33
THE PRICE YOU PAY
ENZO
I pull another useless demon apart as I make my way across the sprawling desert before me. And behind me. And on either fucking side of me.
This place is hot enough to roast my balls off, and my feet are growing weary. I'm growing fucking weary of all of this shit and the time to think hasn't made anything clearer.
Mordecai is a power-hungry cunt, but he isn't stupid. If he's made a deal with Lucifer, then he's got to know he has to deliver—and it would be better for him to live whatever miserable existence he's experiencing than suffer Lucifer's wrath. That means the cunt thinks he can find the Altair.
If any of this is true.
I need to find the fucking Seer, but he's fucked off to the Oracle of Mammon. And now, like a goddamn whipped dog, I'm chasing after him.
For her.
To keep her safe.
Because somehow, in the middle of all this chaos storming around me, I've found the haven at the center of the tornado. The intoxicating, infuriating, bewitching, and beguiling fury of being around Adriana.
She's special and I won't lose her. I won't let that cunt take her from me, and I will not give her up. Not even to Lucifer.
I'd take on the Great Lord himself for my girl and I find myself praying that the rumors are not true. Because if they are, we're in deep shit.
A few more lesser demons career towards me and I toss one into another, grabbing the third and ripping its head off. The other two recover and charge, driven mad by the heat and oblivion of the barren desert. My wing impales one on my talon while I grab the other, devouring it quickly before taking a moment to enjoy the taste of the last demon.
They taste like sin and brandy.
The air turns more acidic and the change is welcome. As unpleasant as even I find the putrid smell the odor means I'm approaching the Oracle of Mammon. There'll be no more mountains made of razor-sharp rocks or allies filled with ice and shards of glass. The deserts and the planes and the infernal infernos of Hell end as the Oracle draws near.
In Adriana's time, it's taken the best part of a day to get here. For me, I've spent days trudging deeper into Hell, venturing closer to the edge of my territory. My domain is large and its obstacles and torments are numerous, gathered like trinkets that display my prowess.
I am magnificent. I am undefeated. I am a terror conjured by the inferno found within the ninth circle itself.
I am also counting the seconds until I can return to Adriana and one word from her and I'd give all this up.
For her.
For one smile from her perfect lips.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
I'm obsessed and as shameful as it is to admit it, there's no denying it. My cock craved her cunt and my arms long to hold her in their grasp. My mouth is parched and a kiss from her would revitalize me in every way that mattered.
She's become the idol I covet and the altar I worship at. Her cunt is a fucking temple and my cock finds heaven in its warm, wet embrace. I'm a zealot and my devotion knows no limits. It's dark and dangerous and it burns hotter than the infernos I just endured for her.
The columns of the Temple's entrance loom in the distance and they're not a mirage. The Oracle likes to fuck with the pilgrims who've made the torturous journey here, regardless of their devotion. Or rank. Or bribe they've brought to appease the miserable asshole.
But it's not fucking with me today.
Not on this pilgrimage.
Either I'm lucky—which I doubt—or I'm in for quite the greeting when I step into the hallowed halls. The Oracle does nothing by halves and he doesn't spare pilgrims for no good reason. He'll get his kick out of me another way, even though my journey here isn't to pay reverence to his Temple.
I follow the path, cutting past the idols and the false gods we worship on our way to deeper eternal damnation. They're atrocious and their statues are an affront to all that's good and holy.
My hands throw the heavy gold doors open and I march into the halls. My wings open as I roar, sounding my arrival as surely as any fanfare. I beat a harsh note of irritation and plod on, frustrated that no priests or lesser demons are here to welcome me.
The halls lie empty, and I make my way to the inner sanctum without interruption. The place is abandoned, save for the black candles burning their infernal flames and the treasures adorning the base of the altar. The braziers erupt in fire, sending sparks of white phosphorus scattering across the floor.
“You came, Lord Amaymon.”
The Seer steps forward in his formal gown, billowing scarlet behind him. The color's never suited him, and his skin seems even sicklier than its green contrasts against the bright red gown of my domain. His bony fingers protrude from the sleeves and he lowers his cowl, revealing his skull-like head and the chasm left in their sockets.
His vision doesn't require eyes and he lost them to acquire more power. Greater ability. A keen insight. One that I control as he serves me, sworn to obey through an unbreakable bond.
He's served me well, even if he complains that he would have preferred it had I consulted him before trading his eyeballs.
“You knew I was coming, Seer. Unless your vision is so badly affected that you are blind and useless to me.”
He smiles and I wish he wouldn't carry on with the despicable habit.
“Always with a sense of humor. You will need it, Amaymon.”
I step closer and we meet, standing face to face. “I assume your vision has improved and that I have not wasted my time with a needless visit to the Oracle. As delightful as this place is, I prefer to pass my time in other ways.”
“It has, Lord.” He waits. “She is quite interesting and I will enjoy meeting her. She is quite well, by the way. Sleeping now she has slain the Yiddin.”
My hands curl into fists and shadows stream from me, swirling around the sanctum as my rage explodes.
