Demon's Daughter (Demon Outlaws) by Paula Altenburg Page A

created conflict among them. Only when necessary did the Demon Lord summon them together in the cavern he had carved into the red desert cliffs as protection from the searing light of day.
    He had summoned them now, and as he looked out on them, was reminded how pitiful their remaining numbers were. He had once drawn his strength from tens of thousands, enough to scorch this entire world with demon fire.
    The stone platform on which he sat placed him well above the restless crowd. He rolled his shoulders. Prolonged periods in mortal form created discomfort, but overall, it was one better suited to this world than any other.
    Mortality fascinated demon and goddess alike. Mortal existence was governed by the passage of time, and natural instinct encouraged the seeking of its fleeting physical pleasures. Assuming mortal forms provided access to pleasures demons had never before experienced.
    Time, however, had begun to affect demons in other, less pleasurable ways. The Demon Lord held up one hand and examined it by the light of the torches. The flesh over the knuckles had stretched and slightly puckered through time. His hair, once black as onyx, now bore a few threads of silver. Quite often, after prolonged periods of inactivity, his joints stiffened and even ached.
    Many, although not all, of those gathered around him were faring no better. The reality was, the Demon Lord found himself at the head of an aging army. Time had become the goddesses’ most effective weapon against them, and he had to find a way for them to escape before it was too late.
    If this spawn was the key to why they were trapped, as Mamna suggested, then there could be others like her too, and that was not to be tolerated. He wanted very much to know how a demon spawn could have survived all these years in the temple of the goddesses. And how a spawn came to be female.
    He rose to his feet and stepped to the front of the platform. The horde below him gradually quieted. When they were silent and all he could hear was the sputtering flames of the torches, he spoke.
    “The mating with mortal women ends now.”
    An angry murmur began at the back of the room and quickly spread throughout. One of the demons who had chosen to keep his natural form for this gathering nudged his way forward through the crowd.
    Firelight glanced off bone-plated red skin as thick as a sand swift’s hide. Ridges lined a curved spine. Two short, sharp-pointed horns sprang from the sides of a broad forehead. His name was Be’el, and in his demon form even the bravest among them thought twice before accepting his challenge.
    Yet in his mortal form, women found him irresistible. Countless spawn had borne Be’el’s telltale markings.
    “We followed the goddesses to this world for the promise of its pleasures,” Be’el said. “We fought for them. Now you wish to deny them to us?”
    The Demon Lord had expected opposition, and from whom it would come, and he had prepared for it. He did not shift to his demon form, knowing it would insult and enrage Be’el that he did not. An added advantage was that in his mortal form he did not succumb easily to bloodlust, and he needed to keep a cool head.
    He rolled his head from side to side, lifting his shoulders and swinging his arms in anticipation. “We came here to bring the goddesses to their knees before us.”
    “And we did.”
    There was a rumble of agreement. The Demon Lord waited for it to die down. “No. They ran from us. And now they are free to roam the universe while we are stranded here, trapped in time.”
    “Time.” Be’el spat on the ground. “Time is nothing to us. If not for you we could rule this world, and all its pleasures would be ours for the taking.”
    “For how long?” the Demon Lord asked. “Until the last of us grows old and dies?”
    “We are immortals.”
    Death was not a concept easily understood by them. Neither was time. Demons did not fear either. Freedom, however, was something they valued. So