What was a white feather doing in Hell? It looked much the same as the others Jerusha had found, only this one had been around a while. The horrible thing lay in a pool of yellow slime, its snowy whiteness speckled with green mold.

Jerusha, the demoness in charge of investigating Hell’s sudden infestation of angel feathers, crouched down beside it. She was careful not to get too close while running a blue-polished talon through the ichor that surrounded it. The feather moved and she jumped.

“Careful,” her friend Aitvaras said. He circled the offending object, his whiskered nose twitching. “It carries the stench of light. Very dangerous.”

“Might it have something to do with the Book of Light?”

“That old myth?” Aitvaras grunted. “Gossip from one of the fallen angels started that rumor. Hairiti’s book of beatific spells is just a fairytale.”

Jerusha narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure?”

Aitvaras sighed. “Look, Jerusha. If that ridiculous book really did exist, there would be no Hell.”

“Hmph.” She stood and crossed her scaly arms, the rough hide rasping together with the sound of dead leaves. “Okay, I believe you. I’m surprised the Lost Souls haven’t discovered this one yet.” Which was the whole problem. Whenever one of Hell’s damned touched such a feather, the soul would vanish in a flash of light and ascend to Heaven.

Aitvaras sat with his tail curled around his black haunches. He peered up at Jerusha’s scowling face. “Shall we tell Iblis?”

“I’ll do it. You stay here and guard that, that --” Jerusha shuddered. “That thing.”

The little demon shrugged, which was more like a jerk of his flat and narrow shoulders. Up top, Aitvaras would be easily mistaken for a black house cat. Jerusha knew better. A Lost Soul wouldn’t stand a chance against his razor-edged claws and teeth.

She stepped away, walking backward, her gaze glued to the slimy white feather that glowed in Hell’s perpetual darkness. “Can I bring you anything back from Helltown, Aitvaras?”

His lips drew back in a fanged grin. “Bring me whoever’s responsible for this.” He jutted his pointy chin at the feather. “I’ll make a meal of his flesh and suck the marrow from his bones.”
“You’d do that to anyone, no matter who it was.”

Aitvaras’ grin widened. “True.”

“I won’t be long.” She turned toward the flaming glow of Helltown, her taloned toes clattering across the brimstone path.

This was the tenth feather -- no, eleventh -- found in Hell. There was no doubt it came from an angel, and Hell’s legions had been hunting for what they guessed was Heaven’s spy ever since the first feather was found. Heaven’s Almighty denied culpability and even claimed to want the perpetrator caught as much as Satan did. Jerusha found that hard to believe. If the infection of angel feathers continued to spread, Hell’s population of Lost Souls would dwindle and there’d be fewer souls to taunt and torture. Without enough to go around, billions of demons would have no choice but to torture each other instead. Which, when she thought about it, might be kind of fun.

Jerusha hurried across the smoldering street that cut through Helltown. A block away from the Great Hall she heard terrified screams coming from garbage-strewn alleys on either side of the street. The raucous melody soothed away Jerusha’s worries, bolstering her faith in the glories of Hell. Nothing could diminish this fabulous underworld, she thought, as flames spewed up from the ground to caress her long, scaly legs. The fire flickered up her thorny spine, inciting an even greater heat between her legs. At that moment she wanted nothing more than to jump the bones of the nearest available demon.

But she’d have to ignore the impulse; she was on a mission to report the latest feather to Iblis, the legion guard. And if Iblis wanted a little slap and tickle afterward, well...

Jerusha climbed the crumbling steps of Hell’s Great Hall, oblivious to the exploding buildings nearby that vomited flames from windows and tossed body parts out onto the street. For her, it was simply background music and idle entertainment. Such fun would never stop unless the infection got worse.

She spotted Iblis, who faced a gem-encrusted altar at the back of the enormous Hall. His serpentine tail trailed behind him like the train of a grotesque wedding gown, its green and brown scales shiny with slime. The center of his back sprouted golden fur sleek as a mink’s pelt, and a pair of bat wings blossomed from his shoulders. Still facing away from Jerusha, he tilted his horned head and said, “What brings you to the Hall, succubus?”

Jerusha advanced toward the altar, covering fifty feet of the blood-stained marble before she stopped. “I found another feather.”

Iblis swiveled around, his enormous tail whipping through fetid air that smelled of spoiled ham. “Where?”

She jerked her head back. “Just outside Helltown, on the northern slope between mount Kingu and Lamia’s Valley.”

