And Sealiah-now with lands and armies to rival Ashmed’s-was his near equal in power.
It was a powerful aphrodisiac.
She bowed graciously and took her seat (first, however, looking about the table for any potential threats. . of which there were many).
Abby, The Destroyer, Handmaiden of Armageddon, and Mistress of the Palace of Abomination sat on her immediate left-a little too close for comfort. Abby had wrapped herself with black velvet ribbon, skintight over her slender curves. She played with a mouse, letting it scurry across the table-then trapping it with an upturned bone china cup-letting it go-capturing it again. . and laughing all the while at the creature squeaking its sufferings.
A giant wasp sat on Abby’s shoulder, cleaning its antennae.
Across the table sat Leviathan, the Beast, Horror of the Abyssal Depths. About him was a disaster of broken plates and cups and saucers and spilled teas-which he dabbed up with a fistful of sponge cake. With his other hand, he brushed crumbs from the ripples of his tent-sized Nike jumpsuit and smiled a mouthful of food at her.
Sitting by himself at the other end of the table was Louis.
Sealiah hide her surprise as well, but she feared she let slip a double take.
Louis looked. . delectable.
His hair had been trimmed short and neat on the sides, and the rest drawn back into a ponytail of silver and black and secured with a bloodred ribbon. His sideburns pointed to a stylish soul patch and pencil-thin mustache. He wore a black Armani tuxedo and a white shirt with diamond studs for buttons.
He smiled at her-all promises and remembrances of the passion that they had shared in the past.
This version of Louis had been copied by men throughout history: Don Juan, Clark Gable, Brad, and Johnny-all who were adored and made women’s hearts pitter-pat. None, however, did it as well as Louis. . the original seducer of them all.
Flowing off his shoulders was a cloak so rich and black, the material seemed to absorb the light. It had been stolen by Mephistopheles long ago, and recovered by Louis on the battlefield. It looked better on Louis. Truly, Lucifer was back among them, the real Prince of Darkness, now fully restored to his proper power and prowess and pride.
Gooseflesh crawled up Sealiah’s arms and over her chest and caressed her neck. She shivered and regained her composure. “Lies and salutations, Cousins.”
“That was some nice work,” Lev muttered to Sealiah, spilling half-chewed contents from his mouth. “Never thought you’d get Meph to turn his back on
Abby lost her concentration at Lev’s motions and accidentally slammed her cup down too hard on her rodent plaything-smashing china and fur and splintering the table. She frowned at her broken toy, then shot the Beast a cross look.
She turned to Sealiah and raised both her eyebrows. “I suppose congratulations are in order,” she grudgingly offered.
That was the first. Sealiah had never heard Abby utter a kind word before.
Indeed, things were changing.
Sealiah inclined her head, and with tremendous difficulty, she replied, “Thank you very much, Cousins.”
Ashmed cleared his throat, uncomfortable with all these pleasantries. “Perhaps before we all lose our collective heads with Sealiah’s success, we should take care of one procedural item first.”
All of them glanced at Louis as he straightened in his chair, intensified his smile, and remained uncharacteristically silent.
“We have numerous petitions and pleas to be considered for the vacancy on the Board.” Ashmed gestured to a stack of paperwork on the table, considered it, and brushed it onto the ground. He lit one of his Sancho Panza Belicoso cigars and flicked the still-flaming match onto the heap of papers. They burned and the flames reflected in his dark eyes. “I move that we instead vote for Louis. His expertise with his son and daughter has proved invaluable. . and will continue to do so.” Ashmed puffed and blew smoke rings. “Besides,” he added with mock sincerity, “we have
There was silence in the garden as the Board considered. Even the bees stopped their incessant buzzing, leaving only the sound of the foaming champagne fountain.
Sealiah had never recalled silence at any Board meeting. Perhaps after a scuffle when their personal retainers lay about bloody and dead, but this was something else.
Abby finally shrugged. “Fine,” she said. “Whatever.”
Lev nodded. “Yeah, sure, why not?”
Sealiah held her tongue as she considered all the possibilities swirling about her: war and peace, victory and obliteration, all deliciously tempting. But most curious to her was that her cousins seem to be agreeing and moving forward because of Eliot and Fiona. Those two were the catalysts.
Yes, it was the end of all they knew, and the beginning of something wonderfully horrid.
As Sealiah had predicted and wisely positioned herself to be in the center of. . and benefit the most from all who would suffer.
The one thing she had not predicted, however, was Louis.
He looked proud of his new potential position on the Board, yet wary, his gaze flitting from person to person. . and then lingering upon her.
Would he be her greatest adversary? An ally? Both?
Whichever outcome, she could ill afford
“Of course,” she said without taking her eyes off Louis. “He would be a most welcome addition.”
Louis smiled, part shield, part gloat-which faltered but for an instant.
But in that instant, Sealiah detected something else in the Great Deceiver’s eyes: a flicker of indecision. And yes. . vulnerability.
She had seen such a look on him when he had been at his son’s side, proud and worried and so piteously feigning his indifference. She had also seen him protect Fiona on the battlefield (placing himself in danger for her sake). What else could it be but a father’s protectiveness? Even love?
Such foolishness. She envied him this love, but she also knew it would destroy him.
Sealiah settled into her chair, knowing everything was going to be all right now, her plans would remain on track, and soon she would command all.
There was, of course, one minor detail left to arrange: Fiona. But she would see to that soon enough. She smiled, thinking how pleasurable it might be.
“Very well,” Ashmed said, and stood. “By acclamation we welcome Louis Piper to the Infernal Board of Directors.”
Louis stood as if to make a speech, but Ashmed cut him off. “Alas, all ceremony and pomp must be postponed. The League of Immortals will move quickly to block our progress.”
Louis sank back into his seat, looking sullen.
Lev smashed his huge fist on the table-destroying that end of the table. “Let’s crush them before they can see it coming.”
“Precisely what I was thinking, Cousin,” Ashmed said. “Let us then discuss how to best use Eliot Post to destroy them, and how he will lead us in a glorious war.”
Sealiah’s smile intensified, knowing that war was inevitable. As was their victory.
69. Father Francis Limehouse, an associate of Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (aka Lewis Carroll) reported in his diary having related his “daft and endless” dreams to Mr. Dodgson of visiting a garden party with a less-than- mentally-stable hostess and company. In 1886, Limehouse was defrocked for alleged sexual liaisons with various socialites of the era, and soon thereafter died from a morphine overdose. Mythohistorians speculate that Lime house’s dreams may have been an opiate-induced, near-death experience-and the Mad Hatter’s tea party in Dodgson’s subsequent “Alice” books might have been a secondhand account of the Poppy Queen’s nightmarish realm in the nineteenth century.
