"Aaaaaawwwww. She's going to have a little baaaaabyyyyyyy." A whisper broke the silent tension. Sarcasm, spiked with malice.

  A child’s voice.

  Baal forced her false adoration through clenched teeth, her eyes equal parts rage and delight. It was all she could do to contain herself, holding back the madness of Hell within her.

  She stood in the bathroom as Natalie smiled, looking over the pregnancy test. "What a lucky girl!" Baal put her arms around Natalie's midsection and closed her eyes as if in a caring embrace.

  "She's going to be such a beautiful mommy."

  Inside the private space, just beyond Natalie’s perception were Baal and Abaddon both. The diminutive lunatic indulging her mania, and the stoic destroyer standing in the corner. "Come here, scaredy cat!" Baal called to her silent partner. "Don't you want to feeeeeeeel the baby?"

  Abaddon's expression remained as it had since the day they arrived. Stone-faced under his red hood, with just the slightest hint of annoyance. He watched Baal pretending to lean her cheek against the Bishop woman. "You are a plague.” He said in a low, tired voice. “A childish, delusional, unserious plague."

  It had been eight days at this point: Baal and Abaddon in the Bishop's apartment, waiting and watching. A constant surveillance as Pete and Natalie went about their lives.

  The lesser demons that had joined them, Baal had forbade from entering the building. They stationed outside. Hundreds of horrors sitting silent in the trees, standing on the roofs of buildings, skulking about in the driveways and on the balconies of the neighboring apartments. Occasionally, people would come home, step out of their cars, and the invisible monsters would swipe at them, their claws, tails, or even long tongues passing through the oblivious humans as if they were made of smoke.

  Yet, there they remained, day and night, waiting for the moment when their little Lord would finally give her violent instructions.

  Natalie took the positive pregnancy test and walked through Baal's faux hug. She set the test on top of the bedroom dresser, where she imagined Pete would eventually find it. Then she went to wash dishes, grinning the entire time, assuming (mistakenly) that she was enjoying this intimate moment, alone.

  The two demons followed, phasing through the bathroom wall and into the kitchen. They stopped and watched the woman at the sink. "You should have acted by now," Abaddon stated angrily. "Surely, even you can see that." He was in the middle of the room, directly behind Natalie Bishop, his massive height towering over her petite frame. "She'll tell him about the baby, and he'll be inspired to continue on. You've allowed them too much time to adjust. Now…matters are worse."

  Baal smiled, then, with unnatural speed, leapt upon the counter. She perched her child's body, leaning toward Natalie. The two, separated by mere inches. "So sure, aren't you, brother?" She stared intently at her victim. "Always a straight line with you, huh? Shortest distance between two points. So . . . boring." Baal looked up at Abaddon. "You really don't have much of an imagination, do you?"

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  "You toy with them too much," The hammer-wielder replied. "You’re like a cat with a mouse. You bat them round, so confident that the kill is assured. But even the most clever cat can lose a mouse." He bent over Natalie’s shoulder and glared at the demon girl on the counter. "If you let this one get away..."

  "Booooring!" Baal interrupted jumping down, passing right through Natalie, and skipping into the living room. "Is that supposed to scare me?" she shouted from the other side of the apartment.

  Abaddon trailed her, angry. "It's been eight days, Baal!" he shouted. "Eight!" Baal never reacted, but stood facing the sliding glass door, a self-satisfied smile on her face.

  "We watch. We wait. Yet the man grows stronger!" Abaddon swung open his arms in frustration. "Every day that he spends with her, he improves! He sleeps. He eats. He works. And now . . . he has artifacts!"

  At the mention of artifacts, Baal's smile vanished. She stared, out the glass, her eyes taking on a rare seriousness. The demons outside noticed the change in demeanor and slowly amassed in the front yard, their tortured visages turned toward the little girl at the window.

  "They're trinkets," she whispered, barely audible.

  "Excuse me?" Abaddon asked, unamused and out of patience. He sensed her eternal arrogance wane ever-so-slightly.

  It scared him.

  Baal repeated herself, this time, without childish persona. "Trinkets. Garbage. Forged by nonbelievers turning out thousands of copies every day." She clenched her tiny fist, betraying her disdain. “His 'belief’, she continued, “casual at best, and therefore, simple talismans that have no power. Just toys to play with in an effort to stay calm."

  She relaxed her hand, but the look in her eyes never changed. There was still fear in there.

  "But it will only take a moment," Abaddon implored. "Only a moment, a single word, a single thought . . . and he could go from vulnerable to untouchable."

  He phased through the wall into the bedroom, looking at the pregnancy test atop the dresser. "This could be that moment," he said quietly. "It could galvanize his resolve, turn those trinkets into a serious problem for us both."

  Baal joined him at the dresser. "Hmph." She scoffed. "You think this is my first game?"

  At that, she jumped up onto the bed, her voice returned to its childishness. "Who convinced Tiberius to lay down and die in his cave all those centuries ago?" She began to bounce and turn. "Ha!" She laughed, reflecting on her past victories. "Who made the electric man fall in love with a bird and waste away in his hotel room? What was the name? Nikola something?"

  She landed flat-backed on the bed, looking up at her ring pop. "Don't you get it?" she mused, smiling at the candy. "It’s all just a waiting game. And to win, I simply have to give them time. Time to show me what they love, what they fear, what they absolutely cannot live without. And once I've learned what makes them weak. . . I pull them apart, piece by piece. Thread by thread."

  "But Baal," Abaddon went on, "won't the thought of becoming a father make him even more determined to… soldier on?"

  The demon girl sat up on the Bishop's bed, crossing her unicorn shoes, smiling at her partner. "Not if he thinks he's a danger to the baby, silly."

  The childish tone vanished again, as she explained. "Natalie Bishop will tell her husband the good news. He'll pretend to be happy, for her sake. Then, when he is alone, he’ll fall into terror. He’ll collapse, knowing he’s facing the most important responsibility of his life. We both know he's barely functioning. You might have failed to destroy him with that hammer of yours, but he remains in constant pain. It won't take much more pressure to end his resilience, and this pregnancy will be the event that snaps whatever agency he has left."

  Abaddon looked puzzled, pondering ... "You knew this would happen?" he asked.

  "I've ruined more lives than you, big brother.” Baal answered, chaotic whimsy returned. “And when you play as many games as I have, you learn that everybody has a weakness. Pete Bishop puts the world on his shoulders. And in a few minutes, that world is going to get a little bit heavier."

  She grinned, slyly, salivating at the thought of her next victory. "About seven pounds, eight ounces to be exact."