by Cate Corvin
“I’ll heal her for you. As for your debt, you can pay it back by remembering that I’m very much off-limits and not usually in the mood for pointless flirtation. Deal?”
I held out a hand, waiting for him to take it.
Asmodeus looked pained. “But variety is the spice of life… very well. I’ll try to commit that fact to my memory, but if you ever get tired of the same old, you know where to find me…”
He trailed off under my glare.
“Thanks, Prince,” I said cheerfully. “I won’t get tired of the ‘same old’, and I really appreciate how hard you’ve been working on those memory exercises.”
He grumbled and released my hand, allowing me to finally ride past him. Maybe he’d remember, maybe he wouldn’t. I didn’t really believe he’d lay a hand on me without my permission, but there was something about having to cut through a thousand come-ons to get to the point of a conversation that frayed my patience.
I felt his eyes on my back as we melted into the Second Circle, tickling at my senses and making me far grumpier than usual.
Capheira switched her tail in annoyance.
“I agree,” I muttered. “Now let’s go heal a succubus and get our answers.”
5
Melisande
We rode until we found the fountain Belial had spoken of and the succubus temple.
It was literally impossible to miss.
The fountain was graced with an enormous statue of white marble laced with gold, depicting a naked succubus in her full form. Water poured from her eyes, mouth, and nipples and splashed into the marble pool below.
“Very interesting taste in decoration,” I muttered, unwilling to see if anything else on the statue was gushing. I wouldn’t put it past the artist to have felt the nipples weren’t quite enough.
The temple was just beyond Water Nipples. It was made of the same material, a circular white tower rising above the rest of Lust, with gilded sconces set near the doors. There were no windows in the temple, only a large pair of doors and steps guarded by a pair of succubi.
As Capheira moved closer, I realized they weren’t just there for decoration. These were full-fledged succubi, the real deal. The vicious protectors of women.
Both of them had horns curling back over their skulls, the tips capped with razor-sharp iron spikes. Their nails were long, wicked claws that could gut a man, and the bones in their bat-like wings had been edged with spikes.
They wore scaled, form-fitting armor, scattered with silver thorns, and each one had a sword and a whip at her waist. They weren’t the sort of whips I’d used in Belial’s arena, with a stinging nettle in the fall; these were whips meant to kill, with tiny razor blades woven along the length of them. A few slashes with them and a demon would bleed out before he knew what hit him.
I slid from Capheira’s back and gripped the lead, approaching the temple and the rather intimidating guardians on foot. As soon as I was close enough to take the first step up, they moved in tandem, thrusting their swords in an X to block my path.
“By the order of the Silverthorns, only women in need are permitted into this temple right now,” the one on the right said. Her face was covered by an iron half-mask, revealing only a pair of hard and long-lashed brown eyes.
“I’m in great need for someone else’s sake,” I said, feeling the first tinge of nerves. What if they didn’t let me in?
“We’re housing the injured here,” the other said. Her voice was only a little gentler than the first guard’s. “If you’re looking for leisure, this is not the time or the place.”
Irritation rose under my nervousness. Who the hell would come looking for play at a time like this?
Probably quite a few demons, actually. Otherwise they wouldn’t have fully armored guards at the door.
“I’m not here looking for a good time,” I said, trying to keep my tone even. “I’m here to heal a succubus on your Prince’s behalf, and to ask your leader if she’ll help me look for Vyra. Erisvyra, the Lord Watcher’s sister.”
The guardians exchanged a glance, and the brown-eyed one was the first to lower her sword. “Give your reins to the girl,” she said. “You’re welcome here, and your mount will be guarded. Ask for the High Priestess.”
I finally pulled my eyes away from their swords and claws long enough to realize there was a young succubus at my side. She couldn’t have been older than ten, still chubby-cheeked, her wings small and incapable of flight, and looking bright despite the tension in the air of Lust.
I handed Capheira’s lead to her and stroked my horse’s silky neck. “Be nice for her,” I said quietly, and the young succubus just beamed up at the horse.
“She’ll be good. I have sugar,” she said, and Capheira’s ears pricked up as she led the horse away.
The guardians sheathed their swords, and one of them pushed the doors open.
I steeled myself and walked up the steps, entering the sanctum of the succubi.
The doors closed behind me, but I hardly heard it. The interior of the temple looked like it’d been ransacked: several long silk banners in jewel tones hung haphazardly on the walls, and only half the sconces were lit, keeping everything in a soft half-light.
But the temple was full of temporary beds, every one of them occupied. As I moved forward, I caught sight of strips of silk wrapped around limbs like bandages, some of them soaked with blood.
All of the patients were female demons. The succubi had ripped down their decorations as a last resort for bandaging, and the few exhausted-looking healers moving around were using the lamps to see their patients by.
Even as I watched, the doors behind me were flung open again. I quickly moved out of the way as several succubi carried women inside, all of them wearing something that denoted the Circles they were from. One of them was tattooed with Leviathan’s red ink, and her chest was bleeding freely.
The healers got to work finding beds for the newcomers, and the dark shadows under their eyes seemed deeper than ever.
