Chapter 7: Ashtaroth

"O ne last thing." Belial's postponing of this meeting's end is met with groans from our side.

"Some of us have places to be, Belial." My brother sounds every bit the playboy that he is, his laissez-faire attitude making Belial's jaw tic.

"The Fallen of Purgatory are asking if there is any news about the missing Elioud." Belial addresses Heaven, though he is clearly speaking to us. Sowing discord once more, is he?

"Still?" Azeal growls. "Why do they give a fuck? It's not the only dead mortal."

"She," Belial corrects, "is the only one whose body hasn't been recovered."

I snort in disbelief. "Shall we name all the demons who do not leave a trace of flesh and blood to be found after they have fed?"

Belial ignores me and addresses Asmodai. "Would you happen to know anything about it, King of Seduction ?"

My brother rolls his eyes. "My answer is the same as it was months ago when you first asked, Belial. No, I did not fuck the girl to death."

My brow twitches at Asmodai's words. Or, more accurately, at the words he did not say. It is strange that he has never bragged about any conquests among the Elioud in Hell. He has always been the opposite of modest when pertaining to his exploits.

"If there are no more important matters to discuss…" Belphegor's lazy drawl stops my musings. He is correct; none of this is of importance.

"Inquire among your courts about the female again." Saraqael's request borders on being a command, and Azeal snarls. His pride is wounded, I feel, but he makes no further signs of aggression towards Heaven.

In truth, Saraqael is one of the few archangels that occasionally bless these meetings with their presence, the majority unable to share space with their fallen brethren.

I stand to leave, signaling my unwillingness to continue this conversation. Perhaps my brother did kill the woman, or perhaps another demon devoured her. Regardless, it is of no significance to me, and certainly not worth coming to blows over.

Asmodai jumps to his feet and straightens his suit jacket. He is nothing if not a cliché. "Do visit, Brother – the children have been asking about you."

I click my tongue. "How would you know? You have too many to keep count of."

My brother smirks lasciviously. "I can't help it if I'm potent, now can I?"

"You best hope they never band together in a coup. They would prevail by attrition, pecking at you like carrion."

"Naamah will be most disappointed in hearing you think of her as a vulture, Ashtaroth. You are her favorite, you know. "

I huff and spirit myself out of Purgatory into my own domain, welcoming the tempestuous skies after being enclosed in a cavern under the mountains for hours.