Page 82 of The Sinner and the Scholar
Thea brandishes the staff like she was born with it. “Time to send this bitch back to hell then… or who knows, maybe she’ll turn into a ball of water like her minions.”
“Wait.” I hold up my hand and crouch before the demon. “I want to speak with her first.”
“In that case.” Thea pushes the tip of the angelic staff onto the demon’s forehead.
Vepar’s eyes widen to show the whites.
“Vepar,” I say. “Is Pestilence inside Prudence?”
Her eyes dart from me to Thea. Thea picks up what I’m doing and moves the staff to Vepar’s neck. She applies pressure until the demon chokes, and pus oozes from the sores there—my nose wrinkles. I have no idea how Thea is unaffected by that, but she’s a warrior goddess—ready to battle, obliterate, and win.
“Answer him,” Thea presses before easing off. “Or I make this slow and painful for you.”
“Yes,” Vepar blurts. “Yes, it is she.”
“She?” I share a look with Thea. “I thought the horseman was male.”
Vepar laughs a hissing laugh. “Yes, but we all know history is written by the man wielding the pen. Who better to create the divide? Who better to grow the cracks.”
“What’s Pestilence’s true name?” I ask.
Vepar’s laughter dies, and she shakes her head. “I don’t know.”
“I think you do.”
“Why do we need the name?” Thea asks me quietly. “I have the staff.”
“It might not be enough to exorcise the demon,” I explain. “Asmodeus told us the staff would heal the body. He said nothing about it removing the demonic spirit. Better not to take our chances.”
“Good point,” she replies, grateful eyes on me.
“Asmodeus,” Vepar hisses. “Fucking cunt of a farce of a whore-loving—even from his prison he—”
She chokes when Thea presses the staff, but pink water comes out of her mouth instead of wine. The spell is almost over, and we’re out of time.
Thea repeats, “What’s Pestilence’s true name?”
When the demon starts begging, we know shereallydoesn’t want to tell us, but the staff heats in Thea’s hands. It sizzles the demon’s flesh until she spits out, “Loimós! Her name is Loimós Leviathan.”
“Stand back,” Thea warns me. Then she says to Vepar, “This is for Wes and for the ruin you made of his life.” The staff shines bright. The demon screeches and bucks. Her tail thrashes. Thea holds steady and shouts, “If you somehow survive this, tell Lilith we’re coming for her.”
The staff sinks through the demon’s throat. Cracks filled with light grow over its body until they widen and burst. I shield my eyes from the light. When it’s gone, there’s nothing left of Vepar but scales and ash floating in wine.
“I guess she didn’t survive.” Thea kicks the sludge.
A rustle of leaves snaps our attention to a council tree across the street. My heart rate spikes.More demons?But there’s nothing there. Just darkness.
Sirens blare. Police and other emergency services are on the way to the museum. With the racket we just made and the light, it won’t be long until someone comes this way and finds blood… and wine.
Time to go. Thea collects her fallen backpack. She hoists it on while I find mine, and then we make our way to our rented car a few streets away. It’s not until we’re both strapped in and driving toward the airport that it all hits me.
We’re alive. We have the relic. It works.
Thea’s cell phone pings. She glances to where she’s stashed it in the console, but she’s driving.
“Can you check the message?” she asks, then shifts her eyes back to the road.
She trusts me.
