Page 8 of The River of Fire

Fire flutters to life between my hands, like a tiny butterfly emerging from a chrysalis to test its wings for the first time. It’s beautiful, and I can’t imagine using it against someone as a force of destruction.

“Congratulations,” Kevin says dramatically. “You’re a wizard, Lana!”

I snort and the fire extinguishes, leaving no trace of it behind. “You think I could get away with setting a fire under Nick’s bed?”

“That would mean getting close to his bed.”

My eyes widen and I reel back in horror. “Eww, you’re right.”

Kevin chuckles, then scratches the back of his head, looking around to see if anyone’s within earshot. “Is he still following Simone around like a puppy?”

“He’s making her uncomfortable, but she doesn’t want anything said to the Fallen, to make a thing out of it.” I look at the brunette who’s trying (and failing) to use ether in any way that might be remotely considered offensive.

She’s a very unlikely Cambion, having worked at the NICU before being brought here and mastering nothing but healing since. Kevin and I display at least some personality traits that may be attributed to our hereditary predispositions – shorter tempers and angrier reactions.

I asked Maalik about my grandfather, the demon who left Hell to be with an angel. According to him, it was a union of love and they both got killed by assassins from Hell before they got much of a happily ever after in the human realm. Would that mean I’m more prone to good than evil, or is it just a technicality, and demon blood is demon blood? It’s something that’s kept me up at night, wondering if I am who I’m meant to be, or just an imposter trying to conform to society’s norms of right and wrong.

“We’ll keep her safe,” I murmur, and the vow at least feels right, like protecting anyone weaker might come naturally to me.

“Less chatting, more practicing, grandmas!” Maalik yells at us from Liam’s side.

To my amusement, Kevin salutes him and shouts back, “Yes, sir!”

I giggle and lift my hands up to cradle an imaginary fireball again. Maybe I’m a bad influence. He is almost a decade younger than me and still impressionable.

When I turn my head to look at him, I see that his warm brown eyes are twinkling. He looks nothing like the solemn boyI saw in that atrium our first night here.

I decide then and there that, whether it’s good or bad, I’m the right kind of company for him.

Chapter 5 – Ashtaroth

“Well, not all of them suck.”

Sariel is looking at the Elioud from our vantage point on a hill overlooking the fortress of Abaddon, his eyes nearly manic with glee. All my adoptive son needs to complete the image is the snack humans unimaginatively call popcorn.

“Perhaps I should send you on tasks to the human realm more often if you are so easily amused by mortals.”

“Aw, come on, Father. Even you must find it interesting that there are Elioud in the Underworld.”

“Must I?”

I sweep my gaze over the training mortals. There are a few dozen of them and a handful of Fallenoverseeing them. They look like swarming ants.

“Look at that redhead, she totally owned that guy!”

I sniff in disdain. “Is there a dictionary I can use to translate your words, or am I meant to infer the meaning from the tone of your voice?”

My son snorts. “Yeah, it’s called The Urban –”

“It was a rhetorical question,” I interrupt him. I find the Elioud he was referring to, a tall and shapely woman with pale skin. It is as much individuality as I can discern from this distance. “Mortals die easily. You starve them – they die. You cut their heads off – they die. You stab them in the heart – they die. Utterly useless.”

Sariel turns to me and cocks an eyebrow. “I thought we’re not meant to impale them, with swords or otherwise. Speaking of impaling mortals, they’ve been here a while now, how are you keeping Uncle from them?”

I press my lips together at the reminder. “Hmm. I convinced Asmodai entering Abaddon is not worth the backlash from the Council. Once the offspring venture into Hell, however, it will be out of our hands.”

Sariel scoffs and turns his attention back to the field outside Abaddon. “Here’s to hoping he doesn’t leave cum-soaked bodies in his wake. I bet the angels wouldn’t find that amusing.” Suddenly, he straightens and points towards the left side of Purgatory’s training field. “Whoa! Look at the size of that guy! Definitely has a behemoth for a father.”

Thankfully, I concealed us from both sight and hearing, or everyone would have heard his shout. I look at the man he described and have to agree. That kind of stature suggests an ancestor among Hell’s brawlers, the oversized brutes we call behemoths, who feed on violence. Demons predominately share similar physical attributes, but there are a few exceptions. Very small demons are universally known as imps. Those that gain sustenance from sex, with features similar to those of humans, belong to the family of succubi and incubi.

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