Page 18 of Altar of Flesh

The demon’s hoofed foot crossed the delineation of the sigil.

Everything went white.

10

CHAPTER TEN

My vision seemed to vanish. Hell turned impossibly bright, and I was blown out of the circle. Time must have passed, for when I finally pushed myself upright, the demon in the sigil was—different. Very different.

Standing before me was no demon at all but an angel.

I sat up and stared at it. My guard had gone up, as if seeing any reminder of the holy symbols or great angels I had abandoned sent my body into a panic. Grunting—for do remember, I was still at this point significantlyprolapsed—I carefully crawled towards it.

“Why bother with the deception now?” I said. “I know your nature. You are no angel.”

Indeed, the demon appeared like many of the church’s depictions of the winged creatures. There was none of the terrifying, unknowable nature of the angels as spoken of in the Bible. This creatureglowed.Alabaster skin so smooth, it evoked polished marble. Its hair was a light gold that curled over its chest and nipples, hiding what might have been budding breasts or a soft pectoral. Yes, I could not ascertain what I was looking at from first view; the creature before me was so perfectlyambiguous. It had a strongly angled face, delicate lips blushing near red as if a cherry had burst and stained them. Its eyes were hazel, and long lashes gave the impression of someone particularly demure. It held itself similarly. Beautiful, enormous wings covered the rest of its body. Each feather shone nacreous. Miniscule movements were enough to nearly blind me.

But it appeared entirely contained to the circle where, if my actions for the other representatives proved true, I must have summoned an Earl of Hell. Surely this was the same creature as the one that had hounded me? The hart-like demon turned by some illusion?

It had not answered my question.

“Tell me your name.”

It cocked its head at me and smiled. The expression dazzled me. Not only were the teeth beautifully white, but the emotion it evoked was both sensual and somehow romantic. I felt like I had known the creature for eons, that it had my best interest at heart.

“My name?” it cooed. The voice that emerged was altogether different to the raspy, quick-spoken hart. This angel spoke slowly, with a resonant drawl. Not overly deep, but full-bodied, like an aged red wine. I opened my mouth to drink it in. “My name is Furfur.”

“Furfur,” I repeated. “You are an Earl of Hell?”

“A Great and Mighty Earl of Hell,” it said. “And you are a little human whore.”

I—hadn’t expected that. I jolted in place as the incongruency of the angel’s image and its words ran through me.

“My name is Alessandro.”

A bright, happy laugh. “I could not care less what you call yourself. I can smell you from here. You reek of demonic sulphur, but your humanity’s stench is stronger. Foul. What have you done to come here? How can you traverse this land without my brethren punishing you?” Its eyes flicked down mybody, and its eyebrows raised. “Ah. I see someone has already attempted to punish you.”

I flushed. I became overly aware of my body,

“Come here and let me help you.”

“I am Asmodeus’,” I clarified. “I am here on its order.”

It raised its other brow at me until its look of disbelief was almost comical.

“I have heard no such thing.”

“I believe that is part of the challenge, Earl Furfur.”

It laughed again and opened its wings fractionally. I noticed a few feathers singed as they touched the invisible barrier of the circle’s edge. Furfur tried in vain to keep the pain from its face, but that beautiful nose crinkled as it snapped its wing to its side.

I walked closer, confident it was contained.

“You can’t get out of the circle?” I asked. Of course, it did not answer this. “Not until I tell you to?”

It glanced away, so I guessed I was right. Why this rule applied to Furfur and not the others, I could not be sure.

“Are you being punished?”

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