I steeled myself to interrupt but was saved by another succubus rushing forward. Her horns and claws weren’t on display, and old brown bloodstains smeared the front of her silk dress. “Who are you here for?” she asked, brushing her hair back and looking frazzled.
I didn’t know the name of the succubus I was supposed to heal. “I’m here for a woman who belongs to Asmodeus,” I said, feeling like I was intruding and out of place. “And to see your High Priestess.”
The succubus closed her eyes for a moment. “Ah. Rhalys. Come on, then. She’s not doing well, but the healers are just about burned out, so she’ll have to heal the hard way.”
I followed her to the back of the temple, winding between the beds until the woman led me to a set of stairs hidden behind the wall. We climbed upwards a level, where the scent of blood was thick in the air.
The temple was absolutely packed, but the succubus picked her way through it like she had everything memorized. Even the silky beds set into recesses in the walls were filled, but she led me to one in the back.
I almost gasped when I saw the succubus in the cushioned alcove. Her leg was bound from ankle to mid-thigh, and blood had seeped through her bandages.
But she was familiar to me, even without the gold flakes, fake halo, and paint. “Angelcake?”
It felt like a hundred years ago that I’d fought her in the Brightside arena, whip against whip. She’d taken my hand afterwards in congratulations for my victory.
I sat on the bed as her eyes fluttered open. She was pale from blood loss, but she was definitely Angelcake. Her mass of golden hair was stiff with gore.
She looked up at me and smiled, even though there were lines of pain carved in her pretty face. “Hello again.” Then she hissed, holding her leg stiff. “Damn Traitor got me right in the thigh. The muscle’s cut clean through.”
“It’s your lucky day. I’m here to heal you.” I held a hand over the bandages on her leg. “May I?”
She nodded, gritting
her teeth. “It’s not Angelcake anymore,” she muttered.
“No?” I let the white fire slip through me, down my arm and into my fingertips. It wasn’t as bright as I would’ve liked; I’d probably burned through some of it myself, trying to heal my wing as much as possible. But at least I’d have enough for her.
“My name is Rhalys. I left Angelcake behind when I left the arena.” I ran my hand over her leg as she talked, searching for the worst of the wound.
“Did you win your seventh round?” I asked, hoping to keep her talking. The more she talked, the more distracted she’d be.
Rhalys snorted. “No. After you killed Yraceli and left, the Prince was… well, he was in a black mood, I’ll say that. He didn’t seem to care about the arena at all.”
“Mmm.” I made a noncommittal noise, finding the tears in her muscle. Whoever the Traitor was- I was sure it was one of Mammon’s men- he’d cut so deep it was a miracle she hadn’t bled out already.
I let the white fire dance forward. It seeped under her skin, illuminating my fingers, and began its work.
Rhalys winced. Clearly my magic was unpleasant to others, even if Lucifer could withstand it without pain.
“So, one day he came in,” she gasped, her jaw tight. “He said any one of us that wanted to leave was free to go, right then and there. The contract would be broken without repercussion.”
Her hands trembled, and claws grew from her fingertips. She dug them into the mattress, beads of cold sweat growing on her face.
“Just a little longer,” I assured her, even though it was a lie. Her leg had been mutilated.
“I wanted to come home.” Tears leaked out from her scrunched eyelids. “I was tired of fighting. Tired of getting painted up, tired of losing… so I broke my contract and came back. I’m worth more here at home, I was planning on joining the Silverthorns… Until this, anyways…”
I dared to reach out and brush her hair. “You’ll be healed perfectly fine and still worth everything. Just hold tight.”
Rhalys nodded. She began rambling as I did the rest of my healing, talking aimlessly to keep her mind off the pain. At one point I was treated to a very long, detailed, and praise-filled speech about the qualities of Asmodeus’s cock, which I could’ve gone a whole lifetime without knowing.
The white fire of my healing magic was nearly burned out as the last of Rhalys’s torn skin began to knit itself together. A cold sweat had broken out across my own forehead as I focused all of my energy on making sure everything came together right, even as the fire guttered and threatened to die.
By the time the last healing flame had burned itself out and vanished, leaving my hand trembling and empty, Rhalys’s haggard breathing had evened out and the lines on her brow had slowly smoothed.
“Take it easy,” I said, swiping at my face with my forearm. All of me felt a little shaky, like I’d pushed too much, too soon.
The succubus who’d brought me to her was nowhere in sight as Rhalys slowly sat up. She moved her leg stiffly, but she managed to get upright and move both of her legs off the bed without gasping in pain.
“I hope Asmo paid you well for this,” she said, gingerly rubbing the bandage that was no longer necessary.
I managed a tight smile. “Oh, he did. I would’ve done it anyway, after he gave us help.”
Rhalys opened her mouth to say something else, but her gaze moved over my shoulder and her eyes widened. “Lady,” she murmured reverently, before shutting her mouth with a snap.
I looked over my shoulder, praying there were no more unpleasant surprises.
A new succubus glided down a set of stairs into the center of the ward. She was tall and draped in sheer white veils from head to toe, providing only slight glimpses of the perfect face and body behind them. The muted glint of gold flashed on her long horns and claws, and a lion-like tail swished behind her as she walked.
