“And that is a lie!” James shouted. “Is this your game? If you cannot force me to obey you, you will drive me mad? Or do death and grief amuse you for their own sake?”

“Be quiet,” said Belial, and his voice was like a slap. “Death and grief do in fact amuse me, but to assume you are worth my lies—that is arrogance indeed.” He gazed down at James, and James realized with a spark of surprise that there was a red mark on the lapel of Belial’s white suit. A red mark that was spreading.

It was blood from the wound Cortana had dealt him all those months ago. It was true then—he had not healed.

“You have one,” James said, his voice ringing clearly through the darkness. “All you need is three.”

Belial turned his burning eyes on James. “What did you say, child of my blood?”

“One wound,” said James, gambling that he was right. “You already have one mortal wound from Cortana. All it takes is three—”

“Be silent!” Belial roared, and suddenly James could see through the beautiful human mask of his face to what lay within—a terrible pit born of fire and shifting shadows. James knew he was seeing Belial’s true face, a burning scar across the skin of the universe.

“I am a Prince of Hell,” said Belial, in a voice like flame. “Such is my power. You think your protection will save you? It will not. You are human, as is she who bears Cortana—maggots crawling across the Earth.” He rose to his feet, the image of a human man, but James could see what lay behind and beyond the false image. A pillar of fire, of cloud, of lightning black as night. “I shall raise my throne above the stars of God! I shall walk upon the Earth and my reach shall exceed the heavens! And you will not stop me!”

He began to advance on James. There was a hunger in his gaze, a terrifying wordless appetite. James began to retreat, backing away from his grandfather.

“You have brought yourself to my place of strength,” Belial said. “There is no land here for you to reach into and turn against me.”

“It doesn’t matter.” James was still backing up, stepping carefully across the alternating squares: white, black, white. “You cannot touch me.”

Belial grinned. “You think you are protected here, because you are protected on Earth?” he said. “I invite you to test that theory.” He took another step forward and winced—he covered it quickly, but James had not missed it. Belial’s wound was paining him still. “In fact, why have you not already tried to escape back to your little world?” Belial mused. “Are you unwelcome there? Tired of the place? Worlds are small things, aren’t they?” He smirked. “Or is it that you don’t know how to get back, without your warlock to help you?”