Sweet Evil
Page 105
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“Welcome, all. I trust that everyone had enjoyable travels to this wonderful city of New York. I regret we had to rush, but a certain problem has been put off too long. With all of the visitors to the city this weekend, we thought this would be the perfect opportunity to wreak havoc. The Dukes, Legionnaires, and Nephilim will reach many souls this night. So without further ado, let us complete our business at hand so we can move on to the greater joys of our life’s work. Shall we?”
Pharzuph gave a dazzling smile, and cheers of agreement ensued from the Dukes.
“Let us first call forth the messenger Azael so our lord Lucifer may be informed of these proceedings.”
Azael! He was the one who’d whispered to me at that party. My father trusted him.
In unison the Dukes emitted low hisses from the backs of their throats—a long hiss followed by two short ones, and repeated a second time. This was not a human sound. It had to come from deep in their souls, the stuff of horror films. Every Neph in the room went stock-still. I was covered in goose bumps and was starting to sweat, despite a triple layer of antiperspirant. I wanted to wipe my forehead, but I didn’t dare move and draw attention to myself.
Azael appeared as if coming up through the ground. He flitted grandly, with widespread wings, and then folded them in, a gray ghost hovering over the stage floor next to Pharzuph. Azael’s face appeared less frightening than those of the demons who had haunted me and stalked me the previous night. This one had catlike features, reminding me of a lion.
“Welcome, Azael. I trust our lord Lucifer is well?”
Azael inclined his head and Pharzuph continued.
“Well, then. Thank you for joining this summit. I hope you can return to him soon with news that will gladden him.” He turned to the Dukes. “And now we summon our Legionnaires.”
There was a great, loud slurring of hisses as each Duke sent out a personal message to his Legionnaires. The eeriness never lessened. It took all of my willpower not to cover my ears.
They came in from every direction, packing in on top of one another like smoky sheets of paper. The demon spirits blocked all ceiling lights, like an immense dreary fog hanging over our heads. Candlelight from the tabletops lit the room with a low, wavering glow. I kicked on my night vision. There was only one exit in the room. To say I was trapped would be a vast understatement.
“Welcome, loyal Legionnaires,” Pharzuph cooed at the blackness, with his arms open wide to them. They gave him space around the stage, but I still had to slump down a little in my chair to see.
Pharzuph focused on the Dukes now.
“You have done well since last we gathered. Humanity spoils and rots like never before in history. Soon, very soon, we will be fully prepared to take back what is rightfully ours, and nobody will keep us from the realms of our choosing!”
There was great uproar of applause from the Dukes, who bellowed their approval. Wonderful. Pharzuph was a demon cheerleader. His smile was broad as he motioned Rahab to join him onstage. This was it.
Please give me strength. Please make it fast. Please give me peace.
A ripple of peace went through me, fluid and cool, shaking off the panic that clung. I closed my eyes for a moment and envisioned Patti’s loving face.
Rahab greeted everyone with a heavy French inflection. Unlike Pharzuph, he did not smile or attempt to rile them. His tone was sobering and cold.
“Many years have passed since there was a need to address the Nephilim.” He spit the word with disgust. “And yet, just as the stupid humans do not learn from errors of the past, neither does your lesser race. It is very simple. Your life is not your own. You were bred to serve us. You work for us, or you lose the privilege of being on earth. There is one among you who has been warned, and yet still chooses poorly. Sin is a beautiful thing, but even we must not allow our sins to control us. Because when it does, we cannot properly influence humans. Simple enough, wouldn’t you say?”
Where was he going with this?
Rahab’s beady dark eyes scanned the room and I held my breath. His eyes passed over our group and stopped on a table in the middle of the room. He clasped his hands behind his back and paced back and forth on the stage. Pharzuph watched him from the side with a zealous look of worship. Rahab stopped and stared at that table in the middle again. I dared not move my body, but my eyesight stretched and zoomed, as I tried to figure out who he kept looking at. There were at least a dozen different Neph clustered at those tables in the middle.
“Gerlinda.” The way Rahab said her name felt like a slither in my ear. “Daughter of Kobal.”
Kobal? Ah, the Duke of Gluttony. What in the world was going on?
Rahab pointed, hatred and contempt blazing in his eyes. A high-pitched, pained yelp sounded from the middle of the room, like someone kicked a puppy. Suddenly chairs were scraping the old tiles, pushing back from the tables that surrounded Gerlinda. The Nephilim around her fled, leaving her in the middle alone.
Gerlinda was a tall woman in her thirties. Her straw-colored short hair was smoothed down around her face. She appeared tidy, but one thing worried me: The Dukes and Neph were always so careful to be in shape. I wasn’t good at guessing weight, but Gerlinda was likely over three hundred pounds.
She held a hand over her mouth, which had apparently emitted the yelp without her permission. Panic shone in her eyes.
