Hell High

by Cindi Madsen

A shock ran down my arm as I gripped the guy’s hand. I jerked back with a curse, and a triumphant grin spread across Dad’s face.

  “What was that?” I asked, still shaking out my zapped hand.

  “He’s simply holier than you can handle. Lily, meet Ahadiel.” He gestured to the guy who’d shocked me. “And the other angel is Michael, and before you ask, yes, that Michael. Two guys from the other side.”

  Joke was on him because I wasn’t going to ask. I tucked my arm in close and nodded. “I’d say nice to meet you, but since electrocution isn’t my preferred greeting, I’m just going to go with ‘please keep your shock waves to yourselves.’”

  “Shall we get started?” Dad glanced at a group of people standing in the back. Most of them were shuffling their feet, biting their nails, or sweating profusely. Their nervousness drifted over to me, causing my anxiety to rise as well.

  I tilted my head toward Dad and whispered, “What’s going on?”

  Dad put his hand on my back, led me to a bench at the front of the black and red side of the room that faced a witness-stand type box, and motioned for me to take a seat. “It’s passing judgment time.”

  The angels sat on the white bench opposite us, and maybe I’d been in Hell too long, because the cheery brightness sorta annoyed me. After a moment Uncle Caim joined us and then a tall, lanky person stood at the front and announced it was time to begin.

  Dad and Caim both leaned forward, their excitement palpable, as the dude at the front called out, “Annabeth Irene King.”

  A beautiful woman with golden hair walked—more like sashayed, actually—to the front.

  Caim slid a file to Dad as he leaned over me and whispered, “She’d make a good succubus.”

  “Gold-digging adulterers always do,” Dad said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  As the list of charges against the woman was read, I learned she didn’t just cheat on her wealthy husband once. She repeatedly promised she was done even though she had no intention of stopping. Then she’d get divorced and find a new husband, and the cycle would begin again, almost as if she wanted to see how many men she could seduce and literally screw out of their fortunes.

  Dad stood, his palms braced on the table in front of us. “Obviously she’s ours. The fact that this one’s even up for discussion is ridiculous.”

  Ahadiel pushed off his bench. “In the last few years she’s worked hard to give back to the community and help those less fortunate than her.”

  “Didn’t you get the memo? She did that with money she stole from her husbands.” Dad flipped through her file. “Then there’s the way she berated her stepdaughter. Oh, and let’s not forget the time she attempted to seduce a priest.” Dad turned the page in the thick file in front of him and glanced at Ahadiel. “Shall I keep going?”

  Ahadiel flipped through a notepad, his features growing grim. Then he slowly sat down.

  Electric tingles coursed through my veins. I couldn’t explain how or why, but I felt oddly happy.

  The bailiff dude led the woman to the black side of the room. She fought against him, crying and pleading for another chance, and the man picked her up and sat her in one of the chairs behind us. The second she hit the seat, her face went blank, and not a single sound escaped her lips.

  “Tell Trauco that he’ll be getting a new one next week,” Dad said, and Caim wrote on a notepad he hadn’t been holding seconds ago.

  This can’t be happening. Even worse, that happy buzz flirted with me, spinning my emotions into a tangled mess.

  “The souls who’ve already made deals or committed major crimes like murder or anything involving hurting children are automatically sent down to cross the river. The gray-area souls are sent here for processing. People complained and claimed it wasn’t fair when they didn’t get their crimes read to them first. Once in a while, a soul is right on the line, and our side and the angels duke it out. Not literally, of course, but it can get ugly.”

  My skin tightened, and I fought the urge to scratch at it. “Why did you bring me here? I don’t want to see this.”

  “You feel it, don’t you?”

  I clenched my jaw, unwilling to admit I’d felt anything but disgust. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Dad merely smiled, and I was about to literally duke it out with him, regardless of knowing he’d fight dirty and win.

  “Commander Steven Marcus Hill,” the lanky man at the front called out, and a stocky man with a buzz cut walked forward.

  And I wanted him.

