9 Is That the Grim Reaper's Phalanges, Or Is He Happy to See Me?

After approximately an hour of explaining what the heck had happened to a shaken Divya and Rosanna, I crashed into bed, a vortex of snores. It was the weekend, and I slept until Saturday afternoon, getting over twelve hours of shuteye. Rosanna suppressed her curiosity until she could no longer bear it and poked me awake at half past one.

I groaned, drool on my pillow.

"You slept like you were hibernating. I can't take it anymore. Tell me more." She bounced onto the mattress beside me.

I rubbed my eyes of sleep-grit. "I already told you everything. I don't know anymore."

"But you have to. Are the Orishas real?"

"Apparently. And Ochún's supposed to be a hippie," I said, recalling the Orisha of water we'd gifted last month.

Rosanna's green eyes widened. "What about la Llorona?" she said.

I shrugged. "I think so. I mean, the gods are real, and there are werewolves, and vampires, so I'm guessing ghosts exist."

"So all the times I prayed to Virgin Mary and the saints, they actually heard me?"

"Maybe. I don't know how prayer works."

"San Miguel was fierce. Just like a warrior of God. The way he killed the cadejo…" Rosanna shivered. "He scares me."

I remembered how Michael had rammed his flaming sword through Samael. "Me too."

Rosanna's desire to discuss last night's events wilted, eclipsed by fear. We dressed and went to brunch, meeting a solemn Divya, still rattled by her encounter with the hellhound. Her eyes were haunted.

"Shannon, are you alright?" Divya said quietly.

"I'm fine. Are you?"

Divya trembled and looked past my ear at the omelet bar. "I… I've believed in the gods for so long, done puja each day to honor them, but the reality of them? It's too much. If angels are real, Shiva and Parvati are too. Why have they never answered my prayers? Why haven't they spoken to me? How many people have they appeared to?"

Divya angrily bit into her toast. "If humans can't speak of their divine experiences, then there could be dozens, maybe hundreds of people that have met the gods. Do they even need our worship? Has everything I've done been for nothing?" Wiping marmalade from her lips, she gazed stonily at the ground.

I reached out for her hand. "Of course they do. Human belief is what gives the gods power."

Divya shook her head. "That hellhound was terrible. I can't sleep without thinking about how it bit you, all the blood." She seemed to steel herself against something. "When I was little, my sister would tease me about rakshasas and how they would come to eat me if I played in the woods, just like they ate Brahma. I thought she was being stupid, but I stayed out of the woods anyway, just to be safe. Do I have to live my life like that now? Always looking over my shoulder, thinking a rakshasa might attack?"

"Whatever a rakshasa is, they have no reason to come after you," I said. I squeezed her hand. "The hellhound was after me. It was just a coincidence that you saw it in the woods."

Divya bit her lip. "Rakshasas are cannibals. And even if they don't attack me, the thought that things like them are after you pisses me off. How can you protect yourself with an oversized key?"

I forced a smile. "I've managed to so far. Kind of..."

Rosanna sipped her coffee. "I think we need to fight back," she said.

"No! I'm not involving you guys in this. It's too dangerous," I said.

"Pfft, please," Rosanna snorted. "You don't get to decide what we do. The cadejo would have killed us all. It doesn't matter that it was only after you. With Divya's brains, your key thingy, and my psychic powers, we could actually make a kickass team."

"Hmm. Rosanna has a point," said Divya. "These things are coming onto our campus. We should at least be ready if it happens again."

"It won't," I said firmly. "Samael has this under control."

Rosanna narrowed her eyes. "I don't trust this Samael guy. He sounds shady. Isn't he basically the Devil?"

"Erm, well, yeah. But Heaven's kind of evil. Nothing's black and white."

"No wonder I didn't like the angels," Divya said. She steepled her fingers under her chin. "I have some books on folklore that I brought to college to prep for my World Religions class. I'll dig through them and see if I can find anything."

Rosanna bobbed her head in agreement. "And I've got my abuela's 'recipe' book. It's chockfull of weirdo potions and stuff."

"You guys, this is totally unnecessary. I can take care of this," I said, making a cutting motion with my hands. "You don't need to worry."

"Yes we do," Rosanna said. "It was almost our heads on a plate. We're going to deal with this together."

"And how do you know that Samael's on your side?" Divya said. "The gods can be double-faced. I'm sure it's the same for demons."

