by Ivy Asher
“You heard her,” the other guard says. “Strip. Nice and slow.”
The second one laughs. “Yeah, and move the wings, or we’ll have to hold them back. Can’t be letting you do anything secret out of our sight now, can we?” he sneers.
Tears bloom in my eyes, but I shove them away.
I will not cry. If I can withstand torture, I can withstand this.
I can see Medley and Delta out of the corner of my eye, biting their lips with worried eyes, but I can’t let them break character to come help me. I have to suck it up.
“I think she wants help,” one of the guards says, and I freeze in fear as he starts striding toward me.
Don’t touch me, don’t touch me, don’t—
“What’s going on here?” Vudu demands as he suddenly strides inside.
He takes one look at me, standing in wide-eyed fear, and the guard a pace away from me, and somehow, Vudu’s already massive bulk seems to grow even larger. His bat wings tense as his muscles bulge, and he shoots a menacing look at the guard. “Get back in position. These three aren’t to be touched, or have you forgotten the Ophidian’s orders?” he demands, his huge hands balled into fists at his sides, like he’s a second away from knocking the guard’s head off.
The guard blanches slightly under Vudu’s anger, but then his expression morphs into petulance. “Whatever. I wasn’t doing anything,” the red demon mumbles before marching back to his spot next to the door.
Vudu gives him a look that says he doesn’t buy it at all, and then his eyes land on me. He must realize what I’ve been ordered to do, because his lips press into a thin line at the sight of the open tub with zero privacy.
He walks forward, but instead of cringing away from him like I did the other demon, my body instantly relaxes, like it knows it’s safe with him. He stands in front of me, his wings flared out slightly, completely blocking me from the guards. “Go on, little mate,” he murmurs, so quietly that even I almost didn’t hear him. “I’ll be your shield.”
The gentle look in this giant’s eye and the soft affirmation of his words makes a tear slip out of my eye. I try to get a hold of myself. Now’s not the time to break, but my heart doesn’t seem to get the memo as another tear tracks down my face, and then another.
Vudu looks distraught, but I mouth a quick, “Thank you,” with tears dripping silently down my face. He has no choice but to give me a simple nod, and then he turns around to give me his back, flaring his veined, dark bat wings out even more.
Behind the shadow of his presence, I quickly strip off the disgusting underwear and bra that I’ve been forced to be in for so long. I toss them in the fire next to the tub, feeling oddly victorious as I watch them blacken and burn. I’ll never have to wear those things ever again.
Wasting no time, I step into the tub and sit down, only to immediately flush with chills. The water is cold. It’s miserable but exactly what I need to snap out of the emotions that are threatening to spill over the dams I’ve built in my soul. I splash my tender face with its iciness. Time to shore up.
“Shouldn’t there at least be hot water in Hell?” I grumble.
Vudu looks over his wing at me with the tiniest smirk, the armored plating on his shoulder bunching beneath his impressive back muscles before he turns back around.
I smile to myself, feeling a little bit better and warmer, either because I’m used to the first shock of cold water, the blazing fire next to me, or Vudu’s look. Maybe a little of all three.
I find a bar of soap floating in the water at my feet, and I snatch it up and immediately start scrubbing myself down. I start at my toes, getting between every single one, and move up my body with meticulous care. By the time I scrub my hair twice with the shampoo and conditioner I find just outside the tub, the water is murky gray and I’m shivering a little, but I’m a hundred times cleaner than I was before.
Just as I’m using the last of the soap to scrub under my dirty nails, I hear Shateel come back in. “Put it there,” she directs, and beneath Vudu’s wings, I see a trio of spindly looking demons carry in another tin tub and plop it down beside me. They scurry out, and Shateel orders my sisters to both get in, forcing them to share the tub.
“I guess we’re making up for all those missed bathtub moments as toddlers,” I hear Medley whisper, making Delta’s lips twitch.
“I’m not even fucking dirty. I showered this morning,” Delta grumbles.
Vudu, ever the gentledemon, stands sentinel between both tubs so my sisters can undress, while Shateel is busy barking orders at the demons who brought the tub, talking about dress colors and makeup.