  Not like wanted wanted him—I mean, he was probably midforties. But this intense desire to run up, grab him, and drag him to our side slammed into me.

  Sitting still became difficult. I gripped the edge of the bench, and my knee jiggled up and down, taking on a life of its own.

  Dad placed his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ve got a good shot with this one. I’ve had one of my best Tempters on him for three years. It should be enough.”

  I opened my mouth to say I hoped we didn’t get this one. But what came out was, “Do whatever it takes.”

  Thirty-Three

  Get him, get him, get him.

  Now I was the one biting my nails as Dad and Ahadiel fought over Steven Hill. He’d served in the military and received a Medal of Honor after Desert Storm. After he retired, he gave in to alcohol and drugs and gambled enough to leave a serious debt behind for his family to try to pay.

  Ahadiel argued that while Steven’s debt and substance abuse weren’t totally excused, because of his hardships, he should be given some leniency. That his sins were something he could easily work off in Heaven—whatever that meant.

  I didn’t care. I just wanted him in Hell. I hated myself for it, but it didn’t change how badly I wanted Dad to win.

  “Do I really need to pull out the bylines under avarice?” Dad asked, the words full of condescension. Thanks to my Temptress Training, I knew it was just a fancy word for extreme greed.

  Ahadiel scowled in our direction. “I’m well aware of all the bylines. You only want him because of how much good he’s done. That’s what makes him powerful.”

  “And it’ll be what makes him such a priceless piece in my war-hero collection. What?” Dad cocked his head. “Scared next time we do battle, I’ll win?”

  Ahadiel narrowed his gaze, and I’ll give it to him, he looked scary.

  But then Dad’s face took on that deadly calm facade that always preceded devastation. “So greed, envy, and what about the time he beat that innocent man in Iraq senseless? Are you excusing wrath now, too? How many of the deadly sins does he have to break until you guys realize that he’s mine?”

  I looked at the man, my greed well pumping overtime, and his gaze met mine. Come on. Just say something bad. Like you denounce God.

  “I denounce God,” Steven said, his expression blank.

  Ahadiel’s mouth dropped, and he pointed an accusatory finger at me. “You can’t do that, Lily. If you’re going to interfere, you will be banned from these proceedings.”

  I bit my thumbnail. “I didn’t mean t—”

  “What if he were to denounce God of his own free will?” Dad focused his steely gaze on the opposing council’s angel.

  Ahadiel pressed his lips together, not agreeing exactly but not arguing, either.

  The pages Dad flipped sounded loud in the quiet. “December twenty-fifth, two thousand eight. He states to a room filled with soldiers, ‘There is no God. And if there is, I’d tell him that he’s doing a shitty job.’”

  Ahadiel flinched. He deflated like a balloon, and we’d won.

  A combination of elation and relief zipped through me, returning oxygen to my lungs.

  They led Steven to our side and sat him down. Dad made a big show of drawing attention to the empty seats behind the angels. “Your side’s looking rather lonely, isn’t it?”

  Ahadiel slumped farther down on his bench and muttered, “Michael, you’re up.”

  Dad sat and held up
his palm to me. “Isn’t this what your generation does? Smack hands after a big win?”

  I gave Dad a high five, a euphoric haze settling over me. I wanted to jump up and down. To get up and dance. To shout for freakin’ joy.

  Caim tilted his head and studied me, brow furrowed.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I said. “I can’t help it.”

  “I know. You definitely are your father’s daughter.”

  And for the first time in—well, ever, actually—I was sublimely happy about that.

  Watching Tristan’s hut made me feel like a total stalker, but it wasn’t like I could kill time at the movies. After Dad, Caim, and I got back from the judgment proceedings, the power buzz from winning thirty souls to Heaven’s seventeen wore off.

  As soon as that happened, being around Dad disgusted me. I wasn’t all that pleased with being around myself, either. Since I didn’t have the option of getting away from myself, I’d gone for a walk and ended up at the village.

