"What now, little brilliance?" Abaddon whispered to the blonde-haired demon in the bib overalls. "What's the next py in our game, oh expert?"

  The two Fallen stood in the bedroom, watching Pete and Natalie asleep in the dark. Baal stared bnkly, unmoved by Abaddon’s mocking tone.

  "She took my fun," the little girl finally spoke. She walked to Natalie’s side of the bed. "So brave. So . . . stupid." The light from the blinds cast rows of shadows on the demon’s face. She leaned down and whispered into Natalie's ear, "You didn't tell him, pretty mommy. I can't believe you didn't tell him.” She gazed across the bed to where Pete slept, eyeing the dull glow of the Wreath spinning in his mind.

  "It'll be too easy," Baal opined. "Too easy without a Light. And there's no fun in that." Then, looking at Natalie once more, she grinned, begrudgingly impressed with the woman's strength. "How in the nine circles did you know to keep your mouth shut?"

  "It doesn't matter," Abaddon interjected. "The wife was never a sanctioned target. The husband is all that matters. Do your work, and be done with this."

  The demon girl leapt, clearing the bed entirely and nding directly in front of Abaddon. She gred up at his pale face. "You think you're my boss now?" she demanded. "You think I take orders from you?” Then she smiled. “Maybe I should just take my ball and go home!” Her red kickball manifested under her arm, and she casually turned to skip away.

  "Wait!" Abaddon shouted, grabbing Baal's shoulder. Fear making him desperate. "You're right. You are. I came to you. I needed you. I know this. But please, Baal, just once try to remember . . . how we used to be."

  The child that was chaos, personified, in unicorn shoes, halted. Enraged, but still … listening.

  “We served together,” Abaddon entreated. “You remember it, don't you? Peace, covering us like sunshine?” He let go and looked down at his own hands, examining them. "We were glorious, weren’t we?" he asked. “Favored. Each of us. Uriel, at the great steps to the throne. Gabriel and Lilith passing on Father's will. You with Raphael, offering our praise as the incense of the hall. Azazel, Belial, Ithuriel…all of us…”

  His voice trailed off, and he lowered his arms as memories of eons past danced across his cold dark eyes.

  And at the mention of names, Baal had long refused to speak, a single tear rolled down her cheek. An endearment Abaddon would not have believed possible, had he only seen it.

  "But it was all undone.” The Mindbreaker went on. “All of it. All for them." He gestured to Pete and Natalie lying still in their bed. "All for these unworthy, animals. Even the insects that cover the earth honor the One more so than these. And Lucifer knew!” His voice rose. “He knew what they would become. And when he exposed Father's falcy, we who recognized the danger were what? Cast out? Doomed for our concern?”

  "Enough," Baal raised her small hand, ending the rant. "I require no history lesson." Her speech, abandoned its whimsy and rose to meet Abaddon's bitterness. "You've spoken true, brother. More than you know. And I remember our hopeless rebellion. Quite clearly in fact. Though, I doubt even Gabriel understands what really transpired that day."

  Baal exhaled, and the kickball vanished. She moved to Pete Bishop's side of the bed, allowing her hand to trace the cotton sheets. "These," she stated ftly, mirroring Abaddon’s disdain. "Our unworthy cousins. Apple of Father’s eye.” She leaned close over Pete’s head, once again watching the threads of his Wreath as they spun. "But not forever, I think."

  Then she straightened, apparently satisfied with something she’d sensed in the strands. "And this one," she pointed at the sleeping man. "This one could be a key to an end."

  “An end?” Abaddon asked, though Baal did not eborate.

  The Fallen general stepped aside, eyeing the girl. He could feel a change in the air of the room. As if the shadows had caught one st breath before…

  "To. Your. Master," Baal whispered. Words that whipped throughout the apartment complex like wind. Slowly, her mutated soldiers began to amble in through the doorway, climbing up the stairs, and joining them in the darkened bedroom.

  Within moments, the half-breed monsters had filled the home until there was no space left. They stood shoulder to shoulder, silently, like statues, as Baal continued watching the sleeping couple.

  "Nightmares for you, Mr. Bishop," She sneered, the unicorn faces of her tennis shoes, contorting in kind. "And threads for me."

  Abaddon waited at the opposite corner of the room, hammer in hand. He had only ever heard rumors of what Baal did to her victims. “Nightmare” was a name spoken throughout the realms. “Threadeater”, another. And from the time of The Fall, Baal’s unrivaled success had been said to come at a heavy cost. A frequent need to re-manifest herself. Straining her own mind with the thoughts of mortals. Her madness, an inevitable result of a dark commission.

  A low hum began to emanate like a warning from within Pete’s Wreath. “Do you know what’s funny?” Baal asked

  Abaddon waited, silent.

