Daring the Devil (Reigning Hell Book 1)

by Larry, Natasha

  Her eyes flew open, and she gasped as she shot up in her bed. I stepped back, breathing hard.

  She gazed at me with eyes so bright I felt I was looking into the sky at dawn. She shifted her gaze to her mother, who rushed forward to embrace her. Kevin too.

  “Thank you,” Emily said in a voice that would always be etched into my heart.

  I’d made a deal. I’d fulfilled a wish. But when I looked at Kevin and his family together, relief sparkling down their cheeks, I knew I couldn’t take his soul. Emily’s smile, the life in her eyes, made it all worth it.

  I blinked back tears and stepped away from the family reunion and Kevin’s soul. “You’re welcome. Now forget.”

  A crazed wail sounded in my head. It dropped me to my knees. I saw my mother’s angry face in a pool of flames. My body tugged downward, and I was traveling with almost painful speed back through the Gates of Hell.

  When I blinked, I was back in my chambers.

  Only, for the first time, I felt like I was actually in Hell. I’d failed. Again. And I had a funny feeling Mom was about to hand my ass to me like only the Devil could.

  3

  It had been hours since she’d forced me home. I’d changed into my seven deadly sins pajamas when I realized Mom was taking her sweet time with my punishment. I sat cross-legged in the middle of my four-poster bed, waiting. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. I mean, it was just one soul. So I gave one measly little human what he wanted and didn’t have a soul to show for it. Was it really that bad?

  The sound of my mother’s rage-filled wail came rushing back into my memory and I shuddered.

  Yeah, it was that bad. Maybe I’d be given some minor punishment, but the fact that I granted a wish seemingly out of the goodness of my heart… Well, that was unheard of in Hell. Especially for a princess who was eventually expected to rule the place. My little soul-taking slip-up, likely all three of them, probably had made their way through the demon gossip network faster than Hellfire.

  I flopped back onto my pillow, its encrusted rubies shaped into finger devil horns snagging at my hair. What was my mother going to do to me, and why was she taking so long?

  Footsteps padded outside my door, and a soft knock followed.

  I sat up. “Come in,” I squeaked.

  Mauve appeared in the doorway. Her face was drawn and serious, and her eyes were damp, almost as if she’d been crying. My breath hitched. That was impossible. Mauve didn’t cry.

  “What is it?” I asked. “What’s wrong? It’s me, isn’t it? I’m wrong.”

  Mauve just stared at me for longer than was comfortable, her mouth opening and closing but unable to form words.

  When I felt ready to tear my hair out, she said, “Your mother will see you now.”

  The way she said it deflated my insides.

  “Just give me a moment to change,” I said, getting off the bed on wooden legs.

  Mauve shook her head. “She said to bring you as you are.”

  My eyes widened. I was fucked. Mom never, ever let anyone into the throne room unless they were dressed in their finest. Not even the maids entered without a gown or tuxedo on.

  I nodded, slid into my fuzzy slippers with pitchforks on the toes, and followed Mauve down the hall. We passed through intersections and long, winding hallways, and before I knew it, we were standing in front of the huge ruby doors with our family crest, a cross with its arms doused in smoke and flame. Several guards stood on either side, way more than usual, their red gazes aimed straight ahead. Were they here to guard her from me in case I went ballistic at my punishment? Or to guard me from her? I gulped loudly.

  I tried to quiet my breathing and glanced at Mauve. She nodded me forward, and one of the guards shoved open the heavy doors.

  At the back of the long room sat Mom’s throne, huge and gleaming red with rubies. Mom perched on it, looking frightening and beautiful all at once. Her inky black hair was swept to the top of her head in a mass of curls. Her black crown balanced easily on her head, the perfect accessory to her black, silk gown.

  Her red gaze cut across the room toward me. The clear jewel in the middle of her crown housed a tiny flame. It swirled furiously as if giving indication of her mood.

  “My daughter,” she said, standing up.

  The huge fireplace behind the throne lit up in blue fire.

