Dast pursed his lips after closing the door of his room.

  The Hole was the most frightful place in all of creation. The demons had met with countless hardships when they were thrown into what would become their prison for the rest of time. The hostile environment in which they were forced to subsist was nearly the end of them. Only when Satan—the Favored One, as they had always referred to him—had managed to secure certain parts of Hell did the Fallen enjoy their first moments of rest.

  Nonetheless, to guarantee their survival they were never able to abandon their constant battle with the Hole and its creatures, and the demons had gone through some immensely arduous periods during their incarceration. And unlike the angels, death had never hesitated to visit them when one of them made a mistake. Hope had become a bitter, elusive feeling that was more and more difficult to preserve. Since the Elder had decreed that their punishment should be eternal, the only thing they could expect was to either spend eternity in the Hole or perish from one of the infinite number of dangers to which they were condemned.

  There was only one time when their situation permitted them to dream of escape. The Favored One had managed to block the gate of the Hole, holding off the angels and thereby permitting them the freedom of movement necessary to orchestrate their flight, hidden from the eyes of the Nest. But they soon discovered that, in spite of finally being independent, it was impossible to get out of Hell. And as the millennia passed, their hatred over such a disproportionate punishment grew ever greater.

  The dangers they faced caused them to organize themselves simply and efficiently. The six Circles of the Hole, which were the parts of Hell that Satan had established, fell under the command of the six Barons who governed the rest of the Fallen on behalf of the Favored One. Dast was the exception to that rule. He wasn’t a Baron and did not belong to any of the six clans. He was the personal advisor to the Favored One and the only one who’d ever been in his chambers. He sometimes referred to Dast as the seventh Baron given that, though he did not have a clan upon which he could impose his will, he had at his disposal all the same considerations as the Barons and, according to the Favored One, even more.

  Of all the demons, Dast was probably the one who least appreciated the Wave. Though he was happy to be able to leave Hell and savor the long-awaited opportunity to perpetrate his vengeance like everyone else, he realized that his relatively comfortable existence was due to his ties to the Favored One. And now that he had disappeared, Dast was left in a rather uncomfortable situation.

  Analyzing thoroughly the peculiarities of his position, Dast looked across his room which was situated five floors above where Diago was being held. It was a small room, barely thirty square feet, with a window on one wall and some simple furniture. He looked slightly disgusted as he walked between the chairs and stopped next to the window. Even his quarters in the Hole were better than this limited space. Dast closed the curtains and in three steps was at the other side of the room where a large, oval mirror was hanging. He felt indifferent about the long, bearded face with disproportionately large eyes looking back at him. He swept his hand through his hair, moving the curly brown locks off his forehead. Then he closed his eyes and used all his other senses to resurvey the room.

  He reopened his eyes a short while later, quite satisfied. He was alone.

  He reached his hand out toward the mirror, lifted it off the wall and let it fall to the floor where it smashed into pieces. Dast crouched down and his enormous eyes closely examined each one of the pieces. It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for. He carefully turned over the pieces of glass and picked up one of the largest ones. The fragment balanced perfectly on his right hand on one of the points of its octagonal borders.

  Just then, there was a movement so quick behind his back that his peripheral vision could not capture it. He felt a strong blow to his ribs as he fell to the floor six feet from where he’d been. He quickly raised his head to identify his aggressor.

  “Nilia!” he exclaimed in his whispery voice.

  “An ingenious way to hide a crystal,” she said, holding the fragment Dast had chosen from among the shards of the mirror. “I must admit I was always curious to know how you did it.”

  “You’re crazy!” Dast dragged himself to his feet. “I intend to report you to Tanon.”

  Nilia crossed the distance separating them and put a hand over his thin mouth. In the other hand shone a dagger that hadn’t been there just a moment before when she started moving, and a split second later she had it on Dast’s throat.

  “I don’t think you’ll report me,” she said, her face so close to his that her black hair hung on the seventh Baron’s chest. “The first thing that will happen if you ask for help with that disgusting voice of yours is that your precious Crystal will follow the example of the rest of the mirror and will be snapped into pieces right in front of your eyes. Then I’ll let my imagination decide what would be most appropriate for you. Understand?”

  Dast nodded with some difficulty under the pressure from the hand clasped over his mouth. He was no match for her and had no doubt she was capable of carrying out her threats. Nilia had always been complex, and very difficult to control. He had tried to win her over in the past since being able to count on her support was of immeasurable value, especially since his influence was jeopardized after the Favored One had vanished. But she only seemed interested in finishing the war they’d started so long ago.

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  Dast, like many other demons, had been very surprised when Satan named the six Barons and passed her over. She seemed the ideal candidate and, after the destruction caused by the War, Dast was convinced she was among the most famous and most feared in the minds of the angels. There was no doubt Nilia was as strong as any of the Barons and certainly much more so than Urkast. Of course, he had his place assured since he was the one with the most followers; Urkasts’s clan was at least double the size of any of the other five.

  It should have been easy for him to tempt her, but Nilia had not shown the least interest the few times Dast had made subtle insinuations about them joining forces.

