“Azazel, do you know why I have your wing?” I asked her the next morning when I’d woken up. She looked over at me as we washed dishes side by side, and she answered, “No, I do not know why you have my wing.”
“Like, do you know why your wing isn’t attached to your body?”
“I have a vague recollection of how it was separated from me, but I cannot say definitively understand why it is no longer with me. Why do you ask?” she asked, narrowing her eyes slightly.
“Um,” I said, her suspicion rearing up like a flame against my skin, “I was just thinking about it. It’s been bothering me for a while. How did you lose your wing?”
She looked at me steadily for a moment, her hands still in the water, and she responded ominously, “I will show you one day, my memory of that day.”
Without saying a word, I thought, Something bigger is going on.
“What do you mean?” she murmured low enough for just me to hear.
There’s something going on. It just doesn’t make a lot of sense that Pythius will have wanted to kill me through all my lives, that I should meet you now and we happen to look identical, or that they want Agatha. Something just doesn’t seem right.
“Nothing the Fallen do is right,” she breathed.
Well, that’s a given. They’re demons, I scoffed mentally. It just feels like there’s something we’re not seeing.
“We must be prepared for anything and everything, Amor. The Fallen are ruthless, heartless creatures that will stop at nothing to get what they want,” she said, turning to me and taking the rag from my hands. I made a slight face at her but said nothing. Tables were set up neatly side by side in the main room. Agatha was eating a bowl of cereal and drinking wine slowly, and Eleanor and Alana were on either side of her. Jo, Bond and Vance sat beside each other, and I took my seat next to Vance.
“How did you sleep?” I asked, plopping down beside him.
“It was okay. Bond is really weird,” he responded.
I snickered and said, “Oh, yeah, what makes you say that?”
“He was talking about cats a lot,” he chuckled.
“Hey, you admitted yourself that cats are the future,” Bond chimed.
“Cats are the future,” I said in an impressive tone.
“They know more about the world than we do, and I think we’re their pets and everyone who doesn’t have a cat is just a stray,” Vance mumbled around a bite of toast.
“That sounds exactly right,” I laughed, taking a bite of an egg. Azazel pushed her food around her plate silently, watching everyone with keen eyes.
“Why don’t you eat?” I asked her.
“I do not feel hunger,” she answered simply.
“Why?”
“Angels need only the life of the world to live and survive. Being in this company is enough for me.”
“How did you manage to live alone for so long then?” I asked, recalling the dreams I’d had of her alone.
“I lived off of the land,” she said. She turned to Agatha and said, “How are you feeling?”
“Better, I guess,” she sighed, taking a deep swig of the wine.
“Isn’t it a little early for wine?” Jo asked, nibbling a piece of fruit.
“It’s the only thing that gets me through,” she said hoarsely, finishing the glass. I looked at Azazel, and she nudged her head in the faint resemblance of the action of shaking her head ‘yes’.
Angel’s blood is potent to humans. Ingesting alcohol helps to break it down to better assimilate to her body, her thoughts said clearly.
What is it doing to her body? I asked. Without warning, I had an immediate and vivid flashback of that night, except I wasn’t in my own body.
The tiny dagger had just released from Agatha’s neck, and I could see myself through Azazel’s eyes, pale and still as a statue while her blood sprayed out and on to my face. My eyes closed and I fell backwards.
As Azazel, I darted over to Agatha and clamped a hand around her neck while my other arm shot up to deflect one of Pythius’ bladed tendrils. He let out a curdling, hysterical laugh as Agatha’s blood spilled out between my fingers. She wouldn’t survive for longer than ten more seconds. It had pierced directly through her artery, and no amount of pressure would have been able to stop the bleeding even if I’d clenched my hand hard enough to crush her throat.
