Oh God, what would he give for it to be true? Everything. Even his life. For her.
He pulled up his sleeves, then took his shirt off altogether. He wouldn't need it any more. He wanted to plunge the damn thing through his heart, if he still had one, skewering it like some sort of spiritual satay stick with his heart beside hers.
Practicality won out – he wasn't sure he had the strength to push the long-handled weapon through his own breast.
Was it darker in the room, or was it just his eyes dimming?
The bloodied bident prongs, like obscene nipples piercing her shirt through her breasts. Oh God.
He should have known they'd never let him have her.
"Hold on, my love," she'd said, believing everything would be all right. He could almost hear her voice saying it now.
He buried his face in his hands. Nothing could stop the tears. Look how the Lord of Hell cried for the loss of one woman. One, after more than a hundred and fifty thousand – his downfall had been the woman who'd made him rise. A woman so kind she'd seemed incredibly innocent, instead of so worldly-wise that even he couldn't fault her. He'd held out hope of love and life with her in Heaven, for she'd said it was possible. For the first time, she'd been wrong.
Luce reached for her shirt and breathed deep, savouring her perfume. Heaven smelled of her. Myrrh... He hoped the weapon was capable of killing him, for he didn't want to wake without her.
"Luce," she'd called him, her voice caressing the name he used among humans on the surface. In his heart, she was calling him again. He couldn't refuse her.
He dragged the fork from the desk, holding it between his thighs so it came to his chest. No, he couldn't impale himself as he had her. With a dagger or a sword, perhaps. This had to be the instrument of his death, as it had been hers. If only he could work out how.
Lifting his arms above his head, he prayed for guidance – for what he feared would never come. Oh God...he was crying again.
He dropped his hands and felt the sting of a sharp point pierce his palm. He watched the blood well up, a red rivulet that trickled down his wrist. His prayer was answered. It would be slower this way, but Heaven knew he deserved the pain.
Luce lined his arms up, so each barb centred on the vein bisecting his wrists. He lifted his arms once more, clenching his hands together as he concentrated on keeping them steady. Please, let him strike true on the first time. The tears were flowing too fast for him to see clearly any more.
Mel. Oh God, Mel...
Luce drove his arms down, grunting as bronze met bone. Blood spurted, but the pain was nothing compared to the hole where his heart had been. Empty without her.
The blood would flow faster if he pulled his wrists off the barbs. He'd see her sooner.
Gritting his teeth so hard he thought they'd crack, Luce wrenched his arms up. He saw chunks of his own flesh impaled on the weapon that had been his, before he toppled over onto the floor and forgot all about it.
Nothing hurt like the loneliness inside. He crawled away to feel the cold stone beneath his body one last time, bringing his arms before his face so he could watch his lifeblood draining out through the gaping holes; marking the flow of time until he could hold her in his arms again, or oblivion would claim him and he'd never know this pain again.
Please, let this old demon die. He has nothing left to live for.
"Luce," she called again, fainter this time.
"I'm coming, sweet Melody," he said, before he sank deep into a darkness from which he hoped never to wake up.
Twenty-Nine
Mel didn't want to enter the next cavern. It looked like it was full of people lying on the floor, having fits. They were spread out on the stone floor, much like the others had been in the cave pool, but these ones were moving jerkily as if they had no control over their own bodies.
She knelt to touch the shoulder of the nearest body – a young woman, she guessed. Immediately, the cavern roof vanished in thick cloud and a spattering of hail headed for her face. She felt the force of the wind on her body, blowing them both away from the skinny young man the girl reached for. The girl’s wail of despair as she was torn away from the boy before she could even touch him rasped on Mel’s heart. Mel let go of the girl and both the storm and the boy vanished.
Her hands trembling, Mel reached for an older woman crouching on all fours and crying. The storm resumed – just as fiercely as before – only this time the woman was being swept away from what appeared to be her whole family, as a man banged her relentlessly from behind. Mel released this woman, too, and the rutting man vanished along with the children shrieking for their mother.
