Jezebel

Part Three: 11

Molech couldn't stop looking towards the East. That feeling, it was in the air; a surprise was coming. He had to be prepared, more than prepared even. He looked away, glancing at one of his trusted imps as he did so.

"The queen, you said she did what?"

"She killed her mother."

"Is that so?" Molech's fingers flexed gainst the stone arm of the throne—Baal's throne. Was that it? Was Baal going to return? Impossible. Abaddon was always thorough with those unfortunate enough to fall into his hands, the spirit did not know the meaning of mercy.

So what if Baal returned? Molech shrugged and settled deeper into the floating throne. He was one of the chief gods of the Ammonites—a usurper of Baal's throne but a chief god all the same.

Was he prepared? If Baal were to show up at this moment, would he be able to defend his new territory? He had made some changes since Baal's absence. He took in the newly added tar pits dotting the place, the pits would come to good use when the time was right. And a different variety of imps had joined the horde, they were a donation from Tia, a goddess from a principality at the northern coast. The imps hopped about, thin spidery legs holding up fat ratty torsos. When they inhibited a host, they were much stronger, building muscle mass and tripling strength.

"How did Ahab take the news?" Molech massaged the smooth skin of his chin, eyes drifting once more to the East. It was evening, darkness was coming.

"He is merely concerned about the diplomatic implication of the woman's death. She died in his palace, supposedly under his indirect protection."

Jezebel was fickle. She killed her mother without considering how it would affect the plan he was carefully crafting. "And the soldiers? Has she shown her husband what they can do? Has she spoken of my power?"

Silence.

Fingers stilling at his chin, Molech slowly turned and took in the demon from head to toe. He averted bulbous black eyes, looking everywhere but at Molech. His tattered wings jerked as he stuttered a reply. "S-she is concerned about her pride as a woman."

Molech's left eye twitched. "Pride as a woman?" he pushed the question through clenched teeth.

The demon swayed from side to side, his wings jolting some more. "She wants Ahab to be the one to seek her out."

"The fool." Molech shot off his throne, hitting the ground with both feet and denting the physical earth. "Her pride? Ha." His laugh was sharp and short. "All my effort to bring about an army of perfect soldiers are being hinged on... on a woman's pride?" He drew in a breath, face losing all expression at the action, and cool calm settling over him.

"Do not concern yourself with this matter anymore." With that, Molech vanished then materialised in Jezebel's chambers.

She was dressed in the dark garb of mourners, seated at her window and nursing a goblet of wine. The two vessels in her company recognised his presence immediately. They looked in his direction then inclined their head in respect. The vessel of Jezebel's mother—a little girl of about eight—caught his attention. Her dark hair was cut like a boy's but the features of her face was distinctly female. Her dark eyes were blank, no hint of challenge in their depth as she watched him watch her.

Appearing before the child, Molech reached for the demon within her, grabbed him by the neck then hurled him from her body like weed from the earth. With a drawn-out sigh, he settled into her little body, wearing her like one would wear a glove. At first, the girl struggled, her soul screaming at the burn of his entrance, trying to fight him with all of her might. Her strength was no match for a god, she finally gave in.