Beautiful Revenge. J Morris L

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      Verin shrugged.

      ‘Not my fault she can’t hold onto her stuff.’

      ‘What did Sophie say?’ asked Vetis.

      ‘The good news is we still get to go to the Mortal realm for work,’ Kaarl told the twins. ‘The bad news is it’s only for work. The tests, and the ban if we flunk them, apply to us as much as anyone else. Sophie said she is sure we’ll pass though and she is willing to tutor us if we struggle.’

      ‘I guess that’s something,’ said Verin. ‘If we need a tutor we probably can’t do much better than the Angel of Wisdom.’

      ‘No moaning or sulking?’ asked Kaarl, unable to mask his surprise.

      Verin’s eyes were firmly fixed on Sasha’s back as the Angel walked away.

      ‘It’s the first day of school and I’m already enemies with the most popular girl here,’ she replied. ‘I’ve got bigger things to worry about.’

Chapter Two: Better late than never

      In Hell, as on Earth, the most memorable lessons are taught more often by failure than success. Lucifer’s son Damon had learnt his in the hardest, most brutal way possible; it had cost the boy his life. In front of the fiery Gates of Perdition, the portal from the Mortal realm to their own, Demons and Damned Mortals alike had watched on as the Lord of their realm incinerated Damon with a flick of his wrist. Those present would never forget the look of indifference on their master’s face, the glint in his violet eyes or the way his enormous black wings stirred the ash that had only moments before been his son.

      Lucifer had seen hints that Kaarl was wavering and Damon had been sent to the Mortal realm to take the reins of Synergy. When Kaarl, Verin and Vetis had confirmed the Light Bearer’s suspicions and turned their backs on Perdition it had fallen to Damon to return the trio to Hell to face his father’s justice. The boy had failed spectacularly in both endeavours and paid the ultimate price for his shortcomings. Lucifer had sent a clear message to his realm as his words, and the specks that remained of his first-born child fell on the assembled masses. Failure was not something the Light Bearer would tolerate from anyone.

      Three years had passed since Kaarl and the sisters had betrayed the realm, turning from Lucifer’s embrace and taking up Paradise’s cause. Damon had long since been dragged from his lightless cell and punished but the whole affair was still the main topic of conversation in Perdition. In taverns and alehouses across the stone city its residents argued incessantly over the fallout from the betrayal.

      ‘It’ll be another war,’ said an enormous Demon. His voice boomed across the crowded bar and his red hands dwarfed the tankard they held. ‘He has to make a big move soon and you mark my words, it’ll be war between us and Paradise that comes next.’

      ‘You’ve been saying that for two years now,’ a grey Demon shouted back from the pool table, ‘and nothing’s changed.’

      ‘That’s not true at all,’ said one of the Damned.

      Dressed in the curry-stained baby-blue bathrobe he had died in, the man had a scraggly, hobo-like beard and was clearly very drunk. He slurred almost every word.

      ‘We are disappearing,’ the man continued, draining his glass. ‘Almost every day I hear of someone that’s lost a friend and never seen them again. I’m missing a few myself.’

      The man pointed to the empty seat beside him and belched before attempting to speak again. The patrons nearest to him pulled the man away from the bar and out of the tavern before he could utter another word. The red Demon’s eyes narrowed as he watched the Damned drag their inebriated companion away.

      ‘Remind me why we come here, Nicor,’ he growled.

      ‘It’s close to home,’ the grey Demon told his friend, ‘easier to stumble back from when we’re done for the day. The ale is not half bad either.’

      ‘It seems like they’ll let anyone in though. Let’s find a tavern where these Mortals are either banned or know their bloody place.’

      Humans were second class citizens in Perdition and, much like the elderly, they were expected to be seen and not heard. Mortals were Hell’s currency in the Game of Souls and claiming them was Lucifer’s top priority but once they were dead and Damned they became little more than background noise and a nuisance as far as the Demons were concerned.

      Most of the Damned were content with the arrangement. After discovering Hell was filled with brothels and bars rather than fire and brimstone, being ignored or treated like dirt by the Demons seemed a small price to pay. In truth Hell would have been very much like their worst nightmares had Lucifer not seen realm-wide eternal torture as merely a waste of his Demons’ time. Never-ending torment was labour intensive and Lucifer saved that punishment for a special few: the Damned that had killed thousands of their fellow men and women before their descent. Their actions had echoed across history and they had deprived Lucifer forever of the chance to claim those innocent souls caught up in their wars and schemes. For that transgression they suffered far worse a fate than anything a Mortal mind could envisage.

      Aside from the constant and still unexplained disappearances of the Damned very little had actually changed in Perdition. Immortal lives of sin and depravity had continued unhindered and most Mortals found new friends to replace the ones that had gone missing without a trace. Rumours and theories about Hell’s “next move” persisted but with each day that passed the rank and file grew more confident that whatever was going to happen didn’t involve them. Demon and Damned alike wanted to see Perdition win the Game of the Souls but no one wanted the duty of making it happen to fall on their shoulders. The lesson learnt from Damon’s demise was still fresh in their minds; with great responsibility came the chance for great punishment in service to the Light Bearer.

      The sprawling city was comprised almost entirely of small stone buildings, surrounded on all sides by an endless sea of black sand. Soul Reaper tower however could be seen from anywhere in the realm; it almost touched the majestic burning sky that gave Perdition its heat and light. It was the workplace of the Fallen; the first of the Angels to turn to Lucifer’s cause during the Rift. Inside the immense marble structure, Hell’s highest ranking officials were about to learn they had no such hope of shirking responsibility. Perdition’s Board of Directors and most important employees worked ceaselessly within the Tower to bring Lucifer’s vision to life. While most of them toiled to keep his vast city running and made plans to claim the immortal souls of specific men, women and children, a select few had been ordered to attend a secret meeting. It would be their job to set the stage for the main event.

      In his favourite black handmade suit, Mastema, Tempter of Men and Cursed Accuser, arrived at the meeting twenty minutes late; as was his custom. Making sure his jet-black hair was perfectly in place the suave Demon Lord shoved the massive doors open and strode into the boardroom. The glorious and fearsome sight of the Light Bearer and Son of Morning sitting atop his throne at the head of the blackened oak table caused him to misstep slightly. A colossus of white gold and black wings, the sight of Lucifer never failed to inspire and strike fear in equal measure.

      ‘You think it wise to make me wait?’ asked Lucifer as Mastema took a place at the table.

      Although his voice sounded like a whisper it carried clearly to every corner of the room. The contrast of the soft honeyed words coming from the Light СКАЧАТЬ