a touch of satisfaction at the results of his dressing down. The fact that it was a vindictive treat only added savor to the moment. It felt good to slap her wrist for endangering herself for no good reason. As the future ruler of Hell and all Creation, castigating angels would be an integral part of the job. One he would relish every time.

The bunny was positively steaming. Clenched paws, ears up and forward, nose twitching, practically growling. Yes, she had been suitably reprimanded.

She took him out at the knees with two sentences.

"I didn't fight them for the Host, you arrogant prick. I fought them for you!"