Page 78 of The Fearless Witch

Instead of one prince, or even three like the last time, there were fucking seven of them, all staring at us like we were late to their party. Belphegor and Leviathan were sitting with their heads drawn together, the woman’s long legs sprawled over his lap. She smirked at me over her glass while Leviathan said something that made her laugh—that was just about enough to grind my last nerves to dust.

Looking bored out of his mind, Beelzebub perched on the opposite end of the dais, chewing on a meaty leg with blood spraying from the spots where his teeth sank in. Mammon and Satan were reclined on the rest of the seats, watching us with an odd mix of curiosity and hostility. Only Asmodeus and Alastair were on their feet, looming on the opposite sides of the stairs like some forbidding statues.

‘This has never happened before,’ Cyrus whispered, his fear making me shudder. ‘Don’t tell me they are all here to fight us?’

I didn’t bother answering. I was busy watching Asmodeus tilt his head, switching his attention from me to Celeste and Roman. His brow rose in what could have been surprise or displeasure, but he said nothing.

“You are the most persistent demon spawn I have seen in the last fifteen hundred years,” Alastair said as he ran a crooked finger over his black lips. His pale skin looked even more unnatural with the dark tint covering his hands like a disease, and I was pretty sure that the last time I saw him, the taint had been to the middle of his forearms. Now it was almost to his shoulders.

He didn’t care to mask his demonic features, so when his smile revealed a mouth full of sharp, rotten teeth, my stomach twisted with disgust. I had heard what he did to the demons who angered him. Even though we couldn’t die, it still fucking hurt to be eaten alive.

“Two thousand, actually,” Belphegor corrected him. “He is older than you, Alastair.”

Alastair’s smile fell a fraction and the dark veins on his face spread as he studied me from head to toe.

“That makes him even more pathetic. Two thousand years and he’s still a lowly scum that has nothing better to do but waste our time,” he spat. “If you had two brain cells to put together, you should have focused on collecting more souls than coming here to pick a fight.”

“Maybe getting his ass kicked is his kink,” Leviathan chuckled, and a few of the others joined in. I clenched my teeth before I retorted something that’d piss them off. I still didn’t know who I’d be facing, so keeping them in this strange, good mood was the smart thing to do.

“Or maybe you should all shut up and let him fight, hmm? Or are you scared?” Celeste shouted, and their chuckles died down. I wanted to curse her for opening her big mouth, but when they all turned their attention to her, I got the feeling that one wrong move was all it would take to seal her fate.

The silence in the cave dragged on for a few more seconds and a part of me truly enjoyed their stunned faces. Still, when Mammon pushed to his feet with blood still dripping from his chin, I cursed under my breath.

“I see you brought us a snack for the show,” he said, baring his long, jagged teeth. “Scrawny, but tasty. I’ll finish her before this nonsense is over.”

He had barely taken a step toward the staircase when my body moved on its own and I found myself standing in front of her. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Roman doing the same, and at that moment, I was relieved he was there. I hadn’t considered that I’d have to fight a Prince of Hell and protect her at the same time since I thought there’d be only one of them here.

Asmodeus blocked the other prince’s path right before he descended the stairs.

“Now, now. This isn’t your fight,” he said when Mammon snarled at him, giant red wings shooting out of his back. “The rules are clear. Only one of us fights.”

“She is not a challenger, she’s food!” Mammon spat. “Come on, she’s a witch. Even without a soul, she still has a lot of their power. It has been ages since I tasted divine flesh.”

‘Divine?’ Cyrus murmured, but I ignored him. If this wasn’t Mammon’s fight and Asmodeus stopped him, then who was going to face me today? Everyone else seemed more interested in their quarrel than in me.

“She is his by deal.” Asmodeus let his hand fall, a rare smile pulling on his lips. “Kill her and he loses his power. That wouldn’t make for an interesting fight, would it?” Mammon snorted, his dark eyes studying Celeste again as if he were trying to decide if she was worth the trouble. “We’re all already here, so let’s at least make it entertaining. It’s been a while since Alastair got to spill some blood, so I’m sure he’ll… give it his best.”

‘Oh, shit!’ Cyrus and I said at the same time, and to my surprise, Celeste echoed it. When I looked at her, she was staring at me with concern in her eyes.

I turned back at the sound of Alastair’s voice, gathering all of my determination and shutting out everything else. I knew this was a possibility, but… why the fucking hell did it have to be him? I must have pissed off the Devil or something, because my luck had been abysmal as of late.

One thing was for certain, though. There would be no mercy if I failed. If he beat me, he was going to shatter my soul. I knew it. They knew it. That’s why they were here, wasn’t it?

“I don’t care either way,” Alastair said, moving past Mammon. The latter retreated with a bitter expression, dropping in his seat and grabbing the giant femur he had left on the stone table. There wasn’t any meat left on it, so he started gnawing on the bone, his sharp teeth leaving deep marks over the pearly surface. “You have been playing with him for far too long, that’s why he’s so cocky. I don’t plan on holding back.”

“Maybe if you had shown up when you were supposed to fight, you could have ended this ages ago.” Asmodeus crossed his arms and leaned on the wall, tearing his gaze away from the other prince and locking it on me. “You heard him, Beleth. He won’t be holding back. I hope you’ll give him at least the same courtesy.” The cold threat that flashed in his eyes the last time I was here appeared again. “If you don’t, I’ll make sure your… companions suffer immensely before they die.”

“Doesn’t matter if he does. I have no intention of losing.”

A few of the princes snickered, but I ignored them. They no longer mattered. It was only me and the Prince of Hate, the rest of Hell be damned.

By the time Alastair stepped onto the arena, the dark veins had spread to every part of his exposed skin, his eyes turning black from corner to corner. A pair of horns sprang from his head and I was sure the back of his robe was torn by the poisonous spikes he was rumored to have, but at least I wouldn’t have to worry about wings. Unlike the other princes, he had been human once—his crown was what granted him his power, not a divine origin.

Thank Hell for small mercies.

“You can do this!” Celeste whispered, her fingers brushing over my back. Her hand was cold and sweaty, but it grounded me in a way no words ever had before.

“No more distractions.” Belphegor jumped to her feet and Celeste yelped, her touch disappearing. I chanced a look back just as she and Roman were pinned against the stone wall, sinking halfway into it until their hands and legs were trapped in the surface that immediately hardened.

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