My hand still clutching her neck, Pythius lunged forward, and I saw the opportunity to create distance. As his body came hurtling towards me, I placed my other hand flat on the ground, allowing its bladed tendril to slice through my forearm. In one swift motion, I jumped over Agatha’s body and forced my legs out and above me, one foot connecting to the side of its face, the other connecting to its body, and it went flying through the window. The wound on my arm wouldn’t be open long, so as it bled—profusely at that, the gash was deep and almost to the bone—I held my arm over Agatha’s neck, still trying my best to hold the wound closed.
Her skin sizzled as drops of my blood spilled over her neck. Torrents of dark blood spilled from her neck as mine—a shimmering almost purple hue—burned away her blood and skin. She was quickly growing pale, but enough of my blood had dripped into the wounds to where the bleeding was slowing and then stopping. Pythius was skulking around outside, his devilish chortle ringing out and echoing against the cabin. My head shot up as Eleanor stumbled up and crawled towards Agatha.
“My Lady, what happened?” she exclaimed, seeing all the blood on the ground that surrounded me and Agatha.
“Pythius wounded her,” I panted, my arm tingling painfully as the gash closed itself. The wounds on her neck had closed, and she was still and breathing fast. Her skin was very pale and her lips were almost blue. She didn’t have much blood left in her body, and in a swift and desperate motion, I ripped open the palm of my hand with my teeth. Blood poured ghoulishly while I pressed my hand to her mouth.
“What are you doing?” Eleanor cried.
“I am saving her life,” I responded as I tried to force more blood out before the wound closed up again. “She has lost too much blood and will not see the light of day if she does not take mine.”
“Won’t that change her?”
“Would you rather she die?” I asked as the wound closed on my palm. My blood was smeared haphazardly across her mouth and face, but her breathing had slowed and deepened, and some color had returned to her face. In an instant, I was jumping over Eleanor as Pythius flung himself back through the window.
“Take her!” I bellowed as I pushed him back out of the window. Amor—I—was still knocked out, and Azazel couldn’t afford to spend the same amount of time trying to save Jo and Bond’s lives, too.
I was back in my body then, blinking my reality back into place, and I looked at her for a second, confused.
Without thinking, I said aloud, “That didn’t answer my question.”
“What?” Vance asked beside me. “Were you talking to me?”
“No, no,” I said quickly, pushing the food around my plate, “Just kind of talking to myself.”
He snickered at me softly and said, “You’re weird.”
“So are you,” I shot back, nudging him. Azazel looked at me with a measured expression but said nothing as we continued our breakfast. After all of it was finished, Alana took Jo, Bond, and Vance to learn a bit of their Azelian teachings to keep them entertained while Azazel, Agatha, and I went back to the Grand Mod’s office to sort things out.
“Alright, so we know that they’re trying to bring about the Swell,” Agatha heaved, taking another sip of wine after Azazel explained my meeting with Pythius.
“Wait, how do you know Pythius can’t hear us now?” I interjected.
“Each of the Branches is guarded by a golem with my Word written on it. My Word cannot be disputed by the Fallen, so it may know where we are, but it knows not what we speak of or what we are doing,” Azazel assured me.
“Yeah, fuck that thing anyways,” Agatha spat. I snickered.
“What do they want with Agatha, though?” I asked.
“Agatha is the Grand Moderator of this Branch, as well as the only Moderator to have seen the full vision. She as well was the one to awaken my wing out of your body, Amor, and she now has my blood in her veins,” Azazel stated.
“So I’m pretty much cream of the crop,” Agatha said beside me, “and you can pick any one of those reasons for why someone might want me on their side, especially those demon fucks.”
“We get you’re the most delectable piece of ass on this side, but what are they going to do? What can they do?” I asked.
Azazel sat back and Agatha looked up, thinking. This was not a question either of them had an answer to, and before Agatha could say anything, I said, “Regardless of why they want you or what they want to do with you, we can’t let them have you.”
She didn’t say anything to this, so I pressed on, looking around at them, “So what do we do?”
“You’ve already shaken on it, so it is no longer possible to deny them,” Azazel murmured. We were all quiet for a second, and then Azazel said, “Our only option may be to hand her over.”
