Beion dropped Death and Snow at the bottom of a staircase.

  “I can’t take you further,” said Beion. “If I took you any higher than this, those slaves would kill us.”

  Every five steps, there stood a cambion armoured in iron suits at either side, a poor-quality spear in each hand. At the top of the stairs rested a glorious castle, swarmed with towers and gargoyles. It hoisted hellish banners of a deep red, an emblem of a split skull with a forked tongue, all still from lack of wind. The castle had not a single window, nor did it have any love in its construction—each brick laid by unwilling labour. Each statue carved without joy, especially the two tower-sized statues of what Death assumed to be the Crooked Devil in his infernal armour, which decorated either side of the castle gates.

  “Sheesh, they should call this call the self-love Devil,” Snow joked. “I reckon he has a handful of doppelgangers warming up his bed.”

  Some of those guards are giant, muscly, there are hundreds of them. This Crooked Devil must be quite the man to strike such fear into those men, Death thought. “Stay here at the bottom,” he said to Beion. “We’ll be out soon. My meeting with him shouldn’t take more than a few minutes… it’s just this walk that will be long.”

  “Don’t underestimate him,” Beion warned. “I’ve heard tales of what this one has done. You’re lucky I arrived in time before my mother tried to take you by her lonesome… the meeting she had with her after he made a contract with Deilon almost resulted in a challenge between him and my grandfather.”

  “This challenge will be quick,” Death snarled. “Those idiots of Vatanil threw me in my cell without taking my godsteel dagger. I shall put it in the devil’s throat and be done with it.”

  “—and then I’ll skewer him with Firedick!” Snow exclaimed. “I can say I’ve killed a devil and a dragon!”

  Beion was devoid of words. It took him a long while to find his parting advice.

  “If I don’t hear from you soon, I’ll send up my mother,” he promised. “I’ll keep Vera company… she didn’t seem pleased that you chose to go alone for this.”

  “She is too gullible,” Death said. “She joined my side the second I knocked on her door. A devil would be able to beguile her into an accidental lifetime of slavery. Come Snow, I’m not waiting for this meeting any longer than I already have.”

  The steps got purposefully steeper the closer they got to the top. Snow was exhausted by the time they reached the summit of the hill, clinging onto Death’s arm with pants and wheezes.

  No amount of strength can help a bad pair of lungs, he thought. If I’m going to have Snow linked to my soul for this journey, she’ll have to improve her stamina—I’ll have to… train her, what a horrid thought.

  Four slaves groaned in pain as they used strength they didn’t have to open the rusted portcullis. They held it open, begging him to enter as fast he could. It slammed shut behind him as he wandered into a courtyard of barren trees, benches, and servants sweeping up dirt into their designated squares. They avoided Death’s eyes, acting as if he’d kill them for being intrigued.

  “I feel bad for them,” Snow whispered. “Look how starving they are! If I had slaves, I’d feed them plenty of meals so they could be strong for the tasks I gave.”

  “A full stomach could fill their courage. A courageous slave would rebel against you.”

  “Nuh uh! My slaves would love me!”

  “You combine slave and servant into one. Slaves are servants, not all servants are slaves.”

  Snow quieted out of embarrassment.

  They entered a hallway from the courtyard, greeted by more slave guards. The deeper they got, the more the armour was stained with a red hue from using the flames of Hell to forge it. Their spears went from simple sticks to rune-imbued swords and axes. Still, they did not dare to stare.

  I do not understand the effort, Death thought. Every wall had a statue, painting, or mural of the devil they sought. If a man thinks himself so great, why the guards? There’s nothing I can see that’s worth stealing.

  The slaves opened the doors like they were guests, revealing a grand throne room which, unsurprisingly, was laden with statues of the Crooked Devil made of pure silver.

  “If at any moment they attack, just stay behind my arm,” Death whispered. “I only brought you because you have that sword.”

