Savage Prophet: A Yancy Lazarus Novel (Episode 4) Read Online Free PDF

sink pits, and poisonous mosquitos. Defenses in case Azazel breached the prison walls. Far behind us, like the glimmer of a mirage on the horizon, lay the bright, happy lights of Bourbon Street, tucked as far away from this god-awful place as possible.
    Most of the dome was hidden by the night, wrapped in deep shadow, but swatches of the structure were occasionally illuminated by sweeping spotlights, perched on watch towers ringing the perimeter. Seen under the light of the sun, the dome would’ve looked like a metallic golf ball stranded in the high grass. Thick steel plates, covered in even more containment wards—green neon lights shimmering in the night—made up most of the structure.
    Huge slabs of spiky, volcanic rock made up the rest of the structure, breaking through in places like jagged stone teeth biting into a tin can. The earthen spikes weren’t my doing, nor Cassius’s. Azazel was responsible for those nasty sons of bitches. Evidence of his attempts to breach the perimeter and escape. There were more spikes today than there’d been yesterday.
    I grunted and nodded at the dark chunks of stone peeking through the building’s exterior. “When did that happen?”
    “During your trial,” Cassius replied. “Every time you get pissed, his attacks get worse. More powerful each day.” He pulled the cigar from his teeth and frowned at the prison, eyes squinted against the night. “Bastard wrecked the inner wall. I’ve barely been able to contain the damage, and don’t even get me started on repairs.” He shook his head, then spat on the soggy dirt in disgust.
    “That bad?” I asked, crossing my arms and rocking back on my heels.
    “Worse than you’re thinking,” he replied stoically, which was as out of character for Cassius as the BDUs and riot gear. “And then there’s the seepage …” He trailed off, taking another deep puff on his cigar. “Maybe we’ve got Azazel under wraps, but his power, it’s like radiation. Bleeds through the walls, into the ground, the water. I don’t know how to stop it. Not sure we can stop it, not completely.” He shrugged, damned if you do, damned if you don’t.
    “Can I talk to him?”
    “You really think that’s the smartest thing to do?” he replied. “After what happened last time?” He stole a look at a huge patch of swamp to the right, which now resembled a char-blackened tar pit. Yeah, turns out ol’ Azazel isn’t so great with temper control, and he could exploit even a small lapse in defense—evidenced by the fact that he’d tried to melt Cassius into a puddle of goop.
    I sighed. “Obviously talking to this guy isn’t a smart move”—I rubbed at the back of my neck, trying to ease the headache building in my skull—“but no one’s ever accused us of being smart, right? And besides, you said it yourself, we’re not gonna be able to contain him forever. Eventually, that bastard in there”—I jabbed a finger at the dome—“is gonna find a way out, and when he does, I don’t wanna see you destroyed. Maybe there’s some way to work with that thing.”
    “Let me just stop you right there,” Cassius said, holding up one hand, palm out. “There’s no way to work with something like that. None. Zero. He’s a demon, Yancy. I know you don’t see most things in black and white—a fact which I’m grateful for, truly—but this … Well, this is black and white. Demons don’t change. They don’t compromise. They don’t play nice, and if you give that scary prick an inch, he will—”
    “Take a mile,” I finished.
    “No,” Cassius replied. “He’ll flay your soul, lock you in a pit you’ll never climb out of, and run around in your body, just like the Morrigan did with Ailia. Don’t screw around with this monster.”
    I nodded my understanding. “I still need to try. No decision is worse than a bad one. And like it or not, that guy isn’t going anywhere, so we need to make some sort of game plan. Open the gates.” I