The Purple Emperor

CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN

He knew there was something he should have done. He'd thrown her in without staking her heart. Brimstone looked up at the crows circling overhead and making such a racket. Too late now. There was somebody coming and he didn't know how much time he had before they got here. Whoever was approaching was close and there was no way Brimstone could afford to be found beside an open hole with his wife's body at the bottom. Especially with her skull smashed in and her stupid wizened little brain oozing out of her nose.

He grabbed the spade and set to filling in the grave.

It was hard work, but he couldn't afford to slow. The crows were going berserk now, stupid birds, and he even fancied he could hear somebody stomping through the undergrowth. Fortunately filling a grave with loose earth was a lot faster than digging it in the first place. He flung the last spadeful and glanced around desperately. The whole place looked what it was – freshly-dug earth. He might as well have put up a notice: New Grave Here.

Dead leaves!

That was it – dead leaves! Dead leaves for a dead wife. If he could just get the body covered up loosely now, he could divert whoever was coming and get back later to finish the job. He began to strew armfuls of dead leaves across the newly-dug grave. But he was nowhere nearly finished when he was transfixed by a bright blue light and something tall and hideous stepped into the clearing. Brimstone dropped the rest of the leaves. He felt his heart stop and his face go pale. No more than five yards away loomed Beleth, Prince of Darkness.

Beleth looked awful.

He'd appeared in his gigantic demon form, but one of his horns was crumpled, two of his fangs were broken and he had an ear missing. There was a fading bruise under his right eye, a pulsating lump on his head and a hideous scar that ran all the way down his left cheek, over his jaw and across his throat. Brimstone had always been terrified of the Infernal Prince, but at the moment the creature hardly looked capable of chewing off a baby's leg. His heart restarted and the colour flooded back into his face. 'What happened to you?' he asked. Beleth scowled. 'That's not important.' 'No, really,' Brimstone said. 'I'm concerned.' 'A bomb blew up in my face,' Beleth said shortly. 'Fortunately this form is virtually indestructible. But what's important -'

'How come all the Hael portals are closed?' Brimstone asked curiously. Beleth must have come by vimana: it was the only way. And since a transport vimana trip would take years, he had to have come alone in one of the fast single-seater saucers, which he'd never, ever done before.

Beleth covered the distance between them in three massive strides and caught him by the throat. Brimstone felt himself lifted up as if he were thistledown. 'Gaah!' he choked. 'Gaah!'

'What's important,' Beleth repeated quietly, his face close to Brimstone's own, 'is that the rest of the Hael Realm wasn't as fortunate as I was.' He released Brimstone, who dropped back to the ground with a spine-jarring thud.

'The Hael Realm was destroyed?' Brimstone gasped, massaging his throat.

'Don't be stupid. But it's in serious need of reconstruction.' He glared at Brimstone with blood-red eyes. 'The cost will run to billions.'

Brimstone swallowed painfully. 'Bit strapped at the moment, I'm afraid. I -' He caught Beleth's expression and ground to a halt. 'That's not what it's about, is it?' He wondered what it was about, but one thing was for certain: this had to be good news. If the Hael Realm lay in ruins, then Beleth would have more on his mind than a broken contract. Besides, that whole silly business about sacrificing Pyrgus was old news now, hardly worth even think- 'What it's about,' growled Beleth, 'is treachery! What it's about is ingratitude! What it's about is broken agreements, welching on bargains, turn-coating scumbags!'

Perhaps it was worth thinking about after all. 'I'm sorry about that contract business,' Brimstone said hurriedly. 'Circumstances beyond my -'

'Not you, you imbecile!' Beleth roared. 'That mealy-mouthed cretinous little upstart Hairstreak!'

Brimstone blinked. 'Hairstreak? Lord Hairstreak?'

Beleth and Lord Hairstreak had been allies in the last attempt to overthrow the Faeries of the Light.

'Yes. Lord Hairstreak! Crapulous crud-faced puke-mouthed sewage-headed little… little… little… '

Beleth was losing it. His eyes were flashing seven colours and flecks of spittle were flying from his mouth. The bump on his head had started to pulsate and the scar across his throat seemed to be opening up to show a row of straining stitches. Brimstone wondered if he might actually have had to sew his head back on after the bomb exploded. But this was clearly no time for speculation.

'I thought you and Hairstreak were allies?' he said quickly.

'Were,' said Beleth sourly. 'Operative word. Past tense. Hairstreak was happy to accept my help when he thought it would put him on the Peacock Throne. Now I need his, he doesn't want to know.'

'That's dreadful,' Brimstone said sympathetically, wondering what Beleth had expected from a Faerie of the Night. 'He's betrayed you in your hour of need, is that it?'

'Exactly!' Beleth said.

Seemed like a good idea to Brimstone. Beleth was clearly weak now. On his knees, in fact. Perfect time to kick him. Except that demon princes always had their resources – they commanded some very nasty magic. Besides, Beleth now knew Brimstone had been burying a body. Perhaps it was safest to be more subtle.

'So,' he said cautiously, 'what do you want from me?'

Beleth told him.