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"Of course," Vassago said, his words smooth, "you are ru
"What d'ya mean?" Furfur asked.
"Oh, I don't know. Like what if someone else ordered the child?" Vassago asked with a shrug. He began walking away. "Like Belial... or Asmodeus."
"Oh yeah," some of the demons whispered.
"Asmodeus ... I forgot about him," Furfur said. "He's a mean drunk."
"Best you left the girl in my care," Vassago said.
"Thanks, but no thanks," Harpy replied. "She's mine to devour."
Vassago slowly walked away, nonplussed in demeanor but listening carefully to the exchange at his back.
"Stop touching her, Beelzebub. You're getting flies all over her," Harpy said.
"ZZZZzzzzz!"
"Oh, for the love of...! Does anyone here understand what Beelzebub is saying? Mastema?"
"No. And the last time I tried talking to him, he regurgitated all over me," Mastema replied.
Quickly, the sounds of discord echoed through the Great Assembly Hall, the gathered and growing throng of demons fighting with Harpy for the child. And through the angry voices and the shouting and screaming, Vassago knew the baby would come to him eventually. Only he knew what she was, and only he knew how to deal with her.
Harpy tore through the air, the infant in the iron-clawed talons of her feet. Other demons tried flying after her, but she was faster and more cu
Satisfied nobody had followed her, Harpy held the child up with both hands. She smiled, her shredding, malicious grin stretched from ear to ear. The infant girl, however, chirped and cooed, much to Harpy's discomfort. Her large black eyes seemed to suck in everything around her.
"You're too stupid to be afraid, aren't you?" Harpy whispered. "Oh yes you are, oh yes you are," she said in a suddenly playful voice before pursing her lips against the infant's stomach and blowing mouth farts against her satin skin. "Who's a silly little girl!" Harpy chirped. "You are! You are!" Harpy and the child laughed out loud.
The smile, however, quickly vanished from Harpy's lips. "Wait," she said. "What am I doing?" For a moment, she felt displaced, seven leagues from the center of herself. This wasn't her. She should be tearing into the flesh of this infant, not playing with her, not engaging in nonsensical talk.
Harpy strengthened her resolve and stared at the infant with all the cruelty and malice she could muster. She would tell the child the horrible fate about to befall her, the hellish torture awaiting her. Harpy would explain in visceral detail how she was going to skin the screaming baby and suck up her strands of flesh like spaghetti. She smiled at her own cruelty and opened her mouth to speak.
"Cootchy cootchy coo!" Harpy hissed. Her eyes widened and she tried talking again. "Boobiwooboo," she said, her words trapped in babyspeak.
The child obviously approved; she giggled and jumped up and down in Harpy's grasp.
"Stop it!" Harpy wanted to say, but more nonsense spilled out instead. She tried to squeeze the infant to stop her from laughing, but the little girl giggled as Harpy tickled her with nary a scratch from her dagger talons.
"Cotchy coo!" Harpy screamed. She tried to let go of the laughing baby, to watch her plummet, but could not. The young girl was somehow glued to her hands. She tried to shake the child loose, but instead bounced her up and down gently.
I know, Harpy thought, her mind twisting and slipping in panic. I'll corrupt the child! After cradling the baby in her feathered lap, Harpy slid one sharp talon across her own wrist, drawing out her tarlike blood. It boiled and bubbled against the demon's skin, and she reveled at the thought of blistering the child's flesh. The infant opened her mouth expectantly and Harpy squeezed her own arm to force the turgid blood to flow quicker.
White droplets fell into the baby's mouth instead. Harpy shrieked and stared at the ivory blood flowing from her wrist.
Milk! she realized in horror. My blood's turned to milk. Before Harpy could stop the little girl, the child latched her mouth onto one of her calloused nipples and began feeding. Harpy was lactating, and she couldn't pull the defenseless child from her breast.
She shrieked again, a wail that pierced the very corridors of Dis.
Vassago crossed the shag-carpeted floor of his creamy yellow bachelor pad. A Sinatra record, spi
Hell's Suave Playboy opened the door to the tempest and infernal heat of Dis; the glamours filling his house shuddered slightly but held against the realities of the Underworld. Outside his door was Hell. Inside was Hollywood, circa 1960s. A golden time, he thought.
"Why, Harpy," Vassago said, smiling at the demon at his door. "How nice to see you."
"Bite me!" she said, thrusting the child in his direction. "You take her."
"Certainly," Vassago replied. He cradled the child and raised an eyebrow at Harpy. "You look . .. radiant. Motherhood agrees with you."
"I'm lactating!" she moaned. She grabbed one breast and pointed it at him. Milk dribbled down from her exposed nipple.
"Thank you, but I'm not thirsty," Vassago said.
"Furfur wants a sip!"
"Who wouldn't! Don't dribble on the carpet, dear," Vassago said kindly.
"Wait!" Harpy protested, looking for some trade to make good on giving the baby away, but Vassago closed the door with his foot as he turned around. The door slammed in her face and the smell of brimstone evaporated.
"Aren't you the cute one," Vassago said, stroking the baby's chin. She giggled in return, her Afro still wild and untamed. He sat in a molded chair, its white cushioned pads arched up the high back, and played with her for a while.
"Now," he said, a knowing grin splashed across his face, "do I call you Eve? Or the Serpent?"
The infant girl clapped her hands in approval and bounced in his grip.
"Right, Eve ... of course. The serpent is our domain, isn't it?" he said, and continued to play and laugh right alongside her.
Eve slept on the wide-lipped couch, her tiny fists bunched up at her chest, her face filled with i
The knocking persisted.
Vassago took a moment to compose himself before opening the door. Koka and Vikoka, the twin demon generals of Kali, stood waiting. They towered above the door, their once feral and fearful countenances surprisingly shy and darting. They appeared nervous and uncertain in their posture, which was unlike the twin ambassadors from the Realm of Hungry Ghosts. Koka played with the skulls wrapped around his neck; Vikoka looked even more crimson and fidgeted with the weighted and bloodied yellow sash around his waist.
"Yes?"
"Hello, Mr. Vassago," Koka said. "We, uh ... we heard you have a human infant?"
News travels fast, Vassago thought. Soon his house would be inundated with demon callers trying to woo Eve out of his charge and onto their di