  “If they attack, I’ll kill all of them,” she boasted. “I killed a lot of people while you were gone! I’ll add demons to the list!”

  The Crooked Devil’s throne was made of gold and bones, drowning in cambion women on the armrests, all in revealing rags. Some were used as cushions; some massaged his arms, shoulders, and neck; some waited on their hands and knees to be used as a step for their master to descend from his seat. Any that weren’t given a purpose sat idle, fearing upsetting him. He selected the prettiest of his servants to sit in his lap, allowing her to sleep in his protection for a short time.

  Upon seeing Death, he showed no welcome or respect.

  Unlike the other cambions Death had seen, the Crooked Devil’s skin was dark red, hair the colour of dry coal, nearly as dark as Death’s own. His armour was lined with a glow of hellfire, infernal cracks in the gauntlets, pauldrons, greaves, and breastplate, exposing flowing magma beneath, an illusion crafted by magic. Above his head, the corrupted halo of an angel, broken in three separate places, dulled to a dim brown instead of the gold it once was. His featherless, bony wings spread wide, dark claws at the end of the wing’s bony fingers.

  “I’ll deal with this idiot,” Snow whispered. “Let me talk, you can do the killing.”

  Death agreed to this.

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  “It’s not every day I see two humans in hell,” the devil said in a deep growl.

  “Well, it’s not every day I have some demon cuck fuck-face whispering in my ear,” Snow yelled. “I guess we’re both surprised.”

  Out of all the things Death guessed she would say, that was not one of them. He gave a small chuckle, gripping his godsteel dagger, prepared for anything.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have a succubus hiding up your ass in here, would you?” she continued.

  The servants looked at Snow in shock. They’d clearly never heard a soul speak to their master that way.

  The Crooked Devil woke the sleeping cambion in his lap and shooed her away, using his servants to step his throne, their backs cracking underneath his weight.

  “Succubi have been extinct for three thousand years. Even if I had one hidden as my slave, I would never tell you about it.” He pointed a judging finger at Death. “You. You let a woman do your speaking for you? Does she also do the fighting whilst you sweep the floors and feed the horses?”

  “Excuse me?” Snow yelled. “Who do you think you’re speaking to? I’ll have you know I killed a dragon.” She summoned Firedick, the sword, and threatened him with it from afar. “I’ll give you this sword back, I’ll put it right up your ass!”

  The devil narrowed his eyes and lessened the distance between them. He was intrigued. He’d sensed that the sword he sought was linked to the soul of Death. Now, upon seeing it, he could feel that his sword was divided over both Snow’s and Death’s soul.

  He pointed at his empty scabbard. “That’s my sword,” said the devil. “The contract with Deilon the Defiant was he could summon it from my belt in his time of need. It wasn’t his sword to give away. Perhaps we could come to a similar arrangement, since you seem so reasonable.”

  Reasonable? I haven’t spoken a word, Death thought. “You must be a rich devil to have all these slaves and statues.”

  “What makes a rich man, hm? Gold? Family? Loyalty?”

  “We didn’t come here for wisdom!” Snow yelled. “Are we going to fight and get his done?”

  “You will not survive the fight. I am trying to help you.” The devil narrowed his eyes further. “You carry the scent of an angel,” he noticed. “The Elder Devil made claim that an angel had been reborn. You don’t like an angel. Care to explain?”

  “I’m no angel,” Death scoffed.

  “Clearly. As you can see, I was an angel myself. I chose to fall to the fire, their potential compared to Heaven was… tempting. Do you know that my old brethren claimed they spoke to another world through the Void? They claimed our gifts were from a different realm entirely, that none of us controlled our destiny. Do you think my friends cursed those voices when Heaven fell? When the final pillar of their kingdom crumbled… do you think they blamed the Void for it? All that happens is for the greater good… an evil comes that none can vanquish… I wonder if they kept that belief.”

  Death remembered a mural of him fighting the scarred man in Heaven within the ruins. “How did Heaven fall?” he asked.