“We can’t do that!” I snapped, but neither of them said anything. Azazel and Agatha exchanged an uncertain look. They let the words hang there in the air with all of the weight of my actions and repercussions behind it. A hand shot to my eyes, the sudden and painful jab of guilt and gravity settling. I looked over to Azazel and Agatha with semi desperate eyes, but the silence was still and unmoving. Shaking my head roughly, stomping venomously on my emotions, I asked, “If we do this, we’ll get her back, right? Like, we’re going to go in and save her?” Agatha’s eyes dropped to the glass before her and took a slow sip.
“Of course, we will,” Azazel answered simply. Short and simple. A ready answer. What was this uncertainty that Azazel was trying to hide from me, then? I huffed quietly, forcing myself to move on, asked, “Do we have to do that? I mean, if everyone just stays here, we don’t have to worry about anyone getting hurt.”
In a quiet and heavy voice, Agatha said, “You, Esteban, Joana, and Vance all have families, Amor. If they don’t wait us out, then they will go after them.”
My heart dropped. How had that simple fact escaped me? There was a pressure mounting within my chest. This was a rock and a hard place, and I was circumstantially claustrophobic.
Trying to hide my growing unease, I groaned and put my head in my hands and said, “I shouldn’t have made that deal.”
“You didn’t have a choice,” Agatha said easily to me. “Knowing demons and how dirty they are, they would have made you take the deal one way or another, especially Pythius.”
“What do you know about Pythius?” I asked in a mildly suspicious tone as I raised my head.
Agatha exhaled and said, “From what the Grand Mods in the past have been able to gather, and now that I have the name, Pythius has always been the one to kill you in every life you’ve lived. In some demon lore, Pythius is known as the shapeshifting demon. His official title is Pythius the Deceiver.”
“Why though? Why has he always killed me?” I asked. “There was a reason, and he wouldn’t tell me.”
She shrugged and said, “Your guess is as good as mine.” I turned to Azazel, and she said, “I do not know. I remember Pythius in the days of the battles against the Fallenl. That one had a particular grudge against me, but I do not know–”
“Wait, he had a grudge against you? Why?” I asked quickly.
Azazel’s face was stoic as she said, “The one that Pythius loved was in love with me.”
“What?” I said, surprised and almost shocked by her answer. I turned to Agatha and mouthed, “Did you know this?” She shook her head, and Azazel nodded and said, “Yes, long ago when humans lived with the knowledge of angels and the Fallen, the one called Astaroth fell deeply in love with me, and Pythius was deeply in love with Astaroth.”
“Wait, what? How?” I asked, curious. In my head, I thought to myself, That’s probably where that grudge comes from.
“Love is the only emotion universal among all creatures,” she said simply. “The only love angels understand is a generalized form. We have love for our creator, humans, brothers, and sisters.”
“But not you,” I said coyly, resting my head on my hand as a familiar warmth spread through me.
“What do you mean?” she asked suspiciously.
Rolling my eyes, I said, “Azrael.”
Her face blossomed with a slight blush, and she said quickly, “Then yes, not I. I feel the same love humans can feel for another human being.”
Rolling my eyes again, and trying to put such trivial meaning and cause behind the actions the ended all of my lives, I said, “That’s. . . almost hilarious. Mr. Man hates me because the man he loved, loved you. So he kills me as revenge.”
In a somber tone, she said, “Yes, I suppose that is the course of things,” and straightening, she looked directly at me and said, “Amor, tonight, you will summon Pythius and you will give it Agatha,” Azazel said. Glancing over at Agatha, she was pouring herself another glass of wine, and I asked, “Tonight?”
“Would you rather wait until you are comfortable with handing her over?” she asked.
“I’m probably never going to be comfortable with that,” I responded pointedly.
“Precisely,” she said, sitting back in the chair. “I will be waiting nearby and ready to destroy Pythius once and for all.”
I looked at her with an almost blank expression. I had expected her to say more, but when nothing came, I asked, “That—that’s it?”