"Because he's saved me, multiple times," I said. "And if you guys are so deadest on helping me, then we need to be careful. This stuff is dangerous."

"We know," Divya said, her eyes hard.

Someone cleared their throat. I looked up to see Mo behind Rosanna. "Am I interrupting something?" he asked.

"No," we said in unison.

"Good. I hope you girls are enjoying your morning. Except for you, Shannon."

I stuck out my tongue.

"Hey, Rosanna. Great dress. Can I get the notes for the lecture on Chaucer?" Mo asked in his lady-killer voice.

Rosanna smiled. "Sure."

"You guys are in British Literature together?" I blurted.

They looked at me like I was crazy. "Yeah, so what?" Mo said.

I flashed him a warning look, trying to communicate that if he put the moves on my roommate, there would be hell to pay. But he, oblivious, slid into the seat next to Rosanna and bantered with her. Divya left to refill her tea, leaving me to scowl at my twin, contemplating the possibility of being sexiled by my brother.

My phone beeped. I flipped it open. There was a text from a string of sixes: "LAY LOW FOR THE WEEKEND, MAGGOT. I'LL MEET YOU ON MONDAY AT 7, THE USUAL PLACE." Then the screen died. I clicked my phone on, only to see the message had disappeared.

Apparently, the Devil knew my number.

The weekend passed in a blur. Sunday night was filled with coffee, cramming for a chemistry test, and blasting David Bowie on repeat to distract me from my panic. The exam came Monday like a guillotine to the neck. I stumbled out of the classroom and trudged to biology lab, where we were dissecting frogs. I sat next to Divya, who was dressed in a crisp white lab coat, her hair tied back. I donned goggles and we set to work skinning the amphibian.

"Scalpel," Divya said.

I handed it to her, and she made an incision. She used forceps to pry back the frog's flesh and expose the creature's heart. I reached in with tweezers and removed its organs, one by one, placing them on a laminated diagram of the frog's anatomy. We paused to take notes on the process in our lab books.

"It's female," I said, noting the eggs.

Divya paused from writing. "Do you think we're like this frog?"

I slid my goggles onto my brow. "What do you mean?

She twisted her silver rings. "Just experiments. Something to entertain the gods."

I set my pen down. "I think we're here for a better reason than that. Maybe we came first, and the gods are our experiments."

Divya frowned. "I don't like either of those options."

I arrived at the lake at 7:00. Samael was skipping stones, dressed in jeans and a leather jacket.

"I got your text," I said. "Really? Your area code is 666?"

He smirked, septum piercing flashing. "Did you have an exciting day at school? Crash any keggers?"

"No. College students don't party every day of the week. I was murdered by a test, and then I dissected a frog." I sat on a boulder and wrapped my arms round my knees. "So are we training today, or what?"

His face darkened. "The archdemons know what you are now. They want to test you."

"But I just had an exam!"

He lobbed a smooth rock at the lake. It skimmed the surface twelve times. "The angels suspect what you are. They know you're an ascendant, and soon, they'll think you're the Magdalene. We need to prepare you immediately."

I threw up my hands in defeat. "Fine, do what you want. But can we get drinks at Damien's first?"

Samael smiled. "Sure."

We arrived at the bar shortly thereafter. I downed two glasses of soda and was working on a third. Damien set to washing dishes while Samael nursed his absinthe.

The werewolf's eyes shone. "So it's true? She can use the scythe?"

"Yes, for the umpteenth time, she's the Magdalene. But don't tell anyone." Samael burped.

"Excuse you," I said.

Samael grinned lopsidedly. "Hell's citizens can't know what's at stake."

Damien nodded. "My pack's tracking the Watchers. They've set up camp on Earth, but we haven't had any direct run-ins with them. They're lying low."

"As to be expected," Samael said. He finished his absinthe and swiped a peanut from a jar, cracking it open with his fang and munching on the nut's meat.

"Come back once you're done," Damien said.

"Sure," I said.

We left in Samael's hearse for the capitol building, the Hellopolis. It was built like the Parthenon, with soaring columns, rising high above Pandemonium on a merciless hill. The River Styx, red as blood, rushed along behind it, and a great statue carved of white stone jutted from the hill-face, depicting a falling angel reaching for a seven-pointed star. A valet took the hearse away. I looked for a road to the entrance, finding none.

Samael's wings burst from his back and he held out his arms as if to embrace me. "Free hugs."

