Hell On Wheels

by Rhyll Biest

  She coughed in pain and scanned the garden filled with mingling guests. No-one was looking her way.

  She pushed Adriel’s stiff hand away from her butt and stepped out from the circle of his frozen arm. Meeting Hakan’s gaze, she taunted him. ‘My family are the direct descendants of the first king of Hell, and altogether I speak five hundred languages from fifty dimensions. Plus, I’ve been mentored by the archdemon of All Knowledge herself in the art of torment through teaching. So I don’t appreciate you calling me useless, and you might want to reconsider any other disrespect you or your brother had in mind.’

  Hakan’s brows drew together as he studied his brother. ‘What have you done to him?’

  When she smiled he lunged at her, a snarl on his lips. With the flick of a wrist she froze both his feet. He grabbed at her with one enormous gauntlet but she easily sidestepped it to stand just out of his reach. The effort to hold both brothers in place was like holding back an avalanche, and a wave of nausea crashed over her, sweat rolling down her cheek. She hated sweat. But held them she did. ‘I agreed to this marriage but it will be on my terms and mine alone.’

  ‘That,’ Hakan growled, ‘was not the agreement.’

  She smiled. ‘I think you’ll find, my little turnip-humper, that the agreement is more open to interpretation than you think. That’s what my mother’s lawyers always say, anyway. But I do plan to return.’ She clapped Adriel softly on the arse. ‘Because this one’s just adorable.’ She gave the other cheek a clap for good measure. Usually she avoided touching others but the captain’s buttocks felt good, like two really firm stress balls. He was lucky she wasn’t Semya. Semya would’ve had her hands all over his boy zones by now. ‘If you two agree not to make a fuss—and I’m pretty sure both of you are far too macho to admit to anyone that you’ve been outsmarted by a she-demon—I promise to dutifully report back for wife duty as soon as I’ve done what I need to do. See, I’m only breaking the agreement a teensy bit, aren’t I?’ She winked at Hakan.

  Her smile broadened at the ire flooding Hakan’s eyes, and she almost missed the mild disturbance of her own system—the flutter of a faraway pulse, as light as an eyelash falling on snow. And the unfamiliar feeling of standing on a narrow precipice with hundreds of sharp, hard things below waiting for her to fall. What was that about?

  What was that feeling called again?

  Ah, excitement. The thrill of danger. What a long time since she’d felt anything like that.

  She took one last look at her husband, the rage that radiated from him caressing her like a hot breath, before she took a step back. Inhaling, she focused and let her surroundings fade. No-one could air-walk from one place to another quicker than her, so she had a good head start if anyone decided to come after her.

  Cold. Nothingness. A reflection of herself. In the bleak void between dimensions, she sought out the familiar silver light of her blood portals. One hundred and fifty in total.

  She reached for her portal to the Fifth Realm, the one marked with a five. It took her straight to the home of her cousin Orsolya, who would help her find Lore.

  ***

  As the blood in Adriel’s veins defrosted, a red haze slid over his vision and his teeth ached in his gums, ached to tear someone or something into tiny pieces, to taste blood and let it run down his chin in satisfying rivulets. He dug deep for control, hooking his fingers into his belt until the blood left them and he heard the handle of a bone dagger fracture beneath his grip.

  His heart slammed against his ribs, as if it too wanted to chase after the white witch responsible for tricking him and his brother. He almost felt sorry for her. She would find herself in his grasp again sooner than expected since he planned to hunt her across every dimension if need be. His body twitched with anticipation. As for what he would do with her—his devious, desirable wife—once he caught up with her, well, that was another matter. Several things sprung immediately to mind, things that made his belly tighten.

  For a second the world flattened out into a two-dimensional grey, and the mixed scent of the wedding guests swelled. All their hearts came to life, and for several breaths the garden seemed alive with pattering feet.

  Hearts that wanted to be torn from chests and eaten.

  Paimon’s curse.

  He relaxed his hands and willed his body to stillness. If he gave in to his rage, he might paint the wedding red and end the military alliance before it had even begun.

  He breathed in, out, counted each solid beat of his heart, trying to unclog the rage spearing his veins.

