Hell's Calling

by Bea Paige

  “Always the flatterer, Berus,” Maro laughs, slapping him on the back. Ceb falls forwards a little.

  “Oy, reign in that angel strength, buddy. I might be the biggest man you’ve ever seen, but I’d like to keep my rib cage intact.”

  Maro just grins even wider. “You can take it. Besides it wasn’t so long ago when you kicked my arse, remember?”

  Ceb frowns. His happy disposition gone suddenly. “That was different, I was younger then and you were… well, you weren’t yourself.”

  Maro tenses. “Oh yeah, forgot about that.”

  I stand, watching their awkward conversation with fascination. Didn’t either of them realise just quite how much juicy information they were giving up? Neither seem to remotely care that I am listening in.

  “Some things are best left forgotten, others not,” Ceb says rather cryptically.

  He claps his hands together rather suddenly which makes me jump. The plates sitting on the kitchen counter rattle.

  “I shall make us something to eat, and you, princess, should go take a shower.”

  Princess? He’s got to be fucking kidding me. First Cookie, now Princess.

  “I’d prefer it if you called me by my name,” I snap.

  “And I’d prefer not to be in Hell, but we can’t all get what we want now can we?” Ceb responds lightly.

  I look at Maro for help, but he just folds his arms over his chest and gets that angry look in his face again. “Fine, call me what you like, but don’t expect me to answer.”

  Ceb winks at me then makes his way into the kitchen and starts pulling jars of food out of the cupboards. I turn to Maro, who is glaring daggers at Ceb’s back.

  “The shower?” I ask, not bothering to form a whole sentence, or caring that I am now being rude.

  “You’ll find everything you need back there,” he says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. I walk past them both, grateful at least for a moment alone to gather my thoughts and rid my skin of the stench of Hell.

  The shower is better than I’d hoped and I lean gratefully under the water. I’m not sure how long I stand there, long enough for the water to run cold, anyway. By the time I climb out there is a gentle knock on the door. I wrap a towel around my body, it barely covers my arse but it will have to do. It smells surprisingly fresh as I tuck the edges under my armpits.

  “Come in,” I say, swiping a wet strand of hair out of my face. There wasn’t any shampoo or conditioner (I mean, what did I expect, I’m in bloody Hell) and my hair is still a tangled mess, but at least it’s no longer covered in shit.

  The door opens and Maro leans against the door frame studying me. His face is shadowed with secrets that match my own.

  “Yes?” I ask after the longest time.

  “I came to tell you the food’s ready.” His gaze lowers, lingering on my bare thighs.

  “Okay, I’ll be out in a minute.” I glance at my pile of steaming clothes. I really don’t want to have to put them back on.

  “Here, I have clothes. They should fit you.” Maro hands over a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, plus a pair of trainers. All of them are clean and pressed. Don’t tell me dog-man irons?

  I take them from them. “Where did you get these?”

  “Better you don’t know,” he says cryptically. His amber eyes survey me once again and I get the distinct impression he wishes to tell me something but doesn’t know how.

  “Well, if that’s it?” I ask, placing the clothes on the small cabinet. I grab hold of the door and start to close it. Maro doesn’t move. Instead he pushes against it with his hand, preventing me from shutting it.

  “I need to get changed.”

  He shoves open the door, steps inside the bathroom and shuts it behind him.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I say. “I need to get changed.” A thread of worry slices through me, followed by a huge dose of, dare I say it, excitement. This will not do at all. “Get out!” I add, although I’m not even convinced I truly want him to leave.

  “I’ve seen a woman naked before,” he chuckles.

  “Not this woman.”

  “You afraid to be alone with me, Ciera?” he steps closer and I smell that natural musk of him. I try not to breathe in too heavily.

  “I’m not afraid of anyone.” I stand my ground, proving my point. I refuse to be intimidated, or turned on.

  “You should be. Berus is my friend, but he is in Hell for a reason, Ciera.”

  “Not Cookie anymore? Have I been demoted in your affections?” I say without thinking.

