Hell High

by Cindi Madsen

  He turned on me, anger seething below the surface of his pale, sagging skin. “Do you realize how much trouble you’ve gotten me into? I take you in, let you go out on the river, and this is how you repay me?”

  The guilt I’d felt moments ago was nothing to the wave that washed over me now. “I’m sorry. I just needed some space to think. Don’t worry, I’ll explain everything to Dad and let him know it was all my fault.”

  “He trusted me with you, Lily!” His voice vibrated against the walls and slammed into me. “I screwed up, forgetting my job, thinking we were friends. It won’t happen again.” He pointed down the hall. “Now, go to your room.”

  A giant lump formed in my throat. “But, Grim—”

  “Go!”

  I flinched and then stormed down the hall and into the tiny room. My heart twisted into a tight knot I worried might never come undone, and I flopped on the bed and buried my face in the pillow.

  In all of Hell, I only had one real friend.

  And I’d just lost him.

  An hour or so later, a knock sounded. Grim cracked the door open but didn’t look at me. “I’ve been summoned to the other side of the river to pick up a passenger. Do I need to call Baal to come babysit, or are you going to stay put?”

  “I’ll stay, I promise,” I said. “And I’m so sorry about earlier. I never meant to get you into trouble. Please believe me.”

  “I’m going to have to bolt you inside the house just to be sure you keep your word.” Grim’s footsteps receded, and I heard the front door close, followed by the sound of metal sliding against metal. I was locked in.

  “Looks like I’ll be missing that rave at the Lake of Fire tonight,” I mumbled to myself. “All the cool demons were going to be there, too.”

  I lay back, staring at the ceiling. Relaxing into the soft mattress, I practiced the yoga breathing I’d learned during the class Mom and I had taken.

  A tight band formed around my chest, squeezing tighter and tighter. I missed our Saturday yoga class, and how Mom and I always got into trouble for laughing. Once she’d gotten stuck in plough pose and I’d had to help her out before she smothered herself with her own boobs.

  I gave a half laugh, half sob. I missed watching girlie movies, and how she’d always cheer me up if I’d had a rough day. She always knew what to say, and even though it would make me sound like a little kid, I wanted to cry, I just want my mommy!

  After a couple of minutes of sulking, my body started to feel heavy and my eyelids drifted closed.

  A scraping noise jerked me awake.

  I stared at the door, but what with it being closed and all, it didn’t help me figure out what that mysterious noise was all about. Grim hadn’t been gone that long, had he? Surely not long enough to be back already.

  The sound came again, and I pushed off the bed, my heart ticking out of control. I’m sure I’m just letting my imagination get carried away.

  But my gut disagreed, panic rioting and screaming at me to check it out and stay put at the same time. “Grim?”

  Okay, that was stupid. If it isn’t Grim, I just gave away my location.

  But Grim bolted me inside. Which means nothing else can get in or out either.

  The scraping noise grew louder as I opened the bedroom door. Definitely not my imagination.

  I grabbed the lamp off the nightstand, wishing it were sturdier. Wielding it like a sword, I crept into the hallway.

  Maybe it’s the wind in the trees.

  But it hadn’t been windy earlier. Come to think of it, Grim’s house didn’t have many trees around it, either.

  I strained my ears, listening for the noise, but my pounding pulse made it hard to hear anything but that. A quick glance of the living room showed the place was empty.

  I held my breath and tried to home in on where exactly the scratching noise was coming from. I rounded the couch and looked at the front door.

  There at the bottom, squeezing through a gap between the wooden planks of the door, was a rat.

  “Gross.” I swung the lamp back and forth through the air even though I was still several feet away from the disgusting creature. “Go on. Get back.”

  The rat’s claws scraped against the wooden floor as it tried to drag its fat body inside. He craned his whiskered face and frantically gnawed at the door, widening the gap.

  At least it was just a rat, but still, I didn’t want it in the same room as me. I lifted the lamp over my head. Could I really bring myself to crush its tiny head?

  Hmm. I bet Tristan could use an extra guitar string. It could be a peace offering. I know you have to build an altar and it’s awful, but here, have a rat tail. We good now?

