27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Rayven

As fast as I could blink, the three-headed demon’s image melted away, replaced by Belphegor’s preferred feminine form. He stepped out of the bath, water dripping from his shapely form and little black dress—if it could even be called that with how little fabric there was. It was soaked through and clinging to his skin.

Leaning toward a small oval mirror mounted to the stone wall, he wiped the film of steam from the glass to admire himself. “I look so damn good, Mammon is going to want to eat us both.”

He turned back toward the bath, mischievous fire burning behind his black eyes as his claw-tipped fingers unlocked the manacles clamped around my wrists.

Before I could react, he grabbed me by the arm and yanked me out of the tub.

I slipped and stumbled, his nails digging unforgivably into my skin as he dragged me across the bathroom. Blood beaded at the puncture wounds, which only made him smirk.

“There,” he said, looking back so his glowering eyes could roam over me. “I have a feeling you’re going to taste fucking delicious, little rat.”

I was thankful he no longer resembled Asmodeus, but that didn't alleviate the pit of dread in my stomach. Now that I’d gotten a glimpse of the beast lurking beneath his exterior, I didn’t know if his feminine mask was much better.

I stared at him, trying to bury the images of Asmodeus bathing me, his rough hands violating my skin as they roamed, but they were branded on the backs of my eyelids. He’d scrubbed me thoroughly, but now, I felt dirtier than before he’d bathed me.

Belphegor was a horror.

While the other brothers were obviously awful and relied on simpler methods of torture, the Lord of Gluttony could sink down into my deepest fears and make them appear. He could twist reality, and even though I knew it wasn’t real, my racing heart and the icy dread spreading through my chest were .

Belphegor excelled at creating bone-chilling terror with his shapeshifting powers, and I was afraid he’d have more tricks up his sleeve before he was done with me. Whatever they were, they were sure to be horrid.

I’d been so certain the Lord of Gluttony couldn’t be worse than the other demons I’d dealt with so far, but now, I wasn’t so sure. Was being driven insane by psychological torture—along with whatever other kinds Belphegor could think of—really better than being eaten? Probably, but the thought didn’t comfort me the way it had an hour ago.

“Come on, rat.” He jerked on my arm, dragging me back through the bedchamber and into the corridor. I was still wet, leaving a trail of seasoned bathwater in my wake; I was marinated and ready to be boiled.

My throat tightened as we headed for the dining hall, the prospect of my violent death causing my pulse to race. My panicked breaths came faster, my mind whirling, trying to come up with a plan.

There was no plan.

Even if I gave Belphegor the slip, what the hell was I supposed to do? I was trapped in a fortress. There was no way in, no way out. If I got away, I was only prolonging the inevitable.

“Whatever you were planning to do with me before, it has to be better than eating me. You said so yourself—once the meal is done, I’m gone. There’s nothing left to torture once my soul lies with the Lord of Bones.” My voice was a little shaky, but I tried not to sound afraid.

Belphegor’s eyes slid over to me, and he licked his grinning lips. “Your screams earlier said otherwise. Although, I must say, your fear is delicious . Tastier than your mortal flesh could ever be.”

My stomach twisted into painful knots. Thoughts of Asmodeus touching me, rubbing his filthy fucking hands all over me, had me tasting bile, but I had to do this. At the very least, I had to buy time for Belial.

“If only Mammon saw things your way for once,” I said. Belphegor’s jaw twitched at my words, but he said nothing. “Fear is infinite. You could torture me forever and never get tired, but if Mammon eats me…” I swallowed hard, shoving my fear aside. “The fun stops now.”

“You’re not wrong,” he said, an amused look twisting his features. “And you’ve only gotten a taste of what I can do.”

“But Mammon knows best, I guess.” I shrugged, my eyes casually searching the hall for any sign of the Lord of Greed or the other demon lords. They must have been outside, tending to the cauldron, making sure everything was in perfect order. “It’s probably best if you obey him. I wouldn’t want to be on his shit list, that’s for sure.”

Belphegor whipped around abruptly, nails digging into my arm hard enough to make me wince. Pure, unbridled rage burned behind his dark eyes.

“I do not obey Mammon,” he growled, stooping to leer in my face. “I do what I want, not what some demon oaf demands.”

“Right…” I drew out the word as I rolled my eyes, ignoring the pain shooting down my arm from his tightening grip. “Obviously. I mean, he told you to bathe me and you did, told you he was going to eat me and you went along with it. Sounds to me like he has you on a short leash.”

If looks could kill, I would have been dead on the spot. I’d struck a nerve.

Belphegor’s lip twitched as he stared me down, looking internally conflicted. I held my breath, hoping he’d take the bait and decide to keep me for himself. All he had to do was defy Mammon and sneak me out however he got here.

To my disappointment, he turned and continued leading me out of the hall.

“The sooner Mammon swallows you, the better,” he spat.

My chest deflated when the cauldron came into view, and the moment we stepped out the door, a wave of demented cheers erupted through the forge.

Goblin creatures cheered and cackled as Belphegor led me toward the dais, bowing out of his way and murmuring amongst themselves. A few reached out to touch me, and I jerked away from their grubby little hands.

I looked around and found Mammon, giant fiery wings ablaze, sitting on an imposing iron throne at one end of the forge, watching the spectacle unfold. Rather than tossing me in the cauldron himself or skinning me alive for his subjects to watch, it seemed he was going to let Belphegor do his dirty work.

On either side of him were the demon lords I’d seen earlier. Now that the demon with the gigantic eyeball for a head was standing, I could tell he was less humanoid than I’d originally thought. His body seemed to be made of braided cords of tissue, winding together to make his form. Rather than hands or feet, his extremities ended with tentacles.

