“He insists,” lizard man states, as the others brace their feet and narrow their eyes. “Or you can take your chances out on the streets with the damned. He has the power to block your entry to all buildings. There are millions of souls hungry to feast on you, Duncan. Your choice.”
Something bangs against the glass doors. I glance over the shoulder of the Renevate demon just as another body slams against the doors. They keep coming, a frenzy building as they smell my soul. “Fine, I shall come with you.”
“My name is Bernard,” Lizard man says, backing up and parting the greeting party for me to pass. I stifle the chuckle that threatens. A lizard with a voice like Al Pacino calledBernard. I miss Natia already. Her classic sarcastic humor would have these demons confused and on the back foot. He walks on my right side, a Renevate demon on my left. I lament how my life has changed in a few short hours. Feared and respected warlock falls from grace into Hell, cavorting with demons and being escorted for dinner with a prince of Hell. I wonder which side this prince sits on? Lawrence’s or Lucifer’s? Two more demons move to the doors and fling them open. The damned cower back, parting like the Red Sea. I blink at how easily they repel them.
“How did you do that?” I wonder. They pursued Lucifer through the streets; so why do these lower demons have more power?
Bernard glances at me and grins; showcasing sharp pincer teeth. “We don’t have souls and we are the bigger predator; more likely to devour them than the other way around.”
Which means Lucifer has a soul. The King of Hell gets more complicated by the hour. I have so many questions and an eternity to discover the answers. We make our way down the concrete road, passing three skyscrapers before swinging a left into another glass giant. The opulent lobby is a buzz of activity with smartly suited demons. A few have phones out, the logo distinctly the same as the most popular brand on Earth. Never trust such a big corporate company. They are likely to have sold their souls to the devil for their success.
“This way,” Bernard states, nodding at a blushing succubus as he leads us to the waiting elevator. We pile in, the demons shrinking the large space. Marble features strongly throughout the building, and as the doors close, Taylor Swift’s “Look What You Made Me Do” starts to stream through the speakers.
Bernard pushes the button at the top of the panel labeled PT. “Penthouse, only the best for the boss,” he explains. It is Greed, so that makes sense.
The box hurtles towards the sky, leaving my stomach behind on the floor. “Piece of advice?” Bernard says, cocking an eyebrow as his tail sweeps across the floor.
“Go ahead,” I say.
“William is a sucker for compliments, like a child. He appreciates being told how great he is at everything. Going overboard is your best defense if you want a chance of living out your days in relative comfort without scrambling on the streets defending your soul.”
I thin my lips. “Why should I trust you? You could be trying to get me killed.”
He shrugs. “That’s your decision to weigh, my friend.”
A ding-dong interrupts the music and the doors slide open, revealing a super-sized apartment straight out of an A list celebrity’s wet dream. Crystal and gold line the fixtures everywhere from the lighting to the thick rug on the marble floor.
Lounging on a plush sofa is a tanned bald guy with bulging biceps wrapped up in a white shirt paired with fawn chinos. He looks like he should be holidaying in the Bahamas, not lording over demons in Hell. He raises his head and grins at me.
“Duncan, welcome.” He waves a hand at the opposite sofa. “Please sit.”
I glance at Bernard, who stations himself at the elevator and quirks an eyebrow at me. Oh well, here goes nothing. I stroll over to the sofa and position myself across from him. “You have a magnificent home, Prince of Greed.”
His grin gets wider, showcasing a set of pearly whites. “Thank you. Please, call me William.”
He snaps his fingers and female demons emerge from the doors, carrying trays of drinks and canapes. Bloody hell, he catered our meeting. I don’t know whether to cringe or be grateful for his apparent civility. I’m under no illusions though, you don’t become the Prince Of Greed by being nice. He’s a ruthless leader with a cutthroat policy. One wrong move and I’ll be at the sharp end of that philosophy.
William eyes me up and down. The itchy sensation against my mind clues me in to how deep he is trying to inspect me. He’s weighing my soul, my heart, and my mind. I scowl and give him a forceful push from my mind. He might be ruthless, but power only respects power. If I falter now, he will eat me alive.
“Forgive me, it’s been a minute since we had a guest in Greed that wasn’t a damned soul or a demon. Lucifer also stops by on occasion—but the King rarely graces us with his presence.” He sighs.
“That demonstrates the faith he has in your leadership, William,” I state, scooping up a crystal glass of amber liquid and sniffing it. Scotch, the good stuff too.
William nods along as the females disappear from the room. “So, Duncan, fifth degree warlock, protector of Pandora, best friend and confidant of Natia Waterford—the reborn Pandora, you have sacrificed yourself to my realm. It doesn’t have to be all bad though. Greed has issues that a man of your talents could help with.”
“Like what?”
“The damned overrun the streets. They need to be culled, those that have been here a thousand years or more have paid their penance and can be erased.”
“I thought they couldn’t be killed?”
He tilts his head. “They can’t. Killing them will only produce more, increasing their pain. Their souls can’t ascend to Heaven, so they get stuck here. But erasing them means their end, no more afterlife, no reincarnation, nothing. Well, as far as anyone else can tell.”
My brow furrows. “How does one erase someone?”
He grins. “Easy, you become a soul eater.”
I cough, some of my scotch leaving my mouth and dripping into the glass. “Excuse me?”