  Goose bumps swept across my skin as I inched closer. That would be the other problem with taking care of it—I’d have to get close enough to smash it.

  Who am I kidding? I can’t kill it, no matter how disgusting it is. I lowered the lamp and waved my hands. “Shoo! Stay outside where you belong.”

  The rat’s claws bit into the floor, and then he pulled himself forward. His body squeezed through the hole, leaving tufts of fur on the wood.

  I lifted the lamp again. Just in case this rat was, like, rabid or something.

  He sat up on his hind legs, beady eyes glaring up at me, whiskers twitching. I swear he was saying, Look how innocent I am. And yeah, I’m ugly but in an oddly cute way.

  Lowering the lamp again, I said, “Fine. I won’t kill you. Just do your scurrying stuff far away from me, okay?”

  The rat’s body twitched. Arms and legs sprouted from his torso, morphing into huge, hairy, muscled limbs that appeared almost human. Within seconds I went from staring down at the creature to staring up at him.

  The rat man smiled, revealing sharp, daggered teeth. “Thanks for sparing my life. Unfortunately for you, I won’t be returning the favor.”

  Twenty-Two

  “Oh, unholy shit,” I muttered as I backpedaled, and his feral grin widened.

  I tossed the lamp at him. It bounced off his furry body, weak and ineffectual, and clattered to the floor.

  He ran at me, protracted claws swiping through the air. I jumped back, dodging the first swing. But the second caught me. I wobbled backward, gripping my burning side. Blood seeped through my shredded shirt and ran down my fingers.

  Think, Lily, and do it fast. The surge of adrenaline brought up my persuasion training, and I raised my fisted hands, blocking his next blow and landing a hard kick to his gut.

  Ratman doubled over, but I remained in my stance. Never let your guard down.

  The grisly creature slowly lifted his head, his eyes red with anger. Then he lunged at me, a snarl ripping from his throat.

  My breath shot out of me as I hit the floor hard, my head making a horrible thwack noise that rattled my skull. Lights danced across my vision, flash after bright flash. Then the lights blinked out completely, my vision blurry but restored, and I wished the sparkles would come back. Anything was better than staring into the face of…whatever was on top of me.

  Ratman pinned my arms to the floor, his disgusting legs on either side of my waist. I kicked, bucked—did everything I could think of to get him off me—but his grip only tightened.

  As my brain scrambled for a solution, I realized that now would probably be a good time to whip out the influence. I tried to lock my gaze on his, but his animalistic eyes darted back and forth, too unfocused to latch on to.

  Guess it’s time to see what I can do without eye contact.

  I put all the power I could behind my words. “Get—”

  He opened his mouth, his sharp teeth coming for my exposed throat.

  “Ah!” I jerked one arm free and pushed against the matted fur on his snout. Rancid breath hit my face as he continued the disgusting chomping gesture, and my muscles strained with the effort to hold him at bay.

  I’m not sure how much longer I can—

  The edges of his teeth grazed my neck, and strangled words came from his mouth. Words
that sounded an awful lot like, “Just want a taste.”

  Drool dripped onto my cheek, and I fought back a gag.

  “Ew, ew, ew. That’s it.” I worked my left hand free and slammed my fist into his head. Left was my weak side, but I managed to stun him.

  I propelled myself backward on my hands and feet, scooting out from under him. He clamped onto my leg and yanked me toward him. He was too fast, too strong. I was going to die if I didn’t do something, and fast. I closed my eyes, pictured a dagger… and snapped my fingers.

  Warm metal hit my hand, and without wasting a second to check out the weapon I’d conjured, I slashed at the creature’s face.

  An ear-piercing screech burst out of him, and he threw his hands to his snout. Dark, nearly black blood oozed out between his knobby fingers.

  I pushed to my feet, gripping the dagger out in front of me.

  He glared at me, more assessing than afraid. “Out of thin air,” he hissed. “Stronger than we thought…”

  His head twitched, and then his limbs collapsed in on themselves. He shrank back to rat size and dashed toward the door. I ran after him, trying to stomp on him, but he squeezed himself out of the hole he’d entered through, leaving another tuft of hair behind.

