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are supposed to both chill the
    blood and squash it out of you.”
    Reaver couldn’t even begin to imagine the horror of being “juiced,” and the idea that it was
    happening to Harvester only made him more eager to get her the hell out of there. Literally.
    “His pressing machines are located in his main dungeon complex,” Reaver said. “That’s where
    she’ll be.”
    Wraith shoved his hands in his jeans’ pockets. “How long before we consider you overdue and
    mount a rescue party?”
    “Never.” Reaver shrugged into his shirt. “If I don’t come back, it’s because I’m either dead or in a
    situation that’s too dangerous to get me out of.”
    “Oh,” Sin said brightly—and sarcastically. “You mean like the situation Harvester is in.”
    Seminus demons were annoying no matter what gender. “Yes. Like that.”
    She punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Good. Glad we’re clear. Try to come back soon or we’ll
    come after you.”
    “Don’t do anything dumbass-ish, my fine feathered friend,” Wraith said.
    Eidolon clasped Reaver’s hand. “Good luck. Something tells me you’ll need it.”
    Luck? No, Reaver needed something more powerful than that.
    He needed a miracle.

    Four
    Five days. Reaver and the three assassins Sin had hooked Reaver up with had been traveling through
    Sheoul for five days. Felt like five years. They’d been attacked by seventy-one different breeds of
    demons, over a hundred plant species, and more demonic animals than Reaver could keep track of.
    They’d been scalded in torrential rains of boiling water. Nearly frozen by blasts of liquid nitrogen
    in a region of ice and snow. And they’d been singed by rivers of lava that leaked through stone
    retaining walls as tall as the eye could see.
    Making matters worse, Tavin, the blond Seminus demon Reaver had been acquainted with for a
    couple of years, kept telling Reaver that they were still in the “upscale” parts of hell.
    So far, the biggest dangers were environmental, since Reaver’s powers were more than enough to
    deal with most minor demons. The most pressing problem was that he recharged slower here even
    with Raphael and Gethel’s sheoulghuls , and as Eidolon predicted, his weapons sometimes went
    wonky.
    Earlier, he’d summoned a ball of fire to throw at a croix viper , and the ball of flames had expanded
    to twenty times its size before growing teeth, claws, and a tail. The fire-animal had then devoured not
    just the croix viper , but every demon within a hundred-yard radius. Another assassin, a werewolf
    named Matt, was lucky to have escaped its fiery wrath. Reaver had been forced to destroy his own
    weapon before it ate the guy alive.
    Fortunately, all three assassins turned out to be excellent fighters. Tavin’s ability to explode
    eyeballs with a touch was especially impressive. It had definitely come in handy against a ten-foot-tall
    demon with butcher-knife-sized teeth and two dozen eyes.
    Pop! Pop! Pop! Eyes everywhere. Some powers were meant for fun.
    “How many times have you been to Sheoul before this?” Matt asked warily as he pulled his brown-
    and black-singed hair into a low ponytail.
    “Thousands,” Reaver said. “Hundreds of thousands.” He shrugged. “It was nothing like this, though.
    Angels are extremely limited in where we can go and how long we can stay. Coming here is usually a
    quick in and out.” He took a bite of some ugly little animal Tavin had caught and roasted over their
    fire. They’d camped on the banks of the Inferno river, in a region Reaver had never explored before.
    “Get out before the devil knows we’re here.”
    “Just like that country song,” Tavin chimed in from where he was sitting next to Matt.
    The third assassin, Calder, was on patrol, which was fine with Reaver. The Nightlash demon
    smelled of cigarettes and mildew, and he was a crude, violent bastard on the best of days. Once,
    Reaver had even been forced to stop him from assaulting a female