Beautiful Revenge. J Morris L

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СКАЧАТЬ suspicious if we just went missing for three years, no contact beyond email and phone. It makes sense that we need to be seen out and about on occasion.’

      ‘This calls for a drink.’ said Verin, pushing herself away from the table. ‘You’d have thought being traitors and having all of Perdition out for our blood would be a bit more exciting. Instead here I am, celebrating because we might have the chance to go out once in awhile.’

      ‘It’s sad,’ said Vetis. ‘If I had to watch a movie about my life right now I’d shoot myself in the face out of sheer boredom.’

      ‘Maybe you’ve forgotten what all that was like,’ replied Kaarl. ‘Worrying about Nergal every second of the day, wondering what Lucifer would do to us if we were caught. You two were hostages at one point and Damon had a gun in my face and his finger on the trigger. I’ll take boredom any day.’

      ‘You have to admit though,’ said Vetis. ‘A little bit of danger would spice things up.’

      ‘There’s no such thing as a little bit of danger when Lucifer is involved,’ replied Kaarl.

Chapter Five: An indecent proposal

      The Demon-Lords filed down the stone steps and into the bowels of Soul Reaper tower. The time for Perdition’s next move in the Game of Souls had arrived. The basement levels were normally off-limits to everyone but the Light Bearer and all manner of rumours had sprung up about their purpose. Some said Lucifer kept his wives there; others claimed it was where his enemies waited to be put out of their misery. Mastema had always imagined a cross between a harem, a bar and a games room; somewhere Lucifer could escape from the burden of leadership for a few hours and get a little “me time” with his concubines and a few cocktails.

      As Mastema’s eyes adjusted to darkness the chamber began to come into focus. The more he saw, the more the mystery and intrigue of the place began to slip away. No scantily clad women, no billiards tables or bar; just mould-encrusted stone walls and empty space.

      ‘It’s just a basement,’ said Mastema, holding a scented handkerchief to his face. ‘A dark, dank, smelly basement.’

      ‘From here the Fallen will strike a crippling blow against the Hated One,’ said Asmodeus. The Demon of Wrath took a deep breath and surveyed the chamber. ‘This is the place where the fall of Paradise begins.’

      ‘No,’ replied Mastema. ‘This is the place you rent to people that are down hard on their luck and that you don’t like very much. Immigrant families with tiny children, vegans and poor people; that sort of thing.’

      A bright light burst in front of the Demon-Lords, sweeping away the darkness. They held their hands in front of their faces as their eyes fought to accommodate for the sudden change. When Mastema had recovered he dropped his arm. Through the bright spots that still danced across his vision he saw Persephone, glowing and smiling.

       Bitch.

      ‘Welcome,’ said Lucifer, in the half-shout, half-whisper he used when he was feeling theatrical. ‘Welcome to the beginning of the end.’

      The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse stood behind the Light Bearer and his daughter. Mastema cheered and applauded along with his fellow Lords. He had to admit that the Horsemen looked impressive.

      War was a giant encased in rusted red plate metal. Spikes covered his armour and skulls had been skewered onto them. Pieces of rotting flesh were still clinging to some of the remains. Famine’s face was hidden in the recesses of his hood. A flowing grey robe covered all but his skeletal fingers and a pair of balances rested on his shoulders. Pestilence was a decaying, bloated corpse. His skin was taut from trying to contain the mass of lard underneath and it glistened from the puss that covered it. With his sickly green eyes, long filthy finger nails and lack of clothing he was by far the most disturbing to look at of the four. Death was pale, and white-haired. The skin of his lower right jaw was missing and his mouth had been sown shut with thick, black stitches. Despite the exposed teeth and tendons the Horseman was still handsome, impossibly so. Mastema was instantly jealous but took some small comfort in the fact that he was better dressed than the Horseman. Hugo Boss trumped heavy plate everywhere but the battlefields of medieval Europe and renaissance fairs.

      ‘This is your first and last chance to see the Horsemen,’ Lucifer continued once the clapping had subsided. ‘These brave…things and my daughter will carry the torch of Perdition into the Mortal realm. With any luck they’ll burn the place down and scatter the ashes to the wind.’

      ‘Luck is not a factor,’ said War. His sonorous voice caused the visor of his helm to rattle. ‘You will get what you paid for, Light Bearer.’

      ‘Love it,’ replied Lucifer, giving War the gun-finger and a wink. ‘Love you, love the confidence. I have a really good feeling about all of this.’

      The Light Bearer put a massive arm around his daughter’s shoulder.

      ‘And here’s the final little piece of the puzzle,’ he said, dropping a necklace and pendant into Persephone’s hand. ‘Your key to Heaven.’

      Persephone looked at the jewellery and grinned. Nergal had taken it from the trio’s penthouse after the twins had been kidnapped by her brother. The Lord’s Tear kept its wearer hidden from Demons and it would be essential to her story’s credibility.

      ‘I won’t let you down, Father,’ she said.

      ‘I know you won’t, sweetheart,’ replied Lucifer.

      He smiled and patted Persephone gently on her head.

      ‘On the off-chance that you do though, I’ll rip you apart with my bare hands and burn what’s left. No pressure though, the main thing is to just go out there and have fun.’

      With a wave of the Light Bearer’s arms Persephone and the Horsemen faded from Perdition.

      ***

      Persephone’s first feeling in the Mortal realm was searing pain. The runes under her skin pulsed with Demonic energy and she collapsed to her knees. With her first ragged breath she realised the Mortal realm stank. Wet dirt, vegetation and pesticides accounted for most of the stench but they were all unfamiliar to the Demonette’s senses. Underneath the immediate odour was the one Demons always complained about: Humanity. The Damned smelt bad enough but in the Mortals’ own realm the reek was pervasive. It hung in the air, even if no Humans were close by, like a thick cloud of filth, shame and sweat.

      Persephone struggled to her feet, fighting past the blinding agony that ripped through her body. She wanted to scream but that was conduct unbecoming of the Princess of Perdition so she held it back.

      One day Uphir and everyone else will pay tenfold for this, she thought. Father most of all.

      The fantasy of that day of vengeance bolstered her resolve and Persephone finally managed to stand up straight. The blackness of the night sky was an impressive first sight. It almost made up for the smell. Had there not been stars to ruin the effect Persephone would have considered it perfect. Her father enjoyed fire; it was why he had chosen to light his realm with an entire sky of it. Persephone had always preferred the darkness that came after everything had burnt.

      She had chosen a raven-haired, doe-eyed form for her work on Earth. Gorgeous enough to pull off СКАЧАТЬ