  I grabbed the doorknob and twisted and tugged, but the door didn’t budge.

  Light caught my eye, and through the smoky pane of glass that faced the River Styx, I caught sight of a glowing lamp.

  I moved closer to the window and peered out into the darkness, exhaling a relieved breath when I saw Grim’s unmistakable profile. “Oh, thank goodness. He’ll know what to do.”

  Then it hit me. What he’d do was tell Dad. I’d never be allowed to go anywhere or do anything alone ever again. After Baal was done tattling, that might happen anyway, but I wasn’t willing to risk becoming a full-time prisoner. I pulled open kitchen drawers until I finally found a rag and quickly cleaned up the blood on the floor the best I could, not sure whether it was mine or the Ratman’s.

  I righted the items our scuffle had knocked over, and picked up the dagger.

  Grim’s footsteps neared, and keys jingled. I sprinted to the room I was staying in, grabbed my bag, and darted across the hall into the bathroom. I shucked off my clothes and stepped into the shower. The water washed the blood from my wound down in pink streams, and I finally got brave enough to check out my stinging cuts. Three jagged lines ran from my ribs to my belly button. They looked ugly and were still oozing a bit, but I’d gotten lucky. They weren’t so deep I’d need stitches or they wouldn’t heal on their own. Eventually anyway.

  I made sure to scrub my cheek where the Ratman had drooled on me, along with my neck where his teeth had just broken the surface. By the time I was done scrubbing, I’d stopped bleeding for the most part. I dressed the cuts the best I could using Grim’s limited supplies—an old, thin towel I ripped and wrapped around my stomach.

  I redressed in my pajamas, took a deep breath, and exited the bathroom, doing my best to appear calm and collected.

  Grim glanced up as I stepped into the living room.

  “How’d it go?” I asked.

  “I got the new recruits across the river, and they’ve been moved on to the processing department.” Grim sat in his recliner and turned away from me. “I think it’s best if you go to bed now. Your father will be here in the morning.”

  Clearly he was still mad. Since I’d barely survived an attack from some mutant creature of the underworld, it seemed especially unfair. With a huff, I headed back to the tiny bedroom and kicked the door closed.

  I flopped onto the bed, my body crashing as fast as my adrenaline. As if that wasn’t bad enough, another thought hit me: I hadn’t even made it a day without using my powers. Surely Heaven would make an exception for self-defense, but Grim was probably right. They wouldn’t want me anyway.

  I’d hurt the sole friend I had, and it was only a matter of time before Dad heard about this weekend. Then I’d have to deal with pissing off the devil, and the fact that some Ratman had it out for me.

  I’d survived one month in Hell.

  Odds of surviving the other eleven…? Not great.

  Twenty-Three

  The next morning, way too early for my taste, Baal picked me up from Grim’s and walked me back to the castle. I did my best not to wince or hold my injured side, babying my wound the best I could without giving myself away.

  As soon as we reached the living room, Baal gestured toward the love seat. “Have a seat. Your father will be here shortly.”

  I settled onto the cushy red velvet, telling myself I wouldn’t take it for granted again after the reptilian couch at Grim’s. Although in all honestly, I’d rather be back there again than seated across from Baal, who had an excessively pompous expression on his stupid face.

  Not only was he going to tell on me, he would thoroughly enjoy it.

  A faint popping noise sounded, and Dad materialized in the middle of the living room, a surge of power causing the lights to flicker. He gave me a warm, genuine smile, which made me think his trip had gone well. “Morning, Lily.” He did a double take at the demon seated across from us. “Baal.”

  “My King.”

  Dad shucked his suit coat, rested it on the arm of the love seat, and then sat next to me instead of in his usual chair. He patted my knee. “I trust everything went well.”

  “Actually…” Baal said, his gaze on mine, his smugness growing by the second.

  Then it hit me. I could stop Baal from telling on me. Not only for my sake but for Grim’s.

  Yeah. For Grim. He’s been so good to me, and I’d feel awful if I got him into trouble.