  There was a tiny part of him that respected his wife for refusing to be taken hostage and respected her for standing up to both him and his brother. But that respect was outweighed by too many other things.

  Hakan stamped frost from his boots in disgust. ‘I knew we couldn’t trust that spawn of a Javolian mud snake. What do we do now?’

  Shaking off the last vestiges of rage, Adriel met his brother’s gaze. ‘We can’t go to war without her. Otherwise the queen will turn her legions against our king the second she sees any advantage in doing so.’

  Hakan nodded. ‘Our territory’s vast dead pools would be too much temptation.’

  Adriel pictured the dead pools, the vast black lakes that stored the deceased from every dimension in a form that allowed them to be recycled into new life by necromancers. As Hell’s most valuable resource, dead pools were impossible to put a price on.

  ‘She said she’d return.’

  A pebble crunched under his boot and he ground it to nothing. ‘We can’t rely on that. And no matter what she says, she’s breaching the contract.’

  Hakan’s gaze shifted to the ceremonial hall. ‘There are other options.’

  He frowned. He knew what his brother was suggesting, that it would be easier to simply take another one of the Ronove princesses as a substitute bride right now. But while the simplicity of that was tempting, the prospect of recapturing Valeda—after a thrilling chase—was even more alluring. ‘Leave it to me. I’ll find her.’ If she wanted to be hunted like a wild creature, then he was only too happy to oblige. In fact, since Paimon’s curse had honed his preying instinct razor-sharp, he’d love nothing more than to play the hungry hellhound snapping at her heels.

  His brother studied him. ‘Are you sure about that? You won’t have any … problem?’

  The question brought Adriel up short. Hakan was worried he might hurt the princess, perhaps rip her heart from her chest.

  No, the wild, slavering beast growing inside him daily had not yet reduced him to that. ‘I’ll sort it.’ Lady Icicle’s little display of freezing them both had revealed she could be dangerous. Plus, the speed with which she’d air-walked to disappear meant she would be difficult to capture. Danger and difficulty, his favourite things. He grinned. ‘I’ll track her down.’

  Hakan finished buckling his broadsword to his back. ‘All right, but move fast. The enemy is going to unleash its legions on our northernmost fortress any day now.’

  He nodded. The battle that lay ahead of them would be fierce and bloody since Paimon’s legions far outnumbered the combined strength of the king and the queen’s forces. But Adriel and his brother would face the battle together, as they had since they’d first been able to hold a sword.

  Missy approached, her boots scattering gravel. ‘General Vor, Captain Vor, your legions are assembled at the border.’

  Adriel clapped Hakan on the shoulder. ‘You brief our commanders and move our legions into position while I take care of the runaway bride.’

  Hakan nodded. ‘Good luck.’ He departed with Missy.

  Alone, Adriel closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. Valeda’s scent lingered. He pictured her, the way she’d looked down her snooty nose at him, wearing disdain as beautifully as she did silk, bone and ice. ‘Oh, Lady Icicle, just wait until I catch up with your lily white royal behind,’ he murmured. A tiny drop of her blood now mingled with his own and her scent was fixed in his memory. Using rage, dete
rmination and his nose, he would hunt his wilful bride more doggedly than the bloodthirstiest hellhound.

  Chapter 3

  Valeda had been bad.

  After all, she’d waited until she needed a favour before catching up with cousin Orsolya, and with the Captain of Bloodshed and Slaughter undoubtedly in pursuit, her visit would be a rushed, hurried affair.

  Still, Orsolya had supervised Valeda’s compulsory topside probation period and for half a century or so they’d worked together to fine-tune the art of torment through teaching, helping to make the institution what it was today. Their relationship was strong enough to survive several centuries without contact. But Valeda felt bad that she was putting Orsolya at risk by turning to her for help. The problem was, Valeda was at risk too, at risk of becoming princess paste. The desperate times and measures maxim definitely applied.

  She found Orsolya in the library, reclining on a long, blue silk chaise, her head buried deep in a book and her shawl trailing on the stone floor.

  ‘Cousin.’