My sisters don’t take nearly as long to clean themselves as I do, and Delta doesn’t even have to wash her hair. The three of us are quickly lined up, wrapped in nothing but thin towels in front of the fire, the heat of the flames drying our wings and bodies.
Vudu stands with the other guards, his body imposing with his feet spread and his arms crossed in front of him, and since Delta’s hair is already dry, Shateel takes her first.
Medley and I watch by the fire as our sister is made to stand in front of the vanity, a floor-length mirror at her back as Shateel circles around her, a long finger tapping thoughtfully against her painted lip. “Hmm...” Her snakes languidly sway in her high ponytail as she studies Delta. “You’re the crass one who made things so hard on the Ophidian. I think we’ll make you the help at the party,” she says with a smirk. “It’ll be a good reminder of your place in our new world.”
Delta rolls her eyes when Shateel isn’t looking.
The green snake-haired female walks to the hanging dresses and snags a short one made of plain black fabric, complete with a red apron attached to the skirt like some Hellish Halloween maid costume.
Delta gets dressed in it, while Medley and I are brought forward and put into clothes as well. Medley gets a form-fitting skirt that barely covers her butt, in a color that matches her wings and hair, paired with a sparkly silver top that drapes over her. After seeing how short both my sisters’ skirts are, I’m relieved when Shateel brings a floor-length dress to me.
But as soon as I step into it, I realize how brief that relief is. Because while this black dress does go all the way to my toes, it also has a plunging neckline at the front and the back, the fabric held together by sheer panels that match my pale skin tone, doing nothing to hide my cleavage or the dip that nearly reaches the curve of my butt. After a lifetime of mostly wearing sweatpants and cotton T-shirts, the skintight dress, while beautiful, is totally out of my comfort zone.
“There,” Shateel says as she looks over the three of us. I fidget with the cuff on my arm, the sheer sleeve of my dress ending just at my wrist. “Now for your disguises,” she goes on, moving to stand in front of me first. She must see a look of confusion crossing my face, because she grins. “What, you didn’t think Morax was just going to let you three waltz into an Abdicated party looking like yourselves, did you? Mind control or not, that just won’t do. You’ll need anonymity if you’re going to kill the Seven Sins.”
Without warning, Shateel’s hands come up to my face, and she grips me, her fingernails digging into my cheeks and jaw. A sly smile spreads across her lips. “You should worry. This will hurt.”
Oh. Well. That’s comforting.
With a flash of green, power pours from her hands and then dives into my skin, and I suck in a shocked breath as pain infiltrates my every pore. Spots dance in my vision as my blackness tries to take over and shut the pain out, but I can’t let that happen. I have to stay alert.
I shove back the protective efforts of my power as a shrill scream leaves my mouth, Shateel’s magic beating into me, bubbling my skin, cracking my bones, pulling at my hair, and piercing my eyes.
Even the wings at my back get assaulted, and though it’s quick and her hands drop away from my face after a few seconds, it feels like forever. I drop to my knees as soon as she lets go, panting in pain.
My mind is unable to keep
up with all the aching points on my body, and all I can do is breathe in and out as the agony slowly fades away. It feels like I just got changed into a werewolf under a full moon.
I hear Medley scream and then Delta, as both of them fall down right beside me. When the pain fades and I have enough wherewithal to look over at the two of them, my eyes widen at what I see.
Gone are my sisters and the familiar gray eyes and the features we share. Delta now looks like a plain, freckled maid with a braid of dishwater-brown hair and no wings. Medley has dark skin and a pair of short horns on her head, her eyes now a bright orange to match her wings.
My eyes move to the mirror beside us, and I suck in a breath. The person staring back at me is a stranger. White wings speckled with black spots adorn my back, and I have blonde hair that’s so platinum, it’s nearly as blinding as a blanket of snow in the sun. It’s a shocking contrast to my black dress, and I quickly look away, too weirded out to see that I’m wearing a face that isn’t my own.
