This chapter is sort of gay, so consider yourself warned if you're a straight guy.
With a faint popping sound, more than forty figures appeared in a parking lot. From a position several feet off the ground, they landed with more or less grace according to their natures--thirty tempters managing graceful rolls, ten sword spiders crushing the cars beneath them, and two greater demons at least landing on their feet.
Belial was the first to recover from teleportation, and as such, the first to notice that they weren't alone. With a wave of his hand and a bit of his power, an unfortunate bystander hit the ground, bleeding from her mouth and nose. He spun in a circle, searching for more targets--and found no more people, and only a few cars left unsmashed. "I don't know about you, Judith," he said, "but I'm disappointed."
"We're a ways from any National Guard base," Judith replied, "and I think we have the police outmatched. Given twenty minutes, we'll be able to kill everyone in these buildings. It'll strike fear into citizens everywhere, that we attacked somewhere with no strategic value, just for the sake of killing." She smiled beatifically. "Of course, if we happen to kill someone whose soul I want, all the better."
"Yes, this 'Neil' guy," he replied. "You never told me what your problem with him was."
"I believe he's hiding out in the abandoned office building just in front of us," Judith said, ignoring the implied question. "Our time is limited--the parking lot's clear, but surely someone heard the noise. Send two of your sword spiders to clear it out, and I'll have my tempters take the buildings behind us. The rest of the spiders can guard us while I charge up to teleport us back."
Belial was powerful, given his young age--powerful enough that he could have controlled forty imps--and there were few demons he took orders from. Judith could have controlled sixty imps, and more than once, she'd survived refusing orders from demons who could control two hundred. Rather than argue, he simply relayed the order.
"Curt, you take the lower floors. Randall, you're on the upper ones. Slice up anything that breathes." And, because he knew Randall's will had not yet broken, "Slice up anything that holds its breath, too."
-- -- -- --
It could easily be assumed that someone who's died and been reborn is scared of nothing. Within five minutes of entering the building, Randall knew that assumption was mistaken.
The power had long since been cut--neither the lights nor the central heating functioned. Only by staying near the windows could he navigate in the gloom, edging past abandoned desks. He searched each of the upper floors, moving faster than was strictly necessary, and when he reached the top, he was certain no one was there.
"Twitchy, aren't you? I'd expect a big spiky spider to be less afraid of the dark."
Randall spun awkwardly on eight legs to confront the source of the noise, and found a dweebish-looking man in a slept-in suit, who stared at him with an inscrutable expression.
"I was afraid, too. I wanted so much to hide, and this was the perfect place to do it--in the place where I worked, not so long ago, before the world fell apart and the main office stopped sending instructions. But you would have found me anyways, wouldn't you? Just like the other one, you would have found me. At least I can face death with dignity."
He must be over thirty, and he's still an overgrown child,
Randall thought.
Time to shut this twerp up.