“Her first kill was not easy. Especially for a mortal. But this is what we need to discuss. Mordecai threatens to return and you must stop him—unless you wish to sacrifice yourself to see Lucifer fall.”
The Seer's arm extends and I follow, guided towards some reclining chairs. I sit and take my wine, finally receiving some of the hospitality I expect from my station. I’m far from calm and certainly not cool, not placated by the fine vintage I’m being gifted by the Temple.
“You are aware of the rumors of Mordecai's return.”
He isn't asking a question, but I nod in agreement anyway.
“They are misguided and riddled with inaccuracies. Mordecai has not risen, but part of his spirit has returned and it seeks to be made whole. It's been waiting for its chance and now it thinks it's found a weakness it can exploit.”
“Adriana?”
“ You . Your attachment to this mortal is an extreme obsession, even for one as dark as you, Amaymon. You revel in her and the pleasure she brings you, and Mordecai can use her against you. It would be easiest if you killed the girl and saved everyone the inconvenience of what will happen if you do not.”
My teeth bare, and the Seer doesn't flinch.
“I thought it unlikely you would take that road. Still, one must try.”
I flick my fingers and pour myself another goblet of wine.
“Mordecai, or what remains of him, will seek to harness the Power of the Damned to resurrect himself. To do it, he will need the lifeblood of the being his sworn enemy holds most dear. Usually, that's the enemy themselves, but in your case, your obsession with that girl has put her at risk. And a terrible one. For her and all of us.”
“Once Mordecai controls the damned, he will overthrow Lucifer and any of the Princes who stand in his way. He'll claim the throne of Hell and we'll all suffer.”
The Seer nods, and his bony fingers curl around a poisoned chalice. “Technically, you'll be lost in oblivion, so you'll be suffering a different torture, but none of us will like our fate. Even Heaven does not wish this to pass and they are prepared to assist Lucifer where possible.”
My eyebrow arches and I down another goblet of demonic wine. This one has a stronger kick than the first, and I need its fortitude.
“They'd break the conventions?” The Seer nods as I drum my claws against my goblet. “Fascinating. And Eva?”
“She is certainly working against you. Whether she is on Mordecai’s side is unclear and I’m afraid the mists will not reveal this answer, no matter how hard I try to clear them.”
“Byron?”
“Most certainly loyal. As much as a demon can be, given our nature. He is also strangely bewitched by the girl and you may wish to pay more attention to him when he is around her in the future.”
I nod, and my attention’s drawn by the shadows creeping along the ground. The darkness shifts and it changes mine, moving the magic I’ve let pour into this sacred space. The braziers catch fire again and more tinder spits into the room, hissing and cracking as it collides with the stone floor and the black tendrils moving over it.
“Tell me, old friend, why was all this obscure to you? Why did you need to travel here to reveal what you would normally find so easy to divine?”
The Seer smirks before he lets himself break a laugh so disgustingly revolting even I turn my head to the sound. It’s frightful and horrifying, and disturbingly the sound is made worse as it echoes around the bare chamber of the Inner Sanctum.
“I did not come here because I needed this place, Amaymon. I came here because you need it. You require its gifts if you are to defeat the threat you face, and you would not come if you were asked. Only a potent temptation would lure you here, and now you have arrived, and things are as they should be.”
My hand crushes the goblet and the remnants of the wine spray with the shattered fragments that scatter like shrapnel.
“Amaymon, you are facing a threat so despicable that even you require help. Your pride prevents you from asking for it, but you know you cannot defeat Mordecai if he possesses the Power of the Damned. Not as you currently are.”
The fires spit, and the darkness draws closer.
Shadows dance over the sanctum walls, gleeful as they anticipate the Seer’s next words.
“You will need to draw on the fires of Hell itself, Lord. You know the price of such a gift. The Temple and the Oracle of Mammon do not give their favor for free and you will pay this, Amaymon.”
I shake my head and refuse, deciding the price they ask is too high.
“If you do not, she will die.” The Seer brings his fingertips together and taps them against each other. “I suggest you decide whether you would prefer her to be dead, but spared this debacle or alive and forced to endure it.”
“The price is mine to bear, Seer.”
“She wears your collar, Amaymon. The Collar of Ichor. You will perform the rites with her, or not at all. Defile her on the altar or her corpse will rot in the earth and you will mourn her loss.”
He gets up and his robes spiral like blood spurting from a fatal wound. The Seer’s steps sound like a death knell as he walks across the Inner Sanctum, pausing before he leaves.
“I’ll know when you decide, old friend—and then the Oracle will summon her and spare her the inconvenience of a trip through Hell.”
A door creeks and the Seer steps through it.
“Don’t take too long, Amaymon. She’s sleeping and Byron is watching her. He really does like her, and who knows where that might lead?”
The door slams and I close my eyes. Adriana won’t understand this, and I doubt she’ll do this willingly. I loathe the thought of hurting her, but the thought of losing her is worse, and I have no choice but to perform the rite.
With her.
And hope she forgives me for what I’m going to put her through. Because Hell has no fury like a woman scorned, and Adriana’s going to hate what I’m going to do to her.