Soul Guardian-Chapter 4Book 2: : Someone Else’s Problem

Beth watched incredulously as Titan and the young witch under his protection exited the inner sanctuary. Both were apparently no worse for wear.

"HAVE A NICE REST OF YOUR DAY,” rumbled the hellhound as he passed by her desk.

The little girl with him waved politely on her way out, but didn’t stop to introduce herself. For someone who had just seen untold horrors likely to warp even the strongest of minds, the young witch seemed remarkably unfazed. In fact, she looked almost bored.

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Once they were gone, Beth turned to look at the door to the inner sanctuary. It was risky to open it on her own, but she had to know what had happened. One didn’t simply walk out of the inner sanctuary unscathed. They might leave bloody, bruised, and possibly insane. But definitely not unscathed.

Ten layers of protective amulets and a thick fireproof jumpsuit later, Beth was finally ready. She felt woefully underprotected, but a quick peek inside probably wouldn’t be fatal. At least, she hoped it wouldn’t. There were things in the inner sanctuary that could turn you inside out with a glance. (Or outside in, if they were bored and felt like experimenting. Either way, it definitely wouldn’t be a pleasant experience.)

Beth took a deep breath, and opened the door. To her surprise, it was oddly quiet. No banshees wailed. No blood toads croaked their horrible call. For the first time she could remember, the inner sanctuary was completely silent. Stranger still, all the cages she could see from the doorway were empty. But none of them seemed to be damaged.

She would have expected to see some broken cages, or at least some blood. Once the first few creatures escaped, all hell would have broken loose as the various magical carnivores tried to eat one another. And yet, there were no signs of a struggle.

Either someone had snuck in and sedated all the creatures, then somehow managed to transport them out while she wasn’t looking. Or something very strange was going on. Beth highly suspected it was the second option. There was only one exit, and the inner sanctuary was warded against dimensional travel. Unless someone walked out with the creatures in their pocket, she would have spotted them leaving. Which meant the creatures were probably still there. Or at least, their remains were.

Rather than venturing inside to confirm her theory, Beth went back into the lobby and locked the door behind her. Then she cast some extra wards for good measure. Beth had watched enough horror movies to know that going to investigate strange occurrences alone was suicidal, and she wanted nothing to do with it.

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Instead of courting certain death for no good reason, Beth picked up the phone and called her boss. To her delight, the call went straight to voicemail. Beth left a vague message about what was going on, trying her best not to make it sound too urgent. Unless she was very unlucky, her shift would be over long before Lucy called back.

Beth smiled as she sat back down at her desk, content in the knowledge that whatever happened next wasn’t her problem. And in a way, she was right.

Smárgandr escaping from the inner sanctuary wasn’t her problem. It was everyone’s problem.

***

Bael-Sharoth, baron of hell, lord of torment, and world’s best dad (it was official, he had a mug) took another bite of his sandwich as he watched his daughter try to sneak upstairs. Concealed in her hands was a small blue and green snake, which no doubt was the newest addition to their ever-growing family.

He didn’t have anything in particular against snakes. After all, some of his best friends were snakes. But Bael was beginning to resent the sheer amount of random creatures invading his home.

It was bad enough that he had to share a newspaper with Titan, who against all decency made a point of doing the morning crossword in pen, despite Bael making a point of ensuring pencils were available. He could forgive his darling wife for bringing her three hellcats, which were not only highly destructive, but also sarcastic and judgmental (though that was to be expected from cats, magical or not). However, he had to draw the line at feral angels (especially ones that liked to swoop in like biblically accurate seagulls and steal his food).

Despite the traumatic situation that led to his arrival, Potato had settled in nicely. Now the angel formerly known as Metatron was quickly becoming a menace. The mad little bastard would wait until Bael was distracted, then fly by and hoover everything off his plate. How a creature without a mouth could consume twice its weight in chicken drumsticks was a mystery, but Bael didn’t care how it was possible. He just wanted it to stop.

Potato also only seemed to target Bael, which added an extra layer to his annoyance. Maharet could leave her baking unattended without issue. Six could snack without being bothered. But if Bael so much as glanced away from his food, it would be gone by the time he looked back.

Granted, he could guess why the feral angel was probably singling him out. Bael was responsible for Potato’s current mental state. Though of course, Metatron had deserved everything that happened to him. Conspiring with Lucy to kickstart Armageddon was unforgivable. If anything, Metatron had gotten off lightly.

It would have been easy for Bael to stick Metatron somewhere dark and cold for the next few million years. Or just chuck him into the void and be done with it. Instead, Six had decided to adopt the unfortunate angel as a pet, and now Potato was his problem. Just like the snake his daughter had smuggled upstairs was probably going to become his problem.

Bael looked up at the ceiling and counted to ten. He took time to remind himself that every moment with his family was a blessing. But he really should have been looking down. Because while he was distracted, Potato had stolen his sandwich.