Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
W rath frowned into the swirling, churning mist covering Belphegor’s demesne. He was nearly certain it hadn’t been there the last time he’d visited. How long ago was that now? He couldn’t remember the last time Belle had invited any of them into her demesne.
Sliding her hand into his, Haziel grimaced. “What is it?”
“Mist.” He couldn’t resist the urge to tease his angel.
She giggled and rolled her eyes. “I can see that, but can we cross it?”
That was the pressing question of the day. They’d stayed with Levi and Zeb to plan and left with the new light.
Wrath stepped close enough to feel icy condensation against his skin.
Haziel moved to stand beside him.
He held up a hand to stop her. No way his angel was going into that shit unless he knew it was safe. “Don’t come any closer.”
“Wrath.” She glared at him.
“Haziel.” He stepped in front of her. No matter how much it infuriated her, he was not going to risk her getting hurt. He stretched one arm into the mist and widened his power senses. Fine moisture clung to his fighting leathers and the mist felt like sloth. Not exactly surprising as the dense barrier was guarding Belle’s demesne. He didn’t sense other demonic signatures, so it was reasonably safe to assume it hadn’t been generated by the rebellion.
“Anything?” Haziel peered at his submerged arm.
Shaking his head, he took a step. Vapor closed around him, coating his skin in an icy embrace and smelling like earth and grass. It seemed like a normal mist.
Not prepared to risk being wrong, he unsheathed his sword. Mist dipped and swirled around the blade. Over his shoulder, he could barely make out Haziel’s shadowy shape.
This shit was thicker than any mist he’d encountered.
“Wrath?” She called, her voice sounding muted and distant.
“I’m fine,” he called back, but his instincts prickled a warning. Making War: A Beginner’s Guide. Never go into a situation where the danger is concealed. Lesson two: Never enter a situation without planning your exit.
It was extremely unfortunate for him that not speaking to Belle wasn’t an option. They had no idea about the state of her seal or her demesne. In the gatherings, she’d only admitted to experiencing the same trouble as the rest of them without sharing details.
If Wrath was going to mount any sort of offensive against the rebel horde—and he was—he needed every demon he could get his hands on.
Wrath walked deeper into the mist and stopped. The silence was absolute. Rivulets of water ran down his fighting leathers and his blade. He could have been the only being in the entirety of creation.
His sword weighed heavy in his grip. Lifting it made his arms ache. He couldn’t remember why he was carting the stupidly heavy thing anyway. Wrath dropped it. The sword clanged against the mist concealed ground.
Why was he trying to penetrate this fog anyway? Straining his senses to hear, see, smell, even taste some clue was exhausting, so he stopped walking.
Yes, he needed to speak with Belle, but that didn’t answer why he was still pushing through her annoying barrier. One of the others could do it. He’d done enough. There were five other hell princes and seven archangels who could tackle this shit. His wasn’t their fucking savior.
It was peaceful here in the mist. No beings to talk at him all the time and make demands of him. Horsemen of the Apocalypse, end of days, wah, wah, wah…
In fact, fuck it! He was going to sit right there and have a rest. Let someone else save creation. He’d lived a long life, done his part. Guarding his seal, managing his demons, it all made him so weary, and he was done with it.
Maybe later, he would get up and do…some stuff. Maybe not.
Stretching out on the ground, Wrath lay down. See, this was nice. He tucked his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. It was a bit damp, but not a bad place to take a nap.
The mist boiled and a figure appeared beside him. “Wrath.”
Too much energy. So intense. Haziel should leave him alone. “Go away.”
“What the hell, Wrath?” Haziel tugged on his arm. “Get up.”
“I’m tired.” He yawned. “I want to stay here and rest.” He patted the ground beside him. “Come lie with me.”
“No.” Haziel stood astride him and gripped the front of his fighting leathers. “Get up, Wrath. We need to get you out of this mist.”
He loved Haziel. He didn’t want to fight her, but all that energy was too much. “You go. You do the thing.” He couldn’t be bothered to remember why he was here anymore. It took too much brain stuff.
