Chapter 32: Lana

"B elial," Ash greets the crowned archdemon occupying the cavern we walked into. While he's tall, it's not his physical presence that chokes the air, making the chamber feel smaller, but that oppressive aura. I suddenly realize that, while I always felt Ashtaroth's aura of static and heat, it never felt as intolerable to me as the one I feel now. It's making me feel worthless, thinking of all my failures, losing Simone at the forefront of my mind. We're here looking for her – she's likely alive. Did we stop searching too soon, and let her suffer for years?

As he turns, I realize it's not the most horrible thing about his presence after all. Because Belial is not wearing a form that's remotely human, and is far, far from the angelic perfection of Ashtaroth's face. His skin is leathery and a pale, sickly gray. His eyes are slanted, red on the outside, and orange where an iris and pupil should be. His nose is nearly flat, the diagonal nostrils reminding me of a goat's. In fact, I can see why demons were often depicted with goat-like features, if Belial's face is any measure – the ears protruding to the sides, the curved-back horns. There's a horned ridge bisecting his forehead and disappearing to the back of his head. It looks like it burst out of his skin. More horns extrude from the jawline and his jagged mouth is lipless and full of thin razor-sharp teeth.

I can't help feeling the primal dread that's twisting my stomach. I'm also very grateful that he's hiding the rest of his body with the heavy robes he wore when they visited Purgatory – I just wish he had also left his hood on.

Probably seeing the horrified disgust on my face, Ashtaroth seethes through clenched teeth, his voice low and full of anger. "Change forms." When Belial just tilts his head at the command, he snarls, "Now!" I haven't seen him like this before. He's not just angry, he's practically vibrating with something I can't quite name.

"Why?" Belial drawls in that honeyed voice, so at odds with his grotesque appearance. "Are you afraid your mortal pet will see what truly lies beneath the beautiful flesh she takes inside her body?" He's virtually cackling like a villain in a cheap horror movie at Ash's reaction, the clenched fists now aglow with hellfire.

Seeing him so unsettled, this normally insouciant and overconfident male, a sense of protectiveness wells inside me. Maybe it's the way he thinks of my needs: the food and water, the extra sleep, and the toilet he doesn't need. And perhaps I've set the bar real low if I take into consideration how he didn't kill Kevin and how he'd ripped Nick's spine out before he could kill me. Look, I know it's absurd. Not only has he done more horrifying things himself – spine in point – but I'm just a speck of dust compared to his mountain range in age. He doesn't need me to defend him in any way. Still, I stare up at him until his attention shifts to me. "Just so you know," I say when his fiery eyes lock with mine, "I'm not that into monster porn. We could maybe introduce a tail here or some horns there, though," I say, tapping my index finger against my chin in thought. "Oh!" I exclaim. "Can you do the forked tongue thing?" I ask sweetly.

Ash's eyes warm – don't ask me how I notice that, given that fire burned there to begin with – and a corner of his mouth twitches, betraying his signature almost-smile. But then he turns to Belial, the fire wreathing his hands extinguishing as he crosses his arms, and he looks back like his normal conceited self. "Why are you here, Belial?" he asks in a long-suffering voice that seems to piss the other archdemon off.

"Looking for Asmodai, just as you are. Ashtaroth ." Clearly unhappy that he didn't manage to wedge a divide between us, Belial's voice loses its sugared sweetness for a moment. He regains his usual demeanor though and sighs. "Clearly, he's not here." He spins with a hand extended, palm upturned, like a game show hostess presenting a prize.

Ashtaroth doesn't point out that the opening to The Pits indicates Asmodeus is with Lucifer anyway. Belial was the first one to find out what it was Akira and I saw on our scouting mission, after all. Ashtaroth just waits for Belial's dramatics to end, his face set in an air of boredom.

"Though," Belial prolongs the word, enunciating slowly, "I have heard a rumor that the woman's family got involved. According to my sources," he simpers, "they're all well aware of their ancestry and trained their whole little mortal lives to prepare for conflicts with Celestials."

The archdemon beside me, arms still crossed in a way that feels distinctly disrespectful, grumbles dismissively. "Even if they somehow entered Hell in search of her, they would hardly pose any threat to one of our kind."

"True," Belial drawls slowly again. I wish I had brought my earplugs – his voice is giving me the heebie-jeebies. "It is, however, a lead worth following, no?" He grins and I see those sharp teeth are even longer than I thought. Fucking hell . "After all, we can't go inquire with the Prince unless he decides to honor us with his presence."

Ash sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I will have it looked into." I wonder who he'll send, seeing as he can't enter the human realm himself.

Belial bows at the waist, the movement quick and as smarmy as the rest of him. "But of course!" His eyes, the color of lava, narrow on me calculatedly. "I will leave you and your… delightful companion now, so you can proceed. Our angelic counterparts," he snickers, "aren't pleased with the lack of progress on our parts."

With that, he disappears into the ether and I shudder with my whole body. "He probably has a reality TV show called Hell's Cliché."

The corners of Ash's lips curl into a small, indulgent smile, and he walks deeper into the cavern, obviously not taking Belial's word that there's nothing to see here.

There are obvious signs that a woman had stayed here, but I don't see anything that would indicate that it was Simone. Judging by the little touches of comfort in this chamber, whoever it was, she wasn't being neglected while staying here.

"It doesn't look like she was kept as a prisoner, Ash," I call out to him from the other side of the large living area, browsing the books on the shelf. It seems that, whoever she was, she liked circuses and clowns. Blech . I bet all clowns are demons in disguise.

"Ash, is it?" he whispers in my ear and I launch three feet into the air.

"What the fuck!" I shriek over the sound of his laughter. The bastard is lucky I didn't break his nose when I jumped. I have been told that my head is exceedingly hard. "And I thought you said I may call you that," I grumble, emphasizing the allowance.

He smirks at me and grabs my waist. "You were climaxing at the time and gasping for air. But very well. I will permit it outside of those circumstances as well. Are you taking that with you?" He's nodding towards the novel I'm still holding. I look at the cover; a clown with yellow hair dressed in a red and white striped onesie grins from it. I shudder. Pure evil.

"Fuck no," I blurt and push the book back among its creepy companions. When I turn back into Ash's loose embrace, I tuck my head under his chin to brace myself for being beamed up. I try not to think about why I find the position comforting.