Daring the Devil
Reigning Hell Book 1
Natasha Larry
Lindsey R. Loucks
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
About the Authors
Daring the Devil (Reigning Hell Book 1) © May 2017 Natasha Larry & Lindsey R. Loucks
Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
1
The first time I heard my mother curse, it was because I refused to collect a human soul. See, my mom’s the Devil. And I don’t mean that in any metaphorical sense. She is quite literally the Devil.
The big, bad fallen angel. The maker of demons. The Queen of Hell.
But to me, she was always just Mom. Gentle and comforting most days, usually laughing and making up elaborate games for me, my favorite of which was pin the tail on the demon using real tails. Things started to change when I came of age and she expected me to join the family business, namely to collect a soul so I could one day rule over Hell. I failed on my first try because my target, who’d been a thief, had a thing for corgis. I mean, those were cute ass dogs, and the dog adored his master. Surely Mom would’ve understood.
Only she didn’t.
“Well, isn’t this some shit?” The words fell off her lips, brilliant and seemingly tinted with the crimson red of her lipstick.
My eyes widened, and she shook her head at me with a disappointment I wasn’t used to. Then she confined me to my chambers for a week—minus my streaming movie subscriptions. I felt like climbing the walls without being able to watch my favorite movies and shows. But taking souls was what I was meant to do, my bloodline, a requirement to take my future throne. So when Mom gave me another chance, I was determined to get it right.
I mean, what’s the princess of Hell if she can’t bring in some quality souls? Over time, souls were tortured until everything that made them human was ditched, and they became demons, sort of a never-ending supply of worker ants for the queen bee. Or in this case, Queen Devil. Basically, Hell wouldn’t exist without souls. Taking souls from the Nest—the place above me that crawled with humans—was a large part of the job. Some souls were directly sent here by Saint Peter if they didn’t pass inspection in Heaven.
So this was a lot of pressure. On the other hand, I didn’t really get why it was a big deal. It wasn’t like Mom was going anywhere anytime soon.
Mauve, the demon who had served as my handmaiden since I was a young girl, cleared her throat behind me in my chambers. “Hurry, child. Stay focused on your task.”
Don’t be fooled. Some might hear the title “handmaiden” and think maid. Mauve was no maid. She was my counsel, my fashion advisor, and I’d like to think by now, my closest friend. I took in the way her silver hair was pulled into a tight bun on top of her head. She stood at only five feet tall, and her eyes, red as the deepest pits of Hell, always burned with something fierce.
With a sigh, I selected a low-cut, dark copper dress encrusted with garnet around the hem. I snapped my fingers, and my flannel pajamas flecked with 666—or were those nines?—vanished from my body. In their place was the gown that Mom had given me for my last birthday. I should’ve felt instantly lighter because this princess-of-Hell dress always gave me confidence, but instead, a flurry of nerves pitched around in my stomach.
I bit down on my lower lip, sweeping my gaze across the rows of clothing that seemed to go on forever and finally resting on a pair of ripped blue jeans, a style I knew teenaged girls were into.
“What do you think?” I asked, turning to Mauve. “Is this dress too much? Should I try to blend in with the jeans?”
“That didn’t seem to work for you the last time,” she said.
Mauve looked at the jet stone watch on her wrist, her large, beaked nose wrinkling. Her nose was the only thing on her face that wasn’t delicate, and when she turned to the side, her profile made her seem like a raven hungry for corpse bits.
My thoughts filled with the blond tax evader whose soul I was supposed to snatch a week ago when Mom had given me a second chance after the corgi owner occurrence. His laughter and the jovial way he greeted his daughter filled my head. They’d made big plans to go to a theme park the next day, so who was I to stand in their way?
But today was the day I had to make up for my little failure. Uh, failures. To prove myself to Mom and the rest of Hell that I could someday rule.
Good times. I would much rather hang out inside my closet, one of my top five favorite places in Hell, and watch how the rubies encrusted in the double onyx doors gleamed on the rainbow of silks and sequins of my clothes. Or watch movies while cramming my mouth with chocolate. You know, normal stuff.
“Kiera, you’re moving like Hell has frozen over,” Mauve said softly. “It’s time.”
Right. Duty called. With a wave of my hands, the closet doors swept closed. At the foot of my four-poster bed was a chest. I opened it, smiling at its contents, and picked up a set of chains that burned brightly in my hands. Everyone in Hell had a weapon of choice. This was mine.
I wrapped the chains around me like a sash, the final touch, and turned back to Mauve. “Ready, Freddie.”
She shook her head and led me by the elbow to the door. “The name’s Mauve, child.”
I’d actually meant it as a joke, an ode to the prince of nightmares himself via Hollywood, but as with everything that fed my human obsession, it fell flat around Mauve. We had different hobbies, she and I. Or maybe I was just a freak. The jury was still out on that one.