  Orsolya glanced up, revealing delicate features enhanced by eggshell blue eyes and turquoise hair. ‘Lilith’s tits! Val! Have a seat. What is that fabulous gown you’re wearing?’

  Oh, crap. Orsolya didn’t know about the wedding, which meant she hadn’t received an invitation. Perching on one of the sumptuous blue silk antique chairs Valeda scrambled for suitable words. ‘My mother had the dress made for me from the bones of her conquered enemies.’ That much was true.

  ‘No wonder it looks so ravishing.’ Orsolya’s lips pursed. ‘And how are you? Are your legions bloodthirsty and is your territory ever-expanding?’

  Valeda had tried to explain several times that she didn’t really have her own legions or territory but Orsolya couldn’t wrap her head around the concept. In Orsolya’s realm, nothing was inherited other than elemental powers, and each demon had to earn and keep their own patch of territory through warfare. Which all sounded very tiresome to Valeda. She fibbed. ‘My legions are super healthy and my realm is expanding on a daily basis, and yours?’

  ‘A little diminished.’ Orsolya made a glum face. ‘Earl Labolas pitted his thirty-six legions against my sixteen and I lost some territory.’

  Valeda winced. Earl Labolas liked to drink blood for breakfast so she would bet Orsolya had lost more than ‘some’ territory.

  ‘Your consort didn’t help you out?’

  ‘Labolas’s daughter is Shax’s fifteenth consort. You know what the Code says. His hands were tied.’

  Inwardly Valeda rolled her eyes but said nothing. The Code. You could always rely on a demon to cite it whenever they didn’t want to do something. Or wanted to justify something they’d already done and were in trouble for. Over a thousand pages long, the Fifth Realm Code was elaborate enough to be interpreted to suit almost any ends, and it was a joke to everyone except Fifth Realm demons.

  ‘My commiserations.’

  ‘Still, tomorrow is another day filled with the blood of new enemies. A cup of brimstone tea?’ Orsolya waved a languid hand at a servant standing discreetly in the corner of the room.

  ‘Yes, please.’

  Orsolya beckoned the servant over. ‘Bring a pot of brimstone tea for two, some roast griffin pastries, two faun sausages and a dozen fried Harpy wings. And some glazed fairies.’ She rubbed her delightfully round belly, visible through her troll-skin catsuit. ‘This season’s fays are to die for.’

  Valeda gave her a smile but truthfully Valeda hadn’t had time to sample any delicacies since being summoned home. And she didn’t really have time now, either. ‘Are you busy at the moment?’

  Orsolya shook her head, grimacing. ‘No, I told my legions to take a break after the pounding they got from Earl Labolas. But when they get back, we’ll take a crack at Count Bifron’s territory. I heard he’s only got six legions at the moment.’

  ‘May you decimate his infernal army.’

  ‘I’ll send you a head.’

  ‘Thank you, that’s very kind of you. Actually, I was calling about something I had hoped you could help me with.’ She paused as a servant placed a tray on the marble tea table and poured tea from the pot into two delicate teacups. Pitch-black, the porcelain looked to have been crafted from Harpy tears.

  Orsolya helped herself to a glazed fairy from the delicacy-laden tea tray. ‘How can I help? Do you need a legion or two?’

  ‘Oh, no, nothing like that.’ Valeda smoothed out an invisible wrinkle in her wedding dress. ‘I’m searching for someone and I had hoped you could ask Shax to find them for me.’

  Orsolya raised a turquoise brow. ‘Sure I can, but why don’t you just ask him yourself?’

  She sipped her tea. ‘My memory of the Fifth Realm Code is a little hazy when it comes to making royal requests.’

  Orsolya looked shocked.

  ‘I wasn’t sure what the protocol was.’

  Orsolya laughed and waved dismissively. ‘Don’t be silly. You can ask him for anything as long as you agree to a century of sexual servitude.’

  Valeda sighed. ‘Sol, I don’t have a century of sexual servitude in me. I just don’t.’ Plus, my husband might object.

  Orsolya’s brows drew together. ‘Oh, okay.’

  She took a deep breath. It would be wrong to land her friend in trouble without any warning. ‘And you should know that I just ran away from my husband and he’s after me.’

