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She sucks her teeth, eyeing me, then chuckles. “Then you’re doomed to repeat history, my love. Once again, if you’ll recall, weallbegan in Heaven. Things were fine until your daddy decided He was bored and wanted to create a flea circus on the third rock from the sun. When some of us tried to tell Him it was a waste of time, He ordered us to kneel.” She leans forward. The flames I saw earlier in her pupils glow again, more intensely this time, her inner hellfire stoked. “Kneel. Before fleas. We refused. And then we were punished.”
“I’m well aware of the history,” I reply. “But I fail to see your point.”
“My point is that even if you destroy Hell, get that clean slate you mentioned, and start over, you will always have mutiny within the ranks,” Agrat says. “You will always find an angel, a score of angels, who will refuse to kneel to scum.”
“And you will all be destroyed,” I say softly.
Her upper lip curls. “Well. I suppose you could say I like it rough.”
“If you want to keep your pit,” I continue, “then you will heed Heaven’s first and only warning to remove your minions from the Earth immediately.”
Agrat shrugs. “First I have to confirm they’re there. You think I’m going to trust your word?”
“And what does confirmation consist of?”
She gives me a beautiful smile. “Seeing is believing.”
“You’re asking to break the treaty,” I say in disbelief. “Did you not hear—”
“I heard,” she replies. “But if you want me to take action, then you’ll grant me this exception. Otherwise, I will do nothing but advise His Dark Grace to prepare for war. And, my love, we are not so easily smited.”
I become aware of a burning sensation starting at the root of my wings and extending down their frame. I glance over my shoulder. The feathers are smoking again, but more intensely than before.
I turn back to the demon across from me. She hasn’t moved from her relaxed position, reclined in her chair, one finger still idly tracing the lip of her glass of scotch, but her black irises glow brighter as she stares back at me, a vicious smile forming on her lips.
Two can play that game.
I slowly rise to my feet, fists clenched at my sides, and extend my wings to their full span. The tips brush the marble walls of the lavish office, but cracks immediately form as though a wrecking ball slammed into them. Then I flare my wings, and they punch through either side of the wall. The clean, sparkling, soft white setting disappears as roaring fire and gale-force winds swirl around us in the blackness. The agonized cries, moans, and shrieks of innumerable damned souls rise around us.
I unsheath my power from behind my eyes, letting the bright white celestial energy of Heaven flow out. A look of fear crosses Agrat’s face for the first time as I settle my gaze on her hand. The pretty red polish and the smooth flesh begin to melt away, turning into a river of viscous black ooze, and she screams.
In an instant, I blink back the energy, withdraw my wings, and once again, we’re in the quiet, comfortable confines of her office. The walls appear untouched, the wind disappears, and the wails of the damned are silenced.
Panting harshly, Agrat peels her eyes open and grabs her hand. The flesh is back to normal. No traces of the black tar of her innards exist.
She stares at me. The black of her irises has expanded to her sclera—the sign of a demon in pain or in extreme fear. “Well,” she says, her voice trembling. “I did say I liked it rough, didn’t I?”
“You will be granted an exception to travel to the Earthly realm of Draco City to view the treason with your own eyes,” I tell her softly. “I will accompany you. If you make one false step, I will wipe you from existence in an instant. Are we understood?”
Agrat runs a hand through her long, glossy dark waves with her previously injured hand, a slight sneer on her lips. “Oh yeah. I love it when you talk dirty to me.”
But her bravado, however perfumed, can’t cover up the stench of her fear.
* * *
We materialize on a dark, wet street a block from the bar. Time is a confusing thing in the cosmos, but we travel through planes of realms in an immeasurable amount of time and distance to appear on the street in Draco City in what feels like an instant later.
I look around at the skyscrapers, the bright neon lights advertising “Rated XXX” this and “Live Girls” that, the best drinks over here and the tastiest food over there. Holograms of live music performances shoot up nearly as high as the skyscrapers. The city is a confusing mixture of extreme wealth, technology, and dire poverty. At the end of the twenty-first century, after the Third World War in the early second quarter of the century and subsequent ripple wars, plus widespread disease and famine, the wealthiest kept their wealth and the rest were left to a bleak, Darwinistic way of life. Emerging from those smoking ruins was a new age of technology with a dark secret purpose: keep tabs on every single human remaining on the planet. The wealthy get wealthier. The impoverished keep dying.
This atmosphere of depravity and despair is precisely what would draw Hell’s influence and its minions; they can feed off this energy and revitalize themselves, and have some fun along the way.
“What an utter marvel,” Agrat says beside me, absolutely delighted.
If I had a stomach or was capable of becoming nauseated, I would have the moment we neared this place coming through the atmosphere. “You would think so, naturally.”
“From a demon’s perspective, what is there not to like?” she asks, shrugging. She draws a deep breath and licks her ruby lips. “Just smell all of that sin. It’s absolutely delicious.”
Her eyes are beginning to glow again. I snatch her by the arm. “Control yourself, demon.”
