Paimon, of course, sensed him before he entered the throne room. She had probably sensed him the moment he arrived through the gate. She sat on her throne with Shaheen by her side, as usual. The shadows cast across her face flickered in the torchlight.
“Back so soon? I thought you’d last another day at least. You were always a stubborn one when you put your mind to something.”
Solidifying his physical form, Mist approached the throne. Whispers from the guards along the wall followed him. The gargoyles seemed to be staring at him with awed expressions, though he wasn’t sure why.
He ignored them and focused on his objective. Sneaking up on his prey as mist was his favorite tactic, but it wouldn’t work with Paimon. She sensed him easily, and the moment she suspected him of treachery, she would materialize the cuffs and stop his heart, and all would be lost.
“I changed my mind.” His heart pounded, and his mouth was dry. He forced all thoughts of his plan out of his head lest the slightest tell betray him.
Paimon laughed. “Already tired of Belial’s empty promises? How sad of you to fall for them at all.”
Mist swallowed his pride and forced himself to play his role. “I would rather serve you, Mistress. You are infinitely more powerful.”
“You betrayed me. You killed one of my precious goraths. You cannot expect me to forget that, nor can you expect me to believe you aren’t lying now. You’ve lied before, and now I can’t believe a word you say.” She turned her face away with an anguished expression, as if she couldn’t bear the pain of his dishonesty.
“I have a way to prove my loyalty.”
“Do you?” Her gaze snapped back to his, dramatics forgotten.
“I know where Belial is, and I know what he is planning.”
Her eyes flared with interest, but she quickly masked the expression. It was too late, however. He could tell she’d taken the bait. “Tell me, then.” She flicked her claws. “I haven’t got all day.”
Mist glanced around the hall with fake suspicion. The room was mostly empty save for the guards and a few of her slaves puttering about.
“We must be careful who is listening.” He gave her a pointed look before glancing around again. “Belial’s reach extends further than you know.”
Paimon’s nostrils flared, and her horizontal pupils dilated with rage as she glanced around, suddenly viewing each of her carefully selected servants as a potential traitor.
She leveled that stare back on Mist. “I will not be toyed with. If this is an attempt to trick me, then beware. You will taste the full extent of my wrath.”
“There is no trick, Mistress. I seek only to prove my loyalty. Afterwards, you can relay this information to Lucifer and increase your favor in his eyes, and then I will gratefully return to serving as your hunter.”
She studied him, and for a time, the only sound in the room came from the slaves scurrying about. Then, she stood, her powerful wings spreading.
“Come, then. We’ll speak privately.”
Without waiting for a response, she spun on a heel and strode away, Shaheen at her side. The slaves darted out of her way, fanning her with amputated wings as she passed, though the temperature in the castle was already below freezing. Mist followed, ignoring more awed looks and whispers from the gargoyles.
She led him, unsurprisingly, to her favorite room in the castle.
Her dining hall also served as a torture chamber because she enjoyed such entertainments while she supped. While humans liked music or movies, Paimon preferred her meals with a glass of blood and a side of suffering.
A long table of stone was adorned with cobweb-covered candelabras and a feast of tentacles and gray meats. At the end of the cavern, the floor opened into a yawning pit—thePit. The spectator platforms were carved into the sides of the cylindrical chasm, but the top was reserved for the queen’s use only.
Just like in Mist’s dream, the barred cage over the mouth of the Pit was rolled back, leaving it open for anyone to fall or be tossed into. Above, suspended from the ceiling, a series of sinister meat hooks hung from heavy chains, connected to a pulley system on the far wall.
Paimon strode to the end of the table but didn’t take a seat. Torchlight glinted off the sharp tips of the hooks dangling ominously behind her. Shaheen loped to the far corner of the room and lay down again on folded legs.
“Well? I’m waiting. Where is Belial? Tell me what you know. Prove your loyalty to your mistress.”
They were alone, and the camel was far enough away that it wouldn’t reach Paimon before Mist did.
This was his chance.
Heart pounding, blood roaring in his ears, he forced himself to walk with measured steps until he was standing right in front of her.
It was the element of surprise or nothing. Now or never.