We sped down the main onyx hallway from my chambers. Flames licked out at us from every corner. When they drew too close to my high heels, I reached out and batted them away with a flick of my hand.
As we hurried past the Hall of Souls, my skin tingled at the sound of howls and whimpers behind locked doors. Behind those doors were souls, or demons in the making. Other demons tortured them, some a lot longer than others depending on the soul’s sins. The Hall of Souls was off limits to me. My rule, nobody else’s. Maybe I would change that rule when I collected my first soul, but honestly, that whole process scared me.
We stepped into a bright, cheerful common area. The walls were washed in off-white crystal, and the expansive floor was dotted with quartz stone tha
t served as tables and chairs. Stray flames occasionally leaped from the walls and floor to keep the place hopping. This was where demons and other Hellish types came to snack and catch up on the latest gossip. Not me, though. I pretty much stayed locked in my chambers.
Beyond the common area were the Gates of Hell, now locked, which led to Purgatory. Beyond that, a sort of curtain led to the Nest. Despite those runaway demon “accidents” that happened in the movies, Hell was a secure place.
“Right on time. So…” Mauve began, taking a seat on the nearest quartz chair. She twirled her finger, and the air popped with a clipboard materializing in her hand. “Looks like General Blade will be escorting you into the Nest.”
I face-palmed myself as I fell into my seat. “Blade?”
Mauve eyed me over the top of her clipboard. “Yes, and don’t run off to complain to your mother. She’s very busy making inspections and won’t be available until much later.”
I frowned. Sure, my mom was a busy woman, being the ruler of Hell and all, but she was never unavailable to me. I was always her number one priority, and today was an important day. A girl only nabs her first soul once, after all. Some just needed several chances to do that, obviously.
“Blade’s vile,” I said and attacked my flaming red hair with my fingers in an attempt to straighten the tangled mess.
“Well, he is a demon,” she countered in a flat voice.
“Can’t I just go on my own?”
“Absolutely not.” She pierced me with her dark red stare. “He’ll help if there’s trouble, and he knows better than to offend the princess of Hell.”
I wanted to say that he’d already offended me with both his existence and his emo-boy eyeliner, but I kept my mouth shut. I knew when an argument was lost, namely, any time it was with Mauve.
“What kind of trouble could I run into against a human?” I slouched in my seat and stared across the wide-open space of the common area.
“Well, child, the one who calls to you might have a cute corgi puppy, and then you’d be in serious trouble.”
My cheeks flushed, but I lined my expression pitchfork-straight. “Ha. Ha.”
Her eyes wrinkled in amusement that didn’t bend her lips upward. She glanced over her shoulder at a pair of demons at the next table over, then checked her watch again. “Where is he?”
I shrugged, continuing my assault on the knots in my hair, while I studied her. Every year, her face showed her age more and more, and her hair turned a lighter shade of silver. It was odd to see age in Hell, because it didn’t happen. Except to Mauve.
“Why do you look so old?” I blurted before I could change my mind.
Her eyes flashed as they met mine again. She chuckled, the first laugh I’d ever heard out of her. Ever.
“That kind of question would be considered rude if we were human,” she said.
“Sorry.”
She lifted her silver eyebrows and lowered her clipboard into her lap. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Tear out your hair like that.” She removed a pouch from her pocket and held it out.
Inside were hundreds of garnet stones that matched the ones embedded in my gown. With a grin, I waved my hands over the pouch opening. This was my favorite part, trying not to laugh at the tickle as the stones twirled themselves behind my ears and down the length of my back.
“How did you do that?” Mauve asked.
I slouched onto the table, patting my now smooth strands dotted with garnets. That was one of those questions that was so easy you were sure it was a trick question. “You’re not going to answer my question?”
“I’m trying to.” She crossed her legs and placed her well-manicured hands in her lap. “How did you get the garnets into your hair?”
“With magic.”
She nodded, as if this said it all.
I shrugged. “I don’t understand.”
She tightened her mouth and peered at me, a wave of disappointment flashing in her eyes. “Oh, child. There isn’t anything to understand. I age because I don’t use magic.”
“Why?”
Her already deep red eyes deepened into some dark color that hadn’t been named yet. “Because aging hurts.”
My frown deepened. “Why would you want to be in pain, then?”
She leaned closer, and I pushed back in my chair. It was unlike Mauve to break her rigid posture for something so casual.
“Listen to me, Kiera.” Her voice was low and soft, something else I wasn’t used to from her.
My heels slapped the stone floor in the same tempo as my erratic heartbeat. I was trying to hide the fact that I was nervous before, but the dramatic change in Mauve’s mannerisms brought all those nerves to the surface.
