“Won’t we get in trouble?” Nereth asks after a moment of hesitation.
“Nonsense,” I declare. “We’ll stay in the ether. Even if we are sensed, they won’t know who is nearby. The Fallen will likely think it’s my brother.”
Finally, his eyes get that glint that confirms he’s indeed my son and his sister’s brother.
“We should appear in our demonic forms and scare the shit out of them,” he suggests gleefully. “They’ll run right back to Purgatory.”
I throw my head back, laughing, boredom forgotten. “As tempting as that sounds, Son, I think the Council would have my balls. I’m rather attached to those. Literally and figuratively.”
Nereth makes a sound of disappointment that contrasts with the screams of orgasmic ecstasy emanating from the orgy.
“Very well,” he says with a small moue. “I guess we’ll have to entertain ourselves from afar.”
Once we materialize in Ashtaroth’s territory, traveling nearly instantaneously through the ether, I immediately sense the soldiers’ presence. It’s an interesting mix of Fallen and half-bloods.
“Let’s move a little closer,” I suggest, my gleeful voice surprising even to myself. If something as novel as living mortals coming to Hell happened more often, I might not feel the heavy weight of ennui as poignantly.
As soon as the mortals come into view, I notice the Fallen turningour way. I recognize Maalik and Daniel, Purgatory’s veterans. My path crossed Maalik’s a few times over the centuries, especially when he was a part of Belial’s forces. Daniel has always been more reclusive, though he does occasionally come before the Council.
“What’s wrong?” a tall woman with fiery hair asks the Fallen. Her hands are on the handles of her swords, her eyes darting around. “Something feels off.”
“It’s fine,” Maalik says through clenched teeth. “Focus on the task at hand.”
“Like not accidentally rolling into the river of molten lava?” one of the male half-bloods asks with a smirk. The redhead pokes him in the ribs. She seems feisty.
As the group moves up a dune, their path leads them perpendicular to our position, and the hot breeze from the Phlegethon sends their scents to us. I freeze, locked in place, my lungs full of black orchid and vanilla, and even my heart stops its unnecessary beating.
There are three females in the group: the auburn redhead, a blonde with pink hues, and a brunette with chocolate waves pulled back and high into a ponytail. When the latter turns in our direction and falters for a moment, I realize it’s her I’m smelling.
She’s unbelievably beautiful for a mortal, with delicate, elfin features, clear gray eyes that contrast starkly with her dark hair, and plush, pink lips that are begging to be defiled.
By the Dark Lord, she is… everything. I find myself wishing I weren’t concealed by the ether, find myself wanting her to see me. How would she react to my mortal form? I know for a fact it is incredibly pleasing.
The beautiful woman seems to be more fearful than the rest, her hands twitching near holsters where she seems to have throwing stars stashed. A much less powerful weapon choice than those of her peers.
“Simone?” Maalik says over his shoulder, looking at the beauty who’s still frozen in place. “Don’t lag behind.”
“Simone,” I murmur, testing the name on my lips.
She shouldn’t be able to hear me. But something makes her shiver. Then she jolts into action and starts following the group again, rushing to fall into step with the other mortals.
“Father?” Nereth prompts. “Is everything alright?”
“Quite alright,” I reply, my voice rougher than usual. “Let’s linger a while. See what troubles the mortals find.”
And see if I get bored watching darling Simone.
6
SIMONE
The night before our first solo patrol, I can’t sleep. I’m tossing and turning, wondering if I tried every way I possibly could to convince Maalik to allow me to sit mine out. Lana promised to nag him about letting me stay in the keep and help Daniel with healing. As Elioud, we heal faster than normal humans, and most of us are capable of healing others’ injuries to some extent. I can do more than most.
But Maalik said this is a rite of passage and promised I’d be alright. It’s just one day where my team won’t be covering my back. Just… one day.
Tu peux y arriver, Simone.You can do this.
No matter how much I try to tell myself it’s no big deal, I still don’t manage to shut my brain off, and I give up before breakfast. Instead of chasing sleep that just won’t come, I get dressed in my reinforced leather clothes, strapping on all my throwing stars.
