Demon Apathy

  Ingrid Seymour

  PenDreams

  Copyright © 2021 by Ingrid Seymour

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

  Contents

  1. CHAPTER 1

  2. CHAPTER 2

  3. CHAPTER 3

  4. CHAPTER 4

  5. CHAPTER 5

  6. CHAPTER 6

  7. CHAPTER 7

  8. CHAPTER 8

  9. CHAPTER 9

  10. CHAPTER 10

  11. CHAPTER 11

  12. CHAPTER 12

  13. CHAPTER 13

  14. CHAPTER 14

  15. CHAPTER 15

  16. CHAPTER 16

  17. CHAPTER 17

  18. CHAPTER 18

  19. CHAPTER 19

  20. CHAPTER 20

  21. CHAPTER 21

  22. CHAPTER 22

  23. CHAPTER 23

  24. CHAPTER 24

  25. CHAPTER 25

  26. CHAPTER 26

  27. CHAPTER 27

  28. CHAPTER 28

  29. CHAPTER 29

  30. CHAPTER 30

  31. CHAPTER 31

  32. CHAPTER 32

  33. CHAPTER 33

  34. CHAPTER 34

  35. CHAPTER 35

  36. CHAPTER 36

  37. CHAPTER 37

  38. CHAPTER 38

  39. CHAPTER 39

  Afterword

  Also By

  About Author

  1

  Phenog, the demon that looked 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 wanted me to 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’t he help?”

  “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.”

  A smile lit up Phenog’s cute face, then she giggled in delight, a little Machiavellian monster. “Leave that to me.”

  2

  The Queller was strapped to my back, feeling like the most terrible load anyone could have settled on my shoulders. For weeks, I’d been regretting not taking the Queller when Drevan offered it to me the day I left the League of Demon Hunters, and now it was here.

  I guessed that was why they said to be careful what you wish for.

  Before securing it in place, I had drawn it out of the scabbard to make sure I could wield it. The sword came out with a zing, shining in the moonlight. I held on tightly to the hilt, and it hadn’t shocked me. Though that didn’t mean anything if what the little trickster had brought me was a fake. The weapon looked identical to the one I once stole from the teachers’ lounge. The blade was silver, and a red jewel was inlaid in its intricate cross-guard. Leather covered the grip, leaving a round, polished pommel exposed. It looked the same, but what did I know? Demons couldn’t be trusted, as I well knew.

  Phenog’s little hand reached out and wrapped around my fore and middle fingers and squeezed tightly.

  “Ready?” she asked in the innocent voice of a child.

  I wasn’t ready, not by a long shot. This could be one of those screw-ups I was well known for, but my guilt, along with the image of Drevan slumped against that wall, had convinced me to trust a demon. When this went south, I would have no one to blame but myself.

  “I’m ready,” I said, straightening my spine and trying to muster my resolve.

  But when a bright ring of fire appeared right above my head and started spinning like a hula hoop on steroids, I realized there wasn’t a drop of resolve to be found in my body. Where, in the past, there’d been nothing but steadfast determination, all I now found was self-doubt.

  Stunned, I opened my mouth to tell Phenog that I’d changed my mind, but just as the first word came out, the ring of fire fell, spinning all around me, the heat of its flames lapping at my skin. I shrank in fear of being burned and watched in horror as the blazing curtain dropped to the ground, burning the grass with a shudder-inducing hiss.

  I’m in hell!

  That was the first thing that occurred to me when I found myself entirely surrounded by a scorching inferno. The little bastard had tricked me and brought me to hell.

  Panic surged inside me, almost choking me.

  Phenog let go of my hand and, suddenly, I found myself all alone. I would’ve whirled searching for her if not for the fear of my clothes catching on fire.

  “Where are you?” I hissed. “What have you done?!”

  “Shh,” a tiny sound very close to my ear. “We’re here.”

