A surprised murmur rumbled through the Hall, the council members glancing at each other with distrust.

Nagas, a serpent demon from Hell’s steamy swamps, fanned a flipper to get Jerusha’s attention. “So who is it?” he asked.

The others echoed his question.

“We’re not positive yet,” Jerusha said, “but we have a few suspects. Iblis and I questioned them and eliminated all but one.”

Iblis yanked out from the shadows what appeared to be a very filthy angel. It’s face was ugly with sores and pitted scars, its chest sunken, and its arms had hardly any muscle at all. Even Jerusha shrank back in horror.

“Behold!” Iblis announced. “We bring you the culprit, Asteroth!”

Asteroth flung out wings speckled with brown and gray feathers, at least what feathers he had left. He seemed to be molting. The skin beneath the sparse plumage was scabbed with festering sores. The angel -- if it could be called that -- bared its spiny teeth at the council.
The demons gasped and held out arms, tentacles, bat-wings, and fins, to ward off the abomination.

“I wish I was responsible,” Asteroth growled, folding his wings back. “If I could poison this despicable underworld, I would. But it’s already poisoned. My feathers --” He shook a wing, and a few gray feathers dropped benignly to the floor -- “are as harmless as your scales.”
Jerusha frowned. He was right. “But Asteroth, you believe your banishment from Heaven was unjust. You want revenge. What better way than to infect Hell with angel feathers?”
Asteroth chuckled. “If I had angel feathers. But I don’t.”

Iblis leapt forward, eyes blazing. “You do have them, Asteroth. I know you do. You conjured them yourself from the Book of Light...” Iblis stopped and glanced at the curious faces of the council. His demeanor abruptly changed from angry to complaisant. “Well, we’ve all heard of the book. Asteroth must have gotten his hands on it somehow.”

Remembering how Aitvaras had so easily dismissed the book, Jerusha approached Iblis. “Satan has been searching for that book for hundreds of years. The spells it contains would be disastrous to our way of life. Have you seen this book, Iblis? Do you know where it is?”
Iblis shook his head. His grin twitched on his lips, flashing on and off like a strobe. “I haven’t seen it, but Asteroth must have it. How else could he cast a spell on his own feathers and turn them into the real thing?”

“You speak of Hairiti’s book,” Asteroth said, nodding and looking thoughtful. “Ah, the demoness who became a goddess. I envy her and her book, but I’m sorry to spoil your plan, Iblis. I don’t have it.”

Jerusha didn’t understand why Iblis felt the need to lie, but even more puzzling was the point of his accusation. She stared at her demon-lover and asked, “How do you know the book has a spell for changing demon feathers into angelic ones?”

Iblis bolted for the back of the altar, reached down, and lifted out a thick book bound in gold, its pages rumored to be made from the skin of demons.

Jerusha gaped at the horror in Iblis’ hands. “What have you done?”

Just touching it caused smoke to curl through the demon’s fingers, and the Hall filled with the pungent odor of singed flesh.

Iblis dropped the book on the altar, then wiped his burned hands as if they’d become soiled. “You think I’ve turned like Haiti? Better think again.”

Jerusha backed away. “Then why --?”

“Because I wanted to rid Hell of the ‘Lost Souls,’ those pathetic things that cower in the darkness and hate this fabulous underworld the rest of us adore.”

She gasped. “You killed Aitvaras so he wouldn’t tell!”

Iblis grinned.

“You idiot,” Jerusha said, furious now that she knew the truth behind what he’d done. “The Lost Souls are here for us, for our pleasure. Getting rid of them is the last thing we want.”

“Bah!” Iblis waved his taloned hands in dismissal. “Hell is power. Demons are power. The souls of the damned only weaken what and who we are. The Lost Souls are the real infection, and all I did was bring on the cure.”

Jerusha was at a loss for words. She understood his intention, but for the groveling souls to be taken away? How would she cope? How would any demon get through the long, boring days without them?

Each member of the council moved forward, closing the circle around Iblis.

“Wait!” Iblis shouted, backing himself against the wall. “Don’t you see? This is Hell’s answer for greatness. We don't have to depend on the scourge rejected by those wussy assholes in Heaven. Let them deal with the pitiful souls of bad-doers, who don’t deserve the lurid gifts of Hell.”

Jerusha drifted toward the tightening circle of demons, who’d been joined by the faux angel, Asteroth. She was horrified, but also excited. And hungry.

“Stop!” Iblis demanded. “Satan will agree with me. I know He will. Just give me a chance to --”
But all chances were gone. The circle of claws and teeth converged on the helpless Iblis, who had just become the council’s midday meal. Jerusha licked her beakish lips and jumped right in.

THE END