Mel's heart ached for all of them. They knew despair she never could. Even if Luce was just a faint presence somewhere deep and distant, she wasn't being forced away from him. Quite the contrary – she knew she was getting closer. What could they possibly have done to deserve such despair for eternity? She could feel the grief etched into these souls. Why couldn't this be enough?
She stumbled through the bucking bodies, not wanting to touch another. Yet a familiar face caught her eye – a ruler who had ignored her advice in order to pursue his lust, much like Minos' grandson and namesake. Without thinking, she reached for his shoulder.
The storm seemed to centre on this man, who saw others outside the whirlwind and reached for them as they appeared and vanished. What also seemed to vanish were bits of the man's body – swept up in the twister encircling him and whirled away until they, too, vanished from sight as he screamed. Mel watched the man's hand slowly disintegrate, a piece at a time, before it was followed by his genitals. Repulsed, she yanked her hand back.
In life, the man had ordered all lepers to be executed, for his own infirmity had been his greatest fear. Now, by some irony, he was forced to feel his own body fall apart as those he'd loved or lusted after in life looked on without helping him.
But that had been centuries ago. Centuries. No...at least a millennium. Maybe close to two. How long was enough? Eternity was too much.
"LUCE!" Mel shouted. "Why don't you stop this? Suffering must have an end some time!"
As always, there was no answer. Incensed, she reached for him. Faint, but there; despair and then...gone.
"No!" she gasped, falling to her knees. "Don't you disappear. Luce!"
Illusions, Mel told herself. All the despair was an illusion and somehow she'd let it wash over her. She knew where Hell's illusions originated and they would answer to her. "Spklt! Lift the illusions in this cavern," she shouted with her voice and then deeper, with her spirit.
"Lady, Spklt has Lord's orders..." The imp appeared amid the bodies, accompanied by many more, as his words touched her soul.
"MY order is to lift the illusion. It is too strong and I say it is enough."
"Agreement with Lord..." The imp's thoughts drifted off.
"Tell him I ordered it and let him pursue me," Mel insisted, hoping this more open challenge to his authority might bring him out of hiding. A whole level of Hell disrupted.
"As you will, Lady. Lord will be angry. Very amusing." The imp bowed, as did his colleagues. They straightened and stilled, and Mel caught a glimpse of the imps' shared excitement at seeing Luce aroused in anger and lust. They hoped for an epic battle, but they would settle for explosive sex.
Mel couldn't help laughing. Nothing stirred up trouble as much as an imp – and their mischievous imaginations would put a human author to shame. She'd never heard of most of the things they hoped she and Luce would do.
Luce. She reached for him again, but still she couldn't find him. She refused to give up. "I'm coming to save you from yourself, for I won't lose you, my love," she murmured. "And if you take love advice from any of the imps today, you'll have to find yourself a human contortionist, because I will not..." She heard the imps' amusement and shut the thought down.
She glanced at the prone and supine souls, seeing some start to move toward their peers, murmuring names. Mel heard a wet kiss an
d whispered endearments, along with some pet names she'd have preferred not to know.
Wondering what a pookie was, and why it seemed so essential to so many of these damned souls, she stepped through them to the tunnel that led to the lower levels.
Let Luce see her handiwork. If he wanted to maintain control over Hell, then he'd have to come to her. If he made her walk all the way to his lair...she'd ensure all Hell broke loose above him.
Mel felt the imps' agreement. They would be her allies in this, for there was no amusement for them while Luce locked himself in his lair.
Behind her, she heard a moan of pleasure and not pain. She quickened her steps.
Thirty
A bark broke the silence, followed by what sounded like a pack of dogs. Mel headed in the direction the sound had come from – she had heard tales of Cerberus, but the dog never left his guard post. She knew her path lay beyond the creature, so she summoned her courage and sought him out.
The once-pitiful, poorly mutated puppy did indeed have three heads and all were barking, creating a cacophony of echoes in the cave. The huge creature wasn't chained or restrained in any way, but only its heads moved toward Mel, alternately sniffing and baying like three separate dogs. She saw the food bowls at its feet, but they were all empty. The poor creature was hungry.