  “Couldn’t tell you. I never bothered with humans, especially not the angels. I haven’t stepped foot in human land in… perhaps just a little over twenty thousand years. I was sitting right in this throne when they brought me that news.”

  “Why are we talking to him?” Snow whispered. “I thought we were here to kill him?”

  “No need to whisper,” the devil said. “I’m well aware of your intentions. You think fate is on your side, I can smell that. Fate never accounts for chaos. Empires crumble. Kings die. Gods die.”

  “Devils die,” Snow finished.

  “Do they? I’ve never seen one die.”

  “You will.”

  He laughed at Snow. “You are funny humans. I like you both. I bid you to yield when I best you in the arena. I would make you my wench, a make the man my personal guard.”

  Death demanded the sword from Snow. The guards changed their stances to aim their spears at them both. The Crooked Devil calmed them with a whistle.

  “Don’t spoil my hunt, these humans know not our ways. Tell me, what are your names?”

  Snow answered truthfully.

  “Death and Snow? What beautiful names for slaves. Do you accept my challenge for the sword?”

  Death didn’t hesitate to agree. He took the sword from Snow, the Choking Chain summoned in his other hand.

  The Crooked Devil cackled sinisterly. “You know not our ways, you foolish human. Your life is forfeit to me before the challenge has even begun. Under the rules of hell, only a demon can challenge a demon… you’ve already lost. Guards, seize them.”

  “Unless you want your head displayed in the Elder Devil’s home, I’d rethink your words,” Ash called out. She walked the length of the room loudly, stopping mere inches from the Crooked Devil. “That rule was amended. All races may challenge another demon if sponsored by a known family.”

  “Ashlereina Flame,” the Crooked Devil grunted.

  She bowed her head in greeting. “Carithiel. The last time we saw was when you trapped my son in your contract.”

  “You’ve taken up an alliance with this human after what they did to Deilon?”

  “I don’t need your help,” Death snarled at her. “I’m prepared to kill this mongrel and all his slaves.”

  She spoke without turning. “Then you would have the entirety of Hell against you. You would face the Hellguard; you would face the Elder Devil; you face my family; you would face the Guardians of Hell’s Gates. Can you slaughter our whole race? If you don’t do things our way, you’ll die.”

  Death wasn’t happy. Snow held his arm calming him. “Fine. Do what you must.”

  Carithiel’s once bold demeanour had shrivelled. He didn’t fear Ashlereina herself, it was her Flame family name. Regardless, he continued to cast threats with every breath.

  “Perhaps when this is done, I shall challenge your remaining son and your daughter—Beion and Aleirica, if I remember. Would they surrender? I don’t think they would.”

  “They wouldn’t,” she smirked. “Your threats don’t worry me. I remind you that I’m the secondborn of the great Agadeira flame; my firstborn brother, Vunadeira, has always been fond of my daughter’s wellbeing. My strength would surprise you… I assure you that the strength of my father wouldn’t shock you. This challenge is between you and Death. Threaten my children again and see what rewards you reap.”

  “Yeah! You tell him!” Snow cheered. “Death is gonna beat your ass, you damned devil! This sword is mine.”

  Carithiel ignored Snow’s barking. “You have fallen low,” he said to Ash. “Why does the Flame family aid this human?”

  “My daughter favours this human. I have never been able to give her much since she was born. You won’t take one of the only things she has smiled at, I won’t allow it. I officially accept your challenge under the laws of Hell. I will inform the Elder Devil. We will fight with the rising of the sun in the human world, which is very close.”

  Carithiel accepted this with a smug grin.

  “Death, they say a man only loses once in his life. Whether it be to war, a betrayal, old age. Your name tickles me. Death is a flawless victory that comes even for gods… in hours, I will give Death the first loss recorded in time.”

  “Give me your best.” Death returned the sword to Snow. “I hope you are strong. I am happy that you won’t surrender.”