by Cindi Madsen
“Hey, you’re the one going out with someone else, not me.” It came out sharp, more like our earliest interactions in this godforsaken place. Evidently he was as unhappy about my date as I was.
“I don’t have a choice,” I said. “You do. And you choose to hang out with someone who hates me.” My eyes had mostly adjusted to the dark, and I stepped closer so I could better study Tristan’s reactions. “Unless it’s more than that. Am I simply one in a long line of girls who fell for your charms? For all I know, this is just you pulling another one of your cons.”
He jerked back, offense and hurt pinching his features. “Damn, Lily. That’s what you think about me?”
“I don’t know what to think.” Great. I could feel the tears rising, threatening to make an appearance. “What I do know is that time and time again I get hurt by guys, and I never learn. I’m too trusting—it even says so on my profile.”
“Funny, because right now I’m wishing that you trusted me. But you obviously don’t. All I wanted to tell you was to be careful with Abigor.” All emotion bled out of his voice and his features. “So be careful.”
With that, Tristan darted past, leaving me standing in the dark fighting tears, my lungs heavy and wrong.
What was my other weakness again?
Oh, that’s right. I’m impulsive and do things like talking before I think.
With my upcoming date throwing a wrench in everything, my next impulsive decision might involve taking out the Grand Duke of Hell. And I didn’t mean on a date.
Abigor stood at the gates of Hell High, his massive arms crossed in front of him. A smile curved his lips as I walked toward him. I knew I should return it, but I just couldn’t—not bursting into tears was taking way too much effort.
He offered his arm like we were in some demented version of an Austen classic. Pride and Purgatory, anyone?
Not seeing any way to ignore the gesture without pissing Abigor off, I wrapped my hand around his elbow.
And I could feel Tristan’s gaze boring into me. The best thing to do would be to walk on and forget about him. But since I had poor decision-making skills, I searched him out anyway.
Our eyes met, and the vise on my heart tightened.
All I wanted was to be with Tristan again. I wanted to go back in time, to yesterday afternoon when his arms were around me and his lips were pressed against mine. I wasn’t sure about ignorance, but right now I was thinking that denial would be bliss. To simply forget where we were or who he was and just let myself enjoy being with him.
Abigor took a step in the opposite direction, and against my will, I let him lead me away. Tristan’s hurt expression remained burned into my memory, as scorching and painful as my time near the Lake of Fire had been.
The Grand Duke of Hell and I walked in silence, which I was grateful for. It felt like I’d finally found my footing here, only for the ground to move on me.
Had I been played?
Did I care?
I should, but I wasn’t sure I did; that’s how messed up I was.
Once we reached a large stable, Abigor flashed me his signature cocky smile. “I thought I’d take you for a ride.” He waggled eyebrows heavy with innuendo and then opened the stable door nearest us.
A coal-black horse trotted out of the gate and unfurled enormous wings, sending a blast of air over me. Honestly, horse didn’t seem to adequately cover it considering how big the beast was. If it were about to compete in the Olympics, I’d request a steroid test.
The horse whinnied, and I caught sight of sharp teeth that’d look perfectly at home on a crocodile snout.
“We’re going to ride that?” I asked, and if my tone wasn’t enough to make my hesitation clear, I’d expand on it.
The horse gave an offended snort, and Abigor ran his hand down its neck. “She didn’t mean anything by it, girl. She’s just not used to giant Hell horses with wings.”
Steam poured from the horse’s nostrils as she glared. On a dime, her mood morphed into friendly as Abigor patted her and she turned to nuzzle his neck.
Great. Not just a winged horse. An evil winged horse with jealousy issues.
Seriously, you can have him.
“Delilah, this is Lilith, and she’s going to be spending a lot of time here, so you need to be good to her.”
“Lily,” I said, unable to hide the irritation in my voice. “How many times do I have to tell you that my name is Lily?”
