“And I have to say I’m disappointed in you, Damian. Despite all the dark, destructive powers you possess, you never did anything to avenge Tate. Never put a hex on her. Never turned her into a toad. Never even gave her stomach poisoning. What kind of Antichrist are you?” “One that exists only in your totally whacked head,” Damian retorted. Elle scowled. “Don’t you try gaslighting me. And don’t call me whacked.” “Don’t call me the Antichrist.” “Do you prefer Beelzebub? Lucifer? Abaddon?”
