Chapter 52
Demon Guests
Elizabeth stood in the great hall waiting for their guests to arrive.
She felt more like her usual self than she had in some time.
A knife hung at her waist, hidden beneath her cloak.
She smoothed her skirts, imagining finding the demon responsible for her parents’ death, and the deaths of the servants she had grown up with.
She smiled grimly, looking forward to the day when she could set Caspian’s demons upon them and shred them apart.
And then she would have her peace.
She had told Caspian that revenge was never the answer, but now … she understood. Her life had no purpose if their deaths went unanswered, if such a tragedy was allowed to be in vain.
Caspian had made her a promise—to kill her parents’ murderer. She would find him and hold him to that promise.
Finnigan stiffened beside her. “They are coming.”
She wondered if he had noticed she no longer smelled like a mortal today, and no longer smelled like prey.
Soon, the hall echoed with the sound of heavy footsteps.
Asmodeus appeared first, flanked by the princes of the Underworld and the king of darkness himself. Many of the beings who entered the hall had silver eyes, and one had bright red eyes.
Lucifer was unmistakable—broad-shouldered with deep blood red skin and red eyes like burning pits of fire. A crown of black glass rested on his head, and his presence seemed to fill the entire room.
“Lucifer,” Finnigan muttered from beside her, making her jump.
The demon princes that filed in after Lucifer ranged from large and burly to small and petite.
Most of them appeared humanoid, with various shades of skin ranging from blue to red, and large horns on their foreheads.
Wisps of darkness caressed their legs like tendrils of night.
One demon appeared different from the others—an enormous serpentine creature with a long snout, and a bulky frame supported by clawed feet.
The serpentine demon was the last in the room, the fins of its tail reaching all the way to the door.
Seeing where her eyes went, Finnigan murmured, “Leviathan.”
Lucifer walked around the table with great lumbering steps, and sprawled out in the chair that Caspian usually sat in.
A sense of wrongness permeated the air, as if her very soul recoiled in the presence of the demon princes. Beside her, even Finnigan looked uneasy to be seated at the same table.
If she had seen this her first night at Caspian’s castle, she would have run screaming. How the tables had turned that these beings were now her potential allies.
Mammond and Asmodeus bowed to their king before taking their seats. She followed Finnigan’s lead, who bowed deeply beside her, and offered a deep curtsey before taking her seat. The others followed suit, bowing and then taking a place around the table.
“So, Asmodeus, this is where you have been hiding,” a gray-skinned demon said to Asmodeus, who glared in answer.
“Yes. Soon, I will have my own lodgings back, but for right now, it is just fine,” Asmodeus said through clenched teeth.
“Beelzebub,” Finnigan murmured helpfully. “He is not one of the original Fallen, but is Asmodeus’s placeholder, and ruler of the second circle until he regains his power.”
Elizabeth’s eyes lit with recognition. Asmodeus had told her earlier that he hated the demon and looked forward to the day when he got his powers back and reclaimed his title. She glanced between Asmodeus’ pained expression and Beelzebub’s smug one.
Servants swept in and placed platters of steaks, left raw and bloody, on the table, along with plates of what looked like grilled mushroom skewers and those roasted beaks that Asmodeus seemed to like.
The demons didn’t partake except for one who quickly downed his goblet of lamb’s blood and reached forward eagerly. Beelining for the roasted beaks with a greedy expression, he threw some in his mouth and munched on them.
“Belphegor,” Finnigan identified quietly as the demon pulled several plates towards himself with greedy hands.
“Mmm, roasted beaks,” Belphegor mumbled, shoving handfuls in his mouth, nibbling on a crispy skewer of mushroom.
“Asmodeus, these are good, I can almost taste them.” A smile lit his features, and it would have pleased her as a hostess to see someone enjoying their food if he didn’t have such sharp teeth.
Blood dribbled down his chin as he tore into the meat.
“Don’t think I don’t know why you called this meeting, Asmodeus,” Belphegor wheezed in his direction, between bites. “He is lost. The fool wandered far into enemy territory alone, with only a handful of lows and grossly underestimated their numbers.”
I admit I was curious regarding the invitation to Betsael’s surface residence, a voice boomed in her head. Elizabeth’s eyes went to Leviathan—the only one without vocal cords. But I do not see the benefit of us chasing Raziel in circles and losing half our forces to get one demon back.
“Do we think Raziel would win against the might of one, or even two, of our households?” Mammond asked drily.
“He has gathered more strength than we credited him with,” said a petite demon with bright red skin. “Thousands of lows and mid-level demons are at his disposal now.” The demon gave a disgruntled expression towards Belphegor, who was now starting his second plate of firebird beaks.
“Abbadon,” Finnigan supplied helpfully. “Also known as the Lady of Wrath.”
Elizabeth eyed the demon in surprise. “But I thought you said prince—”
“Don’t ask,” muttered Finnigan, “she killed the last person to ask her that.”
Elizabeth shut her mouth.
“Angels and demon princes create their forms from nothing. We are only spirit beings after all. Abbadon prefers the female form, as do some angels.” Finnigan said from beside her, shrugging. “Try not to talk to her, if you can avoid it.”
Abbadon was very short and skinny, with large, pointed ears and a pixie-like face. She was easily the least intimidating of the demons at the table. Elizabeth wondered why she was called the Lady of Wrath.
“Let Betsael rot for another few centuries,” Beelzebub suggested, jerking her attention back to the conversation taking place around the table. “We will get him back once the rebellion quiets.”
“Hmm, and how many resources would we expend to try and rescue him from Raziel?” Mammond asked thoughtfully.
We would have to raise a small army to siege the castle he’s being held in.
“I do not want to lose my demons and soldiers on a fool’s mission,” Abbadon spat.
