Barlowe, Wayne - God's Demon

Sargatanas crossed the chamber, opened the thick, pressed-soul door, and burst into the hall beyond, nearly knocking down a diminutive passerby. Eligor, close behind, hastily sidestepped the pair, noticing that the figure, adjusting its white raiments, was female.

Sargatanas pulled back, steadying her in his huge, clawed hands, keeping her from falling.

She had apparently come from Beelzebub's Rotunda; the hall led only there. Her face was set, eyes wide, nostrils flared, jaw tight. It was an expression of some fierce emotion barely contained. The skin of her face, normally white as bone, was mottled with slight bluish-gray spots, and she was somewhat disheveled.

And yet even so, Eligor thought, not since the Above had he seen anyone as beautiful as the startled creature that stood before them.

Valefar closed the heavy door behind them, breaking the silence.

"I ... I did not see you," she said after a moment. Her voice was calm. Her deep-set eyes were locked on Sargatanas' face. Whatever emotion was at play, it was not leveled at him.

"Nor I you ... Consort Lilith." His voice was low.

"You know me?"

"I would hardly say that I know you." Sargatanas suddenly seemed to realize that he was still grasping her and let go. "I saw you from afar at the opening of the Wargate. That was ... nearly five thousand years ago."

THE WARGATE

[The Wargate - (from Barlowe's Inferno - acrylic on ragboard) - A massive procession snakes away from the second largest structure in Hell. Situated on the edge of a great lake of lava on the outskirts of Dis, the Wargate's only rival in sheer scale is Beelzebub's Keep itself. Built to commemorate those lost in the War with Heaven it also serves as the headquarters for Dis' military. While most buildings in Dis are composed entirely of soul-bricks, the Wargate was erected around a natural volcanic plug, its outer surfaces smoothed by slave labor that took eons and countless souls to complete. Once the work-force was finished they were converted into the buildings that now stand at its base.]

"And still, you remember me."

Sargatanas looked down. Eligor saw something ineffable in his lord's manner that he had never seen before. Only the barest wisps of purple flame wavered upon Sargatanas' head.

"Yes."

With that, Eligor thought, Lilith's face seemed to brighten. She put her hand on Sargatanas' arm for an instant and then pulled her white skin mantle tighter. She turned to Valefar and smiled.

"It is good to see you again, Valefar. It is Prime Minister, is it not?"

Valefar bowed and nodded. "It is, Consort. Thank you for remembering me. It has been a long time since I was in Dis."

"Before you left, there were some who thought of you very highly, Val— Prime Minister. Your differences with the court were not universally rejected. But you were fortunate that they did not engender more anger than they did."

"Of that I am aware."

She clasped both of his hands tightly and Valefar looked pleased and then a little puzzled. She pivoted to greet Eligor.

"My name is Eligor," he blurted. And when she laughed, it was so immeasurably unexpected and so pleasant a sound to his ears that he was sure that he betrayed his surprise. He had never heard anything close to genuine laughter in Hell. Sargatanas and Valefar looked nearly as startled as Eligor felt but recovered more quickly.

"I am sorry, Eligor. I meant no offense. It was just ... Eligor?" She knit her brow and looked at him strangely.

Eligor, head tilted and mouth slightly agape, was focused on a small fly that had walked from beneath the fold of her skins and was slowly creeping up her thin neck. It was black and the closer he looked the more he was sure that he could see a face—a distorted angelic face—peering back at him.

A giant hand shot past him and plucked the fly from her neck, crushing it into greasy slime between clawed thumb and forefinger. Sargatanas wiped his fingers on the wall, leaving two short, dark streaks. The rasp of his claws echoed in the hall.

Lilith looked startled and then, almost immediately, her face returned to the expression Eligor had first seen. He read it, then read the emotion that had eluded him. It was hatred, veiled but deep, and he saw the weight of it descend like a heavy shadow across her perfect features.

"I must be going. Ardat Lili is waiting. ... I told her ... I must go now. Safe journey back, to you."

She walked away, quickening her pace, hastening down the corridor without a backward glance. The three demons, shocked, saw her pale form recede into the shadows and vanish. They knew not to follow her; this was her realm, her prison, and no one knew the ways of it better than her.

They looked silently, solemnly, at one another as they began to move down the hall. A few paces away, Eligor thought he heard the door open, and when he looked back he saw Agares' head poke out, craning around the doorjamb to examine the short, black smears upon the bricks.