  “Perfect.” Nilia pulled her hand away, took a step back, and crossed her arms. She looked perfectly relaxed. “Let’s have a chat about the little schemes you always seem to be mixed up in.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. That Crystal is from—”

  “I know full well who sent you that Crystal. We would save a lot of time if you dropped the excuses.”

  “I can’t let you see its contents.”

  “I know. I’m not interested in its contents. But I want you to know I’m aware of what happened in the first war.” Nilia’s expression hardened. “And I also know you were, to some degree, a part of it. Listen to me well; this time nothing like that will happen. If there is collusion of any significance you’re going to tell me immediately.”

  Dast was relieved. He had nothing to hide, so his only problem was convincing her that was truly the case. Still, he was rather surprised she knew so much about what had happened in the first war.

  “I assure you that this time you’ll be informed of everything, unless of course someone who has nothing to do with me is plotting something.”

  “I am tired of your nonsense, Dast.” Nilia took a step toward him, the muscles in her arm tensing. “This time I don’t plan to risk my neck in a war just so you can carry out your own agenda. I want to know what you’re up to!”

  “Nothing. That was a long time ago.” Dast instinctively took a step back. His voice was a sibilant whisper. “The situation is completely different now. I swear to you. There is nothing going on behind your back.”

  Nilia didn’t even blink. She simply stood there, rigid as a statue, evaluating whether or not what she’d just heard was true.

  “All right. But if I find out you lied to me, I’ll come after you. I promise you I am more than capable of changing sides just to have the pleasure of doing away with you. You will not play me again. Once was enough.”

  “That won’t be necessary; you can be sure of it. But there is a chance I could interest you in taking part in a kind of ‘project,’ if you will, that I have in mind.” Dast measured his words with the utmost care. He was well aware of Nilia’s fury and he—being all too familiar with her motives—understood there was good reason for it. But even he stood to lose nothing by persuading her to do something apparently aligned with her own interests. “It’s fair to say that it can’t be done without collaboration with someone . . . how shall I say it . . . extremely strong and determined. And, of course, this person would greatly benefit as well.”

  Nilia tilted her head to one side and her eyes sparkled for a second. She wasn’t sure what he was getting at, but she had an idea of why he needed her. She couldn’t help but feel intrigued.

  “I have to go. Stil is waiting for me.” She did not want to keep her Baron waiting. “But I’ll be back, and we can chat about this project of yours.”

  Nilia left the room and, as she headed down to the basement of the building, she continued turning over in her mind the preparations for the war. She wasn’t sure how Dast’s plan might fit in, but she’d have to give the odd little character a chance to explain. On previous occasions when the seventh Baron had tried to approach her she hadn’t paid much attention to him since she was sure his motives were related to power struggles with other Barons. She had her own style when carrying out her objectives, and conflicts between Barons were a low priority in her mind.

  She had a very clear objective now and, equally clear to her was that no one was going to distract her. What was not as clear was the path to take to achieve it. Luck had offered her the best of all opportunities in the most unexpected way—via a Minor—and just as quickly, in spite of her efforts, she had lost it all. Losing Raven to the Fog had thwarted her plans. But at that moment, capturing Diago and replacing him with an impersonator had been the most important thing. Raven losing his balance because of Vyns’s annoying interference could not have been avoided. Now she just had to find another way to access the Dwelling, but in the meantime, she would lose nothing by allowing herself a little time to find out if Dast’s plan could somehow serve her own ends.

  Nilia went up a dark hallway, turned right at the next hallway and stopped when someone called out from behind her.

  “My congratulations for your use of a stand-in for Diago,” said Urkast coldly.

  “I’m in a hurry. Stil is waiting for me and he won’t like it if I’m late,” she replied with the same coldness.

  “Since when have you become so diligent?” questioned the Baron, coming up next to her. His different-colored eyes were locked on her. “I’m surprised you’re putting your rebelliousness on a back burner.”

  “I’m reserving it just for you. Stil is my Baron. I owe him my loyalty.”

  “Somehow I don’t see you as someone particularly loyal. Your rashness has caused problems for all of us. You’re dangerous.”

  “I thought you wanted to congratulate me for my last mission.”

  “Of course, and also to ask you a question. Did you have to use one of my people to impersonate Diago? Couldn’t you have chosen someone from your own clan?”

  “I chose the one I found most adequate. At our last meeting I offered for you to take care of this yourself if you thought you could do it better. You passed up that chance. Now I suggest you leave me alone. Save your hatred for when I screw up. It’s not too smart to criticize someone who just successfully undertook the most dangerous and important task in our history.”

  “You think everything depends on you, don’t you? You are excessively conceited.”

  “What I think is that while you’re all hiding out, organizing our people and manipulating the Minors, I’m taking great risks to directly confront the enemy.”

  “Whatever you say. Just don’t pretend you weren’t dying to do it.

  “Okay, I’m leaving now. It’s been a pleasure, Urkast, as always.”

  “Wait a minute.” The Baron grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks. Nilia stiffened and Urkast immediately loosened his grip on her. “I know you can’t be trusted, Nilia. I’ll be watching you. Sooner or later you’ll make a mistake and I’ll make sure that will be the last time you hurt us.”