“Would you have it any other way?” she asked with a pointed voice. I opened my mouth to say what was already on my tongue: Yeah, call for help. But instead, I closed my mouth and considered the situation. Azazel was really our only option here. She was basically exiled from heaven and didn’t seem to have a means of communicating with anyone there. A rock and a hard place. I made a face and said with a hesitant, almost resistant tone, “I guess not.”
She clapped her hands together and said, “It’s settled then.”
I made another face and said, “I don’t quite agree with this.”
“Again. Do you have another option?”
Sighing, “I guess not.”
It was nighttime by the time Azazel decided it was time to summon Pythius. I looked over at her nervously and asked, “Is this how it’s supposed to go?”
We were in the clearing surrounding the cabin. The sky was dark, the moon hidden in its new phase. Azazel had staked tall torches in the shape of a semi-circle before us. It all felt occult-ish despite the lack of relics, markings, crystals, or whatever I could think a summoning ritual might include. Thankfully, no animal or blood sacrifices. There was nothing else besides Agatha, Azazel and I. Azazel had instructed Alana and Eleanor to keep everyone at the Ninth Branch, no matter what anyone said. I could at least go about this—ritual? Meeting? Summoning?—with ease of mind knowing Jo, Bond, and Vance were all safe.
“Maybe not, but here we are anyway,” she responded. She stood in front of me, her back to me, and she stood still for a moment. A second later, the grass burned away beneath her feet and spread out in a sudden and fast ripple that cleared a radius of maybe six feet. I jumped at the sudden show of flames, but as quickly as they arrived, they died, and we were standing atop dry, solid ground. Dropping to the ground, she drew some sort of symbol at my feet and then drew a circle, large enough to encompass Agatha and I.
“And what am I supposed to do again?” I asked, watching her as she straightened and glanced around. In the back of my head, I wondered how she would be able to pull the surprise on Pythius if—assuming he hadn’t just been trying to scare me at the diner—he actually knew where she was all the time. She spoke, forcefully, straight to my mind, It cannot detect me unless I choose to be found.
But there was a tinge of uncertainty. I chose not to respond or comment on that. This was a high stake situation, and we couldn’t afford to falter now that we were preparing to summon him. Agatha was quiet the whole time, likely because she was still trying to recover, but I could tell she was uneasy about the deal as I was. Azazel was trying to convince not just me or Agatha that it would all go smoothly, but herself as well. She should have known, as I knew with myself, that lying to oneself only works if you believe it.
Azazel pointed up at the sky and said, “In twelve minutes, the moon will be at its highest point. As soon as it reaches its zenith, you must shed your blood onto the circle. I will speak for you the words of its summoning.”
Why didn’t I think there wouldn’t be bloodshed?
The navy-ink sky was cloudless and speckled with thousands of tiny stars twinkling out among the cosmos. The Ninth Branch was far enough away from the nearest town that light pollution wouldn’t interfere with a casual night of stargazing. But we weren’t stargazing. We were summoning a demon to complete a deal, and not just any demon, but a demon that had an insatiable bloodlust towards me and the countless lives I lived as Azazel’s other half, and apparently and surprisingly an undying grudge towards Azazel for being the cause of a love spurned.
Fucking. Dandy.
“Alright, then what I do after that?” I asked nervously, staring aimlessly at the inky sky. If I squinted my eyes hard enough, I could make out the curve of the moon against the countless stars.
“Agatha will join you in the circle and you will hand her over,” she answered. Taking a deep breath, I glanced down at my phone. Azazel said twelve minutes, which meant it would be twelve forty-two.
Relax, Azazel spoke to my mind. The word felt like a cooling balm against the burning intensity of my fear, but it did little to calm the anxiety that had already built up. The intention was genuine; she really didn’t want me to be afraid, but fear was inescapable here. I didn’t even buy my own street drugs; how was I supposed to handle this sort of situation? It seemed easy and clear cut, but at the end of the day, I was handing a human being over to demons. At that point, aliens could have come down from the sky, and I’d just still have to roll with it.
