Demon Singer II by Benjamin Nichols Page A

disappointment than a surprise.
                  Everyone seemed to think replacing him would make his power their own. In truth, even if he could be beaten, his powers weren't transferable.
                  His generals, the Nychta Polemistis, were all very aware of how his magic worked.  Lisian knew that defeating him was not only impossible for any hellion, but pointless. He was protected by the Composer's will and couldn't be killed until his appointed time. Yet she was fostering a rebellion that possessed no grace, no discretion, no strategy.   
                  Her puppet goddess, Melody, and her army threw all their might at Markhato and failed.  Now they were taking the tattered remains of that debacle and preparing to march through the Verge and into hell itself, that is, if they could find an entrance that wouldn't kill them. Getting onto and off of the Verge was impossible for most creatures. Angels, demons and a precious few supernaturals could come and go at will. For everyone else though, travel to or from the Verge was problematic at best.
                  Trytohn chuckled, silly children.
                  If Acheron were the one to make an attempt, it might be unsettling.  She still wouldn't win, but at least she was sneaky and smart.
                  Lisian was nothing more than a blunt object. On the very slim chance she got her army to Hell's gates, she would be deeply saddened to find him well prepared.
                  His thoughts drifted lazily back to his beloved Acheron.  It was unseemly, this ridiculous business of a hellion latching onto a Soul Singer.  He had watched the whole thing happen from his scrying bowl, shocked that it was even possible. Lisian, as always, was ready to do her sister grievous harm and sever the tie before Acheron could leave the Verge, but he wouldn't let her. Why pass up a chance to study the Soul Singers Guild in their natural habitat? He could learn what he needed and then destroy them at his leisure. It was brilliant.
                  So he let Acheron go, watching from a distance as she followed the tie to the crossing point where the Guild lay. He saw her fight with Cadence, the warrior Queen, who had apparently grabbed the same tie. That was an interesting development.
                  Cadence was one of the few on the Verge strong enough to pose a challenge to the demoness. Rumor had it she was trained by Michael himself.  That was one of the reasons Trytohn allowed her to be queen.  He needed someone that his generals, the Nychta Polemistis, respected.   Especially Acheron. She respected no one.
                  From Trytohn’s perspective, Acheron tying to the Soul Singer was a huge win. He had felt the weakening of the Guild in recent years. They were fat and lazy and ripe for destruction. As the Power of Destruction, Acheron was certain to bring any young Singer to his knees. The poor sap would enjoy every second of it too. All the way up to the point he surrendered his life to her.
                  But then came the ugly shock.
                  Acheron's tie to this human completely blacked out Trytohn's ability to tap into her power.  It was irksome; as though a limb had been severed. Worse, he grimaced, one of his favorite limbs.  He had not foreseen this particular wrinkle, and immediately regretted letting her go. By then it was too late.  Acheron had been pulled into the Soul Singer's Guild and was beyond his reach inside those walls. All he could do was wait and see how she fared.
                  His beautiful face scowled as he contemplated the singer responsible.
                  Lyrical Sound of the Evening.  
                  What a stupid name.
            It came from a second sight city in Canada, where the boy's grandmother grew up. The whole family had stupid