Death - Just head

“…do not know who might have engaged our services, or why. Can’t begin to guess how they knew to send us here, either. We go where our mistress commands, kill whomever she commands; she doesn’t tell us more than that. And a good thing, because it means you cannot make me tell you any more than that! Are we done?”
The head of the demon—Death had been careful to select one of the more intelligent varieties, rather than the mindless and ineloquent brutes who made up so great a portion of Hell’s hordes—sat impaled on a stalagmite, looking very much like some nightmarish puppet. Death stood to one side, questioning the spirit he had called back from the void.


***

Chapter 25