I put two and two together. "Oh no. Oh no no no. I hate heights."

"Too bad." He scooped me up and we rocketed off the ground. We joined a throng of flying demons – secretaries, clerks, businessmen, all streaming above us on their way to the Hellopolis. Tails snaked out of pencil skirts and pens were tucked behind horns. My stomach dropped as the ground receded.

"I hate you," I said, queasy. "If I barf, it's all your fault."

"Ruin my jacket and I'll feed you to Leviathan."

Just as soon as we had taken flight, Samael landed, depositing me on the marble floor. I gaped at the beauty of the building. Samael tugged at my arm. "Let's go, maggot."

"Stop calling me that."

He laughed and led me inside.

We entered a cross between a courtroom and a stadium, with row upon row of seating rising to the ceiling. A large oculus framed the sun, and seven platforms stood before me, fronting an elevated dais at the center of the room. I squinted to see the six figures who sat on the platforms – Lilith, Asmodeus, and Beelzebub, alongside three demons I didn't recognize, with the middle platform empty.

I was finally in the presence of the archdemons. I swallowed hard, my palms sweating.

Samael squeezed my hand. "Don't be nervous. We're at your service."

"But you're going to test me."

"Well, that too."

He took off, soaring to the middle platform, where he sat on a black throne. I trudged forward and climbed the steep steps of the dais. Seven weapons were laid on a table – a whip, Samael's scythe, a revolver, a mace, a trident, halberd, and a cane. The seven pieces of the Lapis Exillis.

I looked up, up, up at the archdemons, searching their faces for – well, I wasn't sure what for.

Lilith smiled, still a nudist. Beelzebub looked like he'd swallowed a pineapple. Asmodeus was toying with his gloves seductively. And Samael – he was nervous, face taut, fidgeting.

I looked to his right, at the three unfamiliar demons. There was a willowy brunette with a severe face, decked in armor. Beside her was a voluptuous girl with a carefree smile. She looked at Beelzebub with affection, and the two exchanged a meaningful glance. I guessed she was Astaroth, his wife. Finally, on the edge, there was a disheveled demon with a mop of blond hair, dressed like Kurt Cobain. He was asleep.

"Belial, wake up," Beelzebub boomed.

The grunge rock demon startled. "Wha?" he said.

"The Magdalene is here," said the brunette, voice cool.

"Oh," Belial said. He ran a hand through his bangs. "Umm, okay. Rofocale, what do I do?"

The brunette sighed. "Belial, we went over this last night."

Belial scratched his nose. "I was stoned."

Rofocale smoothed a pile of papers in front of her. "Of course you were. Never mind, I'll address her." The demoness cleared her throat. "Shannon O'Connor - as Prime Minister, I welcome you to the Hellopolis. These hallowed halls have served Pandemonium for millennia, carved from the very ground on which our regent fell. Samael has told us of your progress - he speaks very highly of you." The brunette narrowed her eyes. "But there is only one way to know if you are the girl we prophesized of. The seven shards of the Lapis Exillis lay before you. If you can wield them, you truly are the Magdalene."

I drew back.

"Look at her. You're scaring the human, Ro," Belial said. "Look, we're not grading you, kid. Just do your best."

"Ooo, pick mine first. It's the mace," Astaroth said, pointing at her weapon.

"Uh, okay," I said. I picked up the spiked mace.

Nothing happened.

Astaroth's jaw dropped.

The mace's handle began to burn. I screamed, dropping it.

"Well, it's impressive that she could even touch it," Rofocale said.

I shook the heat from my hands.

"She'll have to be possessed to use the weapons properly," Beelzebub said, his voice cold.

"What?" I asked.

Beelzebub narrowed his eyes. "Samael didn't tell you?"

Rofocale steepled her fingers under her chin. "Of course he didn't. You're aware of Jesus' companion, Mary Magdalene?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I guess. She was a prostitute, right?"

Rofocale drew her lips thin. "She was much more than that. Mary Magdalene was a disciple. She was descended from King Solomon, and she carried in her blood his legacy."

Asmodeus scowled. "Damn Solomon."

Rofocale glanced at the dapper Asmodeus. "Deus was imprisoned by Solomon for several years. King Solomon commanded legions of demons, a skill he passed on to his descendant, Mary Magdalene. Mary was an ascendant, like you. She had several dealings with us, one that ended with her being possessed. We made an attempt to win Jesus to our side, using Mary as a vessel, but that plan backfired when Jesus exorcised us from her."

