Hells heresies, p.28
Hell’s Heresies, page 28
“Um…we’re kind of in the middle of something.” Emerie coughed. “Can we help you, ma’am?”
“I certainly hope so, Emerie,” the middle-aged woman responded with a smile. “In fact, I’m counting on your help.”
She grinned and looked directly at Samael.
“It’s good to see you again, my brother.” She started to walk down the aisle as she took a sip of a frozen latte. “I see you have made some friends. Acting quite the rebel, aren’t you, befriending humans? That’s all right, little brother. I see you’ve trapped Lilith. She’s been most naughty lately—it was good of you to keep her for me.”
Samael’s expression was murderous and scared. Emerie felt him tremble next to her.
“Lucifer.”
TWENTY-SIX
“You’re Lucifer?!”
Emerie hadn’t meant to blurt it out. But how could this woman be the Lord of Hell? She had Prayer Club written all over her. Emerie had seen her Suburban. It was littered with Marriage = 1 Man + 1 Woman and Jesus fish bumper stickers. But the woman ignored her.
“Have you had fun?” Lucifer’s voice was warm and maternal. “I know you’ve been stuck in that house for a while. I do hope you’ve enjoyed yourself.”
Samael stared at the floor, unable to meet Lucifer’s eyes. His wings shivered and Emerie felt a rush of affection for him. She reached out, took his hand, and squeezed it gently.
Lucifer noticed the movement immediately. “Well, how about that! You have been having fun, Samael. The other incubi will be very proud.”
“Shove off,” Samael muttered. “It’s none of your business.”
“Fair enough.” Lucifer took another sip of latte. “I don’t really care about that, anyway. I heard you managed to trap Lilith—and I will reward you handsomely for that, little brother.”
Emerie had little sympathy for the she-demon that possessed her. But the look of absolute fear on Lilith’s usually pert face moved her.
Lucifer paid Lilith no heed. She rested an elegant and perfectly manicured hand on one of the pews. Finally, she acknowledged the frightened she-demon.
“Well, Lilith?” she called out to her, in a slightly scolding tone. “What do you have to say for yourself? Do you think I was ignorant of your little plans? Did you really think my little brother would betray me for you?”
“Go to hell,” Lilith hissed.
“Not me.” Lucifer chuckled. “But I can promise you I will talk to Beelzebub before you’re banished. I’m sure he’ll have something special cooked up for you.”
Lucifer straightened and turned towards Father Zebulun. “Well, Father, proceed with the exorcism.”
Since Emerie had met Father Zebulun, she had known him to be a tempest beneath calm waters. He never lost control, never lost his temper, and remained resolute and sure in everything he did. She expected Father Zebulun to stride forward Exorcist style, tell the interloping Lucifer the power of Christ compelled him…
But Father Zebulun hadn’t moved. He seemed rooted to the spot, his expression frozen. The moment Lucifer’s stare fell upon Father Zebulun, he had become paralyzed. One hand dropped the crossbow and it clattered to the floor.
Zephyr was aghast at his immobility. She stomped in front of the priest and bit out, “Get lost.”
Lucifer smiled at her gently. “How I miss the days when witches worshiped me properly. Nowadays, they sanitize their own history and profess not to believe in me. It is disappointing.”
“Did I stutter?” Zephyr threatened as she drew chalk from her pocket. “If I can seal Lilith in a circle, I can seal you.”
“Oh, child.” Her voice was almost sympathetic. “Just like your mother. You deal with forces beyond your ken.”
Without warning, Zephyr mugged Father Zebulun’s water gun from his jacket. She looked vaguely disappointed, as though she intended to grab the proper pistol, but missed. Still, she pumped several times and pointed it directly at Lucifer, who looked on, unimpressed.
“One last chance!”
“Zephyr, don’t!” Samael roared. “You don’t know what you’re doing!”
She ignored him and pulled the trigger of the water gun. But instead of water, white hot flames shot out from the gun, coursing straight towards Lucifer. Her jaw dropped as the streams of flames slowed and halted in front of Lucifer’s face.
“Oh dear,” she murmured as she fiddled with one of her Jesus buttons idly. “The priest’s weapon seems to be malfunctioning. Better get that looked at.”