Abigor’s eyebrows arched. “I’m sorry, Princess. I’ve known you as Lilith for seventeen years, and I didn’t realize it was such a big deal.”
Feeling like the hugest jerk in Hell—which I imagined was quite a bar to reach—I rubbed my fingers along my forehead. “No, I’m sorry. I just had a bad day and…” My voice quivered, and I couldn’t finish for countless reasons.
What if Tristan never speaks to me again? What if I have to spend the rest of my time here all alone?
Strong arms circled me, and the next thing I knew, I was sobbing into Abigor’s rock-solid chest. “It’s too much. I just want to go home.”
“All right. I’ll take you back to the castle.”
I shook my head. “That’s not my home. I want to go to Earth and be with my mom and forget any of this ever happened. It’s messing with my head and my emotions, and I…” I sniffed. “Nothing feels right anymore.”
Abigor ran his hand up and down my back. “Change is often difficult, but trust me, it’ll get better. It’s not so bad here, not when you’re high in the chain of command. Give it time.”
I didn’t want to give it time. I wanted the life I used to have. I wanted to be on Earth, fretting about high school and prom and which college I should go to. I didn’t want to feel my heart breaking over a guy I’d only recently met while being comforted by the demon my dad wanted me to be with.
Abigor was being so nice, too. It would almost be better if he were mean. Then at least I’d have an excuse to be crying.
After an embarrassing amount of time, I managed to regain control of my emotions. “I understand if you want to run far, far away and never talk to me again.”
Abigor swiped back strands of my hair and then hooked his hand behind my neck. “All I want is to make you happy.”
Even though his touch was gentle, icy hopelessness still shivered through me. Guess that was what happened when you’d sold your soul to the devil.
It doesn’t happen with Tristan, though. When I’m around him, all the darkness goes away.
Abigor drew me close enough I could feel the firm muscles underneath his clothes, but they did completely nothing for me. “I want us to rule my legions together. To make a nice home for ourselves. I’ll give you everything, including all the souls you need to become one of the most powerful beings in Hell.”
He should’ve stopped with his sentiment about wanting to make me happy, but on the bright side, his desire for power helped me not feel so guilty about disliking him.
Between the fact that Dad would be unhappy about me ending my date early and how hard Abigor was trying to comfort me, I felt just guilty enough to say, “How about you take me for that ride now?”
Thirty-Two
My hair whipped behind me as we soared through the air, miles and miles above the ground. Originally I’d kept a loose grip on Abigor’s waist, but after sliding backward an inch or so, I’d given that up and clung to him like he was the floating plank of wood in the ocean and I was Rose from Titanic.
Abigor leaned forward—taking me with him—and gave Delilah instructions I didn’t fully catch, but I was relatively sure there was something about landing.
For an instant we hovered in the air, completely weightless, and then the Hell horse shifted, nose aimed at the ground.
“Wait,” I said. “We’re going to ease into it, righ—”
The rest of my question was left behind as Delilah accelerated toward the ground, and my stomach lurched up to my throat where it definitely didn’t belong. Shocker, Delilah wasn’t e
quipped with puke bags. At least losing my lunch on Abigor might lessen his desire for us to rule together, so…win?
Seconds before we reached the ground, Delilah leveled out, her enormous wings turning outward to catch more air and slow us down. Her hooves kicked up clouds of gray dust as she landed.
“Behold,” Abigor said, gesturing to the rows and rows of chained-together souls before us. All their faces were streaked with black, their expressions weighted down with misery. They used shovels, scooping up piles of crusted-over dirt and tossing them over their shoulders, again and again.
Abigor twisted to face me, pride radiating off him in a sickening wave. “This is only one of my many legions.”
I couldn’t see any rhyme or reason to the souls’ movements. “Why are they digging a bunch of holes?”
“Because the rock splitting is done.”
I wasn’t sure what one had to do with another, but desperation hung heavier than the gritty dust in the sweltering air. “Why are they here?” I whispered, not one-hundred percent sure I wanted to know. When it came to this type of stuff, knowledge almost always was more of a burden than power.
