Beautiful Revenge. J Morris L

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ It seems the only way to address the bigger issue underlying all of this.’

      ‘What bigger issue?’ asked Nergal.

      Mastema stood and arched his back. Hours spent over the glass panel had begun to take its toll and he didn’t want to suffer any permanent damage. Nothing ruined the effect of a good suit like bad posture.

      ‘The way the Mortals fight these days is the bigger issue,’ replied Mastema, shooting his cuffs. ‘In the good old days it was all sword on sword. Two Mortals, one death, and either the loser or the victor was ours nine times out of ten. Now they have these nuclear weapons and flying murder robots. A small room of Mortals can be responsible for the death of hundreds or even millions of their own kind. It may be a more efficient way for them to do things but all those souls will count against us if we haven’t secured them first. We’ll be shooting ourselves in the foot if we go about this the wrong way.’

      Mastema grinned at the silence that followed his explanation.

      These idiots had not even considered the implications of innocents dying by our hands, he thought.

      Insulting Lucifer’s daughter would not have been wise but someone needed their face rubbed in the obvious.

      ‘I realised this before our first meeting with the Board drew to a close,’ said Mastema. ‘Foresight is one of the many benefits of a formidable intellect.’

      He turned to Nergal.

      ‘Do you mean to tell me the leader of Hell’s Secret Police, a Demon whose job apparently revolves around intelligence, didn’t take this rather important detail into account? Who is the monkey now, Nergal? ’

      The smoke began to flicker and take shape.

      ‘That’s enough,’ said Persephone before things escalated further.

      ‘I agree,’ said Mastema with a nod. ‘I think I’ve contributed more than enough today to warrant a break. I could kill for a sandwich right about now.’

      Persephone snapped her fingers.

      ‘That’s it!’

      ‘What’s “it”?’ asked Nergal.

      ‘Food,’ replied Persephone. ‘An army marches on its stomach and the common folk riot when theirs are empty. We’ll make the powerful “haves” trade places with the developing “have nots” and sit back and watch the fun. One side will have all the guns and the other will have all the food. Mortals will sin to fill their bellies and die in droves soon after.’

      ‘A fine plan,’ said Mastema. ‘A veritable recipe for disaster, if you’ll pardon the pun. If we do this right, people will be beating their neighbours to death over a loaf of bread and countries will be fighting wars over fields of wheat.’

      ‘Pestilence, Famine, War then Death,’ said Persephone, her pointed teeth glinting as she smirked. ‘Someone was even kind enough to name the Horsemen after the steps. You two can take a break, Nergal needs to cool off and I want you to send Deumos in here. When you get back we’ll figure out how to make this happen.’

      ‘What does my wife have to do with anything?’ asked Mastema, ‘and who will make my sandwich if she’s in here?’

      ‘You don’t question my father’s orders,’ replied Persephone, her black eyes narrowing. ‘If you want to keep breathing I suggest you extend me that same courtesy. Now go.’

      While Mastema walked off to find something to eat and his better half, Nergal wavered in the doorway.

      ‘What is it now?’ asked Persephone, taking a seat at Kaarl’s desk.

      ‘Your brother made it his mission to make the traitors suffer,’ Nergal told her. ‘He ignored the bigger picture and it proved to be his undoing. If he had he focused on the task at hand he might still be alive.’

      ‘And I would still be stuck down here in my room.’ said Persephone. ‘Instead Damon is ash and I get to go to the Mortal realm and fight on the front lines. I can find a way to use Kaarl for our purposes and break him when I’m done, the twins too. I’m not my brother.’

      You’re just worried about being outclassed by a girl, thought Persephone, leaning back in the chair as Nergal drifted out of the room.

      Kaarl had proven himself too much for even the best of Lucifer’s forces to handle and it was a realm-wide embarrassment. Using him to further Perdition’s goals would be a master stroke and hurting him in the process would be icing on the cake. Because the trio had been accepted into Paradise killing either Kaarl or the twins was impossible, at least with any permanence, but there were other ways to do damage.

      It was common knowledge that Kaarl had never been in a relationship; although not much could be learnt from his old room it was clear that the boy was no romantic. To most this would have signified another dead end but to Persephone it was an opportunity. If she could find a way to make him want her, to lift him up before breaking him down, it would leave a mark in a place not easily healed. The idea of Kaarl’s first taste of true love turning sour and choking him sent a chill down Persephone’s spine.

      Deumos knocked on the doorway. With her long black hair, delicate features and svelte red figure she was proof to all young Demonettes that ageing could be accomplished gracefully.

      ‘You asked to see me?’

      ‘I did,’ replied Persephone with her warmest smile. ‘Please come in, sit.’

       And while you’re at it, give me an opening so I can get inside your son and tear him apart.

      ***

      A week after Persephone had unveiled her plan Lucifer looked down on the body of his daughter. The other Lords in the dimly lit chamber kept their distance, unsure of what their Master would make of the scene. The sheets around Persephone were drenched in her golden blood and the runes and symbols used in the rites were still glowing on her flesh.

      ‘And you say she didn’t scream?’ Lucifer asked Uphir.

      The skeletal Demon physician finished drying his hands and removed his mask.

      ‘Not once, Master; she didn’t make a sound. You would have been proud.’

      The Light Bearer and Son of Morning brushed a stray strand of hair from his daughter’s face.

      ‘How long will she be out for?’

      ‘An hour or two,’ Uphir replied, washing his tools. ‘No more. Recovery will take a few days though.’

      ‘And you’re sure these runes will work against Laylah?’

      Asmoday the Deceiver stepped forward. A serpent in human form, his fangs dripped with venom and his tongue flickered as he spoke.

      ‘Persephone’s memories will match her story, Master,’ he said. ‘If the Hated One’s seer goes looking she will find nothing but what we want her to. The sigils will keep the rest hidden from her powers; pushing down anything we want to hide.’

      Mastema managed to suppress a snigger. Asmoday’s СКАЧАТЬ