  The little girl reached out her hand and held it hovering inches above the spinning bundles. Her outstretched fingers appearing to vibrate. “There’s nothing ‘special’ about this man,” she expined. “I can feel it now that I’m so close. This isn’t a leader of men. No extraordinary genius.” Her hand continuing to hover. “He is the epitome of average, just as you’ve told me. Yet somehow, he endures a shattered life.” She grinned to herself. “It will be a fascinating thing, seeing how much he can take.”

  Abaddon and the lesser demons watched on from the shadows, as Baal’s body shifted and straightened. The humming from Pete Bishop’s Wreath grew louder still.

  “Behold,” she announced, and her voice changed, sounding out, disembodied through the demonic mass. “Behold the Great Corruption.”

  With that, her hand knifed into the middle of Pete’s Wreath, cupping the inside of the spinning circle. As the strands continued, they brushed against her small palm, illuminating it.

  “Where?” she inquired, casually. “Where is it?”

  Her fingers spread slowly into the bundle and strands moved between them like running water. Pete Bishop’s breath halted for just a second, and his face winced as though pained. Then he rolled to his side, returning to restless sleep.

  Baal’s eyes widened in excitement, practically glowing in the dark. She had the look of a jungle predator readying for the kill.

  “Ah, there you are, Mr. Bishop,” she said, eerily satisfied. “Now, your thought belongs to me.”

  Baal’s hand flexed as she abruptly pinched one of the threads. Its motion stopped while Pete’s body jerked. Then with violent force, she ripped the entire strand from Pete’s wreath, filling the room with a burst of light. It shone for an instant upon the fangs of lesser demons, and glistened like sparks, reflected in Abaddon’s bck hammer.

  Holding the golden thread, she looked toward her crimson cd partner across the room, her excited smile clearly visible in the darkness. “Bear witness, Mindbreaker,” she said, and taking the strand in both hands, she opened her mouth and bit down, pulling on either side until it tore. What remained, she consumed. Swallowing all pieces of the broken thought.

  Then her body froze. Her arms going rigid at her sides. She appeared no longer in control of herself, and Abaddon became armed. But just as he was about to call out, a leathery cw grabbed at his wrist. He turned, shocked to find one of the lesser demons looking up at him.

  It had the shape of a man but with skin much more reptile than human. There were scant patches of hair that stuck out from a half-scale, half-skin scalp. And it’s eyes … snake-like.

  It’s appearance might have thrown the great Fallen prince, but before Abaddon had time to process what he was seeing, the creature spoke!

  “Little,” the Reptilian hissed, its snake eyes burning with purpose. “Little… Master… must… make… the worm.”

  Abaddon was astonished. “She’s granted one consciousness?” He recognized, dumbfounded, staring at the beast. But there was no time to be shocked, as from across the bed, Baal continued to change.

  Abaddon observed as the little girl’s eyes started to fill with bck. Her pupils expanding until there were just two pitch orbs in her skull. And from out the left eye, a small white worm slowly emerged.

  Tiny at first, it wriggled its string-like body, slowly escaping the demon’s oculus. As it squirmed its way free, inch by inch, it floated out into the air. And once pulled completely free from its host, the skinny white worm fshed a small mouth at its head. A hole filled with tiny needle-like teeth.

  Abaddon continued to watch, mesmerized, as the worm turned in upon itself and bit down on its own tail, forming its body into a pale, living, circur… thread.

  Baal’s pupils returned to normal, and her body rexed, awareness reviving the demon girl. She looked upon the floating worm and smiled as if it were a beloved pet. “Soooo good,” she cooed while it unduted to her hand. “So good for the terrible work.”

  She took the sickly imposter and slowly guided it toward Pete’s Wreath. It hovered briefly next to the spinning bundles, and after a moment inserted itself, joining in sync with the strands of conscious thought. A mind of tarnished gold, now with one pale infiltrator infecting them.

  The reptilian who had spoken to Abaddon earlier, worked his way toward his master and awaited instruction. “Tear only in the waking hours,” Baal ordered. “Groups at his workpce, in his vehicle, and at his home.” The monster nodded in understanding. “But the nighttime is for me alone,” Baal finished.

  Abaddon, still shocked by the ritual, finally managed to speak. “What happens now?”

  “Now?” Baal answered, sounding tired. “I must recover. My soldiers will follow my orders.” As she spoke, the lesser demons began to disperse from the bedroom taking up both inside and outside the home. “When I am returned to full strength, I will come back and assess the man’s decline … if he’s still alive.” At that, she raised two fingers to her forehead, summoning the Kaleidoscope.

  “Wait!” Abaddon shouted. “What have you done to him?”

  Baal stepped through the fractal door, waving a dismissive hand over her shoulder. A purple ring-pop visible on one finger. “I gave him a nightmare, silly.” Then the door closed behind her.

  Abaddon, alone in the dark bedroom, looked at the sleeping man, the white imposter worm hidden within his mind. “A nightmare,” he considered. “What sort of nightmare could come from a mind this broken?”

  Then he too summoned the Kaleidoscope and exited the demon infested apartment.