  I bit down on my lower lip as I climbed atop the black marble stage, where the Hell-sent stood to pay homage, to offer their eternal lives, and most of the time, to beg mercy.

  I’d had nothing in common with them until now.

  “Hey, Mom,” I said, trying to keep my voice even.

  She inched down the three steps leading up to the thrones to stand level with me. As always, I admired her olive complexion. My skin was so pale, a sharp contrast to my hair, which was bright, wild, and untamable. The only thing we shared was our burning red eyes.

  She looked down with the kind smile that always made me feel better. Only this time, it didn’t work. She reached out, pulling me into her arms. I fell into them and squeezed her tight. I didn’t cry—she wouldn’t appreciate such weakness—but I didn’t let go for a long time.

  She was the one who finally pulled away. Her eyes looked sad as she gazed down at me. “I love you more than my own life, Kiera.”

  I sniffed. “I love you, too, Mom. I’m so sorry. If you could just give me another chance…”

  She raised her hand, and I immediately went silent. Not because of the gesture, but because she was using magic. On me. She’d forced my mouth shut, and I couldn’t open it beyond a slight wobbly line. My heart fell to my toes, and I stared at her, feeling betrayed. She’d never used magic against me before.

  She backed away, her expression hard, until the distance between us felt like the distance between Heaven and Hell. “Do you realize what you have done, Kiera? You gave a human life without anything in return. Not only is this bigger than your last failure, it is forbidden!”

  The blue flames from the fireplace shot up toward the ceiling.

  I pressed my hand to my throat, trying to find air.

  “If you were anyone else, I’d banish you to a lower level. But you are my only blood. How could you have put me in this position?”

  I tried to open my mouth to apologize, but my mouth was still unable to speak so I shook my head at the floor.

  “This is something that can’t go unpunished.” Her eyes softened, and for a moment, I thought she was going to cry. But she clicked open the box under her armrest that held the key to the Gates of Hell. Then she lifted her black staff from beside her throne and pointed it at me.

  Terror swarmed my entire body. I’d heard stories about that staff. Surely she wouldn’t use it on me? Her own daughter?

  “Kiera Morningstar, I banish you.” Her voice echoed throughout the throne room, but her chin wobbled and tears glistened inside her red eyes. “You sympathize with the humans so much, so go and be with them!”

  She twirled her staff through the air in front of me, creating a portal swirling with black-tinged Hellfire.

  My feet dragged me toward it without my permission. Go and be with the humans… What?

  “I banish you to the Nest where you will live among them,” she continued. “And not only will you live among them, you will live as one of them.”

  The magic that had covered my mouth finally let go. “No!” I shouted, fighting against the portal’s inhale until I landed on my hands and knees. “Send me to a lower level!”

  But it was no use. The portal wouldn’t relent. I buried my fingernails into the floor to beg for mercy one last time. “Mom, please!”

  But she had already sagged into her throne, her chin tucked to her chest, her hand shielding her eyes.

  I screamed with a terror I’d never known until I slipped through the portal. My shouts tunneled in front of me, chasing the Hellfire faster, through the Gates of Hell and Purgatory. Then I landed with a hard thud on the floor of a room I didn’t recognize. I gr
oaned as pain cracked from the back of my head to the heels of my feet.

  “Mom?” I whispered into the silence.

  A low pop was my only answer. A beige envelope singed at the edges materialized in the air and fell onto my stomach. I flipped it over and recognized Mom’s handwriting. My name was the only thing written on the outside in elegant print.

  “No.” I sat up, shaking my head, as tears fell freely down my cheeks. “Mom! You bring me home right now!”

  A door creaked open. I stared, unable to move, as an overhead light flicked on. A tall girl with shaggy brown hair and massive shoulders barreled down on me.

  “Kasey,” she growled. “What the hell are you doing in here screaming your head off?”

  I opened my mouth, but only a garbled “Whhhh” fell out.

  She grabbed me by the collar and pulled me close to her face. “And I told you to stay away from Mikey!”

  With that, she reared her arm back and punched me in the jaw.

