Hell Hath No Fury

by Jenny McKane

  But what had she expected? Even if she had seen him upon arrival, he would not have recognized her behind her glamour. She would have gotten a blank expression from him, and that might have hurt even worse than not seeing him at all. She tried to remember everything about Gideon as she had seen him in Plaxo’s memory. From what she could guess, Gideon was being held either on the top floor or on the bottom floor of this castle, and from the way his skin had looked so pale and sallow, Sunny guessed he was being held underground.

  Nesta returned a few hours later with three servants carrying armfuls of clothing. Demon nobility fashion was a bit stuffier and more couture than anything Sunny would have ever chosen for herself. The items were mostly dresses, but there were a few slim-fitting pants and coordinating tops thrown in there. Nesta brought plenty of shoes also, for which Sunny was grateful. She was never great at picking shoes.

  “We'll go ahead and hang these up for you, my lady,” Nesta said with her head bowed as she entered the room. Sunny nodded and didn't say anything. She knew that demon nobility, hell, most nobility even in the human realm, didn't bother making niceties with servants. She was trying her best to play the part.

  Nesta did not trust her. The servant eyed Sunny warily and stayed near the doorway while the other servants unloaded the clothing and hung it up in the closet. Nesta didn't bother hiding her suspicious looks, either. Her gaze never travelled far from Sunny and they always seem to be sizing her up. Sunny let it go. There wasn't much she could do at the moment, and perhaps it was weird for outsiders to show up at Azrael’s castle like this. She was doing her best to blend into the shadows and not make any waves.

  The dual suns eventually set in the far horizon, and the land went dark outside her window. There was a small table next to the pane of glass, and Sunny stared out into the darkness for as long as she dared. Just as she had suspected, creatures seem to come to life once the suns were gone.

  What caught her attention first was the shrieking. They sounded so human, but when Sunny waited by the window and watched, a giant, ancient-looking bird swooped through the sky and skimmed above the village. Was it a hunter? Did it pluck demons from the roadway if they were caught unawares?

  She wouldn't doubt it.

  When she could no longer stand the sound of the crazy-hunting-demon-bird-dragon-thing outside, Sunny went to her closet and found a few comfortable items that looked like they were meant for sleeping. Her room had a private bathroom, and Sunny decided to take a shower. When she was all washed up, including toothpaste, which was a surprise to her, she went to her bed and tried to get comfortable.

  It was a lovely bed, there was nothing she could complain about, but she still had a hard time falling asleep. For all intents and purposes, this first arrival had gone surprisingly well. But Sunny still felt unsettled and unable to relax. The faces of the demons that she had seen as she moved through the crowd today haunted her. So much anger behind them. So much suffering. Was it a species thing? Or were these demons extra jacked up on anger because of who they were serving?

  She was new to Hell, that much was obvious, but there seemed to be more nuances and shades of grey than she had been expecting. Sure, everything and everybody probably wanted her dead, but she couldn't help but see the pain and frustration written across the faces of the demons who milled around the hall and Azrael’s castle.

  She was finally able to fall asleep, even if it was only for a few hours. It wasn’t much and Sunny felt out of sorts and a bit of a mess, but it was something. More than she expected, truthfully. A knock at the door a little past nine in the morning pulled her gaze from the desert outside, where she’d been thinking about the night creatures she’d heard.

  “Are you ready, Lady Layla?”

  It was Nesta and hearing the older demon use a foreign name for her was odd, to say the least. She was going to need to work on her reaction times when it came to responding. Sunny was dismal at this whole thing.

  “I am,” she replied and moved to the door that Nesta held open. Sunny had chosen a simply pair of black pants and a form-fitting black tunic over the top. Her boots were red and there was a looping gold chain belt around her waist. It was a pretty striking outfit, if Sunny did say so herself, and she silently made a mental note for herself to dress more like this on the other side.

  An underling had come by earlier to do Sunny’s hair. Literally--she called herself an underling and the word felt terrible coming from Sunny’s lips, but she pushed past it. Ropey braids were arranged in a bun at the back of her head, holding up the top half of her hair while the bottom half fell free. There’d been a few touches of makeup, mostly red lipstick in a deep crimson shade and Sunny had been ready.

  Walking through her door now, she stopped when she saw Selah. She looked every part the princess. Her jet black hair had been pulled into a high, sleek ponytail that had then been braided into a number of smaller ropes. She wore a crimson jumpsuit with stilettos at least five inches tall. Her makeup was flawless and there were even flecks of gold on her cheek.

  Selah was putting a lot of effort into this arrival it seemed.

  Knowing that it was expected, Sunny dropped into a bow that came from her waist.

  “Good morning, your highness,” she said and waited for Selah to acknowledge her.

  “Hello, Layla,” Selah replied. “If you’ll follow me to breakfast.”

  She did. Back down the stairs and past the terrifying tree, they wound their way to a hallway across the foyer and when they arrived, the entire assembled room stood when they saw Selah.

  Inclining her head as she walked toward the head table, demons began to sit as she passed.

  The demon that Sunny recognized as Azrael was the only person in the room that was in front of Selah and still sitting. Even the two younger demons seated at both sides of him had risen as Selah approached.

  “Daughter,” Azrael said, waving his hand out wide at her approach. “You’ve arrived. It’s good to see you.”

  Only, it sure didn’t feel so good. There was a crackling energy in the air and Sunny was so afraid of Azrael and whatever impromptu violence he might have up his sleeve that she realized she hadn’t taken a full breath since they arrived.

  Breathe, she reminded herself. Just breathe.

  “And you, Father,” she said, dipping into a low curtsey in front of Azrael. Sunny did the same and worked as hard as she could to go lower than the princess, nearly snapping her ankles in the process. Damn, but these fabulous boots were not made for court manners.