  I looked into Baal’s eyes and said in a firm voice, “Everything went fine.”

  Baal’s features slackened, his face going completely blank. “Fine. Everything went fine.”

  I turned to Dad, drawing his attention back to me. “I had a nice time hanging out with Grim at his place, and then Baal brought me home this morning.”

  Okay, so I’d work on not using my influence from this point on. Yesterday it was necessary for not dying; today it was to help a friend. The only friend I had left. That made it okay, right?

  Right. Because I wasn’t going to do it anymore. Regardless of the resulting tingles and giddiness. Using my influence eased the stress and worries that’d been barraging me since yesterday, plus it felt good to get one over on Ball. I scooted to the edge of the love seat. “I’ll go ahead and leave you two to discuss business. My stomach can only handle so much talk of destroying souls anyway.”

  Dad watched me closely as I stood, an inscrutable expression on his face. Was I busted? I couldn’t tell. I flashed him a smile—we’d have to have a serious talk about the altar thing later, but I figured I might as well butter him up now and drop the bomb later.

  “Lily,” Dad said, his voice low and calm.

  I froze, my anxieties fluctuating to the all-encompassing range. “Uh-huh?”

  “After I finish debriefing Baal, you and I are going to take that tour of the kingdom, as discussed.”

  “Can’t wait.” Guilt was oozing from my pores, so before I lost my grip on my emotions and spilled my guts to him, I darted through the archway and hurried up the stairs. Sweat beaded my forehead thanks to my bruised tailbone and back and the nagging cuts marring my stomach and side.

  Dad had healed my burns; maybe I could at least heal the gashes Ratman had given me.

  No. I can’t keep using my influence or power or whatever it’s called, or I’ll end up being just like him. I can deal with the pain.

  And for reals, I’m stopping. Done. Finito.

  Unless another otherworldly creature attacks me.

  You know you’ve made a wrong turn somewhere in your life when that was an all too real possibility.

  As soon as I reached my room and the adjoining bathroom, I peeled off the blood-crusted strips of towel, cleaned out my cuts again, and put real bandages over them. I’d barely slipped on a loos
e T-shirt when there was a knock on my bedroom door.

  “Yeah?” I answered.

  “It’s me.” Dad cracked open the door and poked his head inside. “So, earlier, with Baal? What was that all about?”

  “I don’t like being in the same room as him.” My voice hitched at the end, and I cursed myself for not being a better liar.

  “You know that’s not what I’m talking about.” Not only did he smile, he grinned. I’d had no idea his face was capable of showing that much happy. “Not only did you use your abilities, you’re lying about it.”

  The proud-of-his-sinner-daughter look plastered on his face only made me feel worse. I was so desperate to change the subject that I blurted out, “Are we going to go on that tour or what?”

  My body was numb from whatever strange voodoo Dad had worked on me so I could handle going deeper into Hell. Strange, and my head felt a bit fizzy, but at least my cuts no longer hurt.

  The carriage Dad ushered me over to looked similar to the one Ms. Bing and I had taken to the Lake of Fire. Same leathery material, only twice the size, with inset rubies and gleaming silver handles. Instead of those oversize vulture things, two dragons about twice my height were hitched to the front.

  The scaled, winged creatures turned their spiked heads, their yellow eyes fixing on me, and I backpedaled into Dad.

  “You’ve got pull here,” I said, unable to take my eyes off the rows of finger-length sharp teeth. I’d already been clawed and chomped at yesterday, and I didn’t want a repeat, especially from creatures who could tear me to shreds with one bite. “Can’t you get a Lamborghini or Ferrari with air-conditioning?”

  “Sure. If I’d like the gas tank to ignite and burn you alive.” Dad’s voice came out perfectly serene, as if we weren’t discussing dying a horrible, fiery death. “Dragons are the only creatures who can take the heat, and these ones are young. Don’t worry, they won’t hurt you.”

  Dad reached out and scratched one of the winged beasts under its chin. Smoke curled from its nostrils as its eyes narrowed to slits, pure contentment radiating from him—and was that a purr?