Page 62 of Spit

“But what does the scepter have to do with Lucifer and God?” I interrupted.

“Lucifer tried to steal the scepter from God. He framed another angel, Ba’el, and got him kicked out too. In fact, God purged any sympathizers from her ranks. Lucifer was charming. He managed to sucker everyone in and make himself the victim. More angels fell than they should have, but the damage was done by then. God ‘cleansed’ the Summerland of every angel that showed alliance with the devil.”

“Fallen angels,” I muttered.

“For sure, and somewhat literally.” Trey nodded in commiseration. “That scepter was lost to time, though more recent history said it surfaced in London ten years before the golden gates of hell opened.”

“You think God’s dimension-hopping scepter was on sale in an auction house. Here?” I couldn’t keep the incredulity out of my voice. We began to circle the room, moving away from the demons that showed interest in the display closest to us. Authentic shrunken heads—which I couldn’t bear to be near.

“Did Legion tell you why we are in the Red City?” Trey asked. The question felt left field, considering we had just been discussing a magical artifact.

“He said he exchanged a hundred years of servitude in the Red City for his freedom.” I glanced over my shoulder when someone got too close.

Trey considered my words, his dark brow furrowed. “I don’t know how much I should tell you.” Trey sighed before the action triggered a yawn which he tried to hide behind his hand. “The scepter is a marvel in its own right. It’s made of Devil’s Silver. Exceedingly rare since Lucifer popped his clogs.”

“The devil died?” My voice raised before I remembered that our conversation was meant to be private.

“Eh. Maybe he’s just missing. Who knows?” Trey didn’t seem to care one way or the other. “The devil could enchant any metal to be lethal to gods, angels, or demons.”

“How do you guys factor into this whole servitude thing?” I wondered. “You didn’t have to become stewards with Legion. Unless you were imprisoned as well?” I left the question open, hoping Trey would fill in the blanks.

Instead, the Sloth demon spotted someone across the room. A portly man in a pinstriped suit that looked like a piece of candy. His mustache strongly resembled a broom that had lost too many bristles. His pores were large and enflamed around the nostrils.

The man raced towards Trey as if he were greeting an old friend. Trey did not hold his hand to shake, but the man in the suit seemed used to dealing with the oddities of demons.

“Mr. Bellgrady.” Trey tilted his head in acknowledgment. “How are you keeping?”

Mr. Bellgrady smiled, but it did not reach his eyes or move his mustache. “Fine, my boy. Just fine.”

I suspected Trey had a few thousand years on the middle-aged man, but I said nothing.

“Is there anything I can help you with today?” Mr. Bellgrady knitted his fingers together, his eyes darting between Trey and the displays dotted around the room. “I’m so sorry that you missed out on the scepter, but we had a phone bid at the last minute—”

Trey waved away the man’s simpering. “I’m just here to buy something for my girl.”

I gave Trey a look but didn’t argue. “I like knives.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Mr. Bellgrady chuffed a laugh. “Of course, of course.”

“You haven’t seen my brothers, have you?” Trey’s eyes roamed the room as if he were lazily perusing the crowd for entertainment. “I’m sure that tonight’s selection would interest them,”

If Mr. Bellgrady thought the question was odd, he didn’t show it. “I haven’t seen anyone but you, Mr. Legion. I mean, Mr. Sloth—”

Trey waved his hand dismissively. “I’m going to get my girl a knife.” He stated, steering me away from the human.

I glanced over my shoulder. “He called you Mr. Legion.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Are you Ichi’s brother, for real then?” I asked.

Trey growled in his throat. “You have an obsession with Pride that will only get you hurt.” Trey noticed something over my shoulder. I wasn’t a fool; I knew it was a ploy to distract me. “Look! A weapon. Just up your street, love.” He wiggled with brows. “Something sharp like your tongue and shiny just like your skin.”

“Have you ever actually spoken to a woman before?” I blinked. “Because you suck at it.”

“I’ll have you know that I speak to women all the time.”

“Really?” My voice was as dry as the Sahara.

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