  Pain exploded through my head. Bright lights sparked at the edges of my vision. When she let me go, I crumbled to the ground. Without another word, she stalked out of the room and let the double doors slam behind her.

  I lay there staring after her, a weird mix of confusion and anger striking into my gut without any boxing gloves.

  Oh, Mother. You Devil.

  4

  I sat on the floor, rubbing my jaw and taking in my surroundings. There were bleachers on the far side, two basketball hoops at both ends, and a row of orange traffic cones lined up against one wall. I was in a gym. Why the Hell would Mom banish me to a gym? Was a dodge ball tournament about to begin? I shuddered. I’d seen movies about those, but that kind of punishment seemed a bit excessive.

  Maybe this was some kind of test. Or maybe I was having some kind of failure-induced vision and I was actually still in Hell. The idea filled me with hope. No way would Mom kick the only heir to her throne out. Sure, she was the Devil, but still.

  When I was young, she used to use magic to make me have these test visons, and once I sorted my way out of the imaginary problem, the vision ended. I perked up right away. That was all this was. A test, and as soon as I passed it, I would be back with her in the throne room. Maybe we’d even go for a walk in the Garden of the Guiltless. Mom had turned some of the people damned to Hell by Saint Peter, who was apparently even less forgiving than she was, into spirits that haunted a beautiful garden. We hadn’t been there in a long time.

  I glanced down at the letter in my hand and ripped it open. Maybe there was some clue to sorting this test out, because the sooner I did, the sooner I’d get to go back home.

  My Dearest Kiera:

  You must know that it pains me so to do this, but it’s for your own protection. I have no doubt that you’ll take a soul when you’re ready. I’ll see you soon, my darling.

  Love,

  Mom

  Below that was her monogram: Lucy Morningstar.

  I narrowed my eyes and read her words again. For my own protection… Against who? Her? Well, she did banish me from Hell, so yeah. Probably her. If she hadn’t, she might have had Mauve torture me, but banishment was a much more dramatic way for me to learn my lesson. Well played, Mom. Well played.

  With a sigh, I folded the letter back up. Before I could stuff it into a pocket, a fiery orange ribbon ignited around the perimeter, and the parchment turned to ash. I flicked it to the floor and rubbed my hands down my…khakis. As in pants. Faded, khaki cargo pants. Why would anyone need so many pockets? On my feet were a pair of worn combat boots with duct tape over the laces. Underneath my short denim jacket was a black tank top with a cat shooting lasers out of its eyes. I peeled the jacket off, and when I turned it over, I almost threw up a little in my mouth.

  Rhinestones. Dozens of them shaped like stars. “What fresh level of Hell is this?” I asked the empty gym.

  A door opened and shut behind me, followed by heavy footsteps. I swung around, fully expecting to take another fist to the face. A tall African-American woman with a bleached-blonde bob and beady eyes stomped toward me.

  “Morrison?” She shook her head. “I had a feeling it was you putting up all that racket.”

  “Morrison?” My gaze dropped to the oversized, beige sweatshirt she wore. Miss Molly’s School for Troubled Teens. What a mouthful.

  “Yes, Morrison. Why wouldn’t I know your name?” She came to a stop in front of me. “What are you doing out of bed after curfew?”

  I lifted my gaze and got an eyeful of untamed nostril hair and a femstache. Oh, wow. Was this part of the test? Too easy. I’d gladly take this woman’s soul simply for violating my eyes. I reached toward her and waited for her soul to come to me.

  Nothing.

  I frowned and waggled my fingers in her direction.

  “What are you doing?” she asked with a sigh.

  I waved my fingers harder. “Are you serious right now?”

  Femstache shook her head. “Are you on drugs, Morrison?”

  Where had all my magic gone? Had Mom taken that too?

  “Shh, I’m trying to concentrate,” I said.

  Her beady eyes all but disappeared as she narrowed them. She closed the already limited space between us, her nose hair flapping behind her. “You didn’t just try to shush me, Morrison.” She poked her meaty finger into my collarbone. “You know this is the last stop for you. Do you want to go to juvie?”