Elizabeth lost track of who was speaking as the demons began to bicker.
“What do we lose if we lose Betsael?” Lucifer’s voice cut through the murmurs.
Mammond answered around a piece of steak, “We would lose his legions, the support of his household, and our guide on the surface.”
“Easy math,” Lucifer weighed in.
“Perhaps. I like Betsael, but I cannot see what the benefit would be for me, or my household,” Mammond mumbled, blood from his steak stained his lips. Nausea churned Elizabeth’s stomach as she tried masking her revulsion.
“We can elevate another.” Beelzebub shrugged. “Much easier than marching before we are prepared.”
“We must help him,” Asmodeus insisted. Elizabeth inwardly thanked him for asserting himself on their behalf.
“Why? There is nothing in it for us,” Mammond said.
This was met with many nods from around the table. Asmodeus remained silent. Murmurs of agreement sounded around the table.
Fear coiled in her gut.
She would never get him back.
“What would it take to get Betsael back?” she interrupted. At her words, every head in the room swivelled to her, but she didn’t let that intimidate her. “Surely, the might of all the demon princes is enough to easily snatch him back from this usurper fellow?”
“And who are you, mortal female, who asks us to go after him?” Lucifer asked.
She took a deep breath and sat up taller, raising her chin. “I’m a friend of his, as you call him. He went into the enemy castle looking for Raziel, searching for my parents’ killer. It’s my fault he was there, and I’m obligated to try and save him.”
“And? In what way will you attempt to convince us?” Lucifer sneered, his voice a deep rumble.
“I am sure he would have marched into war for any of you. You are friends, are you not?”
“He might have. He might not have; we do not know,” Belphegor said dismissively. His words came out muffled, his mouth full of roasted beaks.
“It would be the honourable thing to do, to try to rescue your friend,” she said in disbelief. She was taken aback that they needed any convincing to rescue one of their own.
“So, you are Betsael’s new pet,” crooned Abbadon.
“Er.”
“I had noticed he was on the surface more than usual of late,” she drawled, leaning forward in interest. “You, my pretty thing, are a mortal, so we will forgive your lack of understanding of our ways. Honour is an angelic virtue. One that holds no weight with demons. We deal in obedience, fear, and power.” Impatience edged her voice.
“Obedience to our household, fear to survive, and a quest for the most power we can amass for ourselves. These are the only rules we care for.”
Yes, it is fairly unheard of for a demon to go to save another when there is no benefit to us. I am tempted to leave the issue be.
She quailed under their stares, their dismissal of her rescue idea.
But she had to try.
“If I may, Your Highnesses, Your Majesty … wouldn’t you want your brothers to rescue you if it had been you who was taken?”
An awkward silence stretched. It was Lucifer who finally spoke, “Mortal girl, it is survival of the fittest over all else. We live by a mix of risk and reward. We would be displeased if he were lost, but it would cost too much to get him back.”
“But … you’re already at war,” she said, half-disgusted.
Lucifer watched her with the detached curiosity of a cat observing a particularly bold mouse.
“We are in small skirmishes. If we don’t destabilize our power base, then Raziel’s numbers will eventually dwindle.
If we don’t intend to go to war, I say we do nothing.
” Murmurs of agreement were heard around the table.
“You would let Raziel win? Accept defeat and let him do what he wants? The most powerful demons in the Underworld afraid of a little fight?”
“Be careful, mortal, who you call a coward.” Lucifer's voice was soft, and the room filled with an icy silence.
“Meaning no disrespect, Lucifer, Your Majesty,” she said, stumbling over what honorifics to use for a demon king.
She glanced around the table. She must spin this another way.
A different tactic. “Raziel has been flouting your hierarchies. Your rules. You could take his lands and his followers and divide them amongst yourselves. Everyone would fear your legion, and you would all be much richer.”
A look was exchanged between the demons present that made her skin crawl.
“Raziel needs to be taught a lesson. Make him grovel. What message does this send others if all you do is watch him win unchallenged?” She lifted her chin, accepted their critical stares, and stared back unflinchingly.
Abbadon leaned over the table and bared her teeth.
“So much coldness and anger in you, you would think you are not human at all. No scent of fear. Nothing but coldness in your aura,” she said approvingly.
A wicked smile split her face as she sat back down.
“I can see why you are Betsael’s favoured plaything. ”
“The mortal is not without a point,” Belphegor said, his piercing silver eyes fixed on her. Though disgusted at the selfishness and the lack of honour, she was at least relieved she had found a bargaining angle that demons approved of.
“And what of Raziel? Shouldn’t a human want what is best for angels and not want them to suffer? Do you not owe the angels your allegiance?” Abbadon said in a sneering voice.
“The people who murdered my family do not get mercy from me,” she said with venom. “Surely, retribution is something you demons understand.”
Abbadon jumped from her seat onto the table. Her predatory smile widened as she moved towards her, licking her lips.
Asmodeus slapped the table, drawing her gaze to him instead. “We have planned entertainment tonight, Abbadon dearest.”
Abbadon glared, her nose wrinkling. “Fine,” she spat and grudgingly returned to her seat.
The tension in the room lessened, and a silence stretched as the demons weighed the benefits and pitfalls of going to battle to save their friend. The only sound that could be heard was Belphegor, who was cramming as much food in his mouth as physically possible.
We are still undecided, then, Leviathan finally said.
Lucifer nodded in the affirmative, “We are.”
“Then let us dine and enjoy the evening properly, and perhaps we will talk more later,” Asmodeus said, offering a cheery grin. “You’ll find we have prepared suitable entertainment for your visit to the surface.”
Elizabeth had a feeling that she might not like the planned entertainment.