The flames suddenly reversed and sped towards Zephyr. She screamed and dropped the water gun, but the flames kept their course. Milliseconds before she was engulfed, Samael leapt in front of her, shielding her with his wings. He gritted his teeth as the smell of singed flesh overwhelmed the church.
Lucifer’s lip curled. “You’ve been on earth for too long, Samael. Your sympathy for these creatures is misplaced.”
“Whatever.” Samael averted his gaze. “Just—let them be.”
Lucifer sighed in exasperation. “I swear, little brother, I do spoil you so. Very well. Humans—your services are no longer needed here. Leave the church. Go to your houses. Netflix and chill.”
No one moved. Zephyr shakily wiped ash from her arms and Father Zebulun remained in his semi-catatonic state. Emerie decided to take action. She planted herself in front of the soccer mom and placed her hands on her hips.
“What are you going to do?”
Lucifer scrutinized her with interest and took another long draught of frozen latte. Emerie scowled at her bored expression.
“Well, well. The conjurer speaks.” Lucifer chose to smile. “I do owe you a boon, human. You opened the door a crack and now I’m able to throw it all the way open.”
Emerie wasn’t sure what she meant but the entitled, pompous tone infuriated her. “Piss off!”
Lucifer tossed the empty plastic cup aside and it clattered on the floor, leaking mocha residue onto the ground. She passed right by Emerie and approached the circle. Lilith stared at her in fear, still trapped in the seal.
“Hey,” Emerie shouted. “I was talking to you!”
Lucifer glanced at her and Emerie shuddered. She hated Lucifer’s eyes. They looked like oil spills, dark and thick, poisonous to the soul.
“Samael,” Lucifer said softly. “It’s time.”
Emerie slowly looked at Samael. He didn’t move, but he stared at the floor of the church. What did Lucifer mean?
It didn’t take her long to find out. Lucifer snapped her fingers and Samael reluctantly stepped forward to join her. He met Emerie’s stare.
“They all warned you, Emerie.”
“What are you doing?” Emerie tried to race towards him but Lucifer flicked her wrist and she slammed to the ground. “Sam, stop it!”
“All of the princes have gathered.” Lucifer smiled at Samael and caressed his shoulder. “Mammon to the east. Abaddon to the west. Moloch to the north. Azazel below. Save one. Shall we return to the Hell House?”
“What are you talking about?” Emerie bellowed.
Lucifer pointed at Zephyr, who’d fallen to her knees. “The witch knows.”
Zephyr shook violently. Her face was pale and clammy and she looked like she was about to be sick. Father Zebulun staggered to her side.
Lucifer raised her arms and then clapped her hands slowly and methodically. With each clap, the hanging lights went out with a pop, immersing the sanctuary in darkness. She pointed towards the unlit candles at the altar. They flamed and shot long columns of fire straight to the vaulted ceiling. Emerie’s eyes widened—when she’d first tried to exorcise Samael, her candles had acted similarly…right before a gate to Hell ripped open.
Lilith screamed. The chalk circle around her glowed scarlet and she tried to move away from the symbols, as though each mark burned her. She could not leave the circle, but there were things that started to crawl out.
“One more piece,” Lucifer told Samael, who looked away. “You called me, brother. Don’t forget that.”
“You what?!”
Zephyr found her voice. Emerie didn’t understand. But the guilt in Samael’s eyes was clear.
“I had to, Emerie. I had to call him. I used Harriet.”
“The fuck?!” Zephyr bellowed.
“My Ouija board!” Emerie shouted back. “He used my Ouija board to summon Satan!”
“Don’t call him that!” Samael begged. “He’s my brother, Emerie! I had to get him, or Lilith would’ve—”
“YOU IDIOT!”
Emerie marched over to Samael. White hot rage coursed through her and she raised her arm and SLAPPED Samael across the face as hard as she could.
Samael lurched from the blow. Lucifer quirked her head curiously. Emerie took a deep breath.
“That was as stupid a thing to do,” she inhaled deeply through her nostrils, “as it was for me to attempt an exorcism by myself.”