Easy for you to say, I thought back, you know how to kill demons. I’m just a sitting duck.
I told you, I will be nearby, and as soon as Pythius makes its appearance, I will strike. You need not worry, for I am here with you, she said reassuringly. She almost sounded like she believed it herself. I made a face, still not quite convinced. Agatha had been quietly standing beside me the whole time, her eyes glued to the forest ahead of us. I never noticed how she was a couple of inches taller than me. Without warning, she reached over and grabbed my hand, and she squeezed it gently. Glancing up at her, her eyes were still trained on the forest, but her face was calm and gentle. In her other hand, she had a flask of wine, and she took a deep swig.
She glanced down at me and mouthed, It’s vodka.
“Don’t worry, Ama. I’ll be fine,” she murmured, slinging an arm around my shoulder. I could hear Azazel retreating back into the cabin, and the phone began to beep. Agatha took my hand from me and brought it up to her mouth. Startled, I just stared as she sank her teeth deep into my skin. Letting out a yelp, I snatched my hand away, but she’d already drawn blood. She’d bitten me pretty deep, too, as the blood welled up and then spilled onto the ground beneath me. Azazel’s words projected directly in to my head and echoed out through my mouth.
“O fallacem hominum et ego invocabo te nocte hac, ubi ostendit luna stat summo usque ad spectaculum sui et mundi pulchritudinem aeternam. Veni nobiscum decieve semel Pythius meus est Amor et quietis hora manu cecidit, hanc pulchritudinem,” my voice rang out into the night, sounding ancient and resonating with power from a time before.
When the last word left my mouth, the wind suddenly picked up. It lashed through the forest violently, rustling even the tallest trees and even breaking off some of the branches in the distance. I held onto Agatha tightly, the wind slapping against us and threatening to knock us down at any second, but just as violently and suddenly as it started, it ended in silence, and standing before us in the half circle of torches was Pythius wearing the same featureless face and black suit. Standing behind him on either side were two more men wearing similar suits, and I felt someone’s heart drop behind me.
Azazel? I asked.
“You forgot your food,” Pythius said with faux hurt, holding up a plastic bag with two Styrofoam boxes in it. I gave him a wild look, shouted without thinking, “Read the room, asshole.”
He shrugged, tossed the bag somewhere far to the side, and said as his face curled in a slimy, face-splitting smile, “Well, I’m so glad we could come to this agreement.”
Gesturing to the two men behind him, he went on, “I hope you don’t mind, I brought two companions with me. You might know one of them.” Turning slightly, he gestured to the man to his right flank. He had a sharp and angry looking face. His eyes were narrow and seemed to glow a menacing red. The way his hair framed his face resembled that of a lion’s mane, but there were two distinctive horns sprouting from his skin against his hairline.
“When you had the run in with Abraxas, back at John Jones’ old stomping grounds, I was going to get you out of there and let him live since, you know, I’m not on your team, but then by that time, Azazel latched on to you. I didn’t realize that when Abraxas tried to corrupt you, he was also going to corrupt Azazel, so I’m angry I couldn’t save him, but then again, the greedy bastard had it coming. Anyways, this is his older brother, Asmodeus,” Pythius beamed, his skin pulling far back from his mouth to reveal two rows of sharp, interlocking teeth. “I’m sure he would like to have a word or two with you, or the angel, or both. Whoever he feels is responsible for his favorite brother’s death,” he finished with a shrug.
Swallowing, I held on tighter to Agatha. Pythius by himself was a presence I would never want around, but seeing his two companions, it was as if I could feel the horror and destruction they’d caused in their endless lifetimes. The man to the other side of Pythius was covered in bandages from the neck up. I couldn’t make out any discernable features save for two beady, lava like eyes against blackened skin, and following my gaze, Pythius said, “Oh, that’s Mammon. It’s always good to bring friends when it comes to the big dangerous games we play, right, Amor?”