“I earn most of my souls by telling them how to win wars. These men and women are responsible for most of the wars in the world. They have more blood on their hands than—well, the actual amount would be more than you’d be able to deal with.”
Since I couldn’t deal with anything about this situation, I believed him.
“This guy here”—Abigor pointed to a man with oozing blisters that covered more blisters—“was one of Hitler’s top guys. He only recently paid enough of his dues to get away from the center, where his boss is still and will forever be suffering.”
That information didn’t give me warm fuzzies. It only made me remember how awful the center was. And how the warrior I was clinging to, nice to me or not, took joy in others’ suffering.
My heart felt like it was shriveling in on itself, and every inch of my arms and legs ached for these souls, despite telling myself some of them may very well deserve their punishment. But as I studied them again, my sympathy flickered, momentarily replaced by an odd sense of… I wished it was justice, but it was closer to an alluring pull.
I closed my eyes and dropped my forehead to the spot between Abigor’s shoulder blades, unable to look at the chained men any longer. “Can we go back now?”
Abigor squeezed my knee. “Are you tired?”
Yeah, watching people be tortured really takes it out of me. Since being tired seemed like as good an excuse as any, I nodded.
“Okay,” Abigor said. “But this is just one of my legions. Just wait until you see some of the others.”
My impulse was to sarcastically say, Can’t wait! Remembering Dad’s not-so-requesty request, I bit it back.
Take that, my impulsive-behavior weakness. Unfortunately, thinking about that weakness only led me to thinking about my other weakness. Bad boys. Namely one. As soon as I got home, I was going to crawl into my bed and analyze every millimeter of Tristan’s and my situation.
And as dumb as it was, I knew I was still going to want him when I was done thinking of all the reasons I shouldn’t.
Even though I’d originally planned on spending all of Saturday morning in bed, I hadn’t eaten dinner last night and hunger got the best of me. So in spite of the early hour, I took a quick shower, got dressed, and headed downstairs for breakfast. After analyzing my brains out last night, I decided I was going to go make things right with Tristan. And possibly kiss him if he’d let me.
Okay, for sure kiss him if he’d let me.
“How was your date?” Dad asked, startling me out of my kissing Tristan daydream. He followed me into the dining room, where the table was disappointingly empty.
I changed course, about to head to the kitchen, but Dad put his hands on my shoulders and pivoted me back toward the table. With a snap of his fingers, my favorite breakfast foods appeared, along with a place setting.
I picked up the large red and gold plate and reached for a steaming waffle, which while not on my profile, was definitely one of my weaknesses.
Dad stuck his face in mine, dogged in his determination to make me lose my appetite before I’d even taken one bite.
“Right. The date to my”—I made a gagging face—“betrothed.” I reached for the syrup and put an equally sticky-sweet smile on my face. “Nothing says romance like watching the suffering of all the men Abigor’s sent to Hell.”
Dad pressed his fingers to his temple. “Oh, Lily. Please tell me you were nice.”
“Oh sure, he can torture people for eternity, but I’ve got to be nice.”
Dad set his jaw and his nostrils flared, a sign I was prancing on his last nerve.
“Relax, Dad. I was nice. And he was nice, too. To me, anyway.” I shoved the waffles down in a few indecent bites, not even bothering to sit, and then grabbed a napkin and loaded it with bacon. I wanted to rush over to Tristan’s. He had to work today, but since I’d gotten up so early, I was hoping to catch him before he left for the day. I was also hoping he liked bacon enough to accept it as a peace offering.
“Where are you rushing off to?” Dad asked when I started toward the open archway.
I froze in place, swallowed the bite of food in my mouth, and worked to keep my voice normal. “Nowhere.”
“That’s right. Nowhere.” The scrape of legs accompanied him pulling out my usual chair. “We eat breakfast and dinner together.”