“For fuck’s sake.” Haziel released his chest armor and grabbed his ankles. “I’ll drag you out of here if I have to.”
His head scraped against the ground as she hauled him. It hurt, but it would demand more energy than he was willing to give to let her know. “Just lie here and rest with me.”
“Not giving in to this.” Haziel gave another heave.
His head hit a rock. “Ow.”
“Must fight it.” Haziel staggered forward a few more steps and stopped. She swayed. “This is stupid. I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“See.” He sighed. “It’s all fucking stupid. Just lie here.”
“Oh, no.” A figure, no taller than Haziel’s waist split the mist. “Not you too. Come on, angel. A few more steps.” He tugged Haziel by the waistband. “One foot in front of the other.”
Wrath knew the demon but couldn’t be bothered to remember its name.
“Go away, Yesterday.” Haziel batted Yesterday’s grip on her. “We don’t want to talk, and he’s heavy. We don’t want to do anything.”
“Argh! High order beings!” Yesterday kept tugging Haziel with him. As she still had Wrath’s ankles in her clasp, that meant he went with them, head jouncing against hidden rocks all the way.
Being dragged wasn’t his favorite. He would object. Later.
“Come on.” Yesterday panted. “I can’t pull you both.”
“You shouldn’t be pulling.” Haziel yawned. “Nobody should be pulling. So exhausting.”
“Remember who you are and why you’re here.” Veins bulged on Yesterday’s oversize cranium as he tugged. “It’s the mist making you feel tired. It’s pure sloth.”
“Sloth?” Haziel staggered another step forward and frowned at Yesterday.
“Yes.” The imp groaned and hauled at her. “It’s making you feel like you don’t want to do anything. Draining your will.”
Wrath’s exhausted brain churned the new input. He had come here…why? To talk to Belle. Yup, that was it. He’d come to talk to Belle and had been walking through the mist to find her.
“Shit.” Realization brushed his awareness. They had to get out of this mist. It seemed like a big ask.
Haziel dropped his feet and sat down.
If Wrath didn’t fight the mist’s effect, she might stay there until Belle released the mist.
Rolling to his belly, he forced his enervated limbs into action and stood.
He looked at Yesterday. “Which way?”
“Yes!” Yesterday took his hand. “Follow me.”
Wrath hesitated. There was something he needed to do, but his taxed brain resisted his attempts to get it to work.
“Get the angel.” Yesterday shook his head and yawned. “And do it now because I’m starting to feel it.”
Wrath had to get Haziel out of the mist. Get Haziel safe.
Fighting back the fatigue, he scooped her into his arms.
One…two, three steps forward.
Yesterday slowed but staggered another two steps forward.
Wrath followed. For Haziel. No matter how exhausted he was, he had to get Haziel out of there.
Five more steps.
Yesterday stopped and swayed. “Too tired.”
Wrath tossed Haziel over his shoulder and grabbed Yesterday by one horn.
He counted his steps in threes. Ha-zie-el . Ha-zie-el — out-the-mist , out-the-mist .
And they were clear of it.
Energy rushed back into him. He released Yesterday and lowered Haziel to the ground. He searched her face for any sign of lasting effects.
“Shit.” Haziel shook her head as if clearing it. “What was that?”
“Sloth mist.” Yesterday brushed dirt and water droplets off his stubby yellow legs. “Belphegor has surrounded her entire demesne in it.” He grimaced. “Nobody gets in or out.” Grinning, he pointed up at them. “Except you.” Jabbing a thumb at his chest, his grin widened, splitting the lower half of his head. “And you only got out because of me.”
* * *
Embracing the shadows like an intimate friend, Belle slipped through the human city of Johannesburg. She’d spent days first on a train and then on an airplane getting there. Staying unobtrusive and lowering her power to nothing was her secret superpower. The other hell princes overlooked her, at times even forgot she was there, but what had begun as a weakness had become her strength. No being saw her or perceived her unless she chose to let them do so.
Since she traveled as a human from the remote hell gate that opened into her demesne, with her power signature impossible to detect, not even Gabriel would know she was on the earth plane. And for her purpose, being invisible suited her perfectly.