  For what seemed like forever, there was no movement or sound. The place was a ghost town. A good hour into waiting, though, voices drifted along with the breeze, gradually growing louder, and people entered the encampment from the other side.

  I slipped behind a cluster of trees, watching and waiting.

  Even with his head down, I recognized the way Tristan moved. Plus there was the way my heart responded, hammering against my chest like it was trying to make an escape so it could throw itself at his feet.

  Tristan split off from the group and disappeared inside his hut. Waiting for the crowd to disperse was torture, but finally most of the people disappeared inside their huts. A few remained congregated on the other side, so I kept low as I made my way to Tristan’s.

  I crept around the hut and slipped into the opening. Tristan stood, his bare back to me. My mouth went dry as I stared at the muscles and all that skin. I took a moment to enjoy the view before clearing my throat.

  Once he spun around, Tristan’s face went from curious to despondent. “I can’t do this anymore, Lily. Go back to your castle.”

  Afraid I might shatter where I stood, I braced a hand on the wall. If I thought my legs would hold me, I would’ve turned and run. Instead I just stood there, aching and struggling to get the courage to speak. “Tristan, I’m…” My voice trembled, and I had to swallow and try again. “I’m falling apart and I…”

  I almost said, I need you. But was that pathetic? Clingy? Selfish?

  All of the above and I still didn’t care.

  Tristan ran a hand through his hair. “It’s impossible for me to think straight when you look so sad. It’s unfair.”

  I clamped my lips together and blinked back tears. “It’s just that I’m losing myself. Actually, scratch that. I’ve lost myself.” Crap, the tears were breaking free and running in warm trails down my cheeks. “I’ve lost everything. You were the only thing I had going for me here, and I got jealous and I’m sorry and I’ll go now. But I really am sorry, and I truly believe you’re a good person and”—one of those unattractive quivering sniffs came out—“I needed you to know that.”

  Summoning all my strength, I turned to go.

  Tristan grabbed my arm.

  Slowly spun me to face him.

  His lips crashed down on mine, and then we were kissing and stumbling toward the bed. Tristan eased me down on the makeshift mattress. Even when he lowered himself onto me, his warm body pressed against mine from shoulders to hips, I felt the need to be closer.

  I wrapped my arms around him, holding him so tightly to me that I wasn’t sure where I ended and he began. He nuzzled my neck and placed hot, openmouthed kisses there. I twisted my head, seeking out his mouth. He gave me slow, drugging kisses that chased away my sorrow and left me breathless.

  Several minutes later he propped himself up on his elbows and peered down at me with a nameless emotion that made my insides go all squishy and warm. “I told myself I’d be stronger next time.”

  I eyed his bare chest. “You look pretty strong to me.”

  A crooked smile spread across his handsome face. “And this is why I can’t follow through. It’s too hard not to be with you.”

  A floaty, blissful sensation overtook me, leaving me weightless.

  But then I remembered why I’d come, and the guilt washed away my joy and brought me heavily back to the present. As much as I wanted to hold his intense gaze, I couldn’t say what I came to, so I stared at the thatched ceiling overhead.

  “That’s because you don’t know what I’m capable of,” I said, everything inside of me sinking. “My whole life I’ve told myself that it didn’t matter who my dad was because I was nothing like him. But I am like him.” The ache spread through my chest, throbbing deeper and deeper, down into my very soul. “And I hate myself for it.”

  Tristan pressed a kiss to my temple, to the tip of my nose. “You’re not like him.”

  I bit my lip hard, hoping the pain would help me keep my emotions in check. “Today I went to watch the gray-area souls be judged. All the people had done just enough good and bad that Heaven and Hell were fighting over them.” A lump formed in my throat. “At first I was horrified, but whenever a person stood up front to be judged…”

  The memory of how much I’d wanted those souls tore at me, leaving me hollow and raw. “I wanted them to come here,” I whispered. “When I was in the courtroom, it was like I was detached—almost as if I were dreaming, but it seemed like a good dream. Every time a soul was sentenced to Hell, power would heat my veins. The more Dad won, the stronger I felt.” I rolled out from under Tristan and sat up. “I wanted him to win them all.”