The spider-looking demon with no eyes seemed like he’d doubled in size now that all his legs were spread wide, and he bared his several rows of razor-sharp teeth at me as I stared. I had every intention of staying as far away from his creepy limbs as possible.

“Our feast is about to begin,” Mammon's amplified voice echoed through the forge, followed by a fresh wave of cheers and hollers from the goblin creatures.

“Feast! Feast! Feast!” they chanted, more and more voices joining the chorus as we approached the stairs leading to the dais.

I tensed in Belphegor’s hold, pausing at the base of the steps, my eyes glued to the cauldron overhead.

There was still no sign of Belial, and I didn't have a backup plan. As much as I hoped for a last-second salvation, I couldn't see my way out of this.

“Up,” Belphegor snapped, dragging me up the stairs. If I fought and he let me go, I'd fall to my death in the lake of lava. If I went along with it, I'd be boiled to death.

Either way, I was cooked.

Personally, falling to my death seemed less painful and more dramatic than being slowly boiled alive. Mammon also couldn't eat me if I was swallowed by magma, so that was another hair-thin silver lining.

The air wafting up from the lake of lava below was scorching, burning my skin. The bottoms of my feet were raw against the hot stone, and every inhale left my lungs feeling scorched.

Belphegor dragged me all the way to the top, shoving one of the goblin servants out of his way, nearly sending him to a fiery death below. The top of the cauldron was as tall as I was and just as wide, but Belphegor was tall enough to peer inside. He watched whatever was in the cauldron for a long moment, his gaze intense.

His fingers were still locked around my arm, but he didn’t move to throw me in or drag me up the ladder. He didn’t do anything at all.

What is he waiting for?

“Well, get on with it,” Mammon’s commanding voice echoed through the forge, followed by another wave of cheers. “Don’t keep your brothers waiting, Belly.”

My stomach dropped.

“Belphegor.” I wasn’t sure why I said his name; I’d learned my lesson about trying to appeal to the better nature of demons, and I was fairly certain Belphegor didn’t have a better nature. I’d already done my best to convince him to defy Mammon, to get me the fuck out of the forge, but he seemed loyal to the Lord of Greed. Or at least he had moments ago.

Was he…changing his mind?

Another minute ticked by, my bones rattling with nerves as I awaited my fate.

“Belphegor,” Mammon’s voice whipped through the air, snapping the shape-shifting demon out of his daze. “My precious meat isn’t going to cook itself, and I don’t have all day. Throw her in already.”

A muscle ticked in Belphegor’s cheek, and his eyes narrowed. I stiffened, prepared to fight if he turned around to grab me. If I was going over the edge of the cauldron, I might as well pitch myself off the dais. I refused to be eaten.

“I think…” Belphegor said, his voice carrying despite the low tone, “not.”

“What did you say?” Mammon rose from his throne and stalked forward, his eyes glued to us.

I caught my breath, worried that if I moved or breathed too suddenly, everything around me would explode. I’d already watched two demon lords battle it out over me. Was I about to witness another fight? And whose side would Eyeball and Spider guy take?

“Belly, do what I asked,” Mammon gritted out, his fiery red gaze landing on me. “Don’t make me do it myself.”

Belphegor scoffed. “If you wanted it done, you should have done it from the start. I’m not taking any more orders, Mon-Mon. In fact, I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to keep this little mortal for myself.”

“What are you—” Mammon yelled, but his voice cut off abruptly when Belphegor planted the bottom of his stiletto on the side of the cauldron and pushed hard. It wobbled back and forth, the liquid inside sloshing loudly.

“Stop! Belphegor! What are you doing?” Mammon was beside himself, too caught off guard to do anything more than gape as Belphegor kicked the cauldron again.

This time, it tilted farther, just enough for some of the water to slosh out the side.

“I’m doing what I should have done a long time ago, Mammon,” he gritted out. “It’s over, babe.”

The third kick did the trick. The cauldron fell off its stand with a clang and toppled, pouring a gush of boiling broth down the dais. Goblins screamed, fighting to get out of the way, but many weren’t fast enough. They crumpled beneath the wave, their skin blistering the moment the hot water hit them.

Most of the soup spilled into the great pit in the middle of the forge, hitting the lake of lava with a violent hiss. Smoke billowed, wafting up the hole and swallowing the dais, obscuring my view.

“Belphegor!” Mammon yelled. His flaming wings flickered through the smoke as he took flight, but Belphegor was already dragging me back down the stairs.

If I wrenched my arm free, I could have lost him in the smoke. I could have darted off and found a place to hide, but without the shapeshifter, my chance to escape disappeared. If I wanted to live—and be subjected to whatever twisted fucking torture Belphegor had planned—I had to get out of the forge.

This was exactly what I’d wanted, for Belphegor to take me for himself. It was my only chance at survival, and I reminded myself of that fact as Mammon barked orders, commanding his servants to find us.

My pulse fumbled as Belphegor finally released his death grip on my arm. He was shifting again, into something large and animalistic. My eyes strained through the smoke, struggling to make out his newest shape.

White fur spread over his body, giant, pointy ears growing from his head, and large wings sprouted from his sides where his arms had been with skin so thin, you could see the complicated network of veins running through them.

The giant white bat launched into the air, his feet grabbing me by my ankle and ripping me off my feet.

The acrid air thrashed my hair and whipped my face as we dipped dangerously close to the lava.

Mammon’s bellowing roar ripped through the fortress as he seemed to spot us through the smoke and launched after us. Even with me in tow, Belphegor seemed lighter and faster, sailing through the air as Mammon’s bulky, flaming form failed to keep up.

With the combination of the heat, the speed at which we were flying, and all the blood draining to my skull, darkness closed in. As unconsciousness swept in to take me, the last thing I heard over another of Mammon’s cavernous growls was Belial’s silk-wrapped baritone calling my name.