“Maybe we can ask Morgal himself?”
At the renewed mention of the demon’s name, a wind rose and an arctic blast blew through the underground temple, extinguishing the torches for good. For a split second the temple was drenched in darkness. I felt a shape passing through that blackness. As it brushed past me, the beast’s hot breath raked my neck. Then the light returned—muted and unnatural, magical in nature, but at least I could see again.
Morgal stood in the nave of the chapel about fifteen feet from my position. Ghostly tendrils of mist swirled around him. He had taken human form now, dressed in a long trench coat like myself.
As the fog cleared, I saw to my horror that Morgal hadn’t dressed himself up in just any human form. He wore my father’s face.
“You’ve made quite a name for yourself in Hell, Raven. Daddy would be so proud.”
The skin bubbled and burned, turning to ash before being blown away by a supernatural gust of air. Now the face had become a blackened death skull, the eyes sockets raging with green-blue fire, the coat transformed in a long, tattered robe that shifted around his form as if alive.
The demon is messing with your mind, I told myself. Just stay calm, Raven. Don’t forget why you’re here.
After that mental pep talk, I tried to draw Hellseeker and found myself rooted in place, unable to move my legs or arms. I couldn’t even speak. Somehow Morgal’s magic had overcome my protective talismans with ease and paralyzed me.
Frustration boiled inside of me. My parents’ killer stood less than fifteen feet away from me, and I couldn’t even ask the demon why my folks had to die that night.
As the robed skeleton walked past me, tentacles squirmed under the robe and a pair of giant, batlike wings sprouted from his back. The demon’s appearance remained in a constant state of flux, switching back and forth between a black death skull and a reptilian, horned face. Smoke and mirrors, I realized. Playing on our fears and nightmares. Who knew what the demon truly looked like under its many disguises?
“First, I’m going to collect the prize promised to me,” Morgal said. “Then I’ll deal with you, Raven.”
I didn’t want to picture what “dealing with me” meant. I needed to find a way to break out of my paralyzed state before it was too late. Morgal closed in on Celeste while I continued to watch helplessly. If the demon accepted her deal, Celeste would murder her father and I’d never discover why my parents were forced to pay the ultimate price. Then again, as soon as Celeste was done bargaining for her soul, Morgal would do with me as he pleased. The demon would delight in the knowledge that I’d perish without ever receiving any answers to my questions.
I should have listened to Skulick when he’d told me to come back to the loft instead of following Celeste. I’d let my emotions cloud my actions. Driven by my own need for closure and vengeance, I’d put myself at mortal risk and would now have to pay the price for my foolishness.
Morgal tilted his ever-shifting visage toward me, and said, almost as if he’d read my mind, “How does it feel to be so close to the answers to all your questions, Raven…yet so far away?”
God, how I wanted to unload Hellseeker into this monster. If I could just find a way to break my paralysis…
“That’s far enough, demon,” Celeste said. Morgal had almost reached the altar.
“You dare tell me what to do?” Morgal said. “Your soul belongs to me, mortal.”
“I offer a trade, mighty Morgal.”
“What is this foolishness, child? You want to cheat me out of a contract?”
“Not cheat, master. Offer better terms.”
Celeste held up the Soul Dagger and the demon stopped his approach. The light in ebony skull’s eye sockets flickered, as if he was blinking in surprise.
Morgal might be powerful, but he wasn’t all-knowing. This was an unexpected turn in events for the demon. I could only hope that it would help me in the long run, but at the moment I didn’t see how.
“The dagger contains the souls of my half-brothers, and I’m willing to add this waste of space,” she pointed at her father, “if it sweetens the deal. They can all be yours, Lord of Lords, Master of Magicians, Duke of Hell. Four souls in exchange for my own.”
“What stops me from taking the dagger and your soul too?” the demon retorted.
I had been asking myself the same question. Celeste was playing a dangerous game.
“Only the person who took these lives can release them from the blade. If you want them, you need me.”
Morgal considered Celeste’s words. “How do I know if you’re telling the truth? You could be bluffing about the dagger.”
She shrugged and held out the Soul Dagger. “Feel free to inspect the blade.”
Morgal reached out a skeletal hand across the altar. Desmond Horne squirmed between them, Morgal’s inhuman shadow falling over his face.
Celeste passed Morgal the dagger, and the demon studied the ornately carved handle. Blue forks of lightning danced over the blade as it made contact with the beast.