“Have to agree.” Lucifer’s eyes were bright with malice. “Now, then. Since the little love affair is over…shall we?”
Samael swallowed hard. For a halting moment, Emerie wondered if he would defy Lucifer.
“Remember our deal. I told you where to find the girl. You agreed to take your throne…as Prince of Hell.”
Emerie gasped. Samael bowed his head. He turned his back on the group and went towards Lucifer.
Without warning, they suddenly vanished.
Emerie backed away from the front of the church, where Lilith still screamed in pain, and grabbed Father Zebulun and Zephyr’s arm as she retreated down the aisle. They might have to make a break for it—but before she could proceed, she heard the church doors slam shut. Unseen hands shot the bolts, locking the humans in.
She whirled around. Fat, pudgy little devils that looked like flying sausages leered at her as they flapped away from the church doors. More and more demons crawled out of the circle. Lilith continued to shriek, sprawled within the circle. It almost looked as though she was giving birth to the horrifying beasts.
“What the hell!” Emerie shook her priest, in an attempt to snap him awake. “What the hell just happened?”
“A ritual.” Zephyr gritted her teeth in pain. “I told you…Lucifer is casting—”
Zephyr stifled a scream. Emerie, who’d been trying the main doors, jumped back. A centipede like monstrosity the size of a refrigerator crawled across the front doors. It raised a horrifying head covered in pincers and clicked at them menacingly. Emerie turned towards the side doors. Slimy, black eels the size of school buses creeped across the stained-glass windows and came to rest across the side doors of the sanctuary.
It was at that moment Emerie realized there was someone standing at the altar.
Beelzebub grinned at them warmly. “Hello again, my friends.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
“Hell is empty,” Lucifer mused. “And all the devils are here. Or will be.”
“Please stop. I hate when you quote.”
Lucifer and Samael stood before Hell House. Emerie’s home was bathed in red, as though the sun were setting. Samael was pretty sure it wasn’t sunset though—but wherever Lucifer was, linear time had a tendency to fracture.
“Didn’t I tell you, Samael?” Lucifer gestured to the front door as it swung open in welcome. “Everything would shake out. It was extremely fortuitous the Lemp woman tried to summon you—that gave us an opening.”
Samael cast a dark look at the house before they entered. “Right. Everything happens for a reason?”
Lucifer smiled tenderly. “That was my most successful propaganda for the humans, you know.”
They came into the living room. Lucifer flopped onto the couch like a housecat and stretched comfortably. Samael didn’t look at his brother, instead retreated to the bookshelves and examined the titles, like a disinterested house guest. Lucifer watched him curiously.
“Why so glum, chum?” Lucifer snapped her fingers and another frozen coffee appeared in her hand. “Everything worked out perfectly.”
She set the plastic cup down on the coffee table. Samael winced involuntarily. Emerie would be furious that the Devil wasn’t using a coaster.
“Where are the other princes?” Samael turned pointedly away from the wet ring on Emerie’s coffee table.
“Moloch is at the Witch’s Memorial, Abaddon at the witch caves—Azazel was quite a disappointment to me, unable to kill one little witch. Mammon is at the Corbin Mansion, Baphomet at the old library, and of course…you are here.” Lucifer swirled her index finger in the air and another frozen coffee appeared. Samael watched in quiet judgment—Lucifer had apparently traded his love of wine and spirits for caffeinated frozen beverages.
“And the church?”
“Beelzebub is there.” Lucifer yawned. “Oh, don’t look so worried, little brother. Your little human girl will be fine. I can’t say the same for the witch who destroyed Azazel—stupid of him, but my heart does break. And of course, that priest has been a thorn in my side for decades.”
Samael turned and traced some dust on the shelf with his claw. That had been the second part of the Ouija conversation. After Lucifer had revealed Emerie’s location…but Samael had made him swear he would not harm Emerie. That if he allied himself to Lucifer, Emerie would live.
He drew a pentacle star in the dust. He felt that same uncomfortable, dreadful feeling in the pit of his stomach as he thought of Father Zebulun, comforting him about his doubts and confusion. And Zephyr…the little witch was correct. Lucifer was casting—he intended to make the gate to Hell bigger.
