I squint through the fierce wind. A rusted container about eight feet square sits on the desert floor. My attention’s drawn to it; something important lies inside.

Fewer igni circle my palm. Their music fades from my mind.

Armageddon knocks on the metal container. “This is for you.” The sides of the box fly open, killing a few demons in the process. Armageddon doesn’t glance in their direction; instead his focus is riveted on the body chained to the box’s floor.

I can’t help but stare as well. A figure crouches along the bottom of the container, heavy chains wrapped about his hands and feet. He has matted hair, a grizzled beard, and cocoa skin that’s covered in purple bruises and oozing wounds. Scraps of gray fabric hang about his broken body and dirty wings. He’s an angel, or what’s left of one.

Armageddon gestures to the broken figure. “Senator, may I present the archangel Xavier.”

All breath leaves my body. This is my father, the one who traded an eternity in Hell for my mother’s life.

Mom stares at the broken angel. Tears well in her eyes. She half-turns to my hiding place on the ridge, but catches herself before going too far. She stops, steels her shoulders and swings her attention back to Armageddon. “I fail to understand how your surprise relates to this hostile invasion, Armageddon.”

A chill crawls over me. My body freezes with shock. More lightning bolts fade from my hand.

Armageddon grins, showing a mouth of pointed teeth. “Ah, but you haven’t seen the best part yet.” He snaps his fingers again. The pair of flying monsters take to the air. Their talons sink into my father’s back and begin to heave.

Oh, my sweet evil. They’re pulling off his wings.

My gaze flicks to my father’s bearded face, contorted in pain. He grips his heavy chains, teeth gritted in agony. The lightning bolts around my hand die out.

Lincoln grips my shoulder. “What’s going on, Myla? The igni are gone.”

“That’s my father.”

The flying demons pull harder on my father’s wings. My body’s frozen with shock. My mind empties.

Armageddon rocks on his heels and laughs. His dark joy hits me like a punch to the gut. All breath leaves my body. My father’s been tortured while Armageddon laughs. Somehow that’s the most painful blow of all. A sob wells up in my throat.

Tears stream down Mom’s face. Cissy holds her hand and whispers soothing words. Zeke stands silent and stunned. Mom speaks in a low and ragged voice. “Whatever you’re trying to do, Armageddon, it won’t work.”

The desert echoes with my father’s howls. Loud cracks sound as bones snap and his wings are pulled free. Armageddon turns to Mom, his face twisted in evil glee. “Still not working?”