His eyes darken, and I can almost see the memories playing out in his head. How he took me in front of his subjects, his horns and wings and tail out, his large body covered in scales.
“Next time, little fairy,” he promises. “When you least expect it, I'll show you the monster.”
The threat sends a delicious shiver through me, and I realize I can hardly wait.
40
ASMODEUS
Iarrive at my ziggurat to find Aim waiting with my prize. Thomas stands shackled in the center of my throne room, looking around with the wide-eyed terror of a human suddenly finding himself in a nightmare.
He's older than I expected, maybe forty now, with thinning brown hair and the soft body of a mortal who's let themselves go. He's unremarkable in every way except for the cruelty that radiates from him like a stench.
“Here's the piece of shit,” Aim says, brushing invisible dust from his hands. “Found him in Marseille, if you can believe it, still in the same neighborhood where he lived with your Simone. I don't think he believes where he is. What we are.”
I study the trembling human, noting the way his eyes dart around my throne room, taking in the explicit carvings, the obsidian surfaces, the general atmosphere of menace. Good. Fear will make this more satisfying.
“Did you tell him why he's here?” I ask Aim conversationally.
“I thought you'd want that honor.”
Thomas's head snaps toward me, rightly recognizing me as the true threat to his existence.
“Why are you talking about Simone?” he asks, focusing on all the wrong things. “Did she send you?”
A slow smile spreads across my face. “In a manner of speaking, yes. I'm her… husband.”
The word feels strange on my tongue—we're bound by something far more permanent than human marriage—but it serves its purpose. Thomas's expression shifts from confusion to rage.
“That bitch is married?” he snarls, his fear momentarily forgotten. “She always was a gold-digging whore. Probably spread her legs for you the first night you met her, didn't she?”
Aim makes a disgusted sound. I hold up a hand to forestall his intervention. This is my show.
“You should be careful how you speak about my wife,” I growl, my voice like crumbling rocks.
“She was mine first!” Thomas shouts, spittle flying from his lips. “I made her into something respectable! Before me, she was nothing but a pretty face with delusions of?—”
I backhand him across the face with enough force to send him sprawling. The chains attached to his shackles clang against the stone floor as he hits it.
“Let's establish some ground rules,” I say pleasantly while he spits blood. “You don't speak about her. You don't say her name. Every word that comes out of your mouth about Simone earns you another hour of what's coming.”
Thomas pushes himself up on his elbows, glaring at me with pure hatred. “What are you going to do, beat me up? Kill me? Go ahead. At least I won't have to listen to you defendcette pute?—”
I grab him by the throat and lift him off the ground with one hand. His feet dangle uselessly as he claws at my fingers.
“I said…” I growl in his face, letting a hint of my true nature bleed through my voice. “You don't talk about her. And you certainly don't call her a whore.”
When I release him, he collapses to his knees, gasping. This time, he stays quiet.
“Much better.” I turn to survey the collection of medieval torture devices I had commissioned specifically for this occasion. “Now, let me tell you what's going to happen, Thomas. You're going to experience just a fraction of the pain you caused the woman I love.”
I select a pair of thumbscrews, weighing them in my hands. “These were quite popular during the Spanish Inquisition. Designed to crush the bones in your thumbs slowly, one excruciating increment at a time.”
Thomas's breathing becomes rapid and shallow. “Please... I’m sorry! I don't... I never even looked for her after she left. Why are you doing this?”
“Ah, Thomas.” I click my tongue, fitting the device around his right thumb. “You're not sorry for what you did to her. You're sorry you're here now. With me.”
I begin to turn the screw, and his scream echoes through the ziggurat. The sound is music to my ears.