Lucifer was going to turn the town of Milton into a portal to Hell.
“Okay, does anyone have any bright ideas?”
The interior of the church grew darker and darker. Zephyr couldn’t tell if it was due to the giant bugs blocking the windows or if daylight was dying. Beelzebub stood at the end of the aisle, on the altar. He clicked at them genially and seemed in no rush to fly at them. Instead, he knelt down and they watched in horror as his proboscis extended. The proboscis sucked up two flittering moths the size of housecats and he slowly chewed them up. Saliva and insect entrails oozed down his face. Zephyr had the uneasy feeling he was making a point—this would soon be their fate.
But now that Lucifer had disappeared, Father Zebulun returned to himself. Breathing hard, he fumbled in his jacket and withdrew the Freischutz.
“I’ll need a clear shot.” He stared down the aisle directly at Beelzebub.
But before he could gun down the insectile demon, Beelzebub’s mouth fell open. Literally open. His jaw dropped to the ground like a perverse scroll; his black fanged maw faced them directly, a sort of grotesque cavern. There was a horrible buzzing and then all at once, a thick cloud of black flies erupted from his mouth.
Father Zebulun bellowed in rage. Emerie shrieked and batted them away uselessly. Zephyr choked and gagged. The black flies quickly swarmed the church like a heavy smog—they completely obliterated Beelzebub from view.
“Damn it!”
Zephyr had never heard Father Zebulun swear. But there was no way to point this out to him without ingesting a thousand black flies. Instead, she grabbed Emerie’s arm and Father Zebulun’s elbow and pulled them towards one of the side staircases. The cloud of flies grew thicker and thicker as they rushed up the twisting stairs. Father Zebulun bypassed the balcony and swerved to the left. They stood before a set of rickety wooden stairs and what looked like an attic door. Father Zebulun clambered upwards and jerked it open.
“The bell tower!” he yelled at them. “Quickly!”
They scrambled up the splintery steps and found themselves in a dark, cramped room. Emerie nearly ran headlong into one of the great bronze bells. Father Zebulun yanked the door shut behind them and bolted it quickly. There was a strange tip-tap against the bell tower door—as though the swarm of flies were tentatively knocking.
Zephyr coughed deeply. “Now what?”
They started to cross the room carefully. Nothing seemed particularly secure—the floorboards creaked dangerously underneath and Zephyr took care not to touch one of the church bells. There was a large window across the room, latched shut. Emerie kicked the rusted latch and the window opened easily. She poked her head through and whistled.
“It’s a long way down.”
“Of course it is,” Zephyr muttered. “I thought all this shit was computerized nowadays.” She gestured toward the bells.
Father Zebulun looked offended. “This church and this bell tower are over a hundred years old.”
There was an ominous thud against the bell tower door that caused the whole tower to vibrate. Zephyr took another look at the open window. Emerie was right. This was beginning to look hopeless.
“Well, Father, I don’t suppose you have a grappling hook in your jacket?”
“Indeed not,” Father Zebulun said grimly. “We’ll have to risk climbing.”
“Are you kidding me?” Zephyr gestured towards the tiny opening. “I am not a rock climber! We will flatten ourselves on the concrete!”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Wait!”
Zephyr turned towards Emerie. Her eyes were bright and she cleared her throat for emphasis.
“Zephyr, do you have a broom?”
The witch’s mouth fell open. Father Zebulun closed his eyes for patience. There was another ominous THUMP against the door.
“A broom?!” Zephyr shouted. “That’s your idea?! You want me to fly us off this tower on my broom?! I don’t have a broom! This is not Harry Potter!”
“WHAT’S THE POINT IN BEING A WITCH IF YOU DON’T GET A BROOM?!” Emerie shoved her bokuto at Zephyr in emphasis.
“That’s not—we don’t—the brooms are not used for that purpose!” Zephyr blustered, trying to bat the bokuto out of her face.
“What are they used for if not flying?!”
“They’re—we—it is a phallic metaphor, Emerie.”
The fact there were literal demons at the door was forgotten. “Wait, so you bang the broom?!”
