His eyes glanced between my face and my gauntleted fist. “You’re not humans. You’re fucking freaks. The Hunger was supposed to be my way out. Make big money once, then leave this fucked up shit all behind me. It was supposed to be easy. I didn’t believe none of this. Not the nephilim stuff, not the demon king, Beelzebub, whoever the fuck that’s meant to be.”
The ground began to shudder. No, worse than that. The walls around us were vibrating, too, and that noise was familiar, and repulsive, like the droning of insects – of flies. I sprang away from the man, backing myself into Samyaza.
“Something’s coming,” I shouted at the others. We formed back up into a group, weapons drawn, scanning the surroundings for signs of danger.
The man dragged himself across the floor desperately, too wounded to stand, eyes searching wildly for the source of the horrible droning. It was coming from the vents, but I knew better. It was coming from outside the dimension, the sound of a demon prince eager to break in.
Hundreds and thousands of glistening flies streamed into the freezer, the noise of them sickening. Their very presence was enough to taint anything that might have once been considered edible. I readied my gauntlet hand, prepared to summon a shield as well, expecting a fleet of Beelzebub’s minions to appear.
But the flies swirled into a vortex, a man-sized tornado of iridescent black, until they massed into a single humanoid body. The buzzing died away, as did the thousands of tiny wings and gleaming exoskeletons, leaving only the Prince of Gluttony. The Lord of the Flies was unmistakable in his signature suit, his spilled oil slick of long hair, and those huge sunglasses he loved so much, the better to hide his true eyes.
The man on the ground whimpered, trying to scurry away, terrified. If he thought that dealing with nephilim was bad, well –
“It’s deeply flattering, I’ll grant you that,” Beelzebub told the man, adjusting his leather gloves as he stepped closer, the heels of his expensive shoes clicking against the tile. “I would love to be king, but my designation is the Prince of Gluttony. Well, at least for the moment.”
Sadriel’s hand fell on my arm, a warning, a restraint. Best to let Beelzebub focus on anything but us. Beelzebub clutched the man by the collar, lifting him fully off his feet. The man struggled and spluttered, grasping at his throat.
“Master,” the man blubbered. “Please. We only did it to – to please you.”
“Master?” Beelzebub guffawed. “Why, I’ve never even heard of you. Not a moment ago you actually mentioned that you didn’t even believe in me.”
The man kicked at the air. “Didn’t know you existed,” he said. “The Hunger forums said to honor you, but – didn’t know.”
Beelzebub sighed, shaking his head. “Yes, yes, I’ve heard of this Hunger foolishness, smatterings of it here and there from my offspring. And it’s quite infuriating, you know? Hearing you pitiful humans speak my name from your undeserving, wretched mouths. Quite ironic, I think, how it’s as irritating as a fly buzzing in my ear.” He laughed sardonically, turning his head slowly towards us. “Funny, is it not, my angelic associates?”
“It’s a fucking laugh riot,” I said, straining against Sadriel, and now Samyaza, both of them holding me back. It would have been dumb to attack Beelzebub right then and there, but all I could think of was how he had my mother captive.
Beelzebub chuckled. “I’m so relieved you think so. But the buzzing of human chatter matters not. What matters to me, however, is this. Why, oh why, are humans abducting nephilim?” Beelzebub turned in a slow circle, arms outstretched at the racks of meat around us as he shook the man like a rag doll. “And why, oh why, is one such abducted nephilim being housed in what appears to be an abattoir?”
I locked eyes with Samyaza. Beelzebub knew about the nephilim.
In a rattling voice, on the verge of being totally breathless, the man explained. “If you eat them, you get their power. Eat the brain, smarter. Eat the heart, stronger.”
Beelzebub fell completely silent. He removed his sunglasses with one hand, exposing his bulbous insectoid eyes, huge and faceted like a pair of vile gemstones. The man screamed with what little breath was left in his body.
“You humans are fools,” Beelzebub said softly, bringing their faces closer. “You and your pointless Hunger have stolen a great gift from me. The taste of nephilim souls, and flesh. Now there is a hole in my stomach.”
“F-forgive me. Please. Please.”
The Lord of the Flies smiled. “Your flesh will be your repentance.”
Beelzebub opened his mouth wide – then wider, ever wider, until the skin at the corners of his lips ripped apart, his jaw unhinging. My stomach curdled as I braced for the grisly task of finally watching the Prince of Gluttony feed. But what he did was far worse. Specks of buzzing black emerged from deep within Beelzebub’s maw, more and more of them until they grew into a humming cloud. The man thrashed at the air and screamed.
Wrong move. His open mouth was a welcome receptacle for Beelzebub’s thousand thousand young. The flies streamed into the man’s mouth, his eyes, his nostrils, his ears. He shrieked until the mass of insects was too thick for him to even breathe. Seconds after he went finally, mercifully silent, Beelzebub released him. What was left of the man collapsed into a shredded, skinless heap on the ground, Beelzebub’s children hovering and lingering, picking at the leftover meat on his skeleton. Beelzebub slipped his sunglasses back on, adjusted his tie, and turned to face us.
I could feel us moving like a single organism, stepping back and away from the demon so suddenly that he
