“I'm afraid it is.” Harold smiled. “I've been charged by Legion herself to recover all the demons who left with Manoach and you're one of the last. You can come quietly or be extracted by the use of extreme force.” He shrugged. “Your choice. I'm good either way.”
The old woman's eyes gleamed red. It looked like a cheap horror movie effect and the cheese factor was only increased by the guttural voice with the added sub-harmonics. “And what would you know of it, mortal?”
“Oh, I'm sorry. You've been away, haven't you?” Harold stepped forward, refusing to be intimidated by a two thousand year old demon with no more idea of the news than a bathroom last decorated in the seventies. “I'm the new prince of darkness. Lucifer's son. I might be mortal but... and trust me on this one... you really don't want to get on my bad side for all eternity.” He tapped his cane on the floor. “Now make your mind up. I haven't got all day. Voluntarily leaving the form of this old lady of the eternal enmity of the prince of Hell and all the punishment that entails?”
The gleam left the old woman's eyes and she slumped to the floor.
Harold nodded. “Good choice.”