“Could we please focus on the issue at hand?” Father Zebulun’s eyes flitted to the door.
“I certainly hope so, Emerie,” the middle-aged woman responded with a smile. “In fact, I’m counting on your help.”
She grinned and looked directly at Samael.
“It’s good to see you again, my brother.” She started to walk down the aisle as she took a sip of a frozen latte. “I see you have made some friends. Acting quite the rebel, aren’t you, befriending humans? That’s all right, little brother. I see you’ve trapped Lilith. She’s been most naughty lately—it was good of you to keep her for me.”
Samael’s expression was murderous and scared. Emerie felt him tremble next to her.
“Lucifer.”
TWENTY-SIX
“You’re Lucifer?!”
Emerie hadn’t meant to blurt it out. But how could this woman be the Lord of Hell? She had Prayer Club written all over her. Emerie had seen her Suburban. It was littered with Marriage = 1 Man + 1 Woman and Jesus fish bumper stickers. But the woman ignored her.
“Have you had fun?” Lucifer’s voice was warm and maternal. “I know you’ve been stuck in that house for a while. I do hope you’ve enjoyed yourself.”
Samael stared at the floor, unable to meet Lucifer’s eyes. His wings shivered and Emerie felt a rush of affection for him. She reached out, took his hand, and squeezed it gently.
Lucifer noticed the movement immediately. “Well, how about that! You have been having fun, Samael. The other incubi will be very proud.”
“Shove off,” Samael muttered. “It’s none of your business.”
“Fair enough.” Lucifer took another sip of latte. “I don’t really care about that, anyway. I heard you managed to trap Lilith—and I will reward you handsomely for that, little brother.”
Emerie had little sympathy for the she-demon that possessed her. But the look of absolute fear on Lilith’s usually pert face moved her.
Lucifer paid Lilith no heed. She rested an elegant and perfectly manicured hand on one of the pews. Finally, she acknowledged the frightened she-demon.
“Well, Lilith?” she called out to her, in a slightly scolding tone. “What do you have to say for yourself? Do you think I was ignorant of your little plans? Did you really think my little brother would betray me for you?”
“Go to hell,” Lilith hissed.
“Not me.” Lucifer chuckled. “But I can promise you I will talk to Beelzebub before you’re banished. I’m sure he’ll have something special cooked up for you.”
Lucifer straightened and turned towards Father Zebulun. “Well, Father, proceed with the exorcism.”
Since Emerie had met Father Zebulun, she had known him to be a tempest beneath calm waters. He never lost control, never lost his temper, and remained resolute and sure in everything he did. She expected Father Zebulun to stride forward Exorcist style, tell the interloping Lucifer the power of Christ compelled him…
But Father Zebulun hadn’t moved. He seemed rooted to the spot, his expression frozen. The moment Lucifer’s stare fell upon Father Zebulun, he had become paralyzed. One hand dropped the crossbow and it clattered to the floor.
Zephyr was aghast at his immobility. She stomped in front of the priest and bit out, “Get lost.”
Lucifer smiled at her gently. “How I miss the days when witches worshiped me properly. Nowadays, they sanitize their own history and profess not to believe in me. It is disappointing.”
“Did I stutter?” Zephyr threatened as she drew chalk from her pocket. “If I can seal Lilith in a circle, I can seal you.”
“Oh, child.” Her voice was almost sympathetic. “Just like your mother. You deal with forces beyond your ken.”
Without warning, Zephyr mugged Father Zebulun’s water gun from his jacket. She looked vaguely disappointed, as though she intended to grab the proper pistol, but missed. Still, she pumped several times and pointed it directly at Lucifer, who looked on, unimpressed.
“One last chance!”
“Zephyr, don’t!” Samael roared. “You don’t know what you’re doing!”
She ignored him and pulled the trigger of the water gun. But instead of water, white hot flames shot out from the gun, coursing straight towards Lucifer. Her jaw dropped as the streams of flames slowed and halted in front of Lucifer’s face.
“Oh dear,” she murmured as she fiddled with one of her Jesus buttons idly. “The priest’s weapon seems to be malfunctioning. Better get that looked at.”