  Maro’s head snaps up. “You still have my affections. I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

  I still have his affections? “I didn’t think you liked me all that much,” I say, unable to stop my inner thoughts becoming outer words.

  Maro sighs. “I think you’re pretty amazing actually, coming here to save your sister despite the great danger you put yourself in. I like your smart mouth, your spunk. I like the way you make me feel. You’re also beautiful.” He gives me a weird lopsided smile.

  “I…” My cheeks burn a bright red from the compliment.

  “You’ve lacked affection your whole life, am I right?” He looks at me with his ridiculous eyes and I find myself nodding in agreement. “Then it’s difficult to know when affection is given because it is heartfelt or because there’s an ulterior motive, especially when that affection comes from creatures schooled in lies and deceit. ”

  Where is all this coming from? Was he under some kind of weird spell or something? He seems sincere enough. Was this about Ceb touching me, flirting with me?

  “I told you I don’t trust anyone, that includes Ceb.”

  “Just be careful who you give your affections to, that’s all I ask.” Maro leans over, his shoulder brushes against mine as he grabs something from the cabinet behind me. I swear to all that is holy, unholy, and inbetween that my heart almost stops.

  “Here, for your hair,” he says, handing me a large wooden comb.

  I take it from him, stupidly grateful for his thoughtfulness. I look up into his handsome face. “Thank you, Maro. Thank you for sticking with me. I don’t think I could have come this far alone. If there were anyone I could eventually trust, it would be you.”

  Maro’s eyes widen and a flicker of something strangely like regret passes over his features.

  “Don’t do that. Don’t look at me like I’m your saviour, Ciera, because I’m not,” he says, swiping a hand over his face.

  “I don’t understand. I thought…”

  “I should leave,” Maro twists on his feet and pulls open the bathroom door. For reasons unknown to me, I can’t help but feel utterly confused and desperately sad at the thought he’s just going to leave like that. I let out a long sigh.

  “Oh, fuck it.”

  My head snaps up as Maro strides towards me, cups my head in his hands and crashes his lips against mine. It takes my brain a millisecond to catch up, but when it does I open my mouth to his probing tongue and kiss him back with the same ferocity. Lips clash, tongues battle, and hands roam.

  Holy fuck, damn, shit.

  Maro may look like an angel, but his kisses are full of sin.

  I am so fucked.

  Chapter 10

  I'm the first to go back to the kitchen, where Ceb is busy making something over the fireplace. It looks like soup in a massive iron pot. He's stirring it diligently, his full concentration is on the food. I hope it's something edible. Not sure what they eat here in Hell, or what giant hellhound man shifters eat in general. Maybe it's mud, the same stuff that's probably still stuck to parts of my hair, even after the shower?

  Now that would be a big let down.

  My stomach growls and announces my presence. Ceb turns and gives me a smile. Are my cheeks flushed? My lips redder than usual? Can he see that I just had the most amazing kiss of my life? Maro ended it far too soon, muttering something about needing a moment to freshen up. I hope he's not thinking that it was a mistake. Ev
en if that stays our one and only kiss, it was worth it. So worth it.

  "Feeling better, fair maiden?" Ceb asks and points at a wooden chair in the corner, apparently wanting me to sit on it. I stay standing, watching him as he continues to stir the soup. His thick muscles move with every twist. It's hypnotising and somewhat endearing to see this massive man cook. It's so entrancing that I completely forget to answer.

  "Everything alright? Do you need something? Water, perhaps? I don't usually have humans here, I'm not quite sure what you need to survive."

  I grin at his sudden blabbing. Is he nervous?

  "Water would be lovely. And aren't all the sinners down here human?"

  He gets up and stretches, his head almost reaching the ceiling. "Yeah, I suppose, but they're not alive, so they don't count."

  He heads over to the sink - I try not to think about how he has plumbing and flowing water in the middle of Hell - and pours me a glass of water. It's slightly murky, but when I hold it to my lips and give it a tentative sniff, it doesn't stink like the rest of this circle. In fact, it's really rather good, and I empty the glass in one go.

  "More?" he asks and takes the glass before I can respond. "Do humans need a lot of watering?"

