She quailed under their stares, their dismissal of her rescue idea.
But she had to try.
“If I may, Your Highnesses, Your Majesty … wouldn’t you want your brothers to rescue you if it had been you who was taken?”
An awkward silence stretched. It was Lucifer who finally spoke, “Mortal girl, it is survival of the fittest over all else. We live by a mix of risk and reward. We would be displeased if he were lost, but it would cost too much to get him back.”
“But … you’re already at war,” she said, half-disgusted.
Lucifer watched her with the detached curiosity of a cat observing a particularly bold mouse. “We are in small skirmishes. If we don’t destabilize our power base, then Raziel’s numbers will eventually dwindle. If we don’t intend to go to war, I say we do nothing.” Murmurs of agreement were heard around the table.
“You would let Raziel win? Accept defeat and let him do what he wants? The most powerful demons in the Underworld afraid of a little fight?”
“Be careful, mortal, who you call a coward.” Lucifer's voice was soft, and the room filled with an icy silence.
“Meaning no disrespect, Lucifer, Your Majesty,” she said, stumbling over what honorifics to use for a demon king. She glanced around the table. She must spin this another way. A different tactic. “Raziel has been flouting your hierarchies. Your rules. You could take his lands and his followers and divide them amongst yourselves. Everyone would fear your legion, and you would all be much richer.”
A look was exchanged between the demons present that made her skin crawl.
“Raziel needs to be taught a lesson. Make him grovel. What message does this send others if all you do is watch him win unchallenged?” She lifted her chin, accepted their critical stares, and stared back unflinchingly.
Abbadon leaned over the table and bared her teeth. “So much coldness and anger in you, you would think you are not human at all. No scent of fear. Nothing but coldness in your aura,” she said approvingly. A wicked smile split her face as she sat back down. “I can see why you are Betsael’s favoured plaything.”
“The mortal is not without a point,” Belphegor said, his piercing silver eyes fixed on her. Though disgusted at the selfishness and the lack of honour, she was at least relieved she had found a bargaining angle that demons approved of.
“And what of Raziel? Shouldn’t a human want what is best for angels and not want them to suffer? Do you not owe the angels your allegiance?” Abbadon said in a sneering voice.
“The people who murdered my family do not get mercy from me,” she said with venom. “Surely, retribution is something you demons understand.”
Abbadon jumped from her seat onto the table. Her predatory smile widened as she moved towards her, licking her lips.
Asmodeus slapped the table, drawing her gaze to him instead. “We have planned entertainment tonight, Abbadon dearest.”
Abbadon glared, her nose wrinkling. “Fine,” she spat and grudgingly returned to her seat.
The tension in the room lessened, and a silence stretched as the demons weighed the benefits and pitfalls of going to battle to save their friend. The only sound that could be heard was Belphegor, who was cramming as much food in his mouth as physically possible.
We are still undecided, then,Leviathan finally said.
Lucifer nodded in the affirmative, “We are.”
“Then let us dine and enjoy the evening properly, and perhaps we will talk more later,” Asmodeus said, offering a cheery grin. “You’ll find we have prepared suitable entertainment for your visit to the surface.”
Elizabeth had a feeling that she might not like the planned entertainment.
Chapter 53
Entertainment Fit for Demons
Asmodeus grinned wickedly and stood, waiting to escort them to gods only knew where. With pops and explosions of black billowing clouds, each demon prince wordlessly shifted into a humanoid form.
Elizabeth understood then what Asmodeus had meant about demons who created human forms versus those who possessed them.
Their bodies were blurry, ill-formed around the edges, pulsing with inner light. Only their eyes remained as they were, pits of silver flames, or in Lucifer’s case, pits of burning red. The lack of horns and wings should have been reassuring, but unease settled in her stomach instead.
They all preferred attractive masculine forms except Abbadon, who had chosen the form of a petite brunette woman. Elizabeth couldn’t tell who was who anymore, which unsettled her more than she’d expected.
Following Finnigan through the castle corridors, Elizabeth steeled herself for whatever awaited. When the heavy gold doors opened to reveal the ballroom, her jaw dropped.
