That sent the other council members into an uproar. They shouted and pointed fingers, each faction accusing the other of corruption and lies.
“This is the problem,” Astaroth shouted over the din. “We are no longer a council comprised of multiple viewpoints, and we’ve been prioritizing our own power ahead of the well-being of the plane. We have effectively adopted a two-party system, which anyone on Earth can tell you is a recipe for disaster.”
Moloch’s fingers flexed on the hilt of his sword. “You have no proof to back up these spurious accusations.”
Except Astaroth did have proof: written journals locked in his den, scans saved to an external hard drive in his London flat. The hackers had more records. And if Moloch stealing from the demon plane to pay his nondemon mistress wasn’t enough to sway the council against him, this next piece ought to do it.
“I have proof,” Astaroth said. “Including a very interesting signed confession from an assassin.”
Moloch’s ruddy cheeks darkened further, and a vein stood out on his forehead. He started to say something, but Astaroth talked over him.
“Moloch arranged for the murder of Cassaviel,” he said, naming the demon whose position Astaroth had taken on the high council. The confession had been extracted during a booze-heavy night of high-stakes Bingo with a group of retired immortal assassins. “When Moloch wasn’t named to that open position, he had the assassin murder Drivanna as well.” The council member whose spot Moloch had ended up taking.
The arguments between high council members stopped. Every eye fixed on Moloch.
Moloch scoffed. “Where is this so-called proof?”
“I have evidence in my den. I would be glad to retrieve it for the council to investigate—”
Moloch laughed loudly. “Astaroth, your den burned to the ground the day you were banished. A tragic accident, of course.”
Astaroth ought to have known the demon would pull something like that. Luckily, there were merits to having spent so much time among humans. An IT professional he’d shagged a few years ago had taught him the merits of backing up his data.
He’d be sending that human a thank-you card, should this go as hoped. “Good thing I have duplicates,” Astaroth said. “There’s a marvelous invention you may not have heard of called a scanner.”
“And good thing I was able to post the evidence online!”
The familiar voice came from below. The crowd of protestors parted to reveal Lilith, flanked by two burly werewolves: Avram on her left, Kai on her right.
Astaroth’s mother was small, but she carried herself like a queen. Her red hair was bound up in a gold hairpiece that matched her suit of armor—gilt over steel plate, he remembered, a gift from Henry VIII. “I like not knowing if a bed partner wants to lop off my head after,” Lilith had said at the time. “Lends some extra excitement.” The ensemble was completed by a short sword whose hilt was adorned with electrum.
“It’s Lilith herself!” someone shouted, and cries of alarm and awe followed.
“You are not on the high council, Lilith,” Baphomet said. “Your input is unwelcome.”
“Being on the high council sounds boring. I’ve turned it down so many times.” Lilith mounted the steps with her werewolf honor guard. Her smile was vicious, revealing the sharp points of her canines. “I might change my mind though. Your skull would make a lovely chalice to drink rosé from while I purge the council of your sycophants.”
“God, that’s hot,” Kai said.
Lilith patted the werewolf’s forearm and snapped her teeth at him. “Good boy.”
“Where did you post the evidence?” Themmie called from on high. Astaroth twitched; he’d forgotten she was hovering there, phone angled toward the dais. “I’m streaming everywhere from Pixtagram to GhoulTube, and I’ll cross-promote with my socials.”
Given Baphomet’s and Moloch’s blank expressions, they had no idea what that meant. Yet more evidence one shouldn’t dismiss humans, since what they lacked in immortality or super strength they made up for in technical ingenuity and a passion for oversharing.
“I summarized everything and posted it on AO3,” Lilith declared proudly.
Oh, Lucifer. Astaroth resisted smacking his forehead with his palm. “You mean Archive of Our Own?” he asked. “That fan fiction site where you post your tentacle porn?”
“She writes tentacle porn?” Themmie asked. “Awesome. I’m gonna need that link. For, uh, research.”
Lilith looked up at the pixie. “I knew I liked the colorful bug. My next one-shot will be dedicated to you, flappy one.”
Themmie pumped her fist. “Yes!”
Calladia cleared her throat. “Are the scans available online, too?” she asked. “Not just a summary?”
Lilith had reached the dais. “Of course they are,” she said, moving to stand at Astaroth’s side. “They’re linked in the author’s notes.”
“I’m still not sure what fan fiction is,” Moloch said, “but everyone knows you’re insane. Who would believe you?”
Lilith snapped her fingers, and Kai pulled a smartphone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and handed it to her. Lilith peered at the screen. “There are already sixteen thousand hits, and I haven’t even posted the explicit chapter yet.”
Astaroth eyed his mother askance. “There’s nothing explicit in my evidence.”
“Yes, you were very dull about the forbidden demon-elf affair.” She shrugged. “I took some creative license.”
“Enough!” Moloch shouted. He raised his sword and held his left hand out, summoning a fireball that hovered over his palm. “This has gone too far.”
“Wait just a moment,” a council member said. “Shouldn’t we talk about this?”
More voices chimed in. Sandranella had been edging toward the kneeling mortals; as Astaroth watched, she whispered a dismissal to the gargoyles, then quickly knelt down and did away with the restraints.
“Thank you,” Calladia said, rubbing her wrists. She jumped to her feet, yanked out a strand of hair, and started tying knots.
The council was having a vicious argument with Moloch, which was what Astaroth had hoped for, but the people needed to have a say as well. He faced the gathered onlookers, hybrid and pureblood alike. “Your council is flawed,” Astaroth announced. He nearly recoiled as his voice boomed. When he looked to the side, Mariel winked.
“They—we—are flawed,” he continued, the words magically amplified. “Greedy and power-hungry, hiding behind lies, inventing enemies to justify our actions. Moloch claims hybrids as the enemies, but in truth, they will be part of our deliverance.”
Something hit his side hard enough to send him staggering. When he looked down, he saw the hilt of Moloch’s dagger sticking out.
Calladia shrieked and launched herself at Moloch, taking the demon down. She punched him in the face repeatedly, sending blood spraying, before Ozroth took over the beating. Mariel started murmuring a spell.