Page 1 of Demon Apathy: Sunderverse
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Phenog,thedemonthatlooked just like Little Orphan Annie, walked toward me, holding Striker’s Queller.
He’s going to die if you don’t help him,she’d said.You’re going to need this to free him. Nothing else can break the hellcuffs that bind him.
Shaking my head, I held both hands up and took several steps back.
“No, stay away from me! I don’t want anything to do with this.”
“How can you forget him after what he did for you?” she reproached.
After I left New York City over a month ago, guilt had found its way deep into my heart. It hadn’t been easy to ignore it, which was why I tried to stay busy, working as a stock clerk, planning my return to school at the University of Missouri, hoping for a future that I knew might never come since the world was in jeopardy. Hell was overcrowded, and if it overflowed, if six more people like me weren’t redeemed from the remaining deadly sins, the apocalypse would begin.
I’d told myself Drevan would take care of things, except now he seemed to be in trouble. And if he wasn’t there to redeem the others, who would do it?
Still, I couldn’t believe Phenog. She was a trickster. This could all be a lie, a ruse to get me back in the game. Drevan had said I was meant to help him save the world, that even his father wantedmeto do it. So what if this was a ploy designed by Lucifer? He wanted to force me to work on the impossible task of saving humanity, even if Drevan didn’t agree. Except Drevan wasn’t the King of Hell. Though a prince, he was still an underling.
Phenog held the Queller in my direction, taking two steps forward.
I responded with two steps back. “No! Stay away from me.”
The little cherub’s shoulders dropped. “I guess he was right. He knew you wouldn’t come.”
That hurt like a dagger straight into my heart. Had Drevan really said that? Of course he had. He’d begged me to stay, to work with him, and I’d refused him.
“How can I trust you?” I asked. “How can I be sure you’re telling the truth?”
Phenog thought for a moment, then brightened up, putting a stubby finger up in the air to indicate she had an idea. Acquiring a deep look of concentration, she waved a little hand in the air as if she were cleaning a dirty mirror. Slowly, an image started to appear right in midair.
Mote by shining mote, a shape took form. It was Drevan, hanging limply from his bound wrists. His whole body was slumped against a dirty wall, his head lolling. He wore a pair of black pants and nothing else. His bare feet rested twisted on a rough stone floor. Splatters of something golden stained the walls. Red welts stood sharply against his creamy white skin. One of his eyes was terribly swollen. There was no doubt someone had been beating him.
The sight was deeply disturbing. Drevan was a powerful Nephilim. Who could’ve captured him and done this to him?!
Someone more powerful than him, the voice of reason said inside my head.Don’t get involved.
A gentle glow above Drevan’s head drew my eye. Wide metal bracelets encompassed his wrists. They were engraved with strange symbols that shone with some kind of magical power. Thick chains, also glowing, snaked away from the restraints and attached to a metal bar overhead.
“You see,” Phenog said, “I’m not lying. I do sometimes lie,” she fluttered her long eyelashes, “but I’m not right now. He’s truly in danger.”
I shook my head. “This could all be an illusion, some mirage to…”
“To what?” Phenog’s face scrunched up as if she were trying to come up with a reason that made sense.
Suddenly, a shadow fell over Drevan’s slumped figure.
“Goblins!” Phenog exclaimed. “Someone’s coming.” She waved her little hand, and the image disappeared.
I almost reached out as if I could pull Drevan out of there and bring him to me. Instead, I just stood there, my uncertainty and guilt growing.
“Isn’t there anyone else who can help? What about Darrold Grant?” I asked. The director of the League of Demon Hunters should be able to do something.
She shook her head. “No one else can wield Striker’s Queller but you.”
“What about Drevan’s father? Can’thehelp?”
“He can’t. He’s not allowed to interfere in these matters. There’s only you.” Holding the Queller with both hands, she, once more, offered it to me. “He’s one of the few I like. I don’t want him to die, and I have a feeling you don’t want him to die either. So, will you help him?”
At a loss, I raised a hand into my hair and pulled. “I have no idea how to get where he is. I probably won’t make it in time.”
