1. The Devil's Pact, Hell Chronicles Chapter 7: Lilith


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    sulfur plains ended at red, blasted hills and craggy rocks. The searing wind seemed to blow from the hills, growing stronger as we crossed the plain. It had grown so bad, two days ago we had to take shelter as the world turned entirely yellow. “I'll go check it out, Momma,” Gabriella, Ursula and the Ghost's daughter, whispered. “Okay, baby girl,” Ursula told her. I watched carefully, noting the small disturbances Gabriella left as she scampered across the rocks, kicking up red dust and leaving behind her bare foot prints. We had to cross naked. We couldn't seem to make our cheerleader uniforms transparent. Gabriella reached the summit of the hill. I waited, Ursula's hand squeezing down hard on my shoulder. She could be overprotective of her daughter sometimes. But Gabriella was more than competent. She had her mother's passion and her father's appetite. A single, red rock lifted off the ground and bobbed twice—the all clear signal. Ursula and I padded through the craggy terrain, making our way up the rocks. The ground was sharp, but our feet were toughened by Hell's terrain; I didn't notice the razor edges trying to cut my feet. At the summit, the searing wind howled. In the distance, a great city made of some coppery metal like bronze or brass. “Dis,” Ursula whispered. “That's Lucifer's capital.” “Was,” I corrected. “He left for greener pastures.” “Well, someone's claimed it. Look at the gates.” An army streamed out. They marched in columns, dressed in black armor. They ...
    almost looked like a forest, each man holding a spear, the tip gleaming in the red light. At the head, a man in fearsome, crimson armor rode a nightmarish horse, coal-black hide and fire for a mane. Every time its hooves struck the red earth, sparks flared. Three women dressed in kimono's rode side-saddle on their own demonic mounts behind him. “We need to tell the Ghost,” Ursula whispered. I nodded. The army was marching for the Sulfur Plains. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Chantelle Paquet-Holub I hated the sulfurous plains. It was hard to tell which way to go. Supergirl came from a brass city, escaping out of Lucifer's prison. She whispered that a tyrant named Brandon was coming out on top in the fighting. “The Patriots tried to fight,” Supergirl said, “but the Samurai's troops defeated them for Brandon.” I shivered. Brandon Fitzsimmons. The man who almost defeated Mark. His attack prompted Mark and Mary to form the Theocracy and to dominate the world. Brandon had shown them how dangerous other Warlocks could be—the man had enslaved an entire military base, JBLM near Tacoma, to attack Mark—so the Tyrants hunted down every Warlock there was. Brandon was reputed to be a cruel man. According to Mark's propaganda, Brandon sacrificed women to Molech. Over a hundred were raped and burned to death by the Demon. I believed the stories. And now that man might be in control of Lucifer's domain. We needed to find Lilith as fast as possible. The six of us set across the Sulfur Plains. ...
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