At first, I thought the clicking sound she made was from wearing heels, but I looked down and saw slim legs ending in gilded cloven hooves.
I immediately knew this was the High Priestess I’d come to find. All of the succubi in the makeshift infirmary nodded to her as she passed, moving like a deadly specter among them.
I stood up as she approached, wishing I could read her expression. The veil moved back and forth, hiding her features as effectively as a shroud.
She extended one clawed hand to me, palm up. I looked at the trap of her golden nails, my stomach churning with nervousness, nausea, or maybe both.
“You came for answers.” The High Priestess’s voice was smooth as silk, almost lyrical, but edged with steel.
I nodded, and finally reached out and placed my hand in hers. “I’m here about Erisvyra.” Her fingers wrapped around mine gently, her claws just avoiding digging into my skin, and a long minute passed between us.
She finally inclined her head. Her double-curled horns extended above her head like a halo, catching the light.
“Come with me, and I’ll tell you what I can.”
6
Melisande
The High Priestess led me up winding stairs, her hooves creating a gentle rhythmic tink with every step. We climbed past several more floors filled with injured and sick women, and every succubus we passed bowed her head reverentially to the Priestess leading me upwards.
When we finally reached a floor that was almost empty, I thought we were near the top. Instead she kept climbing, and I followed, rising high into the tower. My legs were shaking after six flights of stairs; I’d felt full of energy that morning, but healing Rhalys had taken more out of me than I’d thought.
The flickering sconces became few and far between, and soon the white marble was painted in shadowy shades of gray. The High Priestess herself began to look less angelic and more demonic as it grew darker, her horns no longer shimmering gold, looking much sharper and more dangerous than they had in the light.
I pushed back a twinge of misgiving that maybe I’d trusted too much. The floors we were passing were empty; all of the succubi were downstairs, tending to the injured.
I was completely alone with the High Priestess, and despite their reputation as the protectors of women, it wasn’t entirely unthinkable that maybe she blamed me for most of the destruction that had left their lower floors full.
When I was close to pulling back, she turned and looked down at me, her eyes invisible behind the veils. “Not much farther to go.” Her voice was gentle, not the voice of someone plotting to murder me.
Besides, I’d come for Vyra’s sake. I couldn’t back down now.
I nodded and climbed the final set of stairs that culminated in a black door. The High Priestess waited patiently for me to catch up, her hand splayed over the door.
“This room is as far as you can go,” she said, her words echoing down the empty stairwell. She pushed it open, motioning me inside. “The white door is forbidden to you, as you are not a succubus, but you may come inside and see a small portion of our temple.”
It was pitch black in there. I swallowed my nervousness and stepped into the room, my hands out to prevent me from running into anything.
The click of her hooves filled the room as she followed, shutting the door behind her. I felt her near me, the breeze of her movements carrying the scent of incense to my nose, and she clapped her hands.
Several lights flickered on, tiny flames in sconces that gradually grew in brightness until the entire room was lit.
I drew in a sharp breath. Unlike the rooms below, this one was clearly the temple. There was only one more door opposite me, made of lacquered white wood, but it was the walls and ceiling that caught my attention.
Every inch of them was covered in black and white paintings, extending from the floor and stretching high above in an unbroken mural. Small dots of light gleamed on certain points of the mural, and I drew close to one of the brightest points of light.
My mouth dropped open. “This is… Dis.”
It was a stylized interpretation,
but the enormous circular city with its descending rings was clearly drawn right there on the wall. The points of light were mostly concentrated on the second tier of the descending rings.
“Yes.” The High Priestess clasped her hands in front of her, standing in the center of the room and watching me from behind her veils. “The known entirety of Hell is depicted in this room.”
Outside the map of Dis, small brushstrokes gave the impression of endless sand: the wastelands. I followed them to the right, finding the jagged mountains that held the path to Hekla Fell, and then stepped left.
There was the Starsea, a massive black stretch with dabs of white paint for the glittering dunes and misty clouds overhead; there was the dark river Styx, running far overhead and extending over the ceiling.
The High Priestess said nothing as I walked the length of the room, picking out new cities, rivers, and their names written in delicate script: the river Lethe, the City of Sight, Elysium.
There were so many I had yet to see in person. High above me was a land of ice and snow, labeled as Tuonela; to the East was Yomi, a shadowy place with a string of islands branching into a dark sea.
On the left side of the ceiling, a verdant land with a city of hanging gardens was proclaimed to be Eden. Near it was a circle marked with the same argent thorns I’d seen on the succubus guardians’ armor.
It was only when I’d come to a section of wall that was nearly solid black with ink that I paused. The mountains surrounding it were treacherously sharp, and the artist had depicted hundreds of twisted, dying trees around the name Irkalla.
There was another large city in the lands of Irkalla, a bastion protected by stone sphinxes and clawed harpies, with seven tall arches leading to the cruelest-looking sphinx of all. No one had written its name.
Something about it sent a shiver down my spine, even more so when I realized that the barren land faded into a dark sea near the floor. There were swirls of color in the sea, hinting that it wasn’t quite what it seemed.
