Chapter 40: Ashtaroth

"F ather?"

Sariel's wary voice barely registers on the periphery of my awareness as scene after scene flits in my mind, as if I were watching one of the silent late nineteenth-century films Sariel and Armaros used to bring Below.

Armaros…

Cutscene: a millennium ago, the first time I saw the fallen angel. My son had instantly taken a liking to the handsome male who exuded a boyish charm. The two immediately became inseparable, one rarely found without the other.

Cutscene: Sariel and Armaros made a wager as to who can seduce a greater number of sex demons in a fortnight. Leaving lovesick demons unable to perform for Lupercalia in their wake, Lamia, the mother of all succubi and incubi, decreed their punishment should entail imprisonment in her bedchambers for a moon. Neither sought out a partner for decades after being released from captivity.

Cutscene: the boys decided Samhain should be celebrated as my birthday and threw a masked ball, where they attached Batman masks onto the most grotesque demons serving under me.

Cutscene: Armaros vowed to protect Lana with his life once it became obvious she was important to me.

"Father, Aim is here."

I lift my head and seek out my master of intelligence. My army commanders loiter near the edges of the room, and my son stands beside my throne, bracing an arm on the backrest to balance on weak legs. I stand and clear the seat.

"Sit."

Sariel flinches at the gravelly sound of my voice. "Father, no –"

"SIT!"

My voice fills the throne room, shaking the chandeliers until candles pelt the gathered, none daring to move.

As Sariel limps towards the seat I vacated, I approach Aim.

"Report."

Aim begins speaking without preamble. "The humans acted on Lord Belial's orders."

My soldiers begin voicing their outrage and demands for revenge until it sounds like we are encased in a hornet's nest.

"Leave." I dismiss them. Those not wearing a helmet show their shocked reluctance to do so, but no more than two seconds pass until the three of us are alone.

"How?" Sariel asks from the dais.

"His agents acted for years, possibly decades. We found barrels of what appeared to be the archdemon's own modified hellfire. Belias and I took it upon ourselves to dispose of them personally."

"What does this mean? "

I grind my jaw and face my son. "It means the rift was never in Asmodai's domain. Belial took advantage of his disappearance, likely even precipitated it." I see the dawning realization in Sariel's eyes. "This was an attack against me. The schemer knew I would send someone of high rank in my court."

Did he know it would affect me so? I cannot recall the last time I felt this much rage. It took Armaros' demise to show me I had been forming attachments even before Lana entered my world.

At the thought of her, I clench my fists by my sides. "Lana must leave this place. Our domains are about to become staging grounds for a war the likes Hell has not seen in an eternity."

Sariel hesitates for a moment before voicing his thoughts. "Are you sure, Ash?"

Clenching my teeth to the point where it surprises me they do not shatter, I nod sharply.

Aim's calm voice interrupts my fantasies of the many ways I would rip that overgrown rat apart for the damage he has caused. "It must ostensibly appear as if she left you of her own free will. If you overtly send her away for her own safety, you will be painting a large target on your weakness."

Sariel leans forward and bites his fist in thought, paying no heed to the various substances covering his skin. "How are we going to do that?"

I meet Aim's gaze. "Return to the mortal realm. Find and eliminate as many of the humans Belial influenced as you can over the course of a single night. It will not take long for the Council to take notice and send for the girl."

Sariel appears unconvinced. "She may resist, Father, she loves you."

My voice has never sounded as bitter as it does now. "You cannot love a soulless monster who massacred dozens of what you consider to be your kind."