THIRTEEN

Belthazor opened his eyes cautiously. He was shackled in a large chamber hanging from the ceiling. His feet were just inches off the floor. Scattered torches cast intermittent shadows in the gloom. A large table in front of him held implements he immediately recognized. Implements of torture glinting ominously in the torchlight. The book sat on the table, a centerpiece mocking his failure. Malevant stood across the chamber talking to a smaller demon.

Belthazor realized his only chance was to shimmer away before Malevant realized he was conscious. Malevant's methods of extracting information from demons were quickly becoming legendary, methods he was not eager to experience firsthand. No demon had ever been able to resist Malevant's torture sessions. As Malevant continued to talk with the small demon, Belthazor tried to shimmer out of the chamber.

"It will do you no good to try to shimmer." Malevant turned and walked over to him. "You know of my origins, of course. Those shackles are the very ones my father used on my mother. Their enchantment prevents the wearer from utilizing any powers they might have."

"I don't know what you think you know…" began Belthazor.

"Please, don't insult either of us by denying it," said Malevant. He picked the book up, turning it thoughtfully in his hands. "We're both much too intelligent for that. I must admit it was a good plan. One worthy of me. It was simple, direct, and bold; and had the added feature of being original. No one has ever considered using Dark Lighter poison to vanquish me. I must congratulate you on your ingenuity."

Angelique. She was the only one that knew about the Dark Lighter poison. If Malevant knew about that, she had betrayed him. Something he found very hard to believe.

"I am somewhat disappointed, though," said Malevant. "Did you really think I would send you on a mission of this importance and not have you watched? I would have thought you more conscientious than that."

"Normally I am," said Belthazor. "We all make mistakes."

"Yes, I suppose we do," said Malevant. He lifted an Athame from the table, running his finger carefully along the blade. "Your Dark Lighter proved very co-operative. Of course I suppose the torture had something to do with that. But she died bravely. I found her impressive as well."

Belthazor glared at Malevant. There had been no reason to kill Angelique. She hadn't been a knowing party to his betrayal.

"Now," said Malevant, replacing the Athame, "shall we make this easy? Just tell me what I want to know and your death will be a quick one."

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Belthazor defiantly.

Malevant backhanded him across the face. Belthazor's head snapped back from the force of the blow. He glared up through slit eyes at the senior demon, his lip split and bleeding.

"Don't play me the fool," Malevant hissed. "I know you were hired to vanquish me. I know most of what goes on in the underworld. Vanquishing one of the Source's closest advisors is not something that can remain a secret for long. I need you to give me a name."

"I don't have a name for you," Belthazor growled with defiance.

Malevant struck him again with even greater force. Belthazor struggled to remain conscious as the pain shot through his head. Malevant's physical strength easily rivaled his power and position in the underworld.

"Actually, I'm all ready pretty sure who it was that hired you," said Malevant. "The ring with Beelzbors symbol on it was a nice touch. I might even have fallen for it. But we both know he wasn't the one who hired you, don't we?"

"I told you, no one hired me," Belthazor lied.

"I can see you're going to be difficult." Malevant sighed. "I'm not really surprised. I guess we'll have to do this the hard way. I don't believe you've met Locuse. Locuse is a Ferral demon; I'm sure you're familiar with his kind. I do find him quite useful at times."

Belthazor did know about Ferral demons. He'd never had occasion to use one; they weren't good for much. They were only about four feet tall with dull red skin and brilliant yellow hair. Ferral demons had only one significant characteristic.

Their internal body heat could reach temperatures of four hundred degrees or higher. Their one claim to power was the ability to redirect their body heat outward. Belthazor had heard of upper level demons using them to punish disobedient underlings. Their body heat could be extremely uncomfortable without causing any permanent damage to the victim.

Locuse walked over and looked at Belthazor, a sinister smile crossing his lips. The natural sadism of Ferral demons was one reason most demons had so little use for them. It was a tendency that could make them difficult to control.

"One last chance Belthazor," Malevant offered. "Simply give me a name and we can forego all this unpleasantness."

"I can't give you what I don't have," said Belthazor.

"Very well," said Malevant shaking his head in resignation and turned to Locuse. "See that you cause no permanent harm. He's of no use to me dead. At least, not just yet. So, if he dies, you die. Is that understood?"

The Ferral demon nodded to Malevant and then turned back to Belthazor. With a malicious smile he extended one of his three fingered hands to the middle of Belthazor's chest. The air around him crackled as the heat sizzled through every nerve ending. Belthazor roared in agony, choking on the acrid odor of his cooking flesh.

"Leave us," Malevant commanded.

Without comment Locuse turned and left the chamber.

"Again, I'm impressed, Belthazor," said Malevant. "No one has ever gone two hours with a Ferral demon before. Most barely last fifteen minutes. Your precious Angelique lasted nearly half an hour. But two hours? That's quite an accomplishment."

Belthazor's body hung limply from the chains securing him. It silently screamed in agony, his lungs no longer able to force an actual sound. In two hours Malevant had not once asked who had hired him. There was no need to. Belthazor knew what he wanted.

Struggling to form words beyond the pain, he gasped rawly. "Listen. I can't give you what I don't have. No one hired me. It was my idea. I figured if I could take you out I could advance in the hierarchy."

"You're a poor liar," said Malevant. "What about what you told your precious Angelique? About being hired to take me out?"

"I was just bragging," lied Belthazor. "To impress her. That's all. This is useless. It will gain you nothing."

"Oh, I beg to differ," said Malevant. "If you had truly wished to impress her you would have told her it was all your idea. You wouldn't have made up a story about someone hiring you. You need only give me a name to end this. Tell me what I wish to know and I'll end it."

"I have nothing to tell you," Belthazor said, weak but defiant.

"Very well," said Malevant.

He snapped his fingers and two demons entered the chamber. They were about the same height as Locuse except they were black all over and they had no hair. And on each of the four fingers on their hands were long, serrated claws nearly two inches long.

"Slicer demons," Malevant smiled malignantly. "In all the underworld none are more adept at carving living tissue. Did you know they can gauge the depth of their cuts to the merest fraction of an inch? They can even vary the depth of an individual cut. These two are especially good at their vocation. It's a most unpleasant way to spend an afternoon, I assure you."

"I can't tell you what I don't know," protested Belthazor.

"Very well, we'll continue to do this your way," said Malevant. He turned to the two demons with a sigh. "Take your time. But don't kill him. Just make sure he tells me what I want to hear."

Neither demon spoke. One moved around to position himself behind Belthazor. The other stepped in front of him. At nearly the same instant both demons drove their clawed fingers into his flesh. And once again his tortured body forced the excruciating pain past his lips in a scream as they began to cut into his flesh.