Iblis’ goatish eyes narrowed, the slime on his forehead gleaming in the Hall’s reddish glow. “You left the foul thing unguarded?” he roared, accusation in his voice.

Jerusha stepped closer. “Aitvaras protects it.”

Iblis nodded. “If any Lost Souls touch the wretched thing, we’ll lose even more to the growing number who have already vanished.”

“I know.” Jerusha tried not to stare at the swollen organ between Iblis’ legs.

Iblis noticed her interest and chuckled. His voice took on a sensual edge when he said, “Business before pleasure, daughter of Lilith. If you’re anything like your mother, that pleasure will be worth the wait.”

The compliment swelled her with pride. “Lilith instructed me well.”

“And that fiend, Aitvaras. He can attest to your skill?”

“Absolutely.”

The smile dropped from Iblis’ face, his eyes now glassy with lust. A string of drool dripped from the corner of his mouth and he slurped it up. Sounding regretful, he said, “On to business.”

He grasped her by the elbow and led her to the altar. Two feathers lay encased in a crystal box, both glowing obscenely. Iblis ran a red-nailed talon across the surface. “They’re harmless in here.”

“What happened to the other feathers?” Jerusha asked.

“Satan tapped them with his staff and they dissolved to black ash. He’ll do the same with these.”

“How many Lost Souls have disappeared after touching the feathers?”

Iblis sighed. “At least a thousand, maybe more.”

That put barely a dent in Hell’s population, but if it kept up... “Can we get them back?”
The demon snorted a laugh. “Doubtful, considering they were transported directly to Heaven. That’s why I think God’s behind this.”

“He says He’s not.”

“Hmm, yes. The damned are in Hell because of unspeakable crimes they committed in life.” Iblis rolled his eyes, his expression rueful. He sighed. “It’s their punishment, and God has no desire to have such souls in his pristine and righteous kingdom, even if they are repentant. But still...”

“Who else would want to take tortured souls away from Hell?”

He glared at her, but Jerusha believed his malice was really meant for the traitor responsible. “That remains a mystery,” he said.

“What I don’t understand is why anyone would want to leave Hell in the first place.” Jerusha’s beakish black lips pursed in a pout. “The souls of nefarious humans are welcome here. Each of the seven deadly sins reign in this place. It’s paradise!”

Iblis snaked an arm around her thorny shoulders. “Don’t try to make sense of it, my dear succubus. It will only cause you grief.” His serpent’s tail slithered up the inside of her leg. “Let me ease your mind until we retrieve the nasty white thing Aitvaras guards for you.”

The tip of Iblis’ tail wriggled toward the crease between Jerusha’s thighs, making her quiver. She gasped. “Aitvaras... won’t mind... waiting just a while longer.”

But Aitvaras did mind. Or at least he would have if he were still in one piece. By the time Jerusha arrived at the foot of Mount Kinga, bits of Aitvaras were sprinkled about the scorched ground like shells on a beach.

“Oh, no,” Jerusha said, covering her mouth with her taloned hands. She started to giggle. How like Aitvaras to go to pieces just because she’d left him behind.

Iblis had been too impatient to walk from Helltown and had used his wings to fly ahead. He’d arrived before Jerusha and was now swatting at the myriad Lost Souls who rushed for the moldy, but still glowing, feather.

“Help me, you worthless bitch!” Iblis yelled at her He snatched a soul by the throat and tossed it away. It lay pale and broken beside Aitvaras’ tail, which still jerked in its death throes.

Jerusha leapt into the fray, kicking and clawing at the souls who reached for the feather. “You didn’t think I was worthless while you were --”

“Just shut up and hold them back!” Iblis held a crystal box like the one on the altar. He used it to scoop up the feather, then slammed on the lid.

A flurry of wings thrashed through the air overhead. Jerusha glanced up at the black sky to see a horde of leathery cacoedaemons descend on the wayward Lost Souls. Pallid, translucent souls of the damned scurried every which way in their effort to escape, but none of them did. The cacoedaemons’ claws ripped and tore at their prey, then flew off clutching the tattered remains. Jerusha knew each dismembered Lost Soul would again be whole by the time they reached Helltown. What fun was there in torturing a soul that can’t be repeatedly torn apart? Oh, the wonders of Hell.

“A Lost Soul didn’t do this,” Iblis said, kicking at a severed paw. A tiny crescent of claw pierced the demon’s foot and he shook it off. “Only another demon would have the strength to have ripped Aitvaras apart.”

Jerusha grew pensive, her thoughts grinding together like the gears in one of Hell’s torture machines. “No one in Hell can be trusted, Iblis.”

