Free Good Intentions 3: Personal Demons by Elliott Kay

and the only person you insult happens to be the weakest among us. No offense, herald. It is what it is.”
    The herald tilted her head with respect. Mammon let out a derisive snort, shifting his posture for a subtle step farther away. “Not all my worst enemies are here,” he said.
    “No,” agreed the hooded woman. “It’s true. Lucifer isn’t here. He never comes to these things. He always was kind of a dick.”
    Heads turned toward her, but none spoke. Her casual mortal colloquialisms were the least of her differences from the others. Hell’s princes drew their ranks from the most powerful of fallen angels and a handful of deposed and forgotten ancient gods. She was something else entirely, and none of them ever forgot it.
    “Why did you call us here, Azazel?” asked a harsh, hostile voice. Like Azazel, he was much taller than any mortal man. Where Moloch bore scars of disease and Mammon’s flesh abounded, this prince had burned away the weakness of skin until the charred remains served as armor. A green fire lit his eyes. “Do you seek some truce for the duration of this chaos? Do you hope to lay claim to what is rightfully mine?”
    “Belial,” chittered Beelzebub. “If this was yours, you’d have already taken it.”
    “ My slave brought an end to Baal,” said Belial. “She will return to my service, and she will bring the spoils of her deeds to me.”
    “How is that working out for you so far?” asked the woman in robes.
    Belial ignored her. He turned his attention back to Azazel. “Why are we here?”
    “To make sure you all understand the implications of this,” Azazel replied, pointing to the raging battle in the distance. “Abaddon has been struck down, not by a fellow lord but by an unthinking mob. He rose, of course, only to be brought down again and again. Baal is no more, also at the hands of lesser beings.
    “We have long known what it takes to vanquish a lord of Hell. We have long known the cost. The common rabble have not held such knowledge, yet now they see two examples to suggest it can be done. This turmoil spreads. Sooner or later, it will affect us all.”
    “Abaddon fell because he trespassed into a greater lord’s realm,” said Belial. “Do not make the same mistake. Stay out of my way.” He turned his eyes from Azazel to the quietest member of the assemblage and added, “Especially you.”
    Of all the lords, only Sammael presented a natural, attractive image. Like the woman in robes, he displayed no tail and no horns. His body and face matched the primal beauty of the finest incubus serving any lord. Unlike the rest of those fallen from grace, his wings still held all the feathers and grandeur of old, though they were now jet black rather than white. Only the color of his wings and his lack of a halo marked him as anything less than the archangel he’d once been. “Why Belial, I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
    “I speak of treachery and lies. I speak of one who likes to play with toys that don’t belong to him,” said Belial.
    “You’re off the hook, Mammon,” said the hooded woman. “The patriarchy is much stronger with these two.”
    “Ah! You wound me with such labels,” Sammael objected.
    “All of them are accurate,” said Belial.
    Sammael rolled his eyes. “I was talking to her.”
    “Tell me I’m wrong,” she said with an indifferent shrug.
    “You’re wrong.”
    “And I can surely trust every word spoken in this crowd,” she replied.
    “Enough,” said Belial. “You will not interfere with my hunt. If you do, you will pay. Do not forget that I wear a crown and you do not.” He turned his glare from Sammael to Azazel. “Have you news to share? An offer of aid or service? No? Then you waste my time.”
    Belial stormed away. One by one, the others departed. Mammon returned to his chariot at the base of the hill, guarded by his fiercest lions. Beelzebub flew off. The woman in robes simply vanished while no