Shateel looks down at her work with an arrogant nod before turning to Vudu. “My work here is done. Tell our Liege that the power should hold long enough for them to execute his plans. The three little Annuli triplets are ready to go kill some Sins,” she says with a throaty laugh that gives me the creeps as she looks at us with triumph.
Vudu nods and walks out, sending me one last look and a nod, communicating silently and passing me some much needed confidence.
Shateel pats Delta on the head like a dog. “After tonight, you three will be hunted. Hated by demons and angels alike. Either that…or the Ophidian will kill you.” She tosses us a wink. “Have fun.”
I watch her walk out, all confidence and pomp, and oddly enough, I find myself wishing our fate were that black and white. But no. If we fail, the Ophidian has far worse plans in mind for us. He’ll eventually kill us alright, but it won’t be until after he’s tortured us and we’ve given him the Annuli children he declared he wanted.
It’s then that I decide, no matter what, I can’t allow that to happen. If it looks like somehow my sisters and I can’t win against Morax, I’ll kill us myself to keep that kind of fate from happening. I won’t let us fall into the wrong hands again, even if it means we cease to exist.
22
Things start happening very quickly.
That runaway train we’re all on is coasting down the tracks, gaining speed, and all I can do is hold on tight.
With our disguises in place, the smarmy red-skinned guards escort us out of the antechamber. Vudu isn’t with us, but I don’t get time to worry about that or wonder where he went, because Morax once again slams us with more detailed orders.
He goes over everything implicitly again, like how we are to call our scythes only in the presence of the Seven Sins and only with the intent to destroy them. How we have to play our parts and not tell anyone who we really are. How once we do what he needs us to do, we must place our hands on our cuffs and speak his name so that we immediately portal to his side.
The three of us are led into another chamber, but I’m preoccupied, trying to ensure that my darkness is holding up against the newest compulsion and fighting the resulting migraine that has come back in full force.
I’m tired.
I’m not sure if it’s because this is the most I’ve moved around in weeks, if I’m drained from the wounds my body had to heal, or the blood I gave to help Toreon. Or perhaps the daunting tasks in front of me are so overwhelming that my body is like, we need a nap before we either ruin the world or save it.
Judging by the tension radiating off of my sisters, I’m guessing that they aren’t faring much better. Fighting off Morax’s compulsion is exhausting.
I keep trying to come up with a plan, a way to turn the tides in our favor, but I’m finding it frustratingly impossible. I have no idea what we’re walking into. I mean...a council of the Seven Sins? How does Morax think that we could possibly get out of that alive?
I have no way to know if we can get help somehow or escape, but things seem daunting. What happens if the Sins kill us? What if Morax finds out we’re faking the mind control? There are a million things that could go wrong, and so much I can’t even anticipate. I feel jittery as the unknown skitters across my skin and foreboding creeps into my gut.
We walk into a chamber, just as dim and cold as the rest of this underground Hell, but this time, it’s filled with dozens of demons. I take in their feathered wings and too beautiful to be human appearances, and even more dread pools in my chest.
Medley told me about the attacks and the Outer Ringers who fought alongside Morax, but from the look of this crowd, Morax has been busy stirring up followers from the Inner Rings as well.
“Time to go, puppets,” Morax says, confident that he left no loopholes in his compulsion. “Let your scythes say hello to your father for me,” he adds with a smirk.
I haven’t met Tazreel, the Sin of Pride, but the fact that Morax is trying to force us to kill our own father makes him even more despicable than he already was. He’s a coward. Unable to mete out his own plan, and using us to do the hard work for him.
The Ophidian turns to his gathered Abdicated. “Blend in and spread out. Watch and listen. And when the girls strike, start cutting down as many Nihil as you can,” he tells them, power poised in the air.
“Yes, my Liege,” they all answer in unison, their heads bowing with creepy subjugation.
I look at the winged followers and disgust rolls through me. How could they follow someone like Morax? How are they not repulsed and horrified at what he wants to do? And how are we going to take care of all of these threats and Morax at the same time? If we go in there and the Seven Sins think we’re a true threat, they’re going to cut us down way before we ever get a chance to explain.
