I was not the one to be able to hold her through the pain and suffering she was forced to endure. And even without that guilty weight laying heavily against my shoulders, I had already been getting to the point that I was near desperate to have her in my arms, just so I knew that she was safe. Safe with me and only me.
I vowed, in that moment, that if I heard a single thing that Trice had done by taking advantage of her in any way, then there would be nothing in this world or the next, that would have the power to stop me from killing him! Not even the pleading sounds of my girl begging for his life to be spared would that stop me.
Someone was going to die today and if I knew that one finger had been laid on my girl, then it would be one more to add to the fucking list! For it was starting to look like today would be a day dedicated to death by hands.
And when in this Hellish realm, I was after all, the…
King of Death.
Speaking of which, Carn’reau informed me,
“It is time, my Lord.”
At this I cracked my neck, which was so tense I was surprised that when I stood, I didn't shatter my own bones. for the time had come that I had been dreading. That the hand of death was to be delivered and what was worse, it was a hand that belonged to me. For my brother’s time had run out and what was worse, I was forced to do this with the extra worry lying on my shoulders as to where my Chosen One could be. The last she had been seen was leaving the tavern with the portal master and all three of the McBain brothers. At the very least I knew all three of them were with her now, and knowing my Amelia, my beautiful girl, I knew that she would stop at nothing until she got back to me. I knew this deep down in my core.
I had just wished for it to have been now, for I needed her counsel more than ever. But wishes were rarely granted in Hell, just as my brother was about to find out for his time in this world was now at an end.
So, I walked out of the office with purpose and for once, it was a death I would not relish in granting, for there in front of me now was my brother. I’d had no choice but to have him brought to the throne room as he was now, for he was too much of a liability to have just simply walked him in here. Not when he may have been capable of trying anything, like creating a way to escape. Which was why I had him brought out here in what would have been a torturous device for anyone, even one as powerful as my brother.
It was a Hellish version of the Iron Maiden, only without the person sized box that a body would have been put inside. this was because most demons came in different sizes than a human host, so it would have been pointless creating one in that image. Instead, I had discovered an old favourite of my brother’s, one he himself used to use on prisoners. It seemed almost fucking poetic that it was now being used on him.
The āšipūtu cloak was known as exorcistic lore and said to be created by Enki-Ea himself, the God of wisdom and exorcism in Sumerian culture. Mesopotamian magic was subdivided into four types, liminal magic, aggressive magic, your basic witchcraft, and the type used when creating āšipūtu cloak, being defensive magic. This was categorised as being when an evil force needs repelling, and that most definitely was the case here.
The āšipūtu was a long cloak that looked like a chainmail of triangular scales. each connecting plate was carved with a different incantation to prevent a demon’s powers from being used.
Then, once placed around the prisoner, it would mould itself to every inch of its victim and start to burn these incantations into the skin. As if a demon was being bathed in holy water blessed by the Gods in Heaven.
I would have winced at the smell of burning flesh as my brother was brought forward, needing to be carried by my guards.