Demon Angel

not do the same—not until their own destruction came and they had nothing left to lose. Only a halfling already doomed would dare betray such a human sentiment.
    Lilith rose to her feet; the ground was uneven, the faces mounded together with barely space between them. How many halflings were down there? How many had Lucifer determined had failed in their service to him? Once, the cities Below had swarmed with halflings; now, they populated this frozen stretch of Hell.
    And though Lilith was the last of the halflings, she would not end like them.
    As she always did, Lilith kept her gaze fixed on the Throne, stumbling across the field, refusing to look at those she stepped on. The silence in this realm was absolute; though her feet— taloned, softer than the cloven hooves, less likely to crunch and shatter frozen flesh—must have made noise as she walked, it didn't reach her ears. Nor could she hear Cerberus, though he walked next to her now.
    Only the frozen, silent screams of the damned who had reneged on their bargains. Those who had been greedy or stupid enough to bargain with a demon, but not greedy or stupid enough to uphold their part in it. Not all halflings, but many were.
    Lilith had been in the Pit, received Punishment there; the thought of that pain was less terrifying than an eternity trapped here, motionless. Particularly as the ice did not offer numbness or oblivion. Their eyes were not frozen. They wept and pleaded for release that never came.
    His death will be yours to give, or your soul mine to keep.
    Lucifer had chosen his bargain well; no matter her decision, it would bring torment.
    But was one Punishment truly worse than the other?
    Her eyes burned with cold; it must have been the cold. She looked down and took care where she placed her feet.
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CHAPTER 24
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    Though the exterior of the throne and much of the interior did not lack for decoration—indeed, sculpted marble friezes and fretted gold adorned every inch—Lucifer's den was comfortable and understated.
    As was Lucifer.
    Lilith stifled her uneasy laughter as she took in his appearance: a human male, skin just beginning to wrinkle; soft brown eyes and a short brown beard, only a shade darker than the thinning, graying hair on his pate. A blue cardigan and gray slacks completed his look as a friendly, unassuming, middle-class retiree.
    He waved aside her formal greeting, then sat in a wingback chair near a fireplace and invited her to take the matching seat. He gestured to a steaming pot on a small table, and said, "Would you like to take tea?"
    Biting her lip to halt the bubbling, hysterical laughter that threatened to erupt, she simply nodded. Her hands were shaking, and she willed them to stop as he poured the tea into delicate cups, folding them together in her lap.
    She had to sit perched at the edge of the seat to make room for her wings; she dared not vanish them, despite the human form he'd assumed. The wingtips lay on the floor on either side of the chair, the spread of their bulk leaving her unable to see behind her chair, even if she turned—she was vulnerable and exposed. Her cloven hooves looked ridiculous against the thick white carpeting; and when he gave her the tea, her claws were inadequate for holding the small porcelain cup.
    Fear that she'd scratch the teacup made her tremble again, and he watched intently as the liquid sloshed near the rim. Suddenly certain that he would kill her simply for staining his carpet, she froze.
    He smiled. Took a slow sip.
    She didn't know if she should do the same. To leave it untouched would be an insult to him; to drink would be human.
    Raising the cup to her lips, she held it there and spoke over the rim. "Thank you, Father."
    Apparently, it was the correct response, as he didn't immediately destroy her.
    "Ah, Lilith," he said, leaning back and crossing his legs at the knee. "You are such a disappointment to me."
    "Stupid and weak," she agreed.
    "Yes. I'm not certain what to do with you."
    "In your infinite wisdom, I'm certain that whatever you choose will be the correct decision, Father."
    "Of course." He set his cup on the table and steepled fingers that could tear apart mountains. "You told the human the truth of our bargain."
    "Yes, Father. I find their terror is best prolonged and thereby better enjoyed when they know their damnation is imminent and inevitable."
    "I prefer surprises."
    She dipped her head. "I am but a lowly halfling, Father, and do not