“Can you manage to make it up here, Gerlinda, daughter of Kobal?” Rahab asked her in that slithery, scaly, antagonizing voice. “Or do you need an incentive?” He pulled a candy bar from his pocket and waved it in a taunt.
Pharzuph gave a dazzling smile, and cheers of agreement ensued from the Dukes.
“Let us first call forth the messenger Azael so our lord Lucifer may be informed of these proceedings.”
Azael! He was the one who’d whispered to me at that party. My father trusted him.
In unison the Dukes emitted low hisses from the backs of their throats—a long hiss followed by two short ones, and repeated a second time. This was not a human sound. It had to come from deep in their souls, the stuff of horror films. Every Neph in the room went stock-still. I was covered in goose bumps and was starting to sweat, despite a triple layer of antiperspirant. I wanted to wipe my forehead, but I didn’t dare move and draw attention to myself.
Azael appeared as if coming up through the ground. He flitted grandly, with widespread wings, and then folded them in, a gray ghost hovering over the stage floor next to Pharzuph. Azael’s face appeared less frightening than those of the demons who had haunted me and stalked me the previous night. This one had catlike features, reminding me of a lion.
“Welcome, Azael. I trust our lord Lucifer is well?”
Azael inclined his head and Pharzuph continued.
“Well, then. Thank you for joining this summit. I hope you can return to him soon with news that will gladden him.” He turned to the Dukes. “And now we summon our Legionnaires.”
There was a great, loud slurring of hisses as each Duke sent out a personal message to his Legionnaires. The eeriness never lessened. It took all of my willpower not to cover my ears.
They came in from every direction, packing in on top of one another like smoky sheets of paper. The demon spirits blocked all ceiling lights, like an immense dreary fog hanging over our heads. Candlelight from the tabletops lit the room with a low, wavering glow. I kicked on my night vision. There was only one exit in the room. To say I was trapped would be a vast understatement.
“Welcome, loyal Legionnaires,” Pharzuph cooed at the blackness, with his arms open wide to them. They gave him space around the stage, but I still had to slump down a little in my chair to see.
Pharzuph focused on the Dukes now.
“You have done well since last we gathered. Humanity spoils and rots like never before in history. Soon, very soon, we will be fully prepared to take back what is rightfully ours, and nobody will keep us from the realms of our choosing!”
There was great uproar of applause from the Dukes, who bellowed their approval. Wonderful. Pharzuph was a demon cheerleader. His smile was broad as he motioned Rahab to join him onstage. This was it.
Please give me strength. Please make it fast. Please give me peace.
A ripple of peace went through me, fluid and cool, shaking off the panic that clung. I closed my eyes for a moment and envisioned Patti’s loving face.
Rahab greeted everyone with a heavy French inflection. Unlike Pharzuph, he did not smile or attempt to rile them. His tone was sobering and cold.
“Many years have passed since there was a need to address the Nephilim.” He spit the word with disgust. “And yet, just as the stupid humans do not learn from errors of the past, neither does your lesser race. It is very simple. Your life is not your own. You were bred to serve us. You work for us, or you lose the privilege of being on earth. There is one among you who has been warned, and yet still chooses poorly. Sin is a beautiful thing, but even we must not allow our sins to control us. Because when it does, we cannot properly influence humans. Simple enough, wouldn’t you say?”
Where was he going with this?
Rahab’s beady dark eyes scanned the room and I held my breath. His eyes passed over our group and stopped on a table in the middle of the room. He clasped his hands behind his back and paced back and forth on the stage. Pharzuph watched him from the side with a zealous look of worship. Rahab stopped and stared at that table in the middle again. I dared not move my body, but my eyesight stretched and zoomed, as I tried to figure out who he kept looking at. There were at least a dozen different Neph clustered at those tables in the middle.
“Gerlinda.” The way Rahab said her name felt like a slither in my ear. “Daughter of Kobal.”
Kobal? Ah, the Duke of Gluttony. What in the world was going on?
Rahab pointed, hatred and contempt blazing in his eyes. A high-pitched, pained yelp sounded from the middle of the room, like someone kicked a puppy. Suddenly chairs were scraping the old tiles, pushing back from the tables that surrounded Gerlinda. The Nephilim around her fled, leaving her in the middle alone.
Gerlinda was a tall woman in her thirties. Her straw-colored short hair was smoothed down around her face. She appeared tidy, but one thing worried me: The Dukes and Neph were always so careful to be in shape. I wasn’t good at guessing weight, but Gerlinda was likely over three hundred pounds.
She held a hand over her mouth, which had apparently emitted the yelp without her permission. Panic shone in her eyes.
“Can you manage to make it up here, Gerlinda, daughter of Kobal?” Rahab asked her in that slithery, scaly, antagonizing voice. “Or do you need an incentive?” He pulled a candy bar from his pocket and waved it in a taunt.
