the original.
I swallowed hard. “What… what is that?” I asked, pointing with a trembling arm.
“Does it look familiar, Caspia?” Belial asked, gliding forward from the shadows. He now stood close enough to touch me. His shirt was black instead of white, and it hung loosely from the muscular frame that looked so much like my Ethan’s. If he had wanted, he could have reached out and caressed my face. I took a single nervous step backward, just in case.
“M-maybe,” I stuttered, terrified. My composure was melting away like the last winter snow as the demon stared at me with his empty black eyes.
“Who is she?” I somehow found the courage to ask.
“Do you remember why I brought you here?” Belial demanded, ignoring my question.
“Breakfast?” I stammered.
Belial threw back his head and laughed. The sound echoed around the chamber. Had this all been a ruse to get me back into his bedroom? As scantily as I was clad, that could only mean one thing. I felt myself edging for the door.
“Don’t worry, sweet Caspia. Breakfast is on the balcony. I didn’t lie about that. Although I must admit, you look stunning.” He studied me in the dimness. His black eyes roamed over my body, making me feel ashamed despite the fact that I knew he couldn’t really see me. It was as if I was naked under his sightless gaze. What would Ethan do to this creature, were he here? The thought gave me some small measure of courage, and I stood my ground as he paced close enough to embrace me. He didn’t try to touch me, though.
“You remind me of midnight,” he said, almost reverently, inhaling deeply. He gestured to the balcony. “Midnight in a land of eternal twilight.” Then his expression hardened, became less like Ethan’s and more like a demon’s. “We have much to discuss, Caspia Chastain. Starting with how Ethan’i’el saved your brother’s life.”
I nodded and took a deep breath. “Yes. And in return, you promised to grant one request.”
Again he ignored me, and reached out to touch my hair. He rubbed the strands between his fingers. “So much like her,” he almost whispered. I had to strain to hear him.
“Like who?” I asked, fighting back the strange mixture of revulsion and longing that rocked me at his touch. So like my Ethan… and so different.
“My wife,” he said, still softly. “The one your Ethan murdered.”
urder. Ethan.
The words made no sense to me. Ethan, a murderer? What the hell?
I tried to step back from Belial, nervous and confused. He hadn’t let go of my hair, though, and a wave of fear wash over me. His presence was close, so close I could see the lifeless irises of his black eyes, could count each individual eyebrow, could see the beginnings of a mocking smile forming on his lips.
“I see you didn’t know,” he said, the hint of a smile twisting into something darker, something more sinister.
Still holding on to the lock of my hair, he gave it a quick cruel twist before letting me go. My scalp smarted and my eyes stung, but I’d be damned if I would let him see me cry. I blinked back the tears and tried to banish the words that were still ricocheting around in my head.
Ethan. Murder.
How dare Belial suggest something like that?
And then I stopped myself, remembering an afternoon that seemed forever ago, when Asheroth had told me the truth. The truth about Ethan’s past, the truth about how he had once been a Hunter. I hadn’t known what the term meant then. In the first Nephilim war, Ethan had been charged with wiping my kind from the face of the Earth. As far as I knew, he had done his job, fighting for the Light against what they saw as the monstrous powers of the Nephilim. That had been the final piece of information that pushed me over the edge, driving me here.
And then, stupidly, I believed in a demon’s promises. And just look where that landed me―in a dark place with others of my kind, totally at the mercy of Belial. With a demon who stood
I swallowed hard. “What… what is that?” I asked, pointing with a trembling arm.
“Does it look familiar, Caspia?” Belial asked, gliding forward from the shadows. He now stood close enough to touch me. His shirt was black instead of white, and it hung loosely from the muscular frame that looked so much like my Ethan’s. If he had wanted, he could have reached out and caressed my face. I took a single nervous step backward, just in case.
“M-maybe,” I stuttered, terrified. My composure was melting away like the last winter snow as the demon stared at me with his empty black eyes.
“Who is she?” I somehow found the courage to ask.
“Do you remember why I brought you here?” Belial demanded, ignoring my question.
“Breakfast?” I stammered.
Belial threw back his head and laughed. The sound echoed around the chamber. Had this all been a ruse to get me back into his bedroom? As scantily as I was clad, that could only mean one thing. I felt myself edging for the door.
“Don’t worry, sweet Caspia. Breakfast is on the balcony. I didn’t lie about that. Although I must admit, you look stunning.” He studied me in the dimness. His black eyes roamed over my body, making me feel ashamed despite the fact that I knew he couldn’t really see me. It was as if I was naked under his sightless gaze. What would Ethan do to this creature, were he here? The thought gave me some small measure of courage, and I stood my ground as he paced close enough to embrace me. He didn’t try to touch me, though.
“You remind me of midnight,” he said, almost reverently, inhaling deeply. He gestured to the balcony. “Midnight in a land of eternal twilight.” Then his expression hardened, became less like Ethan’s and more like a demon’s. “We have much to discuss, Caspia Chastain. Starting with how Ethan’i’el saved your brother’s life.”
I nodded and took a deep breath. “Yes. And in return, you promised to grant one request.”
Again he ignored me, and reached out to touch my hair. He rubbed the strands between his fingers. “So much like her,” he almost whispered. I had to strain to hear him.
“Like who?” I asked, fighting back the strange mixture of revulsion and longing that rocked me at his touch. So like my Ethan… and so different.
“My wife,” he said, still softly. “The one your Ethan murdered.”
urder. Ethan.
The words made no sense to me. Ethan, a murderer? What the hell?
I tried to step back from Belial, nervous and confused. He hadn’t let go of my hair, though, and a wave of fear wash over me. His presence was close, so close I could see the lifeless irises of his black eyes, could count each individual eyebrow, could see the beginnings of a mocking smile forming on his lips.
“I see you didn’t know,” he said, the hint of a smile twisting into something darker, something more sinister.
Still holding on to the lock of my hair, he gave it a quick cruel twist before letting me go. My scalp smarted and my eyes stung, but I’d be damned if I would let him see me cry. I blinked back the tears and tried to banish the words that were still ricocheting around in my head.
Ethan. Murder.
How dare Belial suggest something like that?
And then I stopped myself, remembering an afternoon that seemed forever ago, when Asheroth had told me the truth. The truth about Ethan’s past, the truth about how he had once been a Hunter. I hadn’t known what the term meant then. In the first Nephilim war, Ethan had been charged with wiping my kind from the face of the Earth. As far as I knew, he had done his job, fighting for the Light against what they saw as the monstrous powers of the Nephilim. That had been the final piece of information that pushed me over the edge, driving me here.
And then, stupidly, I believed in a demon’s promises. And just look where that landed me―in a dark place with others of my kind, totally at the mercy of Belial. With a demon who stood
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