“At least one, maybe two more trips, before I can action my plan. And then there will likely be a number more, as I … work with the live soul …”

Father nodded, a grin forming on his mouth, showing his white, sharp teeth.

“I look forward to your report once your trial is concluded, Junior.” He lounged back onto his throne, kicking his feet over the armrest.

I chanced a glance at my sister. Hellen’s face was working towards that purplish shade again, her cheeks puffing out.

I winced, knowing exactly what was coming.

“You’ve given him a mission?” she exploded. Her wind whipped around us, sending a tornado of toenail clippings, some still moist with imp spittle, whirling around us.

“Enough, Hellen!” he snapped. The wind dissipated as suddenly as it had blown up. The toenails dropped. Into my hair. I picked them out, glaring daggers at my sister, who, oddly enough, did not appear to have enjoyed sprinkling me with the jagged, mouldering remnants.

“Of course I gave him a mission!” Father hissed. “He will be the next King of Hell. It’s high time he began to build a legacy of his own. And given the uncertainty of the future, he needs to be able to come up with creative schemes, just like this one, that will facilitate growth and a thriving kingdom.”

I pressed my lips tightly together. A thriving kingdom? I wasn’t the ruler of Hell—he was—and yet he had placed the future of the realm solely on my shoulders. While letting it go to ruin over the last two decades.

Meanwhile, Hellen was practically vibrating beside Father, who was either oblivious to her feelings … or he simply didn’t care.

“That … that IDIOT is going to be King, and where does that leave ME?” Hellen demanded, eyes flashing, arms flailing, claws gouging the powdery skulls of Father’s throne. “I’m older, wiser, and eviler than he will EVER be! Give ME a mission, Father! Let ME prove to you that my legacy is one you will be proud of. Let ME fight for the Throne of Hell! It would thrive under my reign! It will fester under his!”

Father pinched the bridge of his nose and let out an exasperated, exhausted sigh. A pang of fear stabbed at my gut. Perhaps his ‘official’ retirement would be sooner rather than later.

I was not ready for that. Not in the slightest.

“The demons will not submit to a female, Hellen. We have been over this time and time again. They will not accept you.”

I cricked my neck to mask my surprise. Had Father actually put serious thought into Hellen for the Throne? Over me?

My chest did that stuttering thing once more, as Hellen, to everyone’s utter mortification, burst into noisy sobs.

“I could change their minds! The minions would feast on the misery of humans under my rule,” she wailed.