36. The Breath he Knew he Was Holding
The Breath he Knew he Was Holding
The sight of Amaryllis was enough to make any demon quake in fear, except for The Morningstar himself, but even he was rumored to be wary of the bloodthirsty capital D, Demon.
This, of course, meant Skeerot was considerably apologetic and respectful as she stood before him.
She remained still, practicing the preternatural statue-like presence only the ancient and clinically insane could achieve. She was a pro.
Only Reena moved, coming over to cheerfully greet the Demon.
A brief pat and quiet but firm instructions to move out of the splatter zone were received with a whimper, but Reena acquiesced and went back to her pillow, propping her chin on her paws.
Her eyes were wide with awe. Malachi knew she was excited for real-life drama and smirked as all eyes focused on the soon-to-be extinct demon captive.
Once Skeerot’s apologies and ass-kissing had sputtered out with his last anxious and dread-filled moan, he dropped to his knees and lowered his head. He flinched when she finally raised her sword but did not move when the edge of the deadly blade was placed gently across the back of his neck.
“Skeerot,” she hissed, her voice like the fire of the eternal pits beckoning him closer.
“I should take your tongue for the unimaginative drivel you were spouting. It’s embarrassing; a demon such as yourself can surely produce better insults than ‘angel fucking whore’.
In fact, you should be ashamed of that lack of cunning.
Flick,” she snapped, raising her blood red eyes to the copper-colored demon who had sidled behind Malachi.
Blanching under her intense stare, Flick winced slightly as he stepped forward. “Yes, my unholy lady of darkness and despair. How may I serve at your feet and please your exquisite superiority?”
Nodding in approval of his deference, she waved at the prisoner on the floor. “A demonstration, if you will. Insult me. Something more creative than our… friend here came up with.”
Flick released a small, choked sound—nearly a whimper—before he recovered with aplomb and straightened his shoulders.
“Of course. Although I never would, if I were foolish enough to disparage our bloody lady of brimstone, I would have referred to her a cross-eyed, inbred, mouth breathing, knuckle dragging, boil covered, maggot infested, swamp cunt. To start.” He nodded unrighteously and stepped back, lips twitching as he tried to keep silent.
Malachi wasn’t sure if he was trying not to laugh or scream in terror for what he’d just called the Defiler. Reena grumbled and rolled her eyes, barely impressed.
Amaryllis dipped her chin regally and chuckled, the sound of a thousand spiders skittering over a bare stone floor.
“For certain, be glad I invited that metallic menace.” Turning back to the cowering demon at her feet, she squatted and lifted his chin with the sharp pointed end of her sword.
It smeared his skin with the still tacky blood from whomever she had slaughtered before arriving.
Feeling it was an improvement in Skeerot’s appearance, Malachi murmured his approval.
Glancing up at him, Amaryllis nodded once before turning her gaze once more to the prisoner.
“Now Skeerot, you see how a real demon does it? Why be simple and crude when creativity can take you so much further? I believe you were going to give them the answers to their questions? Perhaps I could be persuaded not to end you once and for all if you… cooperate.” Her grin was manic and wide, showing fangs so sharp, they could slice through bone.
Shuddering with relief, Skeerot began to babble even faster.
He answered everything they put to him with alacrity and minimal fibbing.
As a demon, he was genetically programmed to lie just a little.
If he didn’t, they wouldn’t have believed anything he said.
When he was done, he climbed wearily to his feet and stared around hopefully.
“Now, can I go? I swear it on Beelzebub’s nuts that’s all of it and I won’t bother you anymore. I won’t tell them anything.”
Tilting her head, studying him like a fascinating specimen in a lab, Amaryllis’ lips slowly stretched into an evil sneer. “Oh, I know you won’t.” She raised her sword over her head once again, muscles bunching as she prepared to drop the blade on him.
“You said you wouldn’t end me!” Skeerot screamed, backing up, claws extended futilely in front of him to ward off the inevitable death blow.
“I said I could be persuaded,” Amaryllis countered, briefly lowering the blade. “I’m afraid your offering was still pathetic.” Her muscles tensed once more, and Skeerot sucked in his last breath.
Chuck stepped forward then. “Hey, Ammy?” she called cheerfully, waving to get her attention.
Malachi moved next to her, slipping protective shadows around her body as he begged, “Please don’t kill her, please don’t kill her.”
Amaryllis stared at Chuck, expressionless, sword still raised.
She appeared to be waiting for Chuck to speak again.
Finally, when it was apparent Chuck was gauging her reaction, her lips parted slightly, and she bit out her response with slow, drawn-out words full of disbelief. “What… did… you… just call me?”
“Oh, Ammy, short for Amaryllis the Defiler, First Knight of Hell. Kind of a mouthful. Ammy makes you seem more approachable. He gives everyone nicknames”—she gestured at Malachi—“so I thought I’d give it a try.” She shrugged nonchalantly, heedless of the slight keening building in Malachi’s throat.
“Don’t drag me into this,” he pleaded quietly.
“I like it!” Luna declared happily, nodding along in encouragement, before a muffled squeak slipped from her mouth as Jaxon clapped a hand over it.
Malachi nodded his approval at Jaxon’s quick thinking in grasping the severity of the situation, then turned back to the very murderous, blood-splattered woman with the giant pointy sword. To his surprise—relief?—she had lowered the sword and was now grinning at Chuck.