  Orsolya choked on her glazed fairy. ‘Husband!’

  She looked away. ‘A contract marriage made at my mother’s insistence. I didn’t get any say in the matter.’ The captain’s sleek, dark image prowled through her memory.

  ‘Oh.’ Orsolya eyed Valeda’s wedding dress. ‘Is that …?’

  ‘Uh-huh. And knowing my husband, he’s pretty pissed at me right now. He may not be too happy with you if you help me.’

  Orsolya’s spine straightened. ‘Well I’m sure you have a good reason for what you’re doing. Plus, sisters before misters and chicks before dicks, right?’

  All the reasons she favoured her cousin came flooding back. ‘Thank you, Sol, that’s very loyal of you.’ Guilt chipped at her for dragging her cousin into her mess. ‘How are your parents? Aside from their legions and territory?’

  ‘You’re so funny, Valeda. Father is very busy with teaching, as always. So much so that his consorts are threatening to seek seed somewhere else and mother has pretty much taken charge of the family agenda for warfare.’

  Orsolya’s father was a large demon with a pink aura, immensely knowledgeable about science, mechanics and philosophy. He was Valeda’s kind of demon, more interested in knowledge than warfare and amassing territory.

  ‘So when did you want to petition Shax?’

  Valeda almost winced. Had she somehow betrayed impatience? ‘Would it be possible to go right now?’

  Orsolya blinked. ‘Sure, I guess. But you’ll need to come to court with me and be present when I ask in person. It’s protocol. Chapter five of the Code says so.’

  Valeda groaned inwardly. Royal courts were so tedious, courtiers doubly so. ‘Okay. And thank you. It’s very kind of you to trouble yourself so on my behalf.’

  ‘Oh, pish.’ Orsolya waved a hand. ‘Have some more tea while I change out of my troll-wear and into something more suitable for court.’ She stood.

  Valeda nibbled on a glazed fairy while she waited for her friend. Orsolya was right; they really were delicious this year. But her enjoyment of the fay party in her mouth was dulled by the question of how she was going to manage King Shax. He had to help her. But what if he didn’t? Her knee jiggled restlessly by the time she had finished her cup of tea and Orsolya had emerged resplendent in embroidered silk and angel feathers.

  ‘Wow,’ Valeda murmured.

  ‘I know, it’s from this season’s line of angel-wear designed and hand-stitched by thread-obsessed jinn. I couldn’t resist it when I saw it.’ Orsolya preened before stooping to swipe another glazed fairy. ‘Ready to go?’

  Valeda nodde
d and stood.

  Orsolya patted her shoulder. ‘Don’t fret. Shax will sort you.’

  Valeda forced a tight smile but frowned as she noticed the skin on her arm. Her usual illusion of a coating of frost, the sign of healthy power coursing through her veins, had thinned to just a faint glimmer. Freezing the Vors and holding them in place had further drained her when she’d already been weak from lack of teaching. But there was no time for an impromptu lecture, not with her husband and possibly others looking for her.

  ‘Sol, I’m really low on juice at the moment, do you mind giving me a lift?’

  ‘Not at all.’ Orsolya gave her a wink and took her hand. She narrowed her eyes at Valeda’s hair. ‘That’s not one of your mother’s hairpins, is it? Visitors from other realms aren’t allowed to bring weapons to court.’

  Valeda frowned. Stuff the Fifth Realm and their crazy protocols. If she remembered correctly, they even had a law against riding ugly dread mares. Who in their right mind made or enforced a law like that? ‘Nope, it’s just a silver hairpin. Are those allowed in court?’

  ‘Of course, don’t be silly. Shax loves his bling as much as the next demon king.’ Orsolya took a vial of blood from her pocket and sprinkled it in a wide circle. Valeda took her hand as they stood inside the circle of the blood portal together. She gave her cousin’s hand a squeeze as the room faded.

  ***

  Valeda chatted with Orsolya, eyeing the petition chamber while they waited in line to speak to Shax. Hushed whispers echoed off vaulted marble ceilings and gold-inlaid floors, and Shax sat on his raised throne amid it all, preening. Valeda’s lip curled. Someone thought a lot of themselves.