FOURTEEN
"Enough!"
The Slicer demons stopped their work and stood in silence. Malevant waved them from the chamber. They scurried to obey immediately. He walked over, staring coldly at his bleeding and bruised prisoner.
"Another surprise," said Malevant. "Nearly three hours with the Slicers. I would have thought the weakness of your humanity would have forced your surrender to me by now. You've lasted much longer than I would have believed possible for the bastard spawn of a demon and a human," Malevant finished with a sneer.
Malevant's words cut through the fog of pain with more precision than his demon's had sliced through flesh. Belthazor growled and fought to raise his head and glare at him.
"My parents were married when I was born," he choked out through the torment wracking his body. "But as I recall yours weren't. You're nothing more than the product of rape and murder. Which of us is really the bastard?"
Malevant lashed out, rage flashing in his eyes. The force of the blow snapping Belthazor's head to the side and breaking the battered skin above one eye. Then he calmed himself just as quickly as he had exploded.
"Still so arrogant," Malevant said. "Give me a name Belthazor! I already know it was the Circle of the Black Thorn that sent you. But I need proof before I can deal with them. And you will give me that proof. One name, now, end this futility! Or is your half-breed brain so feeble that it can't grasp the understanding of defeat?"
How could he know that? No one knew. Even Angelique hadn't known who the target was or who had hired him. Where was the sense in holding out any longer? He was never going to be a member of the Brotherhood. He was going to die. Die to protect information Malevant already had. Why go through the torture?
Because he needs me to verify it. That's what he wants. Proof. And he's counting on me to give it to him.
"Go to hell," Belthazor snarled.
"Reverting to your human half, Belthazor?" Malevant taunted. "How very predictable. You only prove my point. You could never be a true demon. You're encumbered by your humanity. It makes you weak. Tell me. Once you had the book, did you kill the man who gave it to you?"
"No."
"Why not?" Malevant asked. "He wasn't of any further use. A true demon would have disposed of him."
"There wasn't any reason to," said Belthazor. "You hired me to get the book. I did that. You didn't hire me to kill him."
"But a true demon would have killed him anyway."
Malevant's words hammered at his weakened mind and wounded body. He slumped in exhaustion. The years melted away and suddenly he was ten years old once more. And it was Baldasors voice that hurled these same accusations. His brother's voice, feeding the secret beast of terror and insecurity that dwelled within the child who belonged nowhere. He had heard this before. He had spent his entire life doing everything he could to prove that he was a true demon.
Belthazor was tired, so weary of the fight. Had Baldasor been right? Was he fatally flawed? He knew Malevant was right. Another demon might have killed Strauss and his wife once the assignment was completed. Their usefulness would have ended. There would have been no reason to keep them alive. He had only let them live because he had grown attached to them. Something a demon would not have done.
Malevant watched his captive intently. In his defeated silence, he sensed an advantage and pressed forward.
"The Source had such high hopes for you; and you've failed him miserably. A disappointment to your mother. A disgrace to your brother. And for what? The delusion that you are something you could never be? You really are a pathetic creature Belthazor. You're not a demon and pitiably less than human. Just a half-breed bastard who doesn't belong to either world. And now you'll die as the traitor you are. Your only hope is to tell me what I want to know. Show that in your final moments you could at least aspire to be a true demon."
Belthazor gazed up at his tormenter through swollen eyes. All of his life demons had looked down on him. He'd repeatedly been twice as good so that others would consider him half the demon as other demons. Because of the happenstance of his birth he remained a virtual pariah in the underworld.
"Well?" Malevant asked, picking up the athame and walking toward him. "What shall it be? Will you die with the dignity due a true demon Belthazor? Or will you keep your pathetic mouth shut and force me to continue with this senseless torture?"
With a tidal force, a dam of pride and fury ruptured deep within him. Belthazor struggled to draw himself to his full height. He would never be a member of the Brotherhood. That dream had died with his capture. But he would show them. He'd show them all. Once the Circle of the Black Thorn learned that he refused to surrender them they'd know they hadn't been wrong about him. That he was truly worthy to be called Brother. As Malevant stood waiting, the junior demon spat directly into his face.
"There's your answer." He hissed through broken lips. "Say what you will. Do as you wish. It doesn't matter anymore. I am a true demon; I've more than proven I'm as good as any of you. Nothing you can say or do changes that. So do your worst."
Malevant wiped the spittle from his face. He raised the athame and pressed the tip to his throat. Belthazor stared unflinchingly at his certain death. The Circle would soon learn that he would die rather than betray them. And his brother would finally know that he was a true demon, despite his human heritage. He could die knowing that he had achieved the one thing he had strived his entire life to prove.
"I can see I underestimated you," said Malevant. "It's quite clear now that you will never give me what I want. And I grow weary of this game. But rest assured, Belthazor. I will make sure the entire underworld learns what you have done here today. They will see you for what you truly are."
Malevant called to the outer chamber. Two demons entered and bowed to him. Belthazor recognized them. Enforcer demons. They were normally used to punish demons that didn't merit vanquishing or exile. They were very large, larger than either Belthazor or Malevant. And each Enforcer was fully three times stronger than an ordinary demon.
"I'm finished with him," he said turning away. "You know what to do."
The Enforcers moved to stand in front of Belthazor. He knew what was coming. Even with his demonic constitution he couldn't stand up to two Enforcers. Their preferred method of execution was to beat the victim to death. A method that was both long and extremely painful.
He steeled his resolve. Malevant meant for him to regret this for as long as possible. As the Enforcers reached up, Belthazor gathered the tattered remains of his strength. He closed his eyes, braced himself, and readied himself for the blows that would ultimately end his life.