  I stared down at her finger. It was still touching me. People simply didn’t put their hands on me. Ever.

  When I looked up at her again, I tried on my best smile. “Okay, I don’t know what your problem is, but you will not touch me again.”

  “That’s it!” She grabbed me by the collar and yanked me alongside her toward the double doors.

  “What’s it?” I stumbled, trying to keep pace with her long strides.

  She dragged me out into a hallway with posters lining the walls. They were painted with platitudes: Let go and let God! The first step is always the hardest! I might have rolled my eyes had I not been trying to stay on my feet.

  We came to a set of gray double doors with the symbol for women etched onto it.

  “You’re on morning kitchen duty, and if you mouth off again, you’ll be on cafeteria duty for the next three weeks.” Femstache let me go and pointed the same finger that had stabbed my collarbone right between the eyes. “If I catch you out of bed again, I’m calling your probation officer.”

  Before I could question the sanity of her words, she shoved me behind the double doors. Everything was dark. I blinked three times to kick in my night vision, but the room didn’t light up in green. Right. No magic. These were dark times, literally and figuratively.

  My vision adjusted gradually with the help of a faint stripe of moonlight at the far end of the long room. Thirteen twin beds lined the walls. Twelve of them were full of sleeping heads resting on pillows. The girl who punched me in my jaw lifted her head and scowled.

  I gnawed on my lip, focused on the floor, and trudged past, hoping she was really glaring at the boy band posters plastered all over the walls. As I passed, several more heads lifted. A few bedside lamps snapped on. Some of the girls smiled. Others frowned, while most groaned and ducked their heads under their pillows.

  I came to the only empty bed at the end of the room. The headboard had Kasey M written on it…in rhinestones. I bit back a groan and plopped down, taking a wild guess that Kasey M was now me. The mattress creaked. It was also damp. With a frown, I turned and lowered my nose to the sheets crowded with kitty cat heads.

  “Ugh.” I shot off the bed and wrinkled my nose. That was definitely the smell of human urine. Don’t ask me how I knew. I just knew.

  A chorus of giggles rang out in the room.

  “Aggie peed in your bed,” a small voice whispered beside me.

  I peered down at the figure in the bed next to mine. “What?”

  The figure was covered up to her wide gray eyes in a purple Disney princess blan
ket and a giant knit hat covering her head. “She did it because you were talking to Mikey.”

  “Shut it, Elia,” another female voice boomed from across the room.

  The girl snaked an arm out from under her blanket, turned off her bedside lamp, and whipped the covers up over her head.

  “Seriously?” I blinked around the room. “Why would a urine-soaked mattress keep me from talking to anyone?”

  The giggles grew louder.

  “She’s going to lose it again,” another voice said.

  Fine. If a soul was what Mom wanted to get me out of here, that was what I’d give her. Somehow. Without magic. Clenching my jaw, I closed my eyes and concentrated because maybe I was just out of practice. These girls were just soul sacks, waiting to be emptied. My muscles trembled as laughter surrounded me.

  “I think she’s going to cry, Aggie,” yet another voice said.

  Someone else—Aggie, I assumed—laughed. “I don’t get why he thinks she’s such a big deal anyway. I mean…look at her.”

  Another chorus of giggles.

  Nothing. Not one damned soul came to me. My magic really was gone, which made about as much sense as these stupid cargo pants I wore.

  I huffed, ripped the sheets from the bed, flipped the mattress over, and flopped down. Maybe this wasn’t a test. Maybe it was a dream. Or maybe, if I were lucky, I was in some undiscovered level of Hell. Maybe this was the one with obnoxious teen girls who wet other people’s beds, rhinestones, and weird cat head sheets. If I could prove I was sorry, or if I was strong enough to just go along with it, Mom would let me out.

  But if I was supposed to take a soul, why take my magic? That seemed counterproductive. Why not dump me off on the side of the road somewhere and let me do my thing instead of someplace like here where people had been magicked to have memories of me. As if to blend me in with humanity… To hide me…