The flames suddenly reversed and sped towards Zephyr. She screamed and dropped the water gun, but the flames kept their course. Milliseconds before she was engulfed, Samael leapt in front of her, shielding her with his wings. He gritted his teeth as the smell of singed flesh overwhelmed the church.
Lucifer’s lip curled. “You’ve been on earth for too long, Samael. Your sympathy for these creatures is misplaced.”
“Whatever.” Samael averted his gaze. “Just—let them be.”
Lucifer sighed in exasperation. “I swear, little brother, I do spoil you so. Very well. Humans—your services are no longer needed here. Leave the church. Go to your houses. Netflix and chill.”
No one moved. Zephyr shakily wiped ash from her arms and Father Zebulun remained in his semi-catatonic state. Emerie decided to take action. She planted herself in front of the soccer mom and placed her hands on her hips.
“What are you going to do?”
Lucifer scrutinized her with interest and took another long draught of frozen latte. Emerie scowled at her bored expression.
“Well, well. The conjurer speaks.” Lucifer chose to smile. “I do owe you a boon, human. You opened the door a crack and now I’m able to throw it all the way open.”
Emerie wasn’t sure what she meant but the entitled, pompous tone infuriated her. “Piss off!”
Lucifer tossed the empty plastic cup aside and it clattered on the floor, leaking mocha residue onto the ground. She passed right by Emerie and approached the circle. Lilith stared at her in fear, still trapped in the seal.
“Hey,” Emerie shouted. “I was talking to you!”
Lucifer glanced at her and Emerie shuddered. She hated Lucifer’s eyes. They looked like oil spills, dark and thick, poisonous to the soul.
“Samael,” Lucifer said softly. “It’s time.”
Emerie slowly looked at Samael. He didn’t move, but he stared at the floor of the church. What did Lucifer mean?
It didn’t take her long to find out. Lucifer snapped her fingers and Samael reluctantly stepped forward to join her. He met Emerie’s stare.
“They all warned you, Emerie.”
“What are you doing?” Emerie tried to race towards him but Lucifer flicked her wrist and she slammed to the ground. “Sam, stop it!”
“All of the princes have gathered.” Lucifer smiled at Samael and caressed his shoulder. “Mammon to the east. Abaddon to the west. Moloch to the north. Azazel below. Save one. Shall we return to the Hell House?”
“What are you talking about?” Emerie bellowed.
Lucifer pointed at Zephyr, who’d fallen to her knees. “The witch knows.”
Zephyr shook violently. Her face was pale and clammy and she looked like she was about to be sick. Father Zebulun staggered to her side.
Lucifer raised her arms and then clapped her hands slowly and methodically. With each clap, the hanging lights went out with a pop, immersing the sanctuary in darkness. She pointed towards the unlit candles at the altar. They flamed and shot long columns of fire straight to the vaulted ceiling. Emerie’s eyes widened—when she’d first tried to exorcise Samael, her candles had acted similarly…right before a gate to Hell ripped open.
Lilith screamed. The chalk circle around her glowed scarlet and she tried to move away from the symbols, as though each mark burned her. She could not leave the circle, but there were things that started to crawl out.
“One more piece,” Lucifer told Samael, who looked away. “You called me, brother. Don’t forget that.”
“You what?!”
Zephyr found her voice. Emerie didn’t understand. But the guilt in Samael’s eyes was clear.
“I had to, Emerie. I had to call him. I used Harriet.”
“The fuck?!” Zephyr bellowed.
“My Ouija board!” Emerie shouted back. “He used my Ouija board to summon Satan!”
“Don’t call him that!” Samael begged. “He’s my brother, Emerie! I had to get him, or Lilith would’ve—”
“YOU IDIOT!”
Emerie marched over to Samael. White hot rage coursed through her and she raised her arm and SLAPPED Samael across the face as hard as she could.
Samael lurched from the blow. Lucifer quirked her head curiously. Emerie took a deep breath.
“That was as stupid a thing to do,” she inhaled deeply through her nostrils, “as it was for me to attempt an exorcism by myself.”
“Have to agree.” Lucifer’s eyes were bright with malice. “Now, then. Since the little love affair is over…shall we?”
