“What's the Diamond Path?” Torrent asked. “I can't find anything about it online.”
“You wouldn't,” I said. “It's not in the myths.”
“The Diamond Path is one of my father's ways into Heaven,” Az said. “It leads . . .” His face went slack as he stared at me.
“It leads to Hell,” I finished, a chill going down my spine. “And it's not far from Luke's house.”
Azrael ran from the room.
“Az, wait!” I ran after him and grabbed his arm.
“My father, Carus! They're after my father!”
“Text him!”
Phone calls didn't work well in the God Realm, but texts did all right. They went through the Internet, and Heaven now had Internet.
Az came to an abrupt stop and yanked his cellphone out of his jacket. His fingers sped over the buttons, then we all waited anxiously, huddled around him, for a response. It took a few seconds, but it came.
Azrael's shoulders sagged in relief. “He's all right.”
“Tell him to send some soldiers to guard the path,” Odin said.
“Already done.” Az was typing again. “I'm also telling him to search his territory for anyone and anything that doesn't belong there.”
“And let him know we're on our way,” Thor added, waving at the gravestone Odin still held. “We have a map.”
“Yup, this is a game,” Jesus said. “A really trippy, mindfuck of a game.”
Chapter Thirteen
The Devil met us at the end of the Diamond Path with a unit of Demons. And in case you're wondering, yes, the name is accurate. The path to hell is lined with diamonds. The title I used for the King of Hell was accurate as well. Luke was in his Devil's guise—red skin, horns, leathery wings, barbed tail, and everything.
He strode forward and put his clawed hands on his hips. “My pitchfork is missing!”
“What?” Azrael hurried over to his father. “Since when?”
“I don't know!” Lucifer cast his hands into the air dramatically. “I tried to summon it for this ensemble and it wouldn't come. So, I went to the kitchen, and it wasn't there.”
“You keep your pitchfork in the kitchen?” Morpheus asked.
“Right above the pot rack.” The Devil nodded. “You'd be surprised how many times it comes in handy.”
“You use it for cooking?” Trevor, who had dined at the Devil's table many times, gaped at Luke.
“Sure. I might as well get some use out of it.”
“So, it's just a prop?” I asked. “There's no power in it?”
“No. The power is in me. Although, I can use it as a sort of magic wand if I wish. You know, to focus my magic.”
“A magic wand.” I looked at my men, and they grimaced.
“Why are you so upset if it's just a tool?” Brahma asked.
“Someone came into my home—mykitchen—and took my pitchfork,” Luke growled and shifted back into his normal guise—basically a blond, white-winged version of Azrael. He stomped his foot and Hell trembled. “They entered my home, stole from me, and I had no idea until you texted!” His wings whooshed open and glittered in Hell's low light. “That does not happen!”
“Dad, tools absorb magic,” Azrael said. “It may not have started as a magical item, but after the centuries of you using it, especially in your Devil form, the pitchfork may have picked up some power.”
