“Moe’s right. This is going nowhere fast.” All eyes, including the demon’s, turned to look at Gabby. “What?” She shrugged. “Its name is a mouthful. Asmodos? Moe? It’s just easier.”
The demon laughed, loud and booming, and its red eyes flashed. “Now that is clever. I’m glad I chose to leave you be on that beach, little witch.”
“You chose?” Gabrielle snorted. “Last I checked, I’m the one who left you looking like a drowned rat.”
“Clever or not, we can’t call it Moe.” Aiden shook his head. “It humanizes it, and that’s a slap in the face.”
Raven tapped her chin. “Do you like to bargain, Asmodos?”
“Only if you call me Moe.” The demon sat with a grin in that same rubbery, boneless manner.
Raven looked at Aiden, but the man shook his head. “The demon is condescending enough as it is. Giving it a nickname only adds to its arrogance.”
“For cripe’s sake, Aiden.” Gabrielle threw a hand up. Everyone knows this situation is no joke. The name doesn’t humanize the bastard. It just makes it easier to call it on his shit.” She crossed her arms at her chest. “Consider the name an acronym if that makes it more palatable. M.O.E. Master of Excrement. Moe.”
Aiden’s lips twitched. “Now that I like!”
“Hallelujah.” She tossed both hands up. “Raven, you’re up.”
“I’m not so fond of you anymore, witch.” Moe mimicked her stance with his arms across his chest.
Gabby flung a hand out. “Too bad. Sing your Moe Better Blues all you want. It’s done and dusted.” She winked at Aiden, and then stepped back to let Raven do her thing.
“This is a pretty ingenious set up, don’tcha think?” Raven asked, walking right up to the edge of the holding cell. “Much better than the makeshift one we had to throw together for that juvenile in New Orleans. Never did catch its name.” She tapped her chin again.
“Stop referring to us as it. I have balls, as your questionably clever friend so rudely emphasized with a well-placed jolt. He. My pronouns are he, his and him.” The demon smirked, his tone sarcastic and singsong.
Oh no he didn’t.
Gabby and Raven shared a look. They had too many friends who were still fighting for their right to live their truth. This demon asshole wasn’t going to make a joke of their struggle.
Another well-placed jolt zapped his balls, and this time they saw and smelled smoke.
Moe hunched into himself, his hand cupping his nether bits again. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What the hell?”
Gabby put her hands on her hips. “Don’t play innocent. You know why. Don’t be smug about things your small mind can’t understand, or next time you won’t have balls to grab.
“I think the time for talk has passed.” Raven signaled the witches. “It’s Roto Rooter time, ladies. Pull the plug and drain away. I’m ready for a dumpster dive into the demon’s head.”
The four blood witches raised their hands and the demon cowered into himself. His arms covered his head as if that made any difference.
The air fairly sizzled with power as the blood witches flipped the switch on Moe. The draw was palpable, and the demon’s arms weakened, slumping from its head, and before long his body went slack.
“Stop!” Gabrielle reached for Tanya to break contact, but Jared held her arm. “No! They’re going to kill him before we can get answers.”
“It’s okay, Gabs,” Raven reassured. “They know what they’re doing.”
The demon lifted his head at that, prompting the witches to temporarily freeze their powers. Everyone waited, nervous and watching.
“Do you have something you want to say, Moe?”
“I’m sorry.” His voice was barely a cracked whispered, but there it was.
Gabrielle’s lips parted. A demon apologizing for insults to humanity. Would wonders never cease.
“No more. Please.” Moe hung his head, defeated. Even his red eyes had lost their glow. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
The incarnate demon was a liar, a murderer, and God knows what else, but in that single moment, Gabrielle felt pity for the creature. An eye for an eye. She knew the bible adage well, but torture was still torture, and there was nothing righteous about it no matter how justified the reason.
“Don’t trust him, Raven. He’s weakened, but he’s still deceit incarnate,” Capiria warned.
“I know,” Raven nodded, “but right now we need to take a leap of faith.”
She sat crisscross on the cold floor in front of the holding cell. Gabrielle moved to sit beside her, and when Raven raised an eyebrow she shrugged. “Insurance, Ray. Think of me as your wingman of death.”
“Luke, you poor son-of-a-bitch.” Aiden chuckled behind them.
“Nah, cuz. My girl is electric velvet. All sizzle and spice, and definitely worth the price.”
“Ssh. We need quiet in the peanut gallery,” Gabby glanced over her shoulder with a wink, “but back atcha, babe.”
“Moe, did Aaron Brock summon you to this plane?”
The demon lifted his eyes to meet Raven’s steady gaze. “Yes, but I wasn’t his first attempt. He failed at the others.”
“What do you mean by failed?”
“He couldn’t hold my brethren on this plane. His ritual was incomplete.”
Raven cocked her head, thinking. “Ritual,” she murmured, repeating the word. She glanced at Alain. “I can’t quite recall what the Ars Goetia said, but there’s something.” She shook her head.
“The conjurer must have a silver ring consecrated with the demon’s sigil,” Alain answered. “That explains the ring you ripped from the in spiritu in the cathedral, and why Capiria sensed its intent.”
Moe closed his eyes and nodded. “Aaron didn’t have my sigil. It’s not well-known, so the foolish half-breed used a ring with a generic call sigil.”
“Generic call. That sounds a little loosie goosy.”
“The sigil sounds exactly like what it