Samael swallowed hard. For a halting moment, Emerie wondered if he would defy Lucifer.
“Remember our deal. I told you where to find the girl. You agreed to take your throne…as Prince of Hell.”
Emerie gasped. Samael bowed his head. He turned his back on the group and went towards Lucifer.
Without warning, they suddenly vanished.
Emerie backed away from the front of the church, where Lilith still screamed in pain, and grabbed Father Zebulun and Zephyr’s arm as she retreated down the aisle. They might have to make a break for it—but before she could proceed, she heard the church doors slam shut. Unseen hands shot the bolts, locking the humans in.
She whirled around. Fat, pudgy little devils that looked like flying sausages leered at her as they flapped away from the church doors. More and more demons crawled out of the circle. Lilith continued to shriek, sprawled within the circle. It almost looked as though she was giving birth to the horrifying beasts.
“What the hell!” Emerie shook her priest, in an attempt to snap him awake. “What the hell just happened?”
“A ritual.” Zephyr gritted her teeth in pain. “I told you…Lucifer is casting—”
Zephyr stifled a scream. Emerie, who’d been trying the main doors, jumped back. A centipede like monstrosity the size of a refrigerator crawled across the front doors. It raised a horrifying head covered in pincers and clicked at them menacingly. Emerie turned towards the side doors. Slimy, black eels the size of school buses creeped across the stained-glass windows and came to rest across the side doors of the sanctuary.
It was at that moment Emerie realized there was someone standing at the altar.
Beelzebub grinned at them warmly. “Hello again, my friends.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
“Hell is empty,” Lucifer mused. “And all the devils are here. Or will be.”
“Please stop. I hate when you quote.”
Lucifer and Samael stood before Hell House. Emerie’s home was bathed in red, as though the sun were setting. Samael was pretty sure it wasn’t sunset though—but wherever Lucifer was, linear time had a tendency to fracture.
“Didn’t I tell you, Samael?” Lucifer gestured to the front door as it swung open in welcome. “Everything would shake out. It was extremely fortuitous the Lemp woman tried to summon you—that gave us an opening.”
Samael cast a dark look at the house before they entered. “Right. Everything happens for a reason?”
Lucifer smiled tenderly. “That was my most successful propaganda for the humans, you know.”
They came into the living room. Lucifer flopped onto the couch like a housecat and stretched comfortably. Samael didn’t look at his brother, instead retreated to the bookshelves and examined the titles, like a disinterested house guest. Lucifer watched him curiously.
“Why so glum, chum?” Lucifer snapped her fingers and another frozen coffee appeared in her hand. “Everything worked out perfectly.”
She set the plastic cup down on the coffee table. Samael winced involuntarily. Emerie would be furious that the Devil wasn’t using a coaster.
“Where are the other princes?” Samael turned pointedly away from the wet ring on Emerie’s coffee table.
“Moloch is at the Witch’s Memorial, Abaddon at the witch caves—Azazel was quite a disappointment to me, unable to kill one little witch. Mammon is at the Corbin Mansion, Baphomet at the old library, and of course…you are here.” Lucifer swirled her index finger in the air and another frozen coffee appeared. Samael watched in quiet judgment—Lucifer had apparently traded his love of wine and spirits for caffeinated frozen beverages.
“And the church?”
“Beelzebub is there.” Lucifer yawned. “Oh, don’t look so worried, little brother. Your little human girl will be fine. I can’t say the same for the witch who destroyed Azazel—stupid of him, but my heart does break. And of course, that priest has been a thorn in my side for decades.”
Samael turned and traced some dust on the shelf with his claw. That had been the second part of the Ouija conversation. After Lucifer had revealed Emerie’s location…but Samael had made him swear he would not harm Emerie. That if he allied himself to Lucifer, Emerie would live.
He drew a pentacle star in the dust. He felt that same uncomfortable, dreadful feeling in the pit of his stomach as he thought of Father Zebulun, comforting him about his doubts and confusion. And Zephyr…the little witch was correct. Lucifer was casting—he intended to make the gate to Hell bigger.