“I hate you,” I said, my voice cracking beneath the suddenly realized gravity of Evelyn’s—Pythius’—betrayal slamming into the back of my head. Inside, my heart broke, and it felt as if my chest caved in slightly, my breath escaping me. “I hate you so much.”
Beside me, Agatha held me tighter and rubbed my shoulder, and Pythius, a look of mock pain on his face, said, “Hey now, it’s not my fault we became friends.”
“You were never my friend,” I spat, feeling my heart crawling to my throat.
“You thought we were friends, though,” he pointed out, shifting his weight to one leg that resembled, identically, the stance Evelyn would take from time to time when she was trying to make a point in an argument. I grit my teeth and straightened beside Agatha. Taking a deep breath, I said, “We came here to make a deal, not to talk about the past. You’re dead to me now.”
“Ouch,” he said, putting a hand to his chest. I bet you don’t even have one of those, I thought to myself. “But, you’re right, and thank you very much for making this easy on me and not making me hunt you down. That would have been a pain in my ass.”
Clapping his hands together, as if brushing them clean of something, he took three steps forward and said, “Send her this way, and you will have the safety of your loved one.”
“How am I supposed to believe that?” I snapped, glancing at Agatha as she took another sip from the flask and tucked it into her back pocket. Pythius loosened the tie around his neck and unbuttoned his shirt gingerly, exposed his chest to show me the same wound that had been there at the restaurant. It looked slightly more closed up, but without saying a word and looking at me steadily, he ripped open his chest with his hands and began to dig around.
I felt my food rising up in my throat but swallowed it back down as I watched him. The sound of his ribcage being ripped open in combination with the sight of indiscernible, dark oily organs was almost too much. His eyes did not leave mine the entire time his hand rummaged around in his own chest like how someone might search through a purse. Behind him, the two men shifted uneasily, and finally, he withdrew something small and held it in his closed hand. Still holding the small thing, he closed his ribcage and buttoned his shirt back up, readjusted his jacket, and the man with bandages—Mammon—withdrew a handkerchief and handed it to
Pythius.
Dabbing at his neck and wiping off his hands, Pythius cleaned off what he revealed to be a small black pearl.
He held it up so I could see it better, and he said, “This is my Truth. We only get one, us Fallen, so if I give this to you, you can destroy it at any time, and it will kill me. If anything happens to your loved one, you are obliged to destroy it at any point in time.”
He held it out in his hand, and he said, “What is going to happen is once Agatha gets within two feet of me, I will throw this to you, and the deal will be set.”
I grit my teeth, staring at the pearl. It still glinted in the torchlight. It stood out on his white skin. Glancing up at him, he was still watching me with measured, yellow eyes. I couldn’t pick up anything, not in his expression, no in his tone, and not in any impression. This felt like a 50/50, but if this could kill him, I’d rather have that in my pocket than not.
“You aren’t giving me their safety,” I challenged, trying to bait him into slipping up or giving too much information.
“No, not technically, but it’s the best I can do. It’s not like I can cast some sort of spell to protect them,” he shrugged. “We got a deal or what.”
Looking up at Agatha, I asked in a low voice, “Are you ready for this?” She sighed and glanced towards the trees, then she said, “Yeah, let’s do this.”
I nodded to her and held onto her hand as she walked away while I stayed in place, and once my arm wouldn’t reach any further, she let go and walked steadily towards Pythius. Once she had gotten within two feet of him, he brought back his arm and chucked the small pearl across the field. It landed in my hands, and I was surprised at how heavy it was. It was as heavy
as a brick in my hands.
I looked behind me, and Azazel was staring wide-eyed from the tree line. She was near undetectable, making sure she blended in with her surroundings, but I saw her immediately. I looked back at Pythius and Agatha, and he had a hand clamped firmly on her shoulder. She looked at me with tired, waiting eyes. The unease and fear she felt, she carefully concealed under a guise of exhaustion. Pythius slowly brought up a hand to caress her neck, but as soon as his hand touched her skin, her eyes went wide, and blood poured from her neck.