Concentrating, she summoned a snack for the beast – some pork sausages she'd planned to cook with Luce on the weekend. Perhaps the meat would see better use here. She held them out. Two heads extended toward her, while the third hung back, afraid. The two stretched, sniffed...then snarled and fell on one another, fighting over the meat neither of them could reach. All the while, the beast's four feet didn't move. Three heads controlling one body – poor, confused creature, Mel thought. She split the sausages into three portions, tossing them into the dishes. No wonder it was so huge, with three heads to eat but only one body to sustain. It didn't look like anyone had fed him recently, though, as she watched him devour the fresh meat.
All around them, water plinked and flowed to the floor, muffling the sounds of mastication.
One of the beast's heads abandoned his meal to deliver a menacing growl at her.
"That's not a good idea," she said, fixing her eyes on the growling head. With all her attention on Cerberus, Mel jumped when she felt something damp clamp around her ankle. The firm grip anchored her to the ground as she tried to twist around to see what had seized her. Something even slimier enveloped her toes.
It was a mud-covered man, his mouth sucking blissfully at her foot. Horrified, Mel pulled out of his grasp and shifted closer to Cerberus. Two heads were now growling at the man, straining to snap at him.
The man subsided into the mud from whence he'd come, a foetid swamp that stretched as far as Mel could see in the dim cavern. Wondering where the clay had come from to create a swamp so deep in a cave, Mel saw a human figure rise from the muck and relieve itself, before sinking down into the filth once more. The surface writhed with bodies, Mel realised, horrified. She wondered what sort of sins those on this level had committed. Did toe-sucking count? She couldn't quite recall if that was a sin or not. Surely it wasn't worse than the lust that had condemned those on Level Two. Mel didn't want to touch one of the damned to find out – their crimes might be far worse than she'd thought. Perhaps there were some things she didn't need to know.
Mel looked at the expanse of mud, thinking she'd found the sludge layer of the world's largest septic tank. After curry night in the demons' barracks, she decided, remembering the septic flight school explosion she'd heard about when she worked in the HELL Corporation office. No wonder the demons had found the incident funny – when they were accustomed to this sort of sewage every day.
She wondered if there was a way around, not wanting to soil herself with any more of the nightsoil than necessary. The suspicious mud on her foot and ankle smelled awful already. Only one way to find out...
Mel shook out her wings and rose to hover over the mire. No, it looked like Level Three was wall-to-wall mud. Sighing, she figured her wings could do with the exercise. After all, she rarely had an excuse to fly on Earth. Dodging the stalactites would be a fun test of her rusty flight skills.
Stranded beside the cesspool, Cerberus started barking again, the sound echoing through the cavern as she left him behind.
"Come out and feed your dog, Luce – and get someone to see to your septic tank. If anything needs pumping out, it's that," Mel said softly, wishing he'd hear her and dreading that he wouldn't, even if she shouted.
Thirty-One
Mel heard the sounds of shouting from up ahead and landed lightly on her feet, folding her wings out of sight so that she might better navigate the narrow passage between one level and the next. She emerged from the tunnel into a cavern filled with yelling people. Thousands of them, all seemingly engaged in heated arguments and shoving matches with each other over...nothing. Mel touched the woman nearest her and was transported into an ancient, bustling marketplace. The woman seemed to alternate between shouting at the merchant for the items she ardently desired and those crowding around her for getting in her way. Mel released the woman as a man bumped into her and began shouting at her. Mel glimpsed a modern department store, emblazoned with signs that read, 'Black Friday SALE,' before the man took umbrage at a woman who appeared to be lifting a foot spa from a display table, leaving Mel alone to vent his spleen on her instead.
Mad. They're all mad, Mel decided, trying to squeeze through the milling crowd.
A tinkling sound grew louder as she crossed the cavern, the only high note among the deeper voices of the crowd. Like small bells, Mel thought, wondering why they were present. Their purpose could hardly be anything good.
Wishing she was tall enough to see over more of the crowd, Mel moved through them as best she could, following the chiming toward its source. She tripped over a box and nearly fell, but regained her balance in time. Reaching down, Mel lifted the foot spa box she'd seen earlier, wondering what such a strange item was doing here. Figuring she'd best get it out of harm's way, she carried it with her through the crowd.