  Where the hell is here?! I wanted to scream, but my heart was pounding too hard and quickly climbing into my throat to allow me to say anything.

  Gradually, the wall of flames surrounding me dissipated, and I was left in the pitch dark. I didn’t know which was worse, the harshness of the fire or the impenetrability of my black surroundings.

  As my eyes adjusted, I was able to distinguish a thin line of light slipping under a closed door.

  Where am I? In a closet?

  Whatever the case,

my bet was that Drevan was on the other side. My breaths came in tremulous bursts. I still wanted to ask Phenog to take me back, but I doubted she would take me, and I had the feeling that my only way out of here was with Drevan or inside a body bag.

  Taking a deep breath and holding both arms out, I stepped forward. I touched a flat surface that felt cool. I let my hands slide down, searching for some sort of door knob or latch. A second later, I found it. A latch. I froze, my fingers resting on it. Inclining my head toward the door and closing my eyes, I listened intently. I heard what appeared to be the mumble of distant voices.

  “It’s safe to go,” that little voice whispered in my ear. “I will stay here and wait for you. My aura is too strong and, if I go out there, they’ll sense me.”

  “Who’ll sense you?”

  She ignored my question. Instead, she said, “Come back here with Drevan, and I’ll take you back to safety.”

  “Who’s out there with him?” I insisted.

  No answer again.

  I had a feeling she didn’t want to tell me because, if she did, I would freak out, faint, or flat out die from an aneurysm. Whoever was out there was trouble.

  But I couldn’t stay in here forever, so very slowly, I pulled on the latch. A small metallic creak that, to my ears, sounded like pieces of chalk scratching down a blackboard, echoed in my confined space. I winced, sure someone must’ve heard. I waited, but no one came. I exhaled a tremulous sigh of relief and gently pulled on the door. I braced myself for the whine of hinges, but gratefully there was none.

  I peered through the small gap into a dimly illuminated hallway that stretched for about thirty yards. The walls were made of stone that rose into an arched ceiling. The light flickered slightly, making me realize it wasn’t coming from an electrical source.

  With a light push, I let the door swing open the rest of the way and stepped out of what was, indeed, a closet. The small space was filled with empty wooden shelves carved from rough wood. I searched behind them for any signs of Phenog, but if she was there, she must’ve turned into a microscopic virus.

  Drawing a deep breath, I unsheathed the Queller and held the hilt tightly, tendons popping up in my hand as I squeezed. I stared at the blade, waiting for it to glow with intent, but it remained dull. It made me doubt it was Striker’s real Queller. Though, more than that, it made me fear my lack of confidence, that gaping self-doubt that seemed to have gobbled up my previous boldness.

  Get it together, Lucia!

  My tennis shoes squeaked as I moved down the hall. I was at a dead-end, so I could only move forward. Ten yards ahead, a gas sconce flickered with a blue flame. I’d seen plenty of gas lights outdoors but never inside, so wherever I was, the place was old.

  I pressed forward until I reached the far end, which bent right and continued into another hall. This one had several doors leading elsewhere, and another bend at its end.

  The voices had stopped, but they picked up again. They were a little louder now, but I still couldn’t tell what they were saying.

  My back was slick with sweat, and my heart was going so fast I was afraid it might give up the ghost. When I took another step forward, my knee faltered. I felt weak from nerves, and my stomach was so upset, it wouldn’t surprise me if the wall ended up looking like a Jackson Pollock painting once I was done upchucking. I couldn’t remember ever being so scared about anything in my entire life.

  C’mon, what’s the matter with you?

  I wasn’t sure how I made it to the end of the second hall after stopping at every door to listen, but when I got there, I pressed my back to the wall, threw my head back, and almost started to pray, except… according to Drevan, God was all for the apocalypse. He wanted the world to end so that He could give creation another try. Apparently, He thought we were a huge failure, an experiment gone wrong. It was impossible to believe that Drevan and his father were the ones interested in keeping humanity alive. Self-interest, of course. The same reason why I was here. I didn’t want the world to go kaboom.

