Chapter 8

Terrified, Lucius looked to Beatriz, who had frozen in place, staring in horror at the mark on her own arm, which was only now beginning to darken.

It was far too late for any of them to teleport out of the room. Lord Underneath would detect the trace of magic, and he would drag his wayward subordinates back from their attempted escape.

Thus, everyone scrambled to their chairs, resuming their previous positions. With any luck, Lucius thought desperately, they would be able to convince their master of some reason, any reason, for this impromptu gathering.

The doors to the room burst open, slamming against the walls with a crack so ear-splitting that Lucius only barely refrained from flinching.

Lord Underneath strode alongside the length of the table with single-minded purpose, his aura of darkness concentrated to the point of inducing nausea as he spared little to no glance at his minions.

Though terrified out of his mind, Lucius did absently note that their master was in his human form, and that Beatriz's concerns had not been entirely unfounded. Indeed, in the trail left behind by the seventh circle's most powerful demon lord was the putrid scent of human.

At the head of the table, Beatriz curtsied, nearly falling over in her haste to pay respects to Lord Underneath. But their master paid her no mind, only continued through the room and towards the adjoining hallway that led to the main command center.

From behind, Lucius spotted a large envelope wedged under Lord Underneath's arm. Beatriz did as well, for her eyes widened just before the door leading out shut with a sharp crack.

"He left," said Bruno, sounding dazed. "He did not ask us what we were doing, or why we were gathered here, or even who is minding the pits."

"See!" Beatriz whispered with muted ferocity. "I told you all something was the matter. Now everyone must agree that someone needs to discover what is causing our master such distraction. So that we may ease the burden for him," she added.

Lucius turned away from Beatriz and allowed himself a brief moment to read the atmosphere of the room. After witnessing their master's abrupt departure, many more demons seemed convinced of Beatriz's opinions.

"Peter," snapped Beatriz, gesturing with a sharp-taloned hand. "Go to him. Wait outside the room and report back what you see."

"But w-why me?" Peter said, voice high and wheezing. "Why not anyone else? Such an important task, s-surely someone else would be better suited for this..."

"For Hell's sake," muttered Bruno. He stood up. "I vote we send Peter. All else in favour?"

Hands went up all around the table. Lucius almost felt bad.

"Ahh," squeaked Peter, shoving back from his chair and dropping to his knees. "Please! Please don't send me! He'll leave me in the pits for a century—"

Asking demons in hell for pity? Truly it was a wonder Peter had even lasted as long as he had. Most other demons of his power level were relegated to the acquisition of souls.

"You'll survive," Beatriz told him. "We will do our best to convince him otherwise. Now hurry, or else I will toss you into one of my own pits, and I would not be so kind as to retrieve you after a century."

They all watched as Peter shrunk down, his wings and horns retracting, pulling inward until they disappeared entirely, his body caving in on itself as he morphed into the mangy form of a large brown rat.

"Go on!" Beatriz said. She waved a hand, causing the far door to crack open the slightest bit.

Peter squeaked once, hesitating. Beatriz narrowed her eyes and sent a bolt of lightning in his direction. Peter shrieked softly, the pitched yelp of a rat, and scurried forward, vanishing through the gap of the door.

The room went silent; no one dared to speak lest their master return and catch them in the midst of their insubordination.

Now they would have to wait and see.

Lucius held his foot very still, an attempt to avoid tapping it impatiently upon the floor, which would be a clear tell to his state of mind.

It had only been a few minutes since Peter had left, but any length of time spent in the company of his fellow associates could be agonizing. Though they could behave with civility while under the discerning gaze of their master, the same could not be said for their private gatherings.

If this took even a moment longer, a fight would break out.

That their social hierarchy was both fractured and functional was a testimony to the power of their master's leadership; lesser demons would have failed miserably at reigning in such a bunch of chaotic lunatics.

It was with this in mind that Lucius resolved to double his efforts to maintain amicable relations with as many people as possible. Especially now that the climate was so uncertain—he would be safer with allies if their master's mercurial temper swayed them all into harsher punishments.

At the front of the room, Beatriz was now muttering to herself. The muttering was inaudible, but Lucius had some idea of what it would be about—Beatriz was never subtle about what she thought about others.

Lucius could now envision, very clearly, the chain of events that were about to unfold.

Beatriz would insult someone, inevitably, and someone would retort, or some poorly-kept secret would be spilled. Then the wings would be out, so to speak, and the entire room would end up reeking of smoke and sulfur and rotting flesh. Just the thought of it was enough to wrinkle Lucius' face in distaste.

Thankfully, or perhaps less thankfully, the impending disaster was cut short by the unceremonious return of their master.

Lord Underneath re-entered the room much the same way he had entered it:

Thunderously, and with significant presence.

The doors rattled ominously against the walls as they slammed open.

Underneath did not immediately make for the door on the opposite end of the room. Instead he paused, his violent red gaze sweeping dangerously over the frozen figures of his workers. His brows lowered, and Lucius felt a terrifically familiar jolt of fear run down his spine.

Nonsensically, he hoped that his spine was not about to be removed, because he rather liked being able to hold himself upright.

