“Yes. Annoying, isn’t it?”

Uncle Damian appraised the demon lord and answered in a voice that was rich with warning, “I’m not sure I’d use that word just now.”

“You have much more circumspection than your niece, who has decreed this manner of communication by her repeated dismissal of much more civilized attempts at meeting,” Bael answered, seating himself in a deep, black leather chair. There was nowhere for us to sit, not that I wanted to make myself comfortable for a cozy little chat with the head honcho of Hell. “You cannot blame me, Aisling Grey, if you drive me to taking extreme measures. And speaking of pleasures waiting to be had at your expense, might I ask when I may expect my homage?”

“Er…homage? What homage would that be?”

“Surely you have read the Doctrine by now?” Bael asked, tapping his fingers on a letter opener that appeared to be made of bone.

I wondered if there was ever going to be a time when I wasn’t at least five paces behind everyone else, mentally speaking.

Bael sighed and set down the letter opener, waving a hand that instantly summoned a minion. “Nefere, present Aisling Grey with the Doctrine of Unending Conscious.”

The demon, short, squat, and reeking of evil, rolled over to me with a peculiar gait. I stood my ground, not recoiling from its presence as I wanted to do, instead watching with increasing horror as it bared its yellow teeth at me in a grotesque parody of a smile, then pulled out a penknife and slashed a sizeable chunk of skin off its arm.

“Oh, my god!” I screamed as it slapped the repulsive blob of skin into my hand. My own flesh crawled as I stared at the monstrosity that lay wetly on my fingers. It wasn’t particularly bloody, demons not going in much for blood, but the mere fact that it was someone’s skin made me want to run screaming from the room. “What the hell is this?”

“Doctrine,” the demon answered.

The blob of flesh continued to hold an unhealthy fascination for me. I couldn’t look away from it, just kept staring at it as if I expected it to…what, I had no idea. It was just so terrible, I couldn’t look away from it.

“The Doctrine of Unending Conscious is the set of laws that govern Abaddon,” Bael said in a bored voice. “It is burnt into the flesh of all minions. I would be surprised that any other demon lord had not availed himself of it in order to learn our ways, but your continued flaunting of our traditions no longer surprises me. Read the Doctrine and return to me with the homage.”

“There’s a whole doctrine on it?” I asked, feeling in my pocket for something into which I could place the chunk of skin. I squinted at it, seeing the faintest spidery writing in its wrinkled folds. “I’m going to have to use a microscope to read it!”

“You want bigger piece?” Nefere asked, pulling up its shirt and flicking open its penknife.

“No!” I yelled as it was about to slash off a piece of skin from its stomach. “This is fine. I’ll just use a microscope.”

Bael glanced at his desk calendar. “The new moon is in five days. You have until that time to bring me the sacrifices.”

I considered the last word he spoke with much foreboding. “This homage is going to involve something truly appalling, isn’t it?”

“You are dismissed,” he answered without glancing our way.

I wanted badly to tell him that there was no way I’d ever participate in rituals of Abaddon, but luckily, I didn’t have the chance. Nefere picked me up with one arm and, before I could do so much as yell for help, tossed me out on the front steps of a redbrick house.

“Hey! Be more careful with her! Aisling is—”

“Jim, silence!” I snarled as I got to my feet, rubbing my hip where it had hit one of the stone columns that supported a portico. The last thing I needed was for everyone in Abaddon to know I was pregnant.

“Did he hurt you?” Uncle Damian asked, dusting me off. “Should we go to a hospital?”

“No, I’m fine. I more rebounded off the column than hit the ground.” Behind us, the door slammed. I looked around, not recognizing the area. The house appeared to be isolated on a few acres of landscaped lawn. A crushed-gravel path led down to a wrought-iron gate. “Anyone have any idea where we are? Jim, you can talk, just keep quiet about the baby, OK?”

“Sorry,” it answered, rubbing its head on my hand. “I don’t know where we are, but rumor going around the demonic watercooler said that Bael liked to mingle with the mortal world. This must be his place.”

We walked slowly down the drive, no one else in sight until we reached the gate. A demon stood there, watching us silently until we stopped before it.

“We are leaving. Unlock the gate,” Uncle Damian told it.

The demon sneered, crossing its arms over its sizeable chest. “I don’t take orders from mortals.”

“How about from a prince of Abaddon?” I snapped, too tired to put up with crap from a demon. “Jim, who is this idiot?”

“Kobal. I heard he got dumped onto sentry duty because his master caught him doing time with a supermodel.”

“Better to take a lesser job than to be excommunicated altogether, Effrijim,” it snarled at Jim. “That makes, what, two for you? First from the Court, then from Amaymon’s legions?”

Jim rolled its eyes. “Yeah, right, like being booted out of Abaddon ruined my day.”

“Enough,” I interrupted, a headache starting to build. “Open the damned gates. We want to get out of here.”

The sneer dropped a notch or two, but the demon stood impassive, its gaze shifting between us. “You have no authority over me, Lord Aisling.”

I leaned close to it. “No? Your boss told us to leave. You want us to tell him that you were the one who defied his explicit order?”

Kobal had the gate opened before you could say “demonic blackmail.” We stood outside it, glancing up and down a deserted street. There were no other houses to be seen, nothing but pastures and woods on either side, as far as the eye could see.

“I guess we walk,” I sighed, suddenly too tired to even contemplate moving one foot in front of another.

“You sit and call Rene to pick us up,” Uncle Damian said, pointing at a brick planter.

“I’m sure he’d be happy to, but we don’t know where we…oh.”