  "First, don't call it watering, I'm not a plant. Second, am I the first human you've ever met?"

  He hands me the glass back, now filled again. "Is it that obvious?"

  I shrug. "Kind of. Does that mean the people... the sinners don't need any food and drink?"

  A chuckle behind me makes me turn around. "They're dead, Cookie," Maro says with a grin. "They don't sleep either, in case that was your next question."

  While I can still feel my lips tingle from our heated kiss and I'm sure that they're bright red, Maro looks just like he did before. Maybe his golden skin doesn't flush?

  "What are you making?" he asks, pointing at whatever is simmering in the pot.

  Ceb grins proudly. "My famous fireroot soup. A delicacy that you can only get in the third circle. I think it should be palatable for humans."

  "Should?" I raise an eyebrow, not quite reassured by Maro's doubtful expression.

  Ceb just shrugs. "I don't know of any human who's ever tried it, so we'll find out. It's rather spicy, but I like that. It makes the flames within me burn brighter."

  I'm not sure if that's a metaphor or if he's actually got fire in him. Who knows what's beneath a hellhound's skin.

  He pulls some earthen bowls out of his small cupboard - again, I'm surprised how well equipped he is - and begins to ladle soup into them. When he hands me my bowl, steam reaches my eyes and they immediately begin to water both from the heat and the intensity of the smell filling the air. It smells rank and not at all like something I'd ever want to eat.

  Ceb is looking at me expectantly though, so I hesitantly lift a spoon full of the reeking soup to my mouth, trying to suppress a gag. Am I really about to eat something that was cooked by a hellhound? My life has become crazy.

  The first sip burns my mouth, the second cools it pleasantly, the third makes my stomach growl.

  "This is amazing," I say in astonishment, already filling the spoon again. Once you get past the smell, this might be one of the most delicious things I've ever eaten. Who would have thought?

  Ceb grins proudly. "After the first few mouthfuls, you don't notice the scent anymore."

  He's right, I'm already not fussed by the stink any longer. I empty my bowl in record time and give it to Ceb for a top up. It's only now that I notice that both men haven't even started eating yet, but are staring at me instead.

  "What?"

  Maro is examining me like a curious specimen. "Just watching if there are any side effects. You're the first human ever to eat this. We should make notes just in case your body isn't able to cope with it."

  I glower at him. "Excuse me? Are you using me as a lab rat?"

  "No, as a lab human. Almost the same thing."

  I'm tempted to throw my spoon at him, but that would be a waste. I ignore him and continue eating. The soup is making my skin flushed and my mouth hot, but I don't mind that. Besides, it's food. I hadn't realised how hungry I was.

  "More." I hold out my bowl for the second time. Ceb raises an eyebrow but refills it.

  "Do all humans eat this much?" he asks Maro, as if I'm not even in the room. Or as if I'm a pet. They're not going to get away with that. This time, I really throw my spoon. It lands on Ceb's biceps, leaving a trace of red soup on his skin. He doesn't even turn around, as if he didn't realise he got hit by a spoon. Are his muscles that thick?

  "Humans eat that much when they're very hungry," I tell him sternly. "And I've not had food in a long time."

  He nods as if that's new information for him and carelessly dumps my spoon back into my bowl. "How often do you need to eat? Every few days?"

  I sigh. This really is a completely different world. "Most people have at least three meals a day," I explain.

  Maro picks up on what I didn't quite say. "And you? How many meals do you have?"

  I shrug. "One, two, depending on whether I can get enough food for us. I always make sure my sister gets enough though."

  Maro's expression stills and something changes in his eyes. It's like the gold is turning colder, darker. He points at the full bowl I'm holding.

  "Eat."

  It's definitely not a request. His voice is humming with authority and there's a glow filling the air around him, making me want to lift the entire bowl to my lips and drink the soup as fast as I can, just to satisfy his wishes. His eyes are mesmerising orbs of molten amber, capturing mine, bringing me under his control. Eat, they say, eat until you're full and then eat some more. I can't help but dip my spoon into the bowl, filling it with delicious fireroot soup.

