Sweet Reckoning(98)

“Is this true?” Rahab asked it. “Was there a Neph of light?” Everyone was quiet as the spirit whispered directly into Rahab’s mind and he answered it out loud in return. “Oh, you didn’t think it was important? Really? An unsupervised angelic Nephilim? I don’t give a damn how harmless she seemed, or if she never left the nunnery! Get away from me, you insipid idiot!” He threw out a hand, and the spirit shot back up into the dark cloud of Legionnaires.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Pharzuph said. “We have the girl. And what a rare treat it is to foil a plan of God.”

Rahab addressed the Dukes louder now, as Pharzuph continued his tight hold on my neck and body.

“None of us here can enter heaven again unless we take it by force! This stupid girl is mistaken. Lucifer holds the power now. We have no loyalties to the weak one. He thought we might be fooled by this sweet face, but we have proof that she’s out for our destruction! She was in possession of a flaming Sword of Righteousness. She killed three of our spirits just this week!”

There were gasps of horror and shrieks from above.

Pharzuph continued to hold me tightly against him as Rahab stood close.

“Where is it?” Sonellion asked.

Through clenched teeth, Pharzuph began, “It was retrieved—”

“By my son,” Shax cut in proudly.

“And disposed of,” Rahab finished. The Dukes and whisperers swelled with relief.

“How was she able to wield the sword?” asked Alocer.

Pharzuph huffed and shook his head. “We don’t know. But she did. A whisperer witnessed it.”

More murmurs and whispers as confusion and fear spread.

Thamuz’s eyes glowed a sickening crimson as he looked me over. “Enough games. I want blood.”

“Yes, Brother, there will be blood,” Pharzuph chuckled. “We will savor her.” He licked my earlobe and I cringed. “I won’t even have her first,” he graciously offered. “She’s my little gift to you, Brothers. Just be careful not to kill her yet because she needs to suffer in every possible way. Heaven is watching. Let’s give them a show.”

I closed my eyes.

“Me first,” one of the Dukes offered. I recognized that Australian accent.

“Of course you would say that, Mammon, you greedy bastard,” said Pharzuph, and there was laughter.

I opened my eyes again, trying to see my allies. They were all standing now, Kaidan having moved forward, but the Dukes didn’t seem to notice or care.

Mammon stepped into the circle, followed by Thamuz and Sonellion. Unadulterated hatred filled their red eyes.

Oh, God, please help me. I didn’t know how much torture I could take. Would they cut me? Rape me? Burn me?

No. Kaidan and the others wouldn’t let it get that far.

I stupidly struggled against Pharzuph’s strong hold as he turned us toward the three Dukes.

“Father . . . ,” Kaidan called from behind us. I recognized the warning in his voice.

Without turning, Pharzuph yelled, “Not now!”

It was a testament to how focused they were on their blood-lust that none of the Dukes seemed to care that a Neph had spoken out at this summit.

Mammon loomed over me like a giant, salivating monster with a savage hunger and thrill in his eyes. His gold watch and necklaces lacked any luster in the darkened room. He moved closer, unbuttoning his pants, which answered the question of what his chosen form of torture would be.

“No,” I moaned.

“Yes.” Pharzuph chuckled.

Mammon reached out and grabbed around the back of my neck to pull me to him, and that was when it happened. In my periphery I saw a rapid twist of silver, end over end. There was a whir close by my face, and a wet, crunching thunk. One minute Mammon was a foot in front of me, and in the next moment he was staggering backward with a blade lodged deep in his eye.

His mouth was a round O, and he fell to his knees, leaning back as his shrieking, dark spirit fought to get out of the body. Pharzuph wrenched me backward by the neck and spun us in the direction of Kaidan. He turned on his son with rage that shook the room.

“What have you done?”

Kaidan squared off, standing his ground, another knife already in his hand. He spun it on his palm before gripping it again.

“Just a bit of holy water on the blade.” He spoke casually, but his eyes were fearsome.

Mammon’s face hit the floor with a thud and his spirit thrashed above the body as if on fire. That’s for your son, Flynn, I thought.