Games had been around in some form or another since ancient times, but nothing from her last visit to the mortal plane could match up to electronic games. She could only hit a hoop with a stick so many times before going insane.
It took only a handful of hours to discover games on her work computer that allowed her to play with real humans in real time. Her demonic nature gave her several advantages in terms of reflexes and dexterity and Catherine ensured those pathetic mortals knew of her superiority at every available moment through liberal use of her computer’s microphone.
“We are here,” Zagan said, startling Catherine enough that she nearly dropped her phone, “because something has been happening down in Hell. Something strange. Violent tremors tear through domains heedless of the owner’s desires. Just the other day, there were about five or so very close to one another.”
Catherine frowned. “You were in Hell the other day?”
“Every day, for two weeks now. I have a sort of experiment that I am running to determine the–”
“You’ve been in Hell? Martina has been flipping her lid!”
Zagan turned to her with one eyebrow raised.
Clearing her throat, Catherine revised her statement. “I mean, she has been concerned about your absence. It is ruining some plans for some new club of hers.”
“Ah yes, the
“Sounds like a terrible idea. Or great. Depends on how much you care about mortal children.”
“Oh, I’m not opposed to it in concept. I have no desire to be the instructor. Seems like a waste of my time, yeah?” He paused and turned to Catherine with a golden glint in his eye. With a silver voice, he said, “you might make a good–”
“Suggest me to Martina and I’ll–”
“What? Hurt me?”
He laughed.
Catherine turned away with a bad feeling about the future. In a mad effort to change the subject, she said, “but that doesn’t answer the question. Why are we here, now, watching this massacre?”
He turned back to face the streets. “The hel seems odd to me. Why is she here? Interacting with mortals on a daily basis?
Frowning, Catherine looked down at the streets herself. Only six of the nuns were alive. It looked like they might stay that way. None of them had a weapon in their hands and all of them were cowering together.
Ylva was holding the half-crying half-laughing nun against her very voluptuous chest. Catherine crushed the flicker of envy with a disgusted shake of her head.
“And then she goes and does that. Kills a good fourteen Death worshipers.”
Catherine frowned as she glanced around. “Probably not very good ones then. Or this is sanctioned. Someone would be hunting her down by now. The Baron himself maybe.”
“Possibly,” Zagan hummed. “I’ve never heard of a rogue Hel. And these were human hunters rather than undead hunters. Despite being part of the same organization, they may not count for much.
“Either way, I’m not certain that Ylva is related in the slightest to what is occurring with Void.”
“Wait… Void? As in, our Power, Void?”
“I said that there were tremors–earthquakes, if you will–in Hell. And Hell…”
“Is Void,” Catherine said softly. Her breath caught in her throat as she made the connection. “Someone is attacking Void Himself?”
Zagan shrugged. “Maybe He just came down with a little illness.” He turned away from the sight of Ylva ordering the six survivors to deliver a message to their superiors. “Come,” he said. “We shall stop by Martina’s office. I’ll check in before returning to hell. And maybe remind her about your upcoming position as head
Catherine sighed, but did not protest. Her mind was too busy racing over what Zagan had said.
— — —
Arachne swung out of the elevator shaft, landing in front of the two humans. Both backed up partially down the hallway they had just come from.
She kept her eyes locked on the widely grinning male, Sawyer.
The little girl with the stitched shut mouth did not even register as a threat.
“Look who we have here, Des.” There was a subtle twitch of his fingers, disguised by waving his hand as he spoke.
Arachne did not miss it. She reacted immediately, jumping to the side. As she jumped, the extra legs jutting from her back swiped through the air she had just vacated.
Ethereal mist scattered. It reformed into an old man at Sawyer’s side. He hovered half a foot off the ground. All of him–clothes, skin, and hair–glowed pale white and semi-translucent. With vacant eyes, he stared into empty space.
Sawyer clicked his tongue without letting his smile slide. “Distasteful beings. Weilks was always better at commanding them. Much faster.”
Again, Arachne was forced to spin to the side. Her legs acted as scythes as they disrupted another ghost.
“But if being possessed is your weakness, well, let’s just say that I have been expecting you.”
