Chapter Seventeen

Malphas POV

Walking with Caim felt a lot like walking a golden retriever with horns.

Malphas knew that Caim played up his persona. It was easy to forget that Caim was a demon of extraordinary intelligence. The kind that didn’t disappear even when his connection to Hell was severed. If Caim wasn’t his friend, Malphas would have probably killed him long ago.

Behem’s house was as luxurious as expected. Gold-leaf coated every surface, pristine cleanliness, and opulent stolen artwork on the walls—but Malphas sensed the glamour. However, he couldn’t pierce it with his own eyes. Every time he turned his head a little too quickly, the smell of rotting garbage filled the back of his nose and throat, though there was no dirt to be seen.

As they walked further into the house, more and more demons and humans alike were slumped over various pieces of furniture. Their bodies propped up against the floor, unconscious, drooling, and drugged to the gills.

Murmur had a penchant for smoking demon blood, but nothing like this.

There weren’t many drugs that could affect a demon. Murmur would have found them if they existed. Heaven knew he’d searched for oblivion when he’d first come to the Human Realities—powerless and unwelcome after millennia as a statue.

Malphas did not understand Hell, and he understood modern demons even less. He had been there for the Fall. He hadn’t been close with Lucifer, unlike Stolas, but he had been there.

Fallen angels were once touted as untouchable. They were kings and queens in Hell, but it seemed that they had been left out to dry without the power to back it up.

Gluttony had never been a prestigious Sin, not like Pride or Wrath. Even Lust had a better reputation despite being the Seventh Circle of Hell. Lust had numbers, and Gluttony cannibalized itself more often than not.

Murmur had warned them of the glamour, but Malphas hadn’t expected it to break. Fae glamour was known for being infallible, but it seemed that Behem hadn’t bothered to glamour the kitchen—or if he had, perhaps the conditions were just too dire for even a glamour to hide.

The garden sat at a lower level, and the kitchen led out to a balcony, staircase, and the courtyard. Caim and Malphas did not speak as they walked through the house as if they belonged there, ignoring the comatose demons slumped along the railing.

What has Behem done to them ? Malphas wondered. Drugged to the gills, he could have slit their throats, and they wouldn’t even know. An army unable to protect their master.

Behem sat in the pool, lounging over the edge, his chest glittering with so much gold it was a wonder that he didn’t slip under the water and drown—not that demons could drown.

Despite being a glutton, Behem was skeletal. His skin stretched taut over his bones, and the joints jutted awkwardly, appearing as if they would burst from his skin if he moved too quickly. His face was gaunt, his teeth too large for his face but comically square. Behem had almost no hair, save for three stringy strands he had collected into a braid at the nape of his neck.

Though the courtyard was packed with demons, Behem seemed to be the only one having any fun.

Malphas quickly found Stolas on a deck chair by the pool edge. His hands were knitted together in front of him, a position that would not have been comfortable in a deck chair. Stolas’s unruly hair stood unusually limp, and his eyes stared off as if unaware of the scene around him.

As Malphas got closer, he noticed how long Behem’s body was. The stick man had to be over seven feet tall.

Though demons could choose what form they wore, sometimes, if their magic was too powerful, it found ways to twist their body. Malphas had heard on good authority that the Leviathan King had golden scales.

“The cavalry has arrived!” Behem boomed, splashing the water in front of him with his declaration. “How quaint. Two powerless fallen angels without a weapon in sight.”

“Oh, B.” Caim chided, shaking his head. “Why would we need weapons? We’re here for a social visit. We just had to see what amazing, decadent, and gluttonous party was enough to keep Stolas from coming home.”

“So many words.” Behem nodded, squinting a single eye. “Even without magic, you can’t hide that big juicy brain of yours. I wonder if a brain tastes better if it holds more. Food for thought.”

Caim pressed his hand against his belly, threw his head back, and laughed as if Behem had said the funniest thing ever.

Malphas glanced between the two demons, wondering what madness had infected them both—or maybe there was some bullshit undercurrent that he just couldn’t be bothered to decipher.

“Stolas!” Behem snapped his fingers. “Get your friends a drink, won’t you?”

Malphas arched a brow. “You’re his slave now?”

Stolas didn’t answer as he walked to the bar and grabbed the nearest bottle of Titos. He didn’t bother pouring the drinks. Instead, Stolas shuffled over to Behem and handed the demon the bottle. Despite Behem’s offer of a drink, the demon tilted his head back and sucked the contents dry.

When Behem was momentarily distracted, Stolas shot him a warning look.

Okay , Malphas thought. There was a plan. That was good. Because for a moment, he had thought the wise old owl had officially lost it.

Malphas hoped that Murmur and Maddie had found the Fae prisoners upstairs and gotten the hell out of dodge. Still, to be sure, he was willing to provide a distraction.

Behem finished the vodka, and chucked the empty bottle over their heads. The glass smashed against the marble steps, but neither Caim nor Malphas flinched. A dusting of glass coated one of the sleeping demons, but they didn’t wake up.

“Poaching from Sloth?” Malphas kept his voice casual. “Because I can’t see any other reason for tolerating such behavior from your subjects. We sauntered right in here, and no one blinked.”

“I was expecting you.” Behem shifted in the pool, submerging his chest despite the heavy weight of the gold. “In fact, I invited you, if you recall.”

Malphas fixed his eyes on the gluttony demon, doing his best not to glance at Stolas. “You did.” Malphas agreed, leaving the sentence hanging.

“Does Beelzebub know you’re hanging around with Sloth demons?” Caim chimed in; his voice was airy and ignorant. His MO. Beelzebub was Gluttony's king and was hands-on by demonic standards.

“Those are Gluttony demons.” Behem chuckled, watching the pool water ripple as he moved his hands under the surface. “They’re just getting used to the Sugar.”

“Sugar?” Malphas echoed dryly.

“Diabetes is a killer.” Caim nodded solemnly.

“It’s a new invention of mine,” Behem explained. “It’s just… delightful.”

“I would think that gluttony demons consume enough sugar as it is.” Malphas drawled.

“ Sugar .” Behem sat back, puffing his concave chest with pride. “Is a new drug, you dullard.”

“Sugar?” Caim stepped forward, crouching down to the pool’s edge. He put his chin against his hands and knelt down to speak to the glutton. “Is it any good?”

Behem swam closer. “It’s the only thing that quiets the curse. The hunger.”

“Oh?” Caim cocked his head to the side.

“I invited you because I sense the same hunger in you that plagues us,” Behem said earnestly. “Stolas already made a deal.”

“Did he?” Malphas’s brows lifted, but Behem ignored his question, and Stolas ignored his glare.

So many deals.

“What’s in it?” Caim asked innocently.

Behem opened his mouth to speak, but the eerie silence surrounding the pool was broken by the high-pitched scream as the windows on the second floor burst into shards of glass.

Malphas cursed.

He knew that scream.