Chapter 12

I stared at the man who was still holding out his hand in greeting. Could I even call him a man? Creature? Being? Higher power?

Beast.

The problem was he looked more like an indie rock-god than he did a hooved nightmare with twisted horns. He looked more like the stuff of every teenage girl's (and hot-blooded woman's) fantasy than he did the bringer of pestilence and disease. Reaching close to six foot tall, the Devil was beautiful indeed, with contoured cheekbones, smooth flawless skin and mid-brown hair that fell foppishly over his forehead. Dressed in slim fitting black trousers, black shirt rolled up to the elbows and black waistcoat, unbuttoned, he cut a lithe handsome figure. His eyes proved a mystery, first hazel, then a tilt of his head and they were a striking azure, he blinked and they were the darkest chocolate. The myriad of colours was almost as hypnotic as his smile, which was warm and inviting, holding no obvious malice or malevolence.