"Great story, but what does that have to do with me?" I said, nervous.

"You're descended from Solomon, like Mary Magdalene was. That's why you have her abilities," Rofocale said. "The ability to wield the power of seven devils."

My eyes widened. "My brother's name is Solomon-

"I hate him already," Asmodeus grumbled.

"-it's a family name," I explained. "But I mean, if it's hereditary, why am I an ascendant, and not Mo? Why am I the Magdalene?"

There was silence.

"Because of a promise," Samael finally said, voice off.

"Huh?"

The archdemons looked at each other knowingly.

"You're really going to tell her? Sam, don't be rash." Lilith said.

"She has a right to know," Rofocale said.

"Tell me what?" I asked.

Samael's fidgeting accelerated. "Not here. I'll explain later, in private-

"No. Stop keeping things from me." I took a step forward. "I'm sick of lies. Why am I the Magdalene?"

He flinched: "Please, Shannon-

"No!"

Samael's hands shook on the sides of his throne. "Before Eve was cast from Eden, I made her a promise. I couldn't bear the thought that she was mortal - that her soul would thread through my fingers like sand. I gave her my heart, so that her soul would be immortal – an angel's heart is the core of their being. With it, she became like the seraphim. Without it, I became Death." Samael looked away. "It was the greatest mistake I ever made. My heart was the Forbidden Fruit, and giving it to Eve was Original Sin. But I was blinded by love. I was selfish then, and I didn't think of the consequences,"

My stomach dropped. "What consequences?"

"I… you… she…" Samael cursed. "When Eve died, she was thrown into Limbo, a place beyond my reach. Humans aren't meant to be immortal, but because she had my heart, her fate was bound to mine. To Hell's. I thought she would reincarnate after her death, so I searched for her. I found nothing."

"There's a reason your soul smells like her's," Lilith murmured. "Like apples."

"You're freaking kidding me. Sam had a thing for Eve? This is like Bible fanfiction!" I said.

Samael, already pale, turned chalk-white. "I consulted seers to discover when Eve would reincarnate," he said, voice muted. "All predictions pointed to the end of the second millennium, A.D., a time when humanity would have progressed at an alarming rate, when science would parallel the marvels of immortals, and the very fabric of the worlds would tilt horribly askew. A time when Hell would have need of an ascendant."

Samael's nails dug into the wood of his throne. "From the bloodline of Solomon and Mary Magdalene, Eve would bloom – able to play host to seven devils. Her reincarnation would wield the Lapis Exillis. She would realign the otherworlds and restore balance to the worlds. She would, after so long, bring peace." Samael's eyes shone. "I thought the prophecy was nonsense. I never thought – I never dreamed…" He bit his lip. "I'm – I'm sorry, Shannon. It was never meant to be like this."

Samael's words clanged like cymbals in my brain: Eve's reincarnation… play host to seven devils…

I buried my head in my hands. "No," I said. "I'm not her, I'm not your pawn."

"We're all pawns," Beelzebub said. "It's just a matter of which king we choose to serve."

"This isn't chess!" I rose, and with an angry fist scattered the seven weapons before me to the floor.

Samael stood, reaching out for me. "Shannon-"

"Don't talk to me! I don't want anything to do with you. I won't be possessed like Mary Magdalene, and I sure as heck won't work with a demon that damned a woman to an eternity in Limbo!"

"I didn't mean-"

"I don't care! Don't follow me." I sprinted from the room. My eyes misted. I rubbed at them, furious.

I heard the beating of wings as I stood on the sharp slope of the hill. Samael landed beside me, his hair in tangles. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he said.

"Stop." I balled my hands into fists. "Since the moment I met you, you've been lying. Are you happy now that you've made an idiot of me in front of your stupid friends?"

"No." Samael picked at a thread in his sleeve. "I was going to tell you in time. It's just – it was hard for me."

"Hard for you? You're not the one who found out she's the reincarnation of the original naked ditz in front of a bunch of strangers!"

Samael flinched. "Eve wasn't foolish. She was brave."

I broiled. "I don't care who she was. She's dead. Get over your childhood sweetheart and stop lying to me."

Samael reached out for me, but I backed away. "Calm down. I haven't deliberately misled you."

"Michael was right: all your words are lies."