  "Good girl."

  His voice has turned husky and there's something new in those eyes that still keeps me entranced. Something that encourages me to shed my clothes, get up and...

  "Stop it!" I shout, breaking the spell. "What the hell was that?"

  "Blasphemy," Ceb mutters but I ignore him.

  "Did you try and mind control me, you bloody winged devil? You have no right to do that, no right!"

  Maro almost looks confused. "Mind control? No, I just helped increase your hunger a little."

  "My hunger?!"

  Oh fuck. Does that mean that I wasn't just hungry for food, but also for... for him? Is Hell turning me into a hormonal teenager again? Not that I ever really got the chance to be one. I had to grow up fast; there was no time to experiment with boys or hang out at parties.

  "Seems soup isn't the only thing our little human is desiring," Ceb chuckles and I glare daggers at him. That hellhound has it coming.

  I put the half-full bowl on the floor and get up. "I think I'm done," I announce, ignoring their grins. "Can we continue now?"

  "No," Maro says simply. "Eat up first."

  Would throwing hot soup at an angel make me a bad person?

  "I'm done," I repeat, and I really am. I'm so full I would love to lie down and take a nap, but I can't afford to delay any longer. Somewhere in this vast land is my sister, and I need to get to her before Lucifer does something to her. No idea what he wants with a toddler, but what if she annoys him? She can be quite loud when she cries... Please don't cry, I think, hoping irrationally that she will hear my wish somehow. Angering demons and Luke usually results in death; I've seen it before.

  "I wasn't about to cry," Maro says in confusion. "Why would I cry?"

  I look up at him. Did I say that out loud?

  "I wasn't talking to you," I admit.

  Ceb reaches out and puts a large hand on my forearm. "I'm not going to cry either, don't worry."

  "What? No, I wasn't talking to you either!"

  "Then-"

  Someone knocks on the door. Well, knocking isn't a strong enough word. The entire door shakes and I flinch back, right into Ceb's arms.

  He wraps an arm around me protectively and for some strange reaso
n, I let him.

  "Who's there?" he barks, facing the door at the same time as a glowing sword appears in Maro's hand.

  "Plutus!" a deep voice shouts. "I hear you've got a special guest!"

  Chapter 11

  “Plutus? What’s he doing here?” Maro snarls.

  “Who’s Plutus?” I ask looking at Maro who has a face like thunder. In fact, he actually seems to be sparking a little. I can see tiny white sparks shooting out of his hand. I tap Ceb on the arm. “Is he okay?”

  Ceb pulls me closer against his chest. “Plutus and Maro have history. Let’s just say they’re both a little scarred from it. Once friends. Now… well, not so friendly.”

  “Open the door, Berus! I know you’re in there with that pansy Maro.”

  “Why that stinking, rotten, hairy, bastard,” Maro seethes. He strides over to the door, yanking it open.

  “I see you ain’t man enough to fight me without your sword, Maro.”

  The man they call Plutus leans against the door frame, crossing his arms against his chest. The first thing I notice is his hair. There’s lots of it. It’s jet black and hangs long over his shoulders. In fact, he wears all black. Black shirt, black jeans, black biker boots. He even has coal black eyes which flick to me making my stomach twist. I’m not sure if I am scared or… well, not scared. My cheeks flush when he grazes his eyes over me, a tiny spark of a smile pulling at his lips, and god help me if it doesn’t make my knees go a little weak.

  “What do you want, wolf?” Maro growls.

  Wolf? What does he mean wolf? I glance up at Ceb, who appears to be watching the whole episode with amusement. I’m glad someone thinks it’s funny, because honestly, with the amount of testosterone in the room things could get ugly fast.

  “I’ve come to see the human,” Plutus says side-eying me again.

  “I have a name,” I mumble.

  Plutus appears to hear me, but doesn’t bother to correct himself, or find out my name.

  “Word in the lower circle is she’s hot. I can see the rumours are true.” Plutus looks at Ceb who still has me clutched firmly in his arms. “I can see Cerberus thinks so, too.”