“What’s your point?”

“I think we should start questioning Hell’s citizens.”

Iblis cocked the scaled ridges above his eyes. He squinted and began to pace. “You may be right, succubus. Think of Abaddon, who everyone calls the angel of Hell.”

“And what about Amane? He was the leader of 200 angels who rebelled against God,” Jerusha said. “And Procel always appears in the form of an angel. He never accepted losing his post in the Order of Powers before his fall from grace.”

Iblis tapped a taloned finger against his scaly lips and nodded. “Good suspects. You can add Zaebos to the list. He has an insufferably gentle disposition for a demon.” He gripped his throat and gagged. “Makes me want to puke.”

“The demon Furfur also assumes the form of an angel, plus he gives true answers about secret and divine things.”

Iblis stopped pacing and crossed his arms against his chest. “It’s time the High Council had a meeting.”

The Archangel Michael stood in the center of a circle outlined in brimstone. His body glowed with the same sickly iridescence as the feathers. He held a white cloth to his nose, his vibrant blue eyes squinting as tears dribbled down his cheeks.

Iblis roared with demonic laughter. “The mighty Archangel is so frightened he cries like a baby.”

Michael lowered the cloth. “Far from it, you filthy, dung-sniffing ass-wipe. Your Great Hall stinks to high Heaven, if you’ll pardon the pun. The fumes make my eyes water.”

Iblis frowned and twitched his nose. “The air is sweet! You, my friend, have a smelling problem.”

“I’m not your friend,” Michael said, glowering down at Iblis, who was a good foot shorter than him. Michael covered his nose again. His voice sounded muffled when he said, “Just hurry up and get this ‘council’ business over with.”

Jerusha studied the enormous angel, never having seen one up close. Michael stood about fifteen feet away from the dozen demons gathered in the Great Hall, and though the brimstone protected them from the angel’s repulsive goodness, Jerusha shivered with disgust.

“You’re here as God’s representative, are you not?” Iblis asked, then added in a quieter voice, “Since your boss is too frightened to come himself.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “And where is the all-powerful Lord of Lies, eh? What’s he calling himself these days? Lucibel? Mephistopheles? Mastema? Lucifer --”

“The name Satan will suffice,” Iblis said, his voice filled with contempt. “The supreme Lord of Darkness has given me complete authority over these proceedings.” Steam rose visibly from Iblis’ pointed ears. “So tell me, Archangel, does your God still claim no responsibility for the infection that’s stealing Hell’s damned to the sanctuary of Heaven?”

Michael spread and retracted his wings, as if to relieve his annoyance. “Let me ask you a question first. Angels aren’t welcome in Hell, is that right?”

The members of the council nodded.

“Then how in Heaven’s name could an angel infiltrate Hell and leave feathers behind without being harmed?” Michael asked.

“Heaven’s name?” Iblis stomped his clawed foot. “How dare you swear in Hell’s Great Hall!”
Michael rolled his eyes again. “I beg your pardon.”

“Granted.” Iblis sniffed. “Anyway, your point is well taken and something we’ve already considered. But as you know, Archangel Michael, this is a serious charge and all possibilities must be explored.”

Michael lifted his shoulders as if to loosen tight muscles, his enormous wings fluttering and dropping a few feathers. The congregation in the Hall gasped. But as each feather landed inside the brimstone circle, they dissolved into ash. A sigh of relief hissed through the crowd.
“Can I go now?” Michael asked peevishly.

“Please,” Iblis replied.

Jerusha stared longingly at the broad, muscular chest of the magnificent angel, her gaze dropping to seek out the wondrous rod of power between his legs. A silver loin cloth covered what must have been a luscious tool of pleasure for his angel friends. Michael caught her glance and a look of horror crossed his face before he vanished in a wink of blue sparks.
Prude, Jerusha thought.

“Okay,” Iblis said to the council. “Now that we’re finished with that unpleasantness, we have something even less pleasant to deal with.” He faced Jerusha and held out his hand. “We shall now hear from the daughter of Lilith.”

Jerusha came forward. “Jerusha. My name is Jerusha.”

“Whatever.” Iblis stepped back, giving her the floor.

“As most of you know, I’ve been investigating the source of Hell’s infection since the first feather was found,” she said, addressing the demon council members, who all stood in a semi-circle facing the altar. “After some intense discussion with Iblis, we’ve concluded that the perpetrator lives among us. He, or she, is a demon of Hell.”

continued . . .