“This isn’t a game,” she said. “This is who you are, what you were designed to do. And you can be the best at it.” Her voice dropped even lower. “Perhaps even better than your mother.”
I twisted my mouth to the side and rolled my eyes Nestward.
“It’s true. You’re the most elegant spell caster I’ve ever seen, and that’s in a thousand years. You’ve mastered demonology. You’re ready. You just have to know you’re ready.” She sounded as if she were pleading with me.
What was she so worried about?
“There are things happening… Dangerous things, child. You. Can. Not. Fail.”
Those last words echoed around in my skull as I took in the intense squint of her red eyes.
I took in a deep breath. “Is there something I should know? Are aliens about to attack the Nest or something?”
She opened her mouth as if to answer, then winced. Before I could press her, footsteps pounded toward us, echoing off the crystal walls. General Blade, in his silly green faux-hawk, black eyeliner, and open, black leather vest was making his way toward us.
My gaze lowered to his glistening chest on accident. He caught my stare, and a smug grin stretched his lips. Coming to a stop inches in front of me, he lowered into a bow with a sarcastic sweep of his arms. What an asshat.
“Princess. Happy to be of service tonight.” He raised his head and winked.
My skin crawled, which made it even more annoying that I couldn’t seem to keep my gaze away from his chest. He’d probably oiled himself with a sex pheromone or something especially for this occasion.
I turned back to Mauve. “Can I please go alone?”
“No.” Mauve stood, turning her attention to him. “You’re late, Blade.”
“Sorry.” He gave a one-shouldered shrug.
Mauve gestured to me and I shoved to my feet, smoothing down my dress.
“It’s time,” she said.
Blade let out a little whoop, and I prayed to Hell someone would put him out of his misery.
Mauve waved him off. “Go to the gates. The princess will join you in a few moments.”
Blade wagged his eyebrows at me, then did as he was told like a good little demon soldier.
Mauve stepped forward and placed one hand on my shoulder and the other under my chin. “You can do this.”
I nodded. “Of course I can. The first time was just a fluke. The second time was a—”
She held up her finger, and I closed my mouth. “Forget about those times. Do what you were destined to do now. The future of Hell depends on it.” She tapped me under the chin, turned her back, and left.
Well, that was a tad melodramatic. Sure, the future of Hell depended on me, but not right this second. Mom wasn’t leaving her post as queen tomorrow or even next week. Still, Mauve’s words bounced around in my head, including everything she hadn’t told me.
I spun around, raising the hem of my dress with sweaty hands so it wouldn’t drag across the floor or touch any stray flames as I took my place next to Blade in front of the Gates of Hell. It was more of a curtain than an actual gate, but it did have a lock. The key, forged by Grandpa himself, was hidden inside a black box with upside-down crosses all over it next to Mom’s throne, and it w
as programmed to unlock the gate for me and my escort at an appointed time based on my magical signature. The gates rippled like white sunlight reflecting across water as if some invisible breeze swept past it.
Blade let out a low snigger as I took in a deep breath. My skin tingled and my eyes burned like fire was going to shoot out of them, but I kept them open to focus on the gate.
With steadying breaths, I controlled my magic as it flowed out. My heart beat at its cage, and a smile lifted my lips. The ground beneath me trembled, and my body vibrated as I forced my power out.
A blast of flame shot into the gates, but they didn’t burn. Fire danced along the gates’ white edges and slowly, they parted. Blade and I stepped into Purgatory with Hell’s future weighing heavily on my shoulders.
2
As soon as we came out through the other side of the gates, I shielded my eyes from the blaring whiteness. It was so bright, it seemed to scream.
“Playtime,” Blade growled beside me.
Doing my best to ignore him, I stepped forward and made my way through the outer edges of Purgatory. Desperation clung to the place and sent a strange energy racing up my spine.
As we walked across the marble-like floor, Blade whistled some pop song as he swung his long machete. The blade sliced through the air, creating a loud whistle that made me cringe.
The harsh whiteness around us faded into a more welcoming smoky gray the longer we walked down the stretch of hall. Slouched-over figures knelt on the ground in corners. Their gazes darted toward us, full of misery. Dark, cloaked figures stalked back and forth between them, holding long scrolls that rolled onto the ground. They barked questions at the people, and when they weren’t answered immediately, they leaned over and gave them a slap. This was not my favorite place, for obvious reasons.
My gaze rested on one young woman who looked out of place. She stood with her head held high, answering the questions of one of the hooded figures with a smile. She was dressed in a crisp, black skirt and jacket, her blonde hair stylishly twisted at the back of her head, and her eyes were as sparkling blue as a rippling sea. As I passed her, she reached out and grabbed my arm. When she smiled, she revealed a black hole where her teeth should have been.
Daring the Devil (Reigning Hell Book 1) Page 1