“But we didn’t eat dinner together last night.” A weak excuse, but I was grasping at straws, desperate to go apologize to Tristan now that I’d decided on that as my course of action.
“That’s because you were on a date, and it was a special circumstance. But I think it’s important we have meals as a family.” His congenial voice gave way to his Commander Dad one. “Now sit.”
I shook the bacon out of my napkin, onto my plate, added scrambled eggs and fruit, and sat down.
For several minutes we ate in silence, so yay for family bonding! Then Dad wiped at his mouth with a black cloth napkin. “You’ll be accompanying Caim and me as we conduct today’s business.”
His decree boomed across the table and echoed through me, making it beyond clear there wasn’t an ounce of wiggle room.
Great. On top of not getting to resolve things with Tristan, whatever business Dad and Uncle Caim were conducting was sure to be awful. This princess stuff was starting to blow. Why oh why couldn’t I have been the kind of heiress that got to spend money on pointless things while sitting around being shallow?
Then again, if I were, I’d probably just end up here anyway.
“So, how’s it going?” Uncle Caim asked me as Dad chatted with Grim about underworld business while we waited for him on the shore. We’d crossed the River Styx, which meant Earth was so close I could nearly taste it, and were getting ready to transport to… I still had no idea, but before Dad shut down the stream of questions, I’d ruled out Disney World, the creeptastic Island of Dolls that I’d truly thought might be one of his preferred hangouts, the beach, Mom’s house, the dentist, and mausoleums and cemeteries.
Jury was still out on the Vatican, since that was the question he’d refused to answer, instead declaring that I couldn’t ask any more questions for the rest of the boat ride.
“The countdown to—pardon my expression—get the hell out of here is still on,” I said to Caim. “Three hundred and twenty-three days and I’ll be taking this boat ride for the last time. I’ll go home and put this awful experience behind me.”
Uncle Caim scrunched up his forehead, his bafflement clear. “You don’t like it here? The power, the title of princess?”
“Hate’s not a powerful enough word for how I feel about my current situation. I know most people in Hell are obsessed with more power, but you can count me out.”
Movement caught my eye, and since Dad was walking away from Grim and toward me, I zipped my lips. No need to piss him off before we went where
ver it was that we were going.
I waved goodbye to Grim, who kindly returned the gesture with his signature lipless smile, and then turned to Dad. “So, where to now? Let me guess. We’re heading to Rome to steal the Popemobile.”
“Better,” Dad said, a rare gleeful smile curving his mouth, which sent my spidey senses into high alert. He chanted in that guttural hock-a-loogie language that only caused more goose bumps to break out across my skin, and a portal opened. Like the last one I’d walked through, this one had a silvery tint but instead of the added red, it was white and blue.
A cool breeze wafted over me as I stepped closer, and I thought maybe Dad hadn’t been kidding about the somewhere-better part.
Caim stepped through the portal, and Dad offered his elbow to me. Together, we entered. The light was too bright to fully gape at, leaving me squinting and clinging to Dad a bit tighter.
The last traces of Hell faded away, and then we were standing inside a large room. Half the space was gold and blindingly white; the other half was done in all blacks and reds. The benches and podium made it look like a courtroom, but a confused one with split personalities.
A preppy white guy with tousled blond hair and a black man with buzzed hair and dark sunglasses approached us.
“Late as always,” the sunglass wearer said.
Dad tugged at the lapels on his tailored suit coat, clearly having fun while I was still confused on what was going on. “For the record, it’s not because I’m slothful, but because I know how much it bothers you.”
The guy I would’ve taken for a bouncer at a motorcycle club removed his sunglasses and hooked them on the front of his white shirt. His brown-eyed gaze moved to me, and the smile he gave me sent a calm rushing through me, similar to whenever I was around Tristan.
“You must be Lily.” He began to extend his hand to me but stopped short and looked at Dad. “May I?”
Dad gave a magnanimous nod. “Go ahead. Lily, let the angel shake your hand.”