  I shook my head. This wasn’t the time to think about doomsday matters. Besides, who was I to understand the motives of celestial beings?

  “It seems all that time in hell turned you into a masochist,” a perfectly modulated male voice that seemed to be going through auto-tune said.

  My heart picked up its rhythm into the next category of freak-out. The voice I’d heard didn’t seem terribly close, but each word had been distinct and cold. Who was this man talking to? The answer to my question was provided right away, and it almost took me to my knees.

  First, there was a deep chuckle that seemed to crawl up my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind, then came the answer. “Which clearly proves the point that you’re wasting your time.”

  Drevan!

  My heart lurched as if it would jump out of my chest to run straight into his arms, even as the rest of my body turned to stone. For six long weeks, I’d tried to deny that I had it bad for him, but all my pretense was destroyed by the first sound of his voice.

  Sheesh, how pathetic! How can you have the hots for a demon? Really?

  I would’ve gone on chastising myself for being such a fool, but in the next instant, a heavy thud followed by a grunt pulled me back into the moment. In Phenog’s mirage, I’d seen the damage to his body. They were hitting him, torturing him as I stood there.

  Witchlights!

  Another thud followed.

  This time Drevan moaned deep in his throat, sounding as if he was restraining his exclamation of pain.

  Do something, Lucia!

  I had to force a deep breath into my lungs to overcome my paralysis. I shook myself, mind reeling for ideas, but other than charging in there and slicing in two whoever tried to stop me, nothing else occurred to me.

  Think, think, think!

  The next best idea I had was to run back into the closet. I glanced back in that direction. If these people could hold Drevan, how could anyone expect me to save him? I would just end up tied up next to him, tortured, and—

  Stop.

  I took another deep breath. I could do this. I couldn’t let self-doubt control me. Pride had been my master before. I had to avoid replacing that evil with another. But what could I do? Still, no better ideas occurred to me.

  Okey-dokey, slicing it is.

  I raised the sword and held it in front of me. A jolt of confidence traveled down my body. I was about to turn the corner to run in there when a third voice drew me short.

  “I know you don’t want to hear this, Jophiel, but I’m afraid we’re wasting our time.”

  A knot made entirely of anger wound itself around my throat. That voice belonged to Josephine LeBeau, the former director of the League of Demon Hunters, the woman who had tried relentlessly to make me fail by inflating my ego, making me believe I was more.

  As ludicrous as it sounded, Drevan said she was working for The Man Upstairs. Because apparently, just as Lucifer was allowed to enlist Drevan to save the world, God was allowed to form his own doomsday team, which seemed to include LeBeau and now this Jophiel guy.

  The last time I’d seen the evil woman, I’d been at Bryant Park, getting ready to quell Jell-O Boy for a second time. She’d urged me to humiliate Darrold Grant, then disappeared.

  Many times, I had thought of all the lies she had fed me.

  I believe you can be a great hunter.

  You are extremely talented with the Queller.

  The Delegacy will be impressed with you.

  You’re ready.

  Many times I’d daydreamed about punching her straight in the teeth and watching her spit them out one by one. And now, she was here, within my reach, and she was torturing Drevan. At once, I felt ready to barge in there, but…

  Now, I was outnumbered.

  But who was with her? If she’d been working for God himself, did that mean that… He was here? I shook my head. No, that wasn’t possible, was it? God didn’t just up and leave heaven, just like Lucifer didn’t leave hell. Right? The king of the underworld had sent his son, so maybe God had sent his?

  Witchlights! Did that mean Jesus was here?

  Oh, stop it, Lucia! Quit all the nonsense and do something. Anything.

  “It’s what I’ve been telling him,” Drevan drawled. “Huge waste of time, but he won’t listen.”

  They ignored him.

 

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