Page 11 of The River of Fire
With the gathering finished, I stand up and turn toward the hallway which leads to my bedroom. I don’t blame Maalik in the end. Ramel was right. Simone was capable of handling herself. Logically, I know I shouldn’t be blaming myself, either. What ifs and should haves are a bitch, though. Maybe Nick is right. Maybe Maalik made a mistake by picking me to lead this team.
Once in my room, I wash the dust off in a perfunctory way and crawl into my bed naked, too mentally and physicallyexhausted to bother with dressing. My last thought is that perhaps I should be a bit more optimistic. Maybe the Council can do something and Simone will come back, shaken but unharmed. Maybe tomorrow, maybe the day after.
I was never very good at lying to myself, though.
Chapter 7 – Ashtaroth
“One last thing.” Belial’s postponing of this meeting’s end is met with groans from our side.
“Some of us have places to be, Belial.” My brother sounds every bit the playboy that he is, hislaissez-faireattitude making Belial’s jaw tic.
“The Fallen of Purgatory are asking if there is any news about the missing Elioud.” Belial addresses Heaven, though he is clearly speaking to us. Sowing discord once more, is he?
“Still?” Azeal growls. “Why do they give a fuck? It’s not the only dead mortal.”
“She,” Belial corrects, “is the only one whose body hasn’t been recovered.”
I snort in disbelief. “Shall we name all thedemons who do not leave a trace of flesh and blood to be found after they have fed?”
Belial ignores me and addresses Asmodai. “Would you happen to know anything about it,King of Seduction?”
My brother rolls his eyes. “My answer is the same as it was months ago when you first asked, Belial. No, I did not fuck the girl to death.”
My brow twitches at Asmodai’s words. Or, more accurately, at the words he did not say. It is strange that he has never bragged about any conquests among the Elioud in Hell. He has always been the opposite of modest when pertaining to his exploits.
“If there are no more important matters to discuss…” Belphegor’s lazy drawl stops my musings. He is correct; none of this is of importance.
“Inquire among your courts about the female again.” Saraqael’s request borders on being a command, and Azeal snarls. His pride is wounded, I feel, but he makes no further signs of aggression towards Heaven.
In truth, Saraqael is one of the few archangels that occasionally bless these meetings with their presence, the majority unable to share space with their fallen brethren.
I stand to leave, signaling my unwillingness to continue this conversation. Perhaps my brother did kill the woman, or perhaps another demon devoured her. Regardless, it is of no significance to me, and certainly not worth coming to blows over.
Asmodai jumps to his feet and straightens his suit jacket. He is nothing if not a cliché. “Do visit, Brother – the children have been asking about you.”
I click my tongue. “How would you know? You have too many to keep count of.”
My brother smirks lasciviously. “I can’t help it if I’m potent, now can I?”
“You best hope they never band together in a coup. They would prevail by attrition, pecking at you like carrion.”
“Naamah will be most disappointed in hearing you think of her as a vulture, Ashtaroth. You are her favorite, you know.”
I huff and spirit myself out of Purgatory into my own domain, welcoming the tempestuous skies after being enclosed in a cavern under the mountains for hours.
Chapter 8 – Lana
“I’m pretty sure she wants me.”
“Uh-huh.” I smile at Kevin. He’s really lightened up over the years, as if he found his footing in this place, more than he ever had in the human realm. A home. I don’t see the angry young man I met that first night in Purgatory’s large atrium anymore. He’s one of the most relaxed Elioud here now.
And, with the deluded vanity that comes hand in hand with a twenty-something’s testosterone supply, he thinks he’s God’s gift to women. Even down here where God certainly isn’t present.
“I’m telling you, I’m gonna come back and she’ll be waiting for me in my room.” He grins, unashamed. Deluded he may be, but his gorgeous face indeed ensures he doesn’t sleep alone very often. Hell, he even has the older women blushing at his flirty grins. It’s a good thing I’m immune to him.
“At this rate, you’re going to plow through the available female population before the year’s out,” I tease him.
“By then I’ll forget about the first ones and start all over again,” Kev winks at me. I scoff and shake my head. It’s not like he’s leaving broken hearts behind. At least not yet. As his team leader and self-appointed (still young and beautiful) auntie, I worry about him getting entangled in what I like to refer to as ‘camp drama’. While we spend a lot of time patrolling the regions of Hell closest to Abaddon, it’s still our home base. Our war camp. “You’re just grumpy because you don’t get dicked down often enough,” he says with mock solemnity.