Lucifer was going to turn the town of Milton into a portal to Hell.
“Okay, does anyone have any bright ideas?”
The interior of the church grew darker and darker. Zephyr couldn’t tell if it was due to the giant bugs blocking the windows or if daylight was dying. Beelzebub stood at the end of the aisle, on the altar. He clicked at them genially and seemed in no rush to fly at them. Instead, he knelt down and they watched in horror as his proboscis extended. The proboscis sucked up two flittering moths the size of housecats and he slowly chewed them up. Saliva and insect entrails oozed down his face. Zephyr had the uneasy feeling he was making a point—this would soon be their fate.
But now that Lucifer had disappeared, Father Zebulun returned to himself. Breathing hard, he fumbled in his jacket and withdrew the Freischutz.
“I’ll need a clear shot.” He stared down the aisle directly at Beelzebub.
But before he could gun down the insectile demon, Beelzebub’s mouth fell open. Literally open. His jaw dropped to the ground like a perverse scroll; his black fanged maw faced them directly, a sort of grotesque cavern. There was a horrible buzzing and then all at once, a thick cloud of black flies erupted from his mouth.
Father Zebulun bellowed in rage. Emerie shrieked and batted them away uselessly. Zephyr choked and gagged. The black flies quickly swarmed the church like a heavy smog—they completely obliterated Beelzebub from view.
“Damn it!”
Zephyr had never heard Father Zebulun swear. But there was no way to point this out to him without ingesting a thousand black flies. Instead, she grabbed Emerie’s arm and Father Zebulun’s elbow and pulled them towards one of the side staircases. The cloud of flies grew thicker and thicker as they rushed up the twisting stairs. Father Zebulun bypassed the balcony and swerved to the left. They stood before a set of rickety wooden stairs and what looked like an attic door. Father Zebulun clambered upwards and jerked it open.
“The bell tower!” he yelled at them. “Quickly!”
They scrambled up the splintery steps and found themselves in a dark, cramped room. Emerie nearly ran headlong into one of the great bronze bells. Father Zebulun yanked the door shut behind them and bolted it quickly. There was a strange tip-tap against the bell tower door—as though the swarm of flies were tentatively knocking.
Zephyr coughed deeply. “Now what?”
They started to cross the room carefully. Nothing seemed particularly secure—the floorboards creaked dangerously underneath and Zephyr took care not to touch one of the church bells. There was a large window across the room, latched shut. Emerie kicked the rusted latch and the window opened easily. She poked her head through and whistled.
“It’s a long way down.”
“Of course it is,” Zephyr muttered. “I thought all this shit was computerized nowadays.” She gestured toward the bells.
Father Zebulun looked offended. “This church and this bell tower are over a hundred years old.”
There was an ominous thud against the bell tower door that caused the whole tower to vibrate. Zephyr took another look at the open window. Emerie was right. This was beginning to look hopeless.
“Well, Father, I don’t suppose you have a grappling hook in your jacket?”
“Indeed not,” Father Zebulun said grimly. “We’ll have to risk climbing.”
“Are you kidding me?” Zephyr gestured towards the tiny opening. “I am not a rock climber! We will flatten ourselves on the concrete!”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Wait!”
Zephyr turned towards Emerie. Her eyes were bright and she cleared her throat for emphasis.
“Zephyr, do you have a broom?”
The witch’s mouth fell open. Father Zebulun closed his eyes for patience. There was another ominous THUMP against the door.
“A broom?!” Zephyr shouted. “That’s your idea?! You want me to fly us off this tower on my broom?! I don’t have a broom! This is not Harry Potter!”
“WHAT’S THE POINT IN BEING A WITCH IF YOU DON’T GET A BROOM?!” Emerie shoved her bokuto at Zephyr in emphasis.
“That’s not—we don’t—the brooms are not used for that purpose!” Zephyr blustered, trying to bat the bokuto out of her face.
“What are they used for if not flying?!”
“They’re—we—it is a phallic metaphor, Emerie.”
The fact there were literal demons at the door was forgotten. “Wait, so you bang the broom?!”
“Could we please focus on the issue at hand?” Father Zebulun’s eyes flitted to the door.