“Agatha!” I shrieked at the top of my lungs, the wing sprouting from my back and propelling me across the field, the pearl clutched tightly in my hand. Pythius brought his hand up to lick the blood from his fingers, and he said with a disturbing smile, “Delicious.”
Mammon and Asmodeus lunged at me in an instant, and my body was no longer my own as I pivoted through the air around them, my eyes still locked on Pythius. Agatha’s knees gave out beneath her, and Pythius grabbed her up in his arms and turned to leave, the ground erupting before him. Stairs led down into the earth, and Pythius turned and started for them, saying over his shoulder, “Don’t break the deal, Amor. You really don’t want to break a deal with a devil.”
Asmodeus grabbed me by the wing and flung me backwards. I curled in on myself and suddenly burst outward as I caught myself and rearranged my body to dart forward again, the pearl still in my hand.
“Agatha!” I yelled again as my wing beat hard and pushed me closer to them. She was looking over his shoulder at me with fading eyes, a hand pressed to her neck. Behind me, Azazel burst through the tree line and was fighting off Mammon, but I was focused on Agatha, and my hand reached out desperately, to grab Pythius’ collar, and I did, but as I pulled him back, he handed her off to someone else in the opening before him.
“No!” I screamed as the bodiless arms took her down and away and the ground closed up. Spinning him around, I pinned him to the ground, his neck in my hands.
“What did you do?” I seethed, my hands wrapped tightly around his neck.
“I got what I wanted and so did you,” he said easily.
“She’s going to die,” I hissed.
He just laughed beneath me and said, “No, she’s not. I just really wanted a taste of that sweet blood of hers. She’s too precious to just kill off. Would you mind getting off of me? I have to be somewhere.”
“I should kill you right now,” I spat. He just snickered, and all of a sudden, someone was picking me up by the back of my shirt and lifting me in the air. Pythius stood and brushed himself off easily and I saw one of his tendrils had snaked from beneath the suit to grab me up.
“You motherfucker,” I bellowed.
He scoffed and said, “Oh no, not your mother, hon.”
“Fuck off, you demon piece of garbage.”
Chuckling again, I heard one of the monsters say in a low and gravelly voice, “What do you want us to do with these ones?”
Pythius peered around me, and I struggled to look behind me, and he said, looking over them with careful, calculating eyes, “Ah, screw it, let’s take them all, it’ll be fun!”
“Do you think that is the wisest decision to make?” the other asked.
“No, you’re right. You can leave the twins. Bring everyone else. We can probably speed the process along if we have them all.”
“The angel as well?”
“Did I stutter, Asmodeus?” he asked, a stale smile on his face. Asmodeus said nothing else, and the ground erupted again. I tried to twist around to see who he was talking about. I’d been too focused on Agatha to even notice anyone else had snuck in. Everyone started yelling then, and I stopped screaming, my whole body frozen as my heat sank to my feet.
They were supposed to be at the Ninth Branch.
Hoping I had heard wrong, I turned craned my neck around painfully, desperate to find that I had misheard, but I hadn’t. Held tightly in the grasp of what looked like shadow people, Jo, Bond, and Vance were thrashing wildly to no avail. Feeling a renewed anger, a renewed sense of urgency, I began to fight even harder than I did before. They couldn’t come with me. They could not come with me. Pythius was struggling to hold me in his tail as we got closer to the hole, and he snapped, “Would you stop?”
“How dare you?” I screamed, my rage boiling up and over as I lost sensation of my limbs. My whole body bucked and flailed ravenously, trying desperately to oppose him, and sighing in agitation, one of his tendrils snapped out and struck the back of my head. My body stopped moving instantly as my vision rapidly darkened, and he called back, his voice fading, “If they’re giving you issues, put them to sleep. We’ve got a long walk ahead of us.”