They served to remind Cabal – should a reminder ever be necessary – why his social skills were so poor: people were loathsome and not worth the practise.

Lo!” cried the demon. “I am here! What dost thou seek of me? Why dost thou disturb my repose? Smite me no more with that dread rod!” He looked at Cabal. “Where’s your dread rod?””I...

Lesson one: expect to get screwed over for the convenience of others on a regular basis.

All this bunch of so-called ‘adults’ was doing was making enemies of one another when what they really needed to be concentrating on was how to get out alive.

Now you’re an adult, Katya!” he’d said, picking her up under the armpits like he’d been doing since she’d been born.

He found Satan on his throne in the cavern of lava, reading a large-print edition of Wheatley’s The Satanist. ‘It’s a rum way to warn people off from worshiping me,’ Satan commented, indicating the book....

Not entirely fair?” His voice became that of the inferno: a rushing, booming howl of icy evil that flew around the great cavern, as swift and cold as the Wendigo on skates. “I am Satan,...

Horst passed him a bottle he had picked up in his rapid trip from there to here. Remarkably, it’s contents had survived the transit. “Drink this,” he said, unmoved by Cabal’s anger. “You need to...

It’s a philosophical minefield!”Cabal had a brief mental image of Aristotle walking halfway across an open field before unexpectedly disappearing in a fireball. Descartes and Nietzsche looked on appalled. He pulled himself together.

No churchmen, I notice. Of course not. What use have they for a world without irrational fear?