  I felt Tristan sit up as well, but didn’t look, too worried I’d see the disappointment I felt at myself on his features.

  “Then I came back, and it felt like a nightmare.” I dropped my head in my hands. “What’s wrong with me?”

  Tristan shifted to sit beside me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “The fact that you feel bad about it makes you different from him.”

  “But how long until that stops? Every day I’m in this place, I lose myself a little more.” I curled closer and placed my hand on his firm pec, because now seemed like an inappropriately appropriate time for multitasking. “I worry that soon there won’t be anything left of the old me.”

  “You’re being too hard on yourself. And don’t worry, I’ll help keep you in check.”

  The tiniest sliver of hope pushed its way through the darkness. “I think kissing you does help keep me in check, so we’ll probably have to work overtime on that.”

  He cupped my chin and gave me a tender kiss on my lips.

  I peered into his olive-green eyes, wondering how I’d ever doubted his genuine goodness. Yes, I’d been wrong about guys before, but the way I felt about Tristan blew my affections for my exes out of the water. Somehow I just knew I could give my whole heart and soul to him and he’d take care of them. “I’m sorry I accused you of those awful things. But you seemed too perfect, and since I’d been hurt before, I freaked myself out. Especially after how crazy jealous I got when I saw you with Constance.”

  His fingers coasted down my arm, and my blood zipped through my veins, racing after his touch. “It wasn’t easy for me to see you with Abigor, either. As for being perfect, I’m not even close.”

  “Pretty damn close.”

  “Except for the damned thing, yeah?” He joked and I laughed, because otherwise I might cry more.

  Tristan dropped his gaze to his knees. “So speaking of your date with Abigor. Was it…?” His posture tensed, and he shook his head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

  “I’d rather be with you any day.” Since I couldn’t promise him I’d never see Abigor again, I hoped that would be enough.

  “This is going to only get messier, you know,” Tristan said. “The longer it goes on, the harder it’s going to be when—”

  I pressed a couple of fingertips to his lips. “Don’t. Let’s just
hold on to this moment.”

  Being next to him, his skin against mine, the way his eyes smoldered as he looked at me—I wanted to believe in the impossible. That I could survive this place without losing myself. And that Tristan and I could somehow work out.

  The thing that sucks most about the impossible, though, is that right there in the definition of the word, it warns you that things aren’t going to work out.

  Thirty-Four

  During dinner on Sunday night, my thoughts kept drifting to Tristan. Suddenly, something about his particular case struck me as strange. Demons and Tempters were capable of making deals for souls, but Dad had been the one to personally make the deal, and Dad didn’t go to Earth to collect just anyone.

  At this very moment he and Baal were discussing who to send to get a couple of high-profile souls they were after. On most cases Dad delegated the task to others; if it was a soul he was desperate to get or didn’t trust anyone else with, he went himself.

  The more I thought about it, the more my curiosity grew.

  In order to avoid raising suspicion, I needed to sit here for a few more minutes and finish my food. Dad seemed to think family dinner was important. Lying, stealing, or even killing—sure, go for it. Just whatever you do, don’t miss family dinner.

  No doubt he thought that one day I’d join his and Baal’s conversation. Today I visited John Doe and totally got him to sin. His soul’s so ours when he dies. Score!

  “Lily? What are you mumbling about over there?” Dad asked.

  Oof, did I say that stuff out loud? I straightened. “Can I be excused? I’m not that hungry.”

  Dad’s frown increased in severity. “I worry you’re not eating enough. Unlike the rest of us, you’re still breathing and growing, and it’s important you eat well.”

  “I ate a bunch of junk food this afternoon, so don’t worry, I’m good.” I pushed out from the table before he came up with more reasons to make me stay.

  “You ruined your appetite with junk food?”

  “It’s a kid thing. Trust me, we all do it.” I bent and kissed his cheek. He wanted me to be good at manipulation, so I might as well use a little bit on him.