No. Bael's power is no more.
Then why are you so concerned about protecting me from this guy?
"You cannot be premier prince," Asmodeus said in a flat, emotionless voice.
It is my nature. I explained that earlier.
Yeah, yeah, all that macho stuff that doesn't cut squat with me. Is he a danger to us?
"Um . . . I think I am the premier prince. Aren't I?" Sally looked down at herself. "Yes, yes I am. Asmo, dumplin', we've never really seen eye to eye ever since that holiday party that I threw last year, when you insisted that Bael remove me from Abaddon because I may have spiked the eggnog, and subsequently your wrath demons got a bit tipsy and thought it would be a hoot and a half to drug you and put you in a vat of Jell-O so all of your legions could have their pictures taken indulging in nude Jell-O wrestling with you - which, I have to admit, was a hoot and a half - but I can see you're still holding that bit of festive frolicking against me. My advice is just to get over it, and move on. I'm boss now."
I don't see how he could be a threat. That is the reason Kristoff and I have allowed him to continue.
Cora smothered a laugh at Sally's conversation. He looks like he's going to explode. Maybe we should move back? I wouldn't want your owies to hurt again.
They have healed, and I have to admit to wanting to stay a few more minutes, despite the temptation you pose.
"You are not," Asmodeus insisted.
Why?
Because I think Sally is about to explain something important.
"Look, this is how it works - I banish Bael, and that makes me the boss," Sally started to say, but Asmodeus cut her explanation short.
"You cannot be the premier prince of Abaddon because it is not allowed." Asmodeus gestured toward Terrin. "I had my suspicions before, but this proves it."
"Oh, dear," Terrin said, getting to his feet and moving over to stand next to Sally, who didn't look in the least bit concerned by what Asmodeus was saying. "Sally, my sweet, perhaps now would be a good time to dismiss the others."
She glanced toward them, a twinkle visible in her eye. "Oh, I think they've earned the right to see this to the end, don't you? Cora and Ulfur certainly have, and since the Dark Ones helped, they deserve to stay, as well."
"Thank you," Alec said politely as Kristoff bowed, and said, "We are all gratitude."
"It doesn't matter who is here - the news will be made public throughout the Otherworld so that everyone will know of your perfidy," Asmodeus said, looking almost bored now.
"I'm still confused," Pia murmured. "Why can't Sally be the head boss if she took down Bael? Doesn't that make her the strongest?"
"That's a very good question," Cora said, then addressed Asmodeus. "What perfidy? Other than, you know, kidnapping us and all that jazz, which Alec swears wasn't bad, but I still have my doubts."
Sally blew her a little kiss. Cora grimaced.
"She can't be the premier prince for the reason that the Sovereign is not allowed to rule Abaddon as well as the Court of pine Blood."
Alec smiled, glad his suspicion was confirmed, aware at the same time of Cora's gasp of surprise and jerk to the side.
"The . . . the . . . you mean . . . no!" she stammered, taking a step toward Sally. "You can't be God! You're all wrong for God! Not the fact that you're a woman, although all of those plagues and wiping out of innocents sounds like the act of a man rather than a woman, but no, I just refuse to accept that you're God."
"I'm not," Sally said, giving her a sympathetic pat on the arm. "For one, the Sovereign isn't the same as the mortal concept of a Christian God. For another . . ." She slid a glance toward Terrin.
"Jesus wept!" Cora exclaimed, clearly missing the irony of her words, running her hands through her hair. "God is married?"
Sally's eyebrows rose. "You mean Terrin? Oh, we're not married."
Alec thought Cora was going to explode with frustration. Her hair stuck out at odd angles as she all but screamed, "God is living in sin? What the hell?"
"Abaddon - " Terrin started to correct, but stopped at a look from Alec.
"Terrin isn't my lover," Sally said with an irrepressible giggle. "He's my . . . well . . . my other half."