Movement catches my eye, and I see a handful of guards shuffle aside at the end of the chamber. Surprise rushes through me when I see why, but I work to keep my face stoic as Toreon is led into the room. For the first time since I’ve met him, he’s no longer filthy and covered in rags. It seems he got a similar makeover treatment as I did, except he got to keep his face and body.
Now, instead of bruises, tattoos, and chains covering his torso, he’s wearing a black blazer with a crisp white shirt beneath, and a pair of slacks and shiny shoes. His green skin has been scrubbed so much he nearly glistens with cleanliness, and just like I guessed, his long black hair is enviable. The shiny, thick strands are gathered at the nape of his neck in a ponytail that I thought only Brad Pitt in Interview with a Vampire could pull off, but it works for him.
My heart aches just to look at him. Dark lashes against a clean-shaven face, his chiseled jaw held high, no more slumping in the shadows or cowering in defeat. He looks like a new male, his lips flat with unspoken defiance. His mouth makes my lips tingle as flashes of our kiss streak through my mind.
A small wave of relief at seeing him ripples through me as Vudu and another guard I don’t know lead him forward with a grip on either arm. Golden eyes flit around the room, but Toreon’s brow furrows in a frown as he passes right over me without a second glance.
My chest deflates a bit, which is silly. Of course he doesn’t recognize me. I don’t even recognize me. I just don’t know why that bothers me so much.
I want to give him a signal, some tiny indication so he knows that I’m here and that I’m okay, but he doesn’t look in my direction again.
Stony eyes flash to Morax. “Where is she?” Toreon demands with furious vehemence.
Morax smirks. “She’s doing as she’s told,” he replies vaguely.
Toreon makes a show of shoving out of the guards’ holds, including Vudu, his lips pulled back into a snarl. Even though he’s been cleaned and dressed, he looks feral right now, like all his time in the cage has made him get in touch with a deeper, animalistic side. “If you hurt her…”
The threat hangs there, heavy in the room, everyone watching Toreon and Morax, waiting to see how this will play out.
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Don’t hurt him, I inwardly plea. Please don’t hurt him.
I so badly want to call Toreon’s name and tell him that I’m right here so I can put him at ease, but I can’t do that. Morax’s strict orders forbade me from saying who I really am. And even though I’m not under the compulsion, I can’t let Morax or any of his cronies know that. Plus, I have a feeling Morax did this on purpose. To test me.
I refuse to fail.
I tense as Morax walks over to him. Snakes hissing, he stands over my green-skinned demon for no other reason than pure intimidation. Seconds tick by, and I’m unable to breathe as I wait to see what he’s going to do—what punishment he’ll hand out, knowing there isn’t a damn thing I can do to stop it.
But to my immense relief, Morax doesn’t hit him or use his power to make him hurt. Instead, his tongue clicks in a patronizing tsk. “You have other things to think of aside from a female who will never be yours in the end,” he says, making Toreon’s jaw muscle pulse. “Save your strength. You’re going to need it.”
What now? What is Morax going to make Toreon do now?
A flicker of wariness crosses Toreon’s face, making Morax smirk.
“Now, rather than worrying about things that don’t concern you, it’s time to do as you’ve been told. It’s time for you to earn your keep, Gatekeeper, and focus on the portal into Heaven that you’re about to build for me,” Morax tells him with clear elation. “Call your scythe and go get to work.”
Gatekeeper?
My lips part of their own volition as surprise reaches out and slaps me across the face. Beside me, I hear Delta suck in a shocked breath, but the sound is luckily drowned out by the Abdicated in the room shuffling and exchanging looks.
Medley told me what the term meant when she explained about her guardian mates, but based on the response in the room, a Gatekeeper is a really big deal.
Free of the chains that block his power, Toreon’s hand immediately opens at Morax’s order. One second it’s empty, and the next, a large bone-colored scythe appears in his grip. The staff has carvings in it that look like the tattoos on Toreon’s stomach and inner arms. The large curved blade at the top is some kind of black metal, and there’s a smaller curved blade just underneath it.