“I like it!” she declared, then casually waved the sword at Chuck, motioning for her to continue.
A few small globs of blood flew across the room as she did.
She glared at Flick into silence after his involuntary noise of disgust as he wiped a smear of blood from his cheek.
“Continue,” she instructed, her voice deceptively calm.
“Yeah, I was thinking, what if you hang him on your gate, like you did with Hyacinth? Then, not only is he an example of what happens to those who cross you, but it would also balance out the gate. Provide some symmetry.” Chuck smiled casually as if she hadn’t just suggested decorating a Knight of Hell’s palace with disemboweled lower demons.
A yipping bark and happy panting indicated Reena was also voting for this plan as she pawed the air.
Malachi stared at Chuck’s profile with concern. “I am definitely rubbing off on you,” he declared.
Laughing, she shook her head. “No, it’s not that.
I was just thinking of the message it sends.
Mess with us, to try to get to her, you will be found, and you will suffer for it.
If he just dies a final death, how many future assassins would even know?
I can’t imagine he has a huge family or a horde of friends, but seeing him hanging on a gate, lamenting what happened? I think that speaks much louder.”
Tapping her claws on her lower lips as she contemplated Chuck’s words, Amaryllis’ brow furrowed.
Slinking around to fully face her, Malachi stared deep in Chuck’s eyes.
Whispering low so only she could hear him, he laid his forehead on hers.
“Please, tell me this is not some new bloodthirsty side of you. Kelly, I don’t want you to be like me.
Your light is one of the many reasons I love you, and I can’t live with myself if the darkness in me dims your shine in any way. ”
“Mal,” she whispered back, tangling her fingers in his hair.
“Look at my halo, what is it telling you?” She leaned back slightly so he could take in the shimmering aura around her.
It was gold, sparkling and swirling with the red of her love for him.
She pulled him closer as he shuddered in relief.
“This is to protect you, and Luna. Any demon who tries to take you two from me is going to get a double tap between the eyes. You are mine; no unholy plot will change that. I don’t care if Lucifer himself shows up. I’ll shoot him too.”
“I wouldn’t recommend that,” he replied with a low laugh as he shook his head.
“It’ll just piss him off. He’s not so easily killed.
But it’s enough to know you’d try.” He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and turned to face the scariest person he knew.
Arching an eyebrow at her in inquiry, he entwined his fingers with Chuck’s as he waited for Amaryllis’ decision.
Finally, her eyes lifted to meet the group watching with bated breath.
One nod was her only hint that she was about to move.
With a swift thrust, her sword slammed through the stomach of Skeerot with a scooping motion, and she lifted him over her shoulder the way she had with Hyacinth.
There was no hint of effort involved in raising a fully grown demon up this way, so great was her strength.
Yet another warning to not underestimate her.
With a surprisingly girlish wiggle of her fingers, she disappeared in a puff of sulfur-saturated fog.
Only a small puddle of blood remained where she’d stood.
The blood had been cleaned from the walls and floor.
Jaxon and Luna had said their goodbyes, and Flick announced his utterly wholesome intention to spy on Detective Roundtree.
For informational purposes, of course. He insisted he was in no way going to flirt or try to convince the handsome detective into the sexual escapade he had in mind.
It was simply to check whether the man had any nefarious plans or was just exceptionally nosy.
He widened his eyes in his attempt to appear innocent but failed miserably in the face of their disbelieving glares.
Seeing he wasn’t convincing them, he shrugged with a devil-may-care grin before he copied Amaryllis’ finger wave and disappeared.
“Finally, alone,” Malachi groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose with exasperation.
He closed his eyes and rubbed them, trying to ease the frustration of the day.
Opening one, he peeked at Chuck, who was watching him with a bemused smile.
“No bloodthirsty murdery vibes, right?” She snorted and rolled her eyes, so he grinned back.
“Just checking. You know, the absolute lack of self-preservation you have when ‘Ammy’ is around”—his fingers curled in sarcastic air quotes—“is going to kill me. I’m going to be the first demon in all of history to die of a heart attack because of a mouthy half angel.
I’ll be in the books, I’ll be famous. They’ll make a movie about my sacrifice.
Maybe some band will write a power ballad about my bravery. Maybe—”
“Mal!” Chuck barked on a laugh, interrupting his tirade.
“You’re spiraling. Take a deep breath.” She nodded encouragingly, then wrapped him in her arms, smiling as he did as she said and inhaled sharply.
“I’m sorry I worried you, but she won’t hurt me.
She weirdly respects me as one female warrior to another.
She respects that I don’t fall to my knees in terror of her like everyone else does, but she understands it’s not an insult either.
I guess it’s some type of feminine rage bonding?
Plus, she’s intrigued by our relationship, and I dare say she likes us.
Don’t forget, Nick is my uncle and her lover.
She won’t risk that either. Not while it’s still providing her entertainment.
So, what do you say we have that steak dinner I promised you the other day? ”
He nodded and pointed at his face, which was slowly turning purple.
“What? Oh, for fuck’s… nope. Not getting me into this again. Let out the breath you certainly know you’re holding and go light the grill.” With that, she spun on her heel and headed to the kitchen, muttering about demons being too literal for their own good.