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“It’s practically morning.” I tapped at the back of my wrist, at the watch that wasn’t there. “Shouldn’t your kind still be asleep?”
“You must have me confused for vampires. I can walk in the day, nephilim. It’s no big deal.”
The very distinct sound of a tautening bowstring squeaked from a little off the side, and like one unit, everyone in the clearing turned towards the noise. Artemis stood there, arrow nocked and pointed directly at Belphegor’s heart.
“I thought I said that you weren’t welcome here.”
“Then how come Raziel is welcome?” Belphegor said with a whine. “That’s not fair.”
Artemis turned her gaze from demon, to angel, and back. “Raziel brings me the right offerings. Raziel is polite about showing up when it’s convenient for everyone. And most importantly, Raziel doesn’t do things to put my boys in danger.”
Belphegor scoffed. “Oh, please. What’s the worst thing I’ve done to them? The very worst thing?”
I scoffed back. “You stole Mammon’s sword all that time ago. It’s why the Prince of Greed wants to eat all our guts for breakfast.”
“Okay. Besides that one time, when did I ever put you in harm’s way?” Belphegor rolled his eyes, then started fanning himself with one hand. “Don’t you people get hot here? It’s so damn hot.”
In bewilderment, I shook my head. “But you live in hell. Or at least one of them.” He was right, though. My kingdom for an air-conditioner.
“I can’t get too mad at the fact that the human half of your brain renders you so stupid.” Belphegor grinned at Raziel before looking back at me. “And the angel half just makes you gullible. But the point is, not all hells have to be exclusively hot. Or cold. But this place? Ugh. I can’t deal with this.”
In one smooth motion, Belphegor unzipped his hoodie, and – I wish I had a better way of explaining this – unzipped the rest of his body in the process, too. The teenage skater boy’s skin fell into a wrinkled pile on the ground, shortly before being consumed by plumes of crimson fire.
“Ah,” Belphegor said. “Much better.”
She shook her hair out, letting it fall in gleaming tumbles across her shoulders, a bottle of sunscreen already in one hand, the other applying dollops of it to bronzed skin. This body wore a swimsuit, a wide-brimmed hat, and very little else, just another of the Prince of Sloth’s manifestations. Luxury is, after all, just the sin of sloth in another skin.
That was how I first met Belphegor, in the guise of a woman sunbathing on what she considered her own private island. Gender didn’t matter much to the demons, or the celestials, or the gods, for that matter. Keep in mind that Loki is both the father of Fenrir and the mother of Sleipnir.
“Dang,” Florian said, whistling.
Raziel harrumphed. “Don’t let the body distract you. That’s still a demon. A demon prince.”
The bottle of sunscreen in Belphegor’s hand vanished in a puff of fire as she smirked. She gathered her hair up above her shoulders, exposing her neck, then turned playfully to look over her shoulder at Raziel.
“Jealous, angel? Then pick a different skin suit and shut up.”
Raziel stamped his foot lightly and tugged on the hem of his shirt. “I like this one, thanks.”
Artemis cleared her throat noisily. “This still doesn’t explain why you’ve decided to sully my home with your presence, demon.”
“Oh. That’s right.” Belphegor pointed with one long, clawed nail at Florian. “Him. I came for him.”
Florian blinked, looked at Belphegor’s finger, then over his shoulder, his eyes filled with the hope that the demon was pointing at some other dude who happened to be sitting behind him.
“I had an agreement with both of you.” Belphegor folded her arms, her eyes flitting between me and Florian. “The alraune was supposed to be rehabilitated, waking up to his full powers, and the nephilim was supposed to do all the rehabilitating.”
My hands went into fists. “And we’ve done both of those things already. What more do you want from us?”
The demon prince poked one nail against her bottom lip, smiling. “You’re forgetting that Florian still owes me a favor. You performed yours, quite admirably at that. But you still need to participate, because this final act is what really qualifies as helping Florian awaken to his true glory. Oh, stop sulking. You’re getting a reward out of it too, you know.”
“From a demon prince, which is hardly any incentive. Trickster gods are one thing, but you people are probably even sneakier.”
Belphegor held a hand to her chest, her nails pressing against her skin. “Sneaky? Perish the thought. Plus, I shouldn’t have to remind you that refusing to help me is a breach of contract.”
“I never signed a damn contract and you know it.”
Belphegor chuckled, raising her hand. Flames flickered in her palm, then guttered out, leaving a scroll of parchment clutched between her fingers. The contract. My heart fell.
