Free Azagoth: A Demonica Novella (1001 Dark Nights) by Larissa Ione

own, the key to Sheoul-gra, she’d mocked him and flung it right back in his face.
    This cold, dreary realm full of death and griminions and fallen angels? Yeah, it’s what every girl dreams of.
    How dare she, he thought, as he flashed himself outside his manor. How dare she reject anything that he, the Grim Reaper, offered? Females creamed themselves over him. They’d come to him by the thousands, begging for any scraps he’d throw their way. Granted, they were demons, but they’d been high-ranking, influential females from every species. Before her recent demise, even Lilith herself had approached him on multiple occasions to try to convince him that a union between the two of them would make them the most powerful couple in existence.
    No thanks. He’d already been screwed by her. In more ways than one.
    Frustrated, he kicked at the oily soil beneath his feet. It felt nothing like the sand in the desert. He looked into the distance at the dozens of buildings and beyond, to what used to be a forest filled with life, rivers, and lakes. Now there was nothing but gnarled tree trunks and stumps, dry creek beds, and one lake so stagnant that its toxic stench sometimes crossed the barrier between Sheoul and Sheoul-gra. Denizens of Sheoul’s Horun region had affectionately named the affected area The Grim Reaper’s Asshole.
    It’s what every girl dreams of.
    Azagoth’s heart went dead in his chest. Holy shit, Lilliana was right. Demons might think of Sheoul-gra as a treasure, but no one else, especially not an angel, would think that any of this was a gift.
    What a fool he’d been. What a fucking dumbass.
    He had nothing to offer Lilliana. Sure, he could give her great sex. Better than great. But beyond that? Nothing. His realm, which had once been teeming with activity and life, was dead.
    The only thing for her to do down here was what Azagoth did; meet each evil soul as it came through the tunnel, and then decide its fate before sending it to the various levels of the Inner Sanctum to await reincarnation. Assignment to hard labor? A stint in Hades’s dungeon? Maybe roasting in the Eternal Field of Flames or swimming in the Acid Pools of Agony?
    And really, he should not have let Hades name shit in the Inner Sanctum. Azagoth wanted to beat the fallen angel every time he was forced to say, or even think, of the miserable area known as Feces-palooza.
    Oh, hey, Lilliana, let me take you on a tour of your wedding gift. Yep, check out Disembowling Beach. We can honeymoon in Feces-palooza. And just wait until I take you to Boiling Piss Pond and the Fetid Razor Swamp.
    Fuck.
    Scrubbing his hand over his face, he decided he needed to rethink his strategy. If Lilliana was truly here because she was given no choice, eternity with him would, literally, be hell for her. He was a bastard who traded in death and pain, and while he liked to tell himself that he’d been corrupted by thousands of years of life in Hell, the truth was that even as an angel he’d been in the business.
    Interrogators weren’t exactly nice people.
    Okay, so where did he go from here? First, he supposed, it might help to know why, exactly, Lilliana had agreed to mate him. Jim Bob had indicated that this was a punishment, but Azagoth wanted to hear it from Lilliana herself. Had she been given any choice in the matter at all? And if so, why had she agreed?
    He couldn’t do anything about Methicore and his idea of revenge...at least, not in the immediate future. But he could take care of what was happening right now in his home.
    Home. What a joke. Home was a horror show of a necrotic realm. Dream stuff, there.
    As he contemplated his next move with Lilliana, he headed back inside and straight for the bedroom. He expected her to be waiting for him, but to his surprise, she’d climbed into bed, her chestnut hair spilling over the black satin pillowcase in a shiny wave. The clothes she’d been wearing were laid neatly on the recliner next to her wardrobe