His face was fierce. "If I did lie, it was only to protect you!"

I scoffed. "No, you did it to serve yourself. All you want is power. How can you expect me to be a – a vessel? This isn't the 'Exorcist.' I don't want to be possessed. I don't want to masturbate with crosses. Being possessed would kill me."

Samael put his hands on my shoulders. "No. I wouldn't let that happen again."

"Again?"

"When you – when Eve died young, I couldn't bear it." He shook his head. "I would never let anything happen to you."

"Screw you!" I said. "You really are the Devil." I pushed his hands off my shoulders. "If you have an ounce of decency, you'll leave me alone. Now."

"In Hell? It's too dangerous."

"Now."

Samael winced. "Come back inside when you're – when you want to. I'll be waiting."

I glared. Samael bit down on his sentence, then left.

"Asshole," I said, shoving my hands in my pockets. I surveyed the steep slope. "Like hell am I going back in there." I scrambled from boulder to handhold down the hill, breathless when I reached the bottom.

Furious, I stomped to Damien's bar. He was shooting pool with a hydra. "Shannon?" the werewolf said, putting his pool stick down. "It's dangerous to be wandering around Pandemonium without Sam."

"I don't care. I hate him." I slumped onto a seat at the bar.

Damien hurried to my side. "What did that bastard do?" he said.

"He – he and the archdemons want to use me as a weapon for their stupid Lapis Exillis. They want to possess me."

Damien his fangs, giving a low growl. "Over my dead carcass they will. Sam never said anything about that."

"I wasn't strong enough to use their weapons on my own. I don' think they were planning to originally." I wiped my nose with a dirty napkin. "And then – and then Samael said – he said that I was Eve. That the stupid Magdalene prophecy was about her reincarnation. It can't be true, can it?"

Damien's face darkened. "I don't know, sweetheart. All I know about the Magdalene prophecy are the rumors – that you'll deliver us. The archdemons keep lots of secrets."

"Too many," I said. I shuddered at the idea of being possessed, picturing the girl from the 'Exorcist' scuttling on her back like a spider. "I don't want to help Sam. Not if I'm going to be a meat puppet."

Damien's brows furrowed. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the front door slamming open.

"Not you!" I yelled, lobbing a shot glass at the visitor.

The bar patrons fell silent.

Samael stood there like a deer in the headlights. He let the glass shatter on his forehead, drawing a shallow cut. Red dripped down his nose. His tongue flicked out to taste it, as if in afterthought.

"Shannon?" he said.

"You said you'd leave me alone."

"Everyone out of this turdhole," Damien said.

The patrons streamed out, leaving behind a harried demon, a bristling werewolf, and a very angry girl.

Damien rolled up his sleeves and made rocks of his fists. He stood in front of me, blocking Samael from my vision. The bartender began cursing in Italian, with such phrases as "Pezzo di merda!" whose meaning I could guess from his intonation.

Samael held up his hands as if in defeat. "Calm down. I'm here to take her home."

I crossed my arms. "I'm not going anywhere with you, Corpseboy."

Samael narrowed his eyes. "Running off was dangerous. You could have been killed."

I lobbed another glass at him. It bounced off his jacket. "That's better than spending another second with you."

Samael unzipped his jacket. "You're angry. I get it. It wasn't fair of me to spring your origin on you. But you wouldn't stop asking, and if I hadn't told you, one of the other archdemons would."

"A fanabla," Damien said. "You were going to possess her. Your morals are low as the dirt you slither through."

Samael sighed. "I wasn't planning on it. I thought Shannon could use the Lapis Exillis without assistance. It's been so long since I've used it that I'd forgotten how potent it was."

I was beyond riled. "So me using it was a crapshoot all along?"

"The fact that you could touch Astaroth's mace without being incinerated is a miracle. We just need to figure out how you can wield the Lapis Exillis without backlash."

"Yeah," I said. "By possessing me."

Samael's face hardened. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to. It was just a suggestion."

"How could you guys even think of that? That'd I'd be okay being a demonic chewtoy?" I stormed from the bar, out into the sunset streets of Hell.

Damien blocked Samael: "Let her go."

I hated the tears on my face, the confusion that churned in my gut. I ran, twisting through the market district, lost in alleys littered with cigarette butts. When I could run no more, I slumped against a brick wall and angrily tore tufts of grass that sprung up from cracks in the concrete. I stared at the twilit sky, feeling hopelessly small. Whatever role Samael thought I had to play could go to hell, even though I was already technically in it.

