One of Marchosias’s many eyes fixed on them as they reached the base of the dais.
“A substitute.” His voice was millstones grinding grain to dust. “Walking into my court. Still standing.” Several eyes blinked in sequence. “That takes either courage or stupidity. I haven’t decided which.”
The chains flared. Ava’s knees threatened to buckle, but she locked them. Forced herself to meet his scattered gaze.
“Your Grace. I’ve come to contest the substitution before you formally accept it.”
Whispers rippled through the gallery. Marchosias’s lips, if they could be called that, curled back from teeth the size of daggers.
“You performed the ritual willingly. Spoke the words with full knowledge. Bound yourself to me of your own free will.” He leaned forward, and the chains flared so bright she nearly cried out. “What possible grounds could you have to contest?”
“The debt I substituted for was fraudulent.”
Silence. Then Marchosias laughed, a terrible sound that shook dust from the ceiling.
“Every debtor claims fraud. Every soul bound to Hell swears they were tricked.” He settled back in his throne. “You’ll have to do better than that, little human.”
“Then let me show you.” Ava reached into her jacket and pulled out the clay tablet, the one they’d taken from the archives. The original law. Marchosias’s own work from six thousand years ago.
She held it up, and watched several of his eyes widen.
“You wrote this. The Right of Substitution. A willing soul in exchange for those already bound.” She kept her voice steady. “You created this law when you were god of Ur-Ashtak. Before the fall.”
The gallery had gone silent. Even the floating contracts seemed to pause in their drift.
“I know the history.” Marchosias’s voice had lost its mockery. “What of it?”
“You created it to protect the vulnerable. When King Ashran threw himself into the sacred flames, you used the power his sacrifice gave you to repay every debt his people owed. You built your reputation on fair dealing. On contracts that served both parties.” Ava stepped forward. The chains burned, but she didn’t stop. “That reputation is why demons still invoke your name. Why your seal carries weight across Hell. Why Lilith Ashwoodwas able to use your authority for fifteen years without anyone questioning it.”
“Careful.” The word came out low, dangerous. “You’re accusing one of my trusted advisors. An ancient demon. Your superior in every conceivable way.”
“I’m accusing her of making you look like a fool.”
The gallery gasped. Lilith’s hands tightened on the railing.
Marchosias didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just watched her with those scattered eyes, waiting.
“My family owns a restaurant in Queens,” Ava continued. “A noodle shop. They’ve run it for thirty years. Good people. Hardworking. The kind of humans demons usually ignore because there’s nothing worth taking.”
“And yet contracts were signed.”
“Contracts that Lilith personally supervised. For fifteen years.” Ava let that hang in the air. “Fifteen years of a managing partner’s attention on a noodle shop. Does that seem like good business to you?”
Marchosias’s eyes slid toward Lilith. “An unusual investment of resources.”
“It wasn’t business.” Ava pulled out a second document, one Victor had helped her prepare during the taxi ride. “It was personal. Lilith has been obsessed with Victor Morningstar for centuries. When he rejected her, she decided that anyone who got close to him would pay.”
“Speculation,” Lilith cut in from her platform. “The contracts with the Feng family are entirely legitimate…”
“Then why did you abandon the Peterson Holdings meeting?” Victor’s voice rang through the court. He stepped forward to stand beside Ava. “You were supposed to be in Tokyo. Instead, you flew to Hell to watch this case personally. You’ve been in Pandemonium for hours, waiting to see her fail.”
Lilith’s mouth opened. Closed.
“She came to our hotel room,” Victor continued. “Offered to get us an immediate audience if I would publicly declare our soul bond was fake. If I would humiliate Ava in front of witnesses.” His eyes found Marchosias. “Does that sound like someone conducting legitimate business? Or someone pursuing a vendetta?”
Marchosias turned to Lilith. “Is this true?”
“The Peterson account… I delegated it to associates. My presence wasn’t essential…”
