TWENTY-TWO

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The reaper—still for lack of a better name, since it wouldn't provide any other way to identify it—wouldn't budge. Its dark energy wouldn't shift, wouldn't commit to anything.

It demanded negotiations before speaking any further.

The demons possessing Jessamine and Landon released them, needing to be at full strength and out in the open to better discuss terms with the black-hooded being.

All surrounding battles had been put on hold. The reaper apparently had the ability to pause events, to put everyone and everything in suspense while it organized its campaign to stay in the demonic realm. Jessamine had watched in awe as it had lifted its skeletal arms, snapped, and everything, every single thing aside from herself, Landon, and the handful of demons in the area, froze.

The reaper was stubborn. And incredibly powerful. It wanted to stay, so badly that it displayed its powers with such ease. It postponed fights, controlled most of the monsters that had gotten through the gates, and even manipulated demons into listening to its plight. No one could figure out what it was, where it came from—but they all sensed its strength and all but bowed before it.

Its promises were enticing to the demons, Jessamine knew. But the demons were inquisitive creatures, and they'd want more answers before giving their definitive answer.

In Jessamine's experience, from what she'd read, reapers were neutral beings only concerned about guiding spirits to the Afterlife. They were fictional, sure; but she'd never imagined them as evil things who wanted to help demons dominate the world. In most cultures and religions, they had a bad rap, but they weren't bad.

Well, this reaper was evil incarnate. Every fiber of its energy destabilized her, made her sick to her stomach. She couldn't look at it without wanting to rip its hood off and divulge its trickery to all. It had no face. It was the devil itself in disguise; or whatever the devil translated to outside of religion. The real devil didn't exist, according to the Guides, the demons; but were they sure about that?

I think the devil is here, with us, and it's offering us a one-way ticket to hell.

"You said prophecies. Plural," said Jessamine, focusing her gaze on the ground to avoid being sucked into the reaper's soulless hole of a face. "What does this mean? There are more fates out there waiting to be fucked with? More visions, more of," she waved around herself, "all this crap?"

The reaper shrugged. "I can't say. I won't say. Not until I'm guaranteed a place to stay in this realm."

It wouldn't relent, no matter how much Jessamine and the demons prodded at it. Landon opted to remain silent, though he nodded or shook his head from time to time, and mumbled to himself after every half-response the reaper gave them.

Prophecies. The plural bothered her. Was there some other being out there holding on to a prophecy, another world-changing event brewing at the surface?

"We can't make such a massive decision without unanimity," said one demon who'd been floating to and fro, pacing, its eyes slitted. "And to get unanimity, we need more information from you. We can bring these half-assed answers to the rest of us. You drive a hard bargain, and we respect your wishes, but... we can't offer you anything yet."

"Surely one of you has authority over all others, no?" The reaper's timbre elevated at the end, and Jessamine imagined it lifting its eyebrows; if it had any. "Her presence," it gestured at Jessamine, "in this realm is the issue. She needs to get out, and once she does, many of your issues will resolve on their own."

"How do we get her out?" Another demon, one that had remained mostly on the sidelines, listening to the conversation, butted in, blasting through the body of the pacing demon. "Her fate was to be sealed in here; that fate was fulfilled. We have no means to change that."

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