The sharp end of a grass blade cut me. "God, even the plants here suck."

Wasn't college enough to angst over? Why did Samael have to add a celestial dimension to my anxiety? I didn't need high-stakes heavenly war on my to-do list-

"You look lost," came a rough voice. I looked up to see a painfully thin demon with ragged hair and burns covering his body. There were no eyes in his sockets.

He leaned against the wall and took a drag from a cigar. The stranger exhaled smoke. "It's been a long time since I've been down here."

"Down here?" I echoed.

"In Hell, I mean. So, pretty thing, who are you?"

I flinched at the way 'pretty thing' rolled off his tongue. "I'm – I'm Shannon. And you?"

"Jeqon."

"Can I help you? You're hurt."

He laughed, voice hoarse. "Spending time in Dudael will do that to you. It's a bloody endless desert." Jeqon finished smoking his cigar and stubbed it out with his bare heel. I could smell his foot burn.

The prison of the Watchers. "Why are you telling me this?"

Jeqon grinned, revealing needle teeth. "Because, I always had a loose tongue, and you won't leave here alive."

He launched at me.

I summoned my petersword. I swung wildly it, drawing a gash across his chest.

He chuckled, drawing back. "Feisty, eh? What kind of Claimed are you?"

"I'm not," I said, assuming a defensive position.

We circled each other. Jeqon feinted several times, trying to catch me off guard. I gritted my teeth.

"It's been so long since I've had a woman," he said, hardening beneath his shabby pants. "Their silky legs. Their giving flesh. It's too tender to bear."

Fear pricked my skin. "That's charming."

He stroked himself. "I'll savor taking you. I'll make sure it hurts."

I charged toward him. My petersword speared through his arm.

Jeqon snarled, wrenching the petersword, still caught in his flesh, from me. He tore it from his bicep and tossed it from my reach.

I panicked, landing a volley of punches on his bleeding chest.

"I love it when fragile creatures puts up a fight," Jeqon breathed. He kicked my legs out from under me. We toppled to the ground, and he wrestled me out of my shirt.

My mind was white fury. I tore at his skin, made wild sounds, but it was no use.

He licked my neck and groaned. "You taste like cider. How strange."

"Help!"

"Shut up or I'll bite off your tongue," he snarled.

Nervous sweat flooded my pores.

Something glinted in the corner of my eyes. "Shannon?" came a cutting voice.

A scythe blade bit into Jeqon's skull. The Watcher rolled off me, slamming into the wall. I cried, curling in on myself, struggling to cover my breasts. "Shannon, Shannon?" Samael gathered me in his arms. He draped his jacket over me. "Can you stand?"

"I – yeah."

Jeqon spat blood at Samael's feet. "Rot lord? What a pleasant surprise. Do you want to share her? It'd be an upgrade from your usual whores."

Samael roared, diving towards the Watcher. In a blinding series of cuts, he shredded Jeqon to ribbons. The offal stunk like roadkill. Samael crushed Jeqon's still-beating heart with his boot.

I vomited at the sight and stench.

There was a shaking hand on my back.

"You're okay. You're okay," Samael sputtered. His scythe clanged to the ground. The reaper pulled me into his arms.

I was too shocked to protest. He buried his face in my hair and trembled.

I screamed into his chest.

Samael ran his fingers through my loosened braid. "You're okay. You're okay," he said again, rocking me.

The stench of rot drew closer. I looked over Samael's shoulder to see Jeqon's flesh knitting back together like that resurrected guy from Hellraiser that had been buried under the floorboards.

Samael's face darkened. "Where's your petersword?"

"Over – over there?"

"I need you to do exactly as I say."

"Why should I? This never would have happened if you hadn't pissed me off!"

"I know, and I'm sorry. But I need you to trust me. Only a mortal can kill Jeqon. All I can do is subdue him. Will you help me?"

I nodded.

"Good." Samael set me down. He reached for the petersword and gave it to me. "Take this, stab Jeqon's heart, and twist. That's all you need to do."

I struggled to my feet. The ridged edge of my petersword pierced Jeqon's half-formed chest. The Watcher wheezed as I turned the petersword.

Jeqon's remains shriveled to dust.

"Is he gone?" I breathed.

"Yeah.

I remembered his tongue on my throat and winced.