She rented a car from a pretty human woman and activated the GPS. If the others detected her, they would try to stop her, and she couldn’t allow that. All through this crisis, she had stood toward the back of the greenroom and watched the other supernaturals plan and discuss, take on various challenges and put plans in motion. As she listened, she had waited for the task she could identify as falling to her and her unique talents.
“In seven hundred and fifty meters, take a slight right to merge…”
The GPS would help her traverse the human realm in lieu of using her power. Were she to unleash her wings, she would follow the steady pulse of dread northeast of the airport where she had deplaned an hour ago.
Flipping on the radio, she let the chatter of human voices soothe her. The man beside her on the plane had chatted to her through their long flight. She’d heard about his three little girls and the wife he was excited to be going home to after a long business trip. Entering the earth plane had been the one moment of possible discovery, but with all attention focused on Eddie’s hell gate, it had been a calculated risk. And calculating risk was another of her closely guarded skills.
She had often slipped onto the human plane and mingled with their lives. Humans had a passion for existence that fed her hungry soul. Her trips to the earth plane were a visceral reminder of her purpose and the reason for her creation.
She was counting on her ability to move like a ghost amongst them to delay even the discovery of that mist. The same mist surrounding her demesne that would delay the other hell princes until she was done. Opening her car window, she let the breeze blow through her hair. She felt free on the earth plane in a way she never did in hell.
For this beautiful plane, for all those humans who had shared small parts of their lives with her over the eons, she would do this now.
* * *
Life. It pulsed everywhere, thick like the blood in a glutted tick, and Pestilence followed. So much life, it nearly overwhelmed their long dormant senses.
A dog’s bark split the quiet night as they reached the outskirts of a small settlement. In the dwellings peppering the roadside, they sensed the humans going about their nightly routines. Pestilence did not concern themselves with the details.
On some rudimentary level, they had an understanding of the routines and rituals of human existence. Beings that were birthed, existed, and then blinked out in a mere glimmer of Pestilence’s existence.
The low growl of their engine grew louder as they rode beneath the awning of a service station. All the knowledge they needed to function on the earth plane in this time was now theirs, and through them, their siblings. Being the first, Pestilence would pave the way for their siblings.
Yawning, the sleepy attendant ambled toward them. “Full?”
“Yes.” Pestilence swung their leg over the bike and dismounted. They stumbled and their shoulder brushed the attendant’s. “Sorry.” They grimaced. “Long ride. My legs are stiff.”
The attendant accepted their apology with a nod and pulled the hose from the pump.
Inside the attached convenience store, four life forces glimmered, and Pestilence headed for them.
They found the first by the drink cooler to the right of the entrance. They reached for the fridge handle at the same time as the human. Their fingers touched and the human drew back with a sharp frown.
Pestilence smiled and stepped back. “You first.”
“Thanks.” The human stared at them. Uneasy, sensing something alien and ancient but unable to articulate why. Pestilence looked like one of them, moved and spoke like them, but humans instinctively sensed their otherness.
The next life source stood with a third, a youngling, and spoke in a hushed voice, “I said no more chocolate.”
“But, Mom.” The youngling screwed up their face. “I’m hungry.”
“If you’re hungry, there are apples in the car.” The mother threw them an expression half exasperated and half fond.
The youngling glanced at them and sighed. “But I’m not hungry for apples.”
“Excuse me.” Pestilence eased past the pair with a smile. The lightest touch against the mother’s arm, a nudge of their ankle against the youngling’s as Pestilence made their selection.
At the cash register, a tired salesclerk managed a wan smile. “Late for a ride.”
“Yes.” Pestilence handed over the money now soaked with excretions from their palm. “Got a long way to go. Wanted to get a head start.”
“Right.” The clerk added the money to the register where it would nestle amongst other bills, bills that would be passed to another customer. “Well, you’ll beat the traffic all right.”
“I like the quiet.” Pestilence shrugged. “Helps clear my head.”
“I hear you.” The clerk bagged their purchase and handed the bag to them. “Go well.”
Pestilence smiled. “Stay well.”