“No?” said Thorne, more of a question than answer.
The air around Belpheg crackled with his anger at the obvious lie, and the demon took a cautious step back.
“I discovered you went to see the angel without my approval.”
Thorne blanched. “I can explain—”
Belpheg lifted his hand, and Thorne clutched his throat, struggling for breath. Sometimes it was truly fun to be such a powerful being. But then his hand trembled, easing the constriction around Thorne’s neck. Belpheg muttered an inward curse and played off his momentary weakness by hiding his hand in the folds of his robe. “What possible reason could you have for seeking her against my orders?”
“I…I wanted to see her. I thought if I could reestablish a relationship, then maybe—”
“I don’t pay you to think, do I?”
Thorne cast his gaze to the ground. “No. I’m sorry.”
“If you disobey me again, I’ll kill you.”
When Thorne nodded his understanding, Belpheg turned his back on the demon. He truly hoped he didn’t have to kill Thorne…yet. Who would have known when he recruited him several months ago that the man would turn out to be so useful?
It was through Thorne that Belpheg had learned of an angel mercenary who’d been adopted by a woman with a half angel, half demon son. From there it had been a simple matter to confirm that her adopted brother was one of Mammon’s sons. Hybrids weren’t all that common, especially of the angel-demon variety.
After Belpheg’s twelfth minion, Asmodeus, had betrayed him and proved himself unworthy, Belpheg had hired Lina to kill Asmodeus with the true intent of orchestrating a reunion between the angel and Mammon’s son. Now that they’d been back in each others’ lives for several months, long enough to reestablish a bond, he would use her as bait to lure Mammon’s sons to him. Once Belpheg drained them of their power and transferred it to Mammon, by way of the succubi he held chained in one of the towers, he would have his twelfth all-powerful minion…and he would be primed to complete the magical circle that would center his body and strengthen his power.
Belpheg speared Thorne with his gaze. “Do not contact the angel again until I tell you to do so.”
When Thorne gave him an anxious nod, Belpheg turned and crossed to the marble pedestal in one corner of his dark, wood-paneled reception chamber. On top of the pedestal laid his most prized possession, the clan scrolls he’d been able to retrieve before his village was razed to the ground. Through them, he’d discovered a spell to stabilize the massive amounts of energy coursing through his veins. Power beyond what any one vessel was built to contain. In fact, if all went according to plan, once the spell was done, his power would increase tenfold.
His clan had been the most powerful amongst the dark fae, but as a result of their inbred energy, their bodies grew weaker with time. So one of the elders had devised the magical circle to center their abilities…but it could only be performed on a solstice or equinox and required the Transformative Power of Twelve: the aid of a dozen gifted men, each of whom had been gifted with twelve special abilities.
Belpheg had painstakingly created those twelve men over the past several months. The incubus Asmodeus had been the last of those twelve. It was only fitting that the men who’d helped take Asmodeus from him would be used to strengthen his replacement.
And delightfully poetic that Mammon would be that replacement. His new twelfth.
“What should I do now?” Thorne asked from behind him.
Belpheg had already waited far longer than he should to center his power. He feared if he didn’t act soon, his body would implode on itself. And the summer solstice would be upon him in just a few weeks. Which meant Mammon would have to gain all twelve of his powers soon if Belpheg were to have any chance of creating the circle by the deadline. Otherwise he’d be forced to wait three more months—three months he wasn’t sure he had.
Thankfully, being near his clan scrolls and occasionally touching them helped to stabilize his abilities. They pulsed with remnants of power from prior generations of his people. But even this wouldn’t be enough to last him much longer. His clan’s essence grew weaker, and he grew shorter on time.
“Belpheg?” Thorne’s tentative voice sounded out behind him. “What should I do next?”
He allowed himself one soft stroke of the vellum scrolls before turning back to the demon. “Did you take care of the mercenary—the one who calls himself Sam?”
Thorne nodded. “Yes. A few hours ago.”
“Good.”
The man had been a good, obedient servant, especially when it had come to implanting the device Belpheg would use to track the blond angel’s movements, but he’d outlived his usefulness.