Scorn of Angels by John Patrick Kennedy Page A

shreds. She left a trail of blood and guts and bits of bone and Hellstone from Aleyd’s broken remains as she skidded down the mile-long slope into the final indignity—a pit of waiting mini-demons that swarmed over her flesh, gleefully ripping away the torn pieces as she struggled her way out of the pit. She managed to pull herself free and stumble away.
    She was less than five miles from the Pleasure Palace. She could walk it in an hour or less, if they left her alone.
    They didn’t, of course.
    The demons came first, chasing after her like a pack of hounds. Because she could not betray her true nature, Nyx had to let them overtake her, had to fight them ineffectually as they ripped into her body with their teeth and claws. They let her get away and heal for the pleasure of chasing her again and again. On the fifth time they drove her to a precipice and were preparing to jump her when an Angel came down from above, picked her up, and raised her another five thousand feet in the air. Then he shoved his sword into her body, cut it in half from the neck down, and let her drop, screaming, to pulp herself against the earth.
    And so it went.
    It was days, as mortals reckoned, by the time she made it to the Pleasure Palace. Her body had been beaten, bitten, cut, gutted, violated, and once devoured whole by a giant demon who shit her out again hours later. She had been dunked in Hellfire a half-dozen times and had never, ever been allowed to stop moving.
    She could hear the demons howling again as she slumped against the wall of the palace.
    It was a huge building, as black as any other in Hell, but made solely for the Descended to indulge in the pleasures of Angelic flesh. Persephone had stayed in it for months at a time. It was her favorite place in Hell. You could always find her by looking for the most inventive configuration of bodies.
    Nyx crawled around the back of it, hoping the demons would give her enough respite to pinpoint Persephone’s location. She closed her eyes and found Persephone. The betraying bitch was in the central orgy room. Nyx growled underneath her breath. I will gut her and take her up to Earth, where I will kill her permanently.
    Now how do I get to her?
    Souls were not allowed inside the Pleasure Palace. Demons were not allowed inside the palace either, save the succubae and incubi who provided pleasure on demand. Only Angels could pass freely through the doors, and if she let her true nature show, there would be no hope of escape.
    A succubus it is, then. But how to keep the other Angels from knowing what I am?
    Nearby, she could hear the howling of the demon pack closing in on her.
    Nyx closed her eyes and looked inside herself for the connection to Epiphenia’s power. It was tenuous, barely reachable through the soul that Nyx had stretched through her body. Even so, it had already helped her, healed her, and kept her alive. But there was more power there, much more, if Nyx could reach it.
    Maybe even enough to make me invisible to Lucifer.
    It was worth a try.
    Nyx changed her hand so her nails were razor sharp and plunged them into her body. Using the force of her mind she pulled together the black stone that was Aleyd. The soul screamed in protest, as she was wrenched away from Nyx’s flesh.
    “Please!” Nyx heard in her mind. “Please. I must find my children. I must protect them.”
    Nyx pulled Aleyd free, tearing her out of Nyx’s brain case and body, and wrapping her back up into a Hellstone ball.
    “Please?”
    Nyx felt a tiny breath of mercy. “Your children are in Heaven, woman. You’ll not see them again, but they don’t suffer.” There was a moment of gratitude, of peace, almost as alien to hell as Epiphenia’s green. The soul would forget, of course. Why must she stay in Hell, exactly?
    Nyx had no time for this sort of question. She stood up and hurled the soul as far from herself as she could. The demons, scenting it, changed directions. Nyx sank back down to the ground