Page 27 of To Dwell in Shadows
“I will leave you to it then,” King Asmodeus said. He smiled at Sam, gave Borias a quick salute, and turned to walk away.
“Let’s begin!” Borias clapped Sam on the back so hard he stumbled slightly. He led Sam through the doors of the Sanctum, where a jangle of screams, pleas, and whimpers hit him all at once. They moved down a long hallway, passing door after door, until they entered a brick-walled room with a single chair in the center.
“This is the judgment room where we’ll be working. And it looks like the Magistrate of Souls has brought us a full docket today,” Borias said. The big demon scanned a long scroll that was tacked to the wall. “More human murderers, a few thieves—” Borias was interrupted when the soul of a human male was pushed into the room. He was old and hunched, dressed in a worn suit.
“Ah, we can start right away,” Borias said to Sam. He gestured to the wooden chair and addressed the human. “Welcome. Have a seat.” The human quickly obeyed. His beady eyes darted around, and he gripped the arms of the chair tightly.
“Is this Hell?” he asked. “Are you going to torture me?”
“Maybe. It all depends,” Borias said.
“On what?” the man asked.
“On what you’ve done. You wouldn’t be here with us if there wasn’tsomethingyou had to atone for.” Borias flashed a smile that made the man start to squirm.
“I haven’t done anything, I swear! I was a good person.”
“Oh really?” Borias said.
“I volunteered at a soup kitchen every Christmas and always bought Girl Scout cookies. That must count for something, right?”
“Doubtful.” Borias slowly walked around the man. His eyes closed for a moment before he said, “Hmm, there’s a lot here.”
“A lot of what?” the man cried.
Borias ignored him and said, “Samael, why don’t you start us off? Tell me what you see.”
“Truly?” Sam said, rubbing his palms together excitedly. “I’m not sure how to even begin.”
“I’ve been doing this long enough to see into his soul through sight alone. But you could start with touch. Try his head.”
Sam approached the man slowly. Tentatively, he placed his hand over the man’s skull.
Fear.
It was the first thing he felt. Not the man’s fear but the fear he inspired. This man had done something—no, many things—to make others dread him. They feared the sound of his walk, the resonance of his voice, and the jingle of coins in his pocket.
“What do you see?” Borias asked.
“Many feared him.”
“Who were they?”
Faces began to flash behind Sam’s eyes. One and then another. And another, and another, and another.
Humans. Females. Mostly children, some older. All had the same fear of this man. They all tried to avoid him or flee when he was near, yet few succeeded.
Shame.
Humiliation.
Guilt.
More sensations were coming to him, faster now.
Sam saw through the eyes of the victims. The man stood before rows of children seated at desks in a large room. His tone was smug with authority. His demands for private instruction, inescapable.
Sorrow.