"What," said the Demon Lord Underneath, in dulcet tones that brooked truly grave, distressing fates for all those in the room, "are you all doing? Do you not have jobs to attend to? Get back to work."

Most did not need to be told twice. A large portion of the room began to vanish immediately, their forms blurring into plumes of inky blackness.

Underneath swept through all of it, once again ignoring them all as he made for the door. Evidently the terror he had struck in them was satisfactory enough for no punishments to be delivered.

Lucius was immensely relieved, but also curious as to the cause of such extreme generosity.

Beatriz and Bruno, who were also still in their seats, seemed to be thinking similarly.

The three of them remained as their compatriots departed, as their master finished his trek across the room and vanished through the opposite door.

A second of silence developed, and then Lucius heard the soft sounds of tiny footsteps pad into the room.

"Peter!" greeted Beatriz. "I knew you were capable. Come, tell us what you saw—"

Peter shifted back into his natural form, stretching his shoulders out. His tail continued to twitch violently, an aftermath of the intense fear he'd no doubt experienced.

"What did you see?" Bruno said, tone casual, elbows braced on the tabletop as he scrutinized Peter, a chilling blankness in his eyes.

"What was in the envelope?" Lucius added, in case Peter was thick enough to need the clarification.

Peter shifted beady eyes from one demon to the next. "I only saw it for a second," he defended himself. His voice was faint, and Lucius did not doubt that Peter was likely on the edge of passing out entirely from the fear.

"Sit down," Beatriz ordered him. She yanked a chair out and pointed at it.

Peter moved shakily, falling into the seat like a limp sea creature.

"Now tell us what it was," Bruno said. "Was it a map? A contract?"

Peter's face pinched up. "It was a drawing," Peter said slowly, like he was thinking his way through, step by harrowing step, to solving world hunger.

"A drawing of what?" Beatriz prompted. Dark clouds were beginning to gather around her shoulders, a thick covering of shadows that oozed over her wings, dripping warning signs onto the floor.

Lucius decided to spare Peter further suffering and conjured a parchment and a quill. "Draw it," he said, offering the items out.

Peter took the quill and set the parchment on the table. The quill hovered, not moving, in Peter's hand.

"It's hard to do this while you're all watching me!" Peter whined.

"Hell's sake," Bruno snarled. "Hurry up or I'll shred your tail through a cheesecloth."

Peter put the quill down on the parchment, setting the first mark down. Then he lifted his hand again, still hesitant, and said, "I need colours. The drawing was in colours."

Bruno conjured an entire pack of children's markers and set it on the table with a thump. "Draw," he said coldly.

Peter tore open the package and got to work.

"It's done," Peter said. His forehead was covered with a thin sheen of sweat, which was, frankly, ridiculous for someone who was seated and using children's markers to draw a picture.

Speaking of which—

"What is it," Beatriz asked flatly.

The three of them—Lucius, Beatriz, and Bruno—were huddled over Peter's artistic masterpiece.

The background was mostly purple, and there were two main shapes, both yellow: one circle and one triangle. The circle had a face, and attached to the circle were two black triangles. The triangle had no face—rather, it was possessed of only a single, discomfiting eyeball.

"I think this one is a bat," Peter said, pointing at the circle. "And this one is that human symbol. The conspiracy one."

Lucius tried, applying honest effort, to connect the meaning of this image to their master. Unsurprisingly, he failed to draw any brilliant conclusions from Peter's visual report.

"You idiot," seethed Bruno, blasting the parchment to smithereens with a stream of hellfire. "If you didn't see anything, Peter, then just say so. Stop wasting my time with this damned nonsense."

"But I did! I did see this," Peter spluttered, staring down in horror at the pile of ashes that were all that remained of the past twenty minutes of his dedicated effort.

"We'll have to find another way to discover our master's plans," Beatriz said to Bruno. "I have some materials in my territory that I think will prove useful."

Bruno straightened. "Let us go, then. This situation must take priority over everything else. I have a tome on scrying that will aid us—"

Lucius watched as the pair left together, thoroughly engrossed in their plans.

Well, if they were going to handle it together, all the more power to them. Lucius was fairly confident that out of everyone, Bruno and Beatriz would be best equipped to discover what their master was hiding from them.

"Lucius?" asked Peter.

Reluctantly, Lucius turned to look at Peter. "Yes?"

"You believe me, don't you?"

The question was so pitiful that Lucius was almost tempted to say yes.

Almost.

He was a demon, after all.

"No," said Lucius. "Now get out of my sight."

Peter made himself scarce.

Lucius shifted his attention to the pile of ashes on the table, now thoughtful. Peter didn't really have any reason to lie...

With a sweep of his hand, Lucius reversed the physical change, restoring the drawing to its previous form.

Then he lifted the drawing, pinching it carefully between two clawed fingers. Just because there was no obvious interpretation, that did not mean there was no explanation at all.

Lucius conjured a plain envelope and deposited the picture inside. He would keep this for the time being in case a new meaning became clear. Ostensibly, a vaguely similar copy of this exact thing was lingering somewhere in Lord Underneath's private office.

Forewarned was forearmed, and if the depiction of these two shapes had any importance at all, Lucius would be the only one with possession of this knowledge. Keeping the drawing that Peter had made was a small price to pay for that possibility.