The throng thinned as she approached the far wall and Mel saw that the cavern had a raised dais, with rough steps cut up one side. She ascended, knowing she was close. Laying the box by the wall, she approached what looked like a waist-high frame with objects suspended from it with string. Closer, she saw what made the sound. Each object was a chiming cat toy being vigorously pawed and batted by a belled calico cat. Their poses reminded her of the waving good luck cats she'd seen in Japan – Maneki Neko, the statues were called. But these were the real thing – live cats, willingly waving for infinitely greater luck than any statue could provide.
Why cats? she wondered, unable to resist a closer look and a chance to play with them. The moment she dropped to her knees, the nearest cat left its toy to saunter over for some investigation. The beast sniffed and then licked Mel's soiled ankle until no mud remained – just the faint fishy scent of the cat's saliva.
Laughing, Mel summoned some fish to repay her cleaning companion – some of her lunch pouches of tuna, tipping the contents onto the stone ledge. All chiming ceased as the other cats scented the treat and padded to join the impromptu feast.
Wishing she could spend more time with the cats, but knowing she'd have to continue, Mel thought of the box of ping pong balls in her shed. Perhaps they'd like to play with those, too – especially with such a large space. Bringing the box to her hands, she waited for the cats to finish cleaning themselves before she upended the box. Balls spun erratically in all directions, ably assisted by enthused cats.
Mere seconds passed before both cats and balls had vanished from the dais and they were careening between the crazed shoppers on the floor below. Mel watched, enchanted.
"My luck!" shrieked a voice. It belonged to a dark-haired, diminutive man clutching a wad of what looked like betting slips. "Where is my luck? My kitties. My kitties!" The man's hands fluttered like frightened bir
ds, showering the stone with paper.
"It's all right. They're still here. I'm sure they'll return when they get hungry," Mel said.
"But the battle! The epic battle! Bets have just closed and the next ten minutes will decide the winner. And they're not even interested!" the little man insisted shrilly.
A half-dozen cats couldn't distract thousands of people, surely, Mel thought, scanning the crowd. The quiet, still crowd. By all that was holy...how could a playing cat capture the fascination of so many? Even Mel thought it a miracle of sorts. Who'd have thought?
"They're not fighting for the foot spa! The bets are on who wins the foot spa today!" he wailed.
Mel glanced at the box that he hadn't seemed to have noticed. "That would be me. It was just sitting on the ground, so I lifted it out of harm's way. I must admit I've never used one before and my feet are a little sore from walking bare on the stone today. Are they hard to use?"
"You? Who are you?" the man spat.
Something about the way he moved and pouted reminded Mel of Persi. "You're my cousin Demeter's other son, Ploutos," she said slowly. "I'm Mel."
"Mel? Mel?" Ploutos squawked. "I don't know any Mel – OH!" Dark eyes grew round. "Lady Muriel! What the Hell are you doing here?"
Mel managed a smile. "Looking for Lucifer. I need to speak to him."
"What will Lord Lucifer say when he sees this?" Ploutos wailed, waving at the happy, cat-watching denizens of Level Four.
"Tell him an interfering angel came in and disrupted your perfectly run part of Hell," Mel replied. "The sooner I find him, the less disruption I'll cause to his realm."
Ploutos swallowed noisily. "Yes, Lady Muriel. I must warn you, though. Don't use the foot spa. Just leave it here. It's faulty. This is Hell, after all. The nearest relaxing foot massage is probably in a day spa thousands of kilometres away. I hope you get it, Lady Muriel. Lord Lucifer is...surlier than usual, lately. He sees no one and none have entered his lair in some time. I wish you every success, but an angry Lord Lucifer is not something you should see. My half-sister, Persi, seems to have some sort of crazy crush on him, but even she's scared of his temper. Yet she keeps coming here, wanting to see him..."
Welcome to Hell Box Set: Paranormal Romantic Comedy (Mel Goes to Hell Series Book 123) Page 27
