Page 60 of A Chip on Her Shoulder

The shadows drew closer, and I lifted my hands and smiled at the warmth suffusing my hands, tracing his perfect face with my fingertips in the hopes of etching his image into my memories. I closed my broken eyes, but his visage slipped from my grasp, lost in the relentless dark.

“Breathe,” a still and quiet voice ordered.

I obeyed, and the world fell away into nothing.

“You shouldn’t kill him yet,” Belial stated, and something about his tone annoyed me into growling.

I was warm and comfortable, and some damned devil was blabbing about not killing somebody? I considered doing my best to kill him, but after a moment of thought, I decided against it.

Killing useful devils wouldn’t help me down the road, and for all Belial could be annoying, he had his uses.

“I absolutely should kill him,” the Devil replied, and his growls were a great deal deeper and louder than mine.

How unfair. There needed to be a rule against that. His voice rumbled in his chest, which was in close proximity to my head, a situation I quite liked.

His chest and my head needed to maintain a close and personal relationship. I purred, snuggling closer to the source of warmth, which I determined was likely him.

“In order to kill him, you would have to move her, and I can hear her purring from here. He isn’t going anywhere. I’ll see to that. I will quite enjoy helping with his complete ruination. Your lady seems content where she is at, and you would become more upset should she be disturbed. Perhaps this worm can be the first of her toys. Cats require many toys, do they not? Gift him to her so she can practice her arts, for she has much to learn. You can occupy yourself with building her a dungeon all of her own, filled with toys to keep her from becoming bored.”

“Who is he and why are we killing him?” I asked, and I cracked open an eye to discover the Devil had taken on a more human form, and to my disappointment, he hid his beautiful chest beneath a crimson shirt partnered with a black suit jacket.

Belial stood on the back of a struggling man, his suit torn and covered with soot. To all appearances, the devil should have been able to escape, although upon a second, closer look, I realized Belial’s feet had transformed into hooves equipped with curved claws, which impaled his victim.

“Alloces,” the Devil replied, and his chest rumbled with yet another one of his growls. “He thought he could defy me.”

“He wanted to kill you, Darlene,” Belial announced with a rather offensive amount of good cheer. “You are delightfully resilient. I am not sure who was more startled by the most unexpected intervention, although Alloces lives only because His Most Sulfurous Majesty turned his attention to you. What would you have me do with him?”

I eyed the squirming devil pinned beneath Belial’s clawed feet. “Turn him into a cute and harmless fish that can live in one of my tanks, and then I can show him off.”

“A toy for your amusement?” Belial asked.

“If I feed him to another fish, can he become a fish again so I can keep feeding him to other fish?”

The Devil remained tense, although he did chuckle. “Make the concoction particularly hellish, Belial. I’m sure you can make the appropriate arrangements to ensure his punishment is as thorough as possible before he is sent to Darlene’s dungeon to be used as a training tool. Locate the succubus who conspired with him and make an example of her.”

“Verify she actually played a role first, please,” I requested. “He could just be an idiot who thinks he’s being helpful when he is not. But if she was involved, I will not object to more pretty fish to play with.”

“I will see it done.” Belial reached down, grasped Alloces’s throat, and vanished in a dark plume of foul-smelling smoke. Unlike before, the stench wasn’t that of brimstone.

Sniffing, I frowned. “What is that smell?”

“That would be benzeneselenol. It is a rather toxic acid, and it’s one of Belial’s favorites. He is in a mood, and when he is in a mood, he enjoys warning those around him he is not to be trifled with. I requested he give proper warning to others of his state of mind to keep things somewhat peaceful among the various devils and demons inhabiting my hells.” Without any sign I weighed well over a hundred pounds, the Devil got to his feet, cradling me in his arms while he regarded the bloodied spot on the carpeting with a disdainful expression. “I have changed your plans. I will be having a few of my more trusted devils participating in some games with Gallo, leading him around while you have some time to recover. I will also deal with your brother’s situation at the same time. I intend to bargain with him, and unless he wishes to remain a squeaking rodent, he will become the equivalent of your personal secretary and gopher. That should keep him busy. You can boss him around however you see fit.”

“Does this change of my plans mean I won’t be walking?”

“You’re not walking.”

“Why not?”

“I said so. That’s why not.”

“I am disappointed you put your clothes back on.” I thought being separated from his perfect chest justified my pout. “I feel a lot better now. My head doesn’t hurt.”

“That is only because He intervened when you saw my face.” The Devil’s expression soured. “I killed you.”

I checked out my hands, which seemed normal to me. To make certain, I plucked at the fleshy bit between my thumb and finger. As expected, it hurt when I pinched myself. Then, to make sure I was truly all right, I shifted enough to cover my skin in fur. To my delight, my coat grew in at its plushest. “I don’t feel dead. Am I a zombie, then?”

“You are not an undead.”