  “You brought a guest with you,” Azrael noted. Sunny could practically feel the weight of Azrael’s stare on her, but she didn’t move. She wasn’t allowed to until he told her to move. And even then, she would move back to a neutral position and wait for him to ignore her again. “Rise, my lady.”

  Sunny did and kept her gaze a few feet in front of her, as Selah had taught her.

  “Father, might I present my friend Layla Antoine,” she said, the lie rolling right off her tongue so well that even Sunny was finding herself wanting to believe it. “Her family ruled the Northern Clans until the famine wiped most of them out. She now resides in the human realm most of the time.”

  It was all part of the story that Gabriel had helped her cook up.

  “How interesting,” Azrael said, making it clear that her backstory was anything but. It was good--Azrael’s disinterest was a good thing. Sunny kept her eyes down.

  “Have a seat, child,” Azrael said as the rest of the room regained their own. “Enjoy your first meal back home. We have lots to catch up on soon, I’m certain.”

  Selah moved to the chair he had indicated and Sunny took the one next to her. Servants appeared from behind them and produced plates of food, most of it unrecognizable and downright terrifying, and some of it more closely resembling breakfast items. There were scrambled eggs, but the texture and size of the dish made Sunny wonder what sort of bird the eggs came from. Sausage, too, but again, the coloring was just o
ff enough that she was pretty certain the meat wasn’t from some farm-raised piggy in Nebraska.

  But there was bread, and lots of it, so Sunny grabbed a huge helping of bread and put a few scoops of other, strange-looking food on her dish to look a little more normal before tucking into the toast. Azrael had all but forgotten they were there and was deep in conversation with the younger demon beside him.

  “That’s Vitaly,” Selah said as she caught Sunny’s stare. “He’s my younger brother, but my father’s favorite. He’s the heir apparent in his own mind, though the laws of the land demand that I follow my father’s footsteps.”

  Tricky situation, indeed. It was obvious that there was no real affection from Azrael to his daughter and that his real focus was this one son, Vitaly. Vitaly, by looks alone, appeared to be close to Sunny’s age. His skin was a very human golden-brown and his hair was a dark sable that fell to his shoulders, very unlike both Selah and Azrael’s ebony hair. His eyes were full black, as per demon heritage, and his face was handsome. Full lips, sharp cheekbones. He was the total demon package, Sunny assumed, and she guessed he was probably very popular with the female demons in the realm.

  “He already has three wives,” Selah said, under her breath. “Though none can explain why he has no children of his own yet. Quite the mystery.”

  She frowned at that.

  “How many wives does your father have?”

  She didn’t realize demons were polygamous. That was something new.

  “Six, maybe?” She guessed, her brows furrowing as she counted. “The concubines are endless and those are where he gets most of his children. I must have at least 100 bastard brothers and sisters.”

  The breath pulled out of her, Sunny’s mind swam at the very thought of all that demon hatred being groomed to be set free on the human realm.

  “And you, princess?” Sunny asked, absolutely curious now. “How many husbands will you have?”

  The sharp look from Selah let Sunny know that the princess didn’t exactly appreciate the question. Instead of an angry retort, however, an evil smile pulled at her lips.

  “One,” she said slowly. “And from my experience with him, Gideon is more than enough to satisfy me.”

  It was at that moment, Sunny had to remind herself that there was a bigger picture going on right now and stabbing the princess through the eye with a fork might make things more difficult for her.

  But the temptation had been there.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Three days passed since their arrival and Sunny found herself dreadfully bored as Selah was pulled into this meeting and that, and Sunny had to make herself scarce. Under normal circumstances, a young noble demon like the one that she was pretending to be would flit about the castle and make “friends” -- Selah used the word loosely when she explained the atmosphere to Sunny.

  But because she was a fraud and susceptible to being found out, she stayed in her room and stared at the ceiling.

  Dinners seemed to be her only reprieve and even though they were fraught with danger and bound to the whims of their host, at least Sunny could leave her room for a spell.

  Azrael was up to something, that much was certain. It became clear to Sunny after two dinners that he was putting on a spectacle of some sort, but she wasn’t certain exactly who Azrael was trying to impress or distract. The meals were more exquisite and exceptional than the one previous and both nights had featured some sort of entertainment.

  The demoness dancers the first night had kept Sunny enraptured with their performance--closely resembling human belly dancers with their contorted body positions and flagrant, exotic sensuality. The dancers, clad in strips of black and blue silk, wove a spell that kept most of the demons around her enraptured, both male and female alike.

  Azrael seemed immune, hardly giving the dancers a second look. His sons were less able to look away, but even they could regain their concentration from time to time. Selah was unaffected but kept her eyes on the dancers. And Sunny? Sunny had to force herself to watch, just to give them impression that she, too, was enraptured.

  The entertainment the second night was some sort of demon magician who produced giant flaming birds that swooped and circled above the diners’ heads. Cheers and gasps went up from the crowds as they watched the flame birds circle. Once, again, though, the diners were under a spell throughout the entire performance and sat dazed and lethargic for a spell after the shows ended. They were slow to recover, but once they had, the dinner guests went back to merriment and partying while Azrael and his sons looked on. Selah fell under the spell on the second night while her eyes were on the birds, too, which surprised Sunny. Surely Azrael would have seen fit to shield his daughter from whatever hypnotism he was weaving with the dinner entertainment?

  Apparently not.

  Once the magician had taken his final bow and left the hall, Selah grabbed her head with her hand and struggled to stay upright.

  “Are you okay?” Sunny whispered to her and her inquiry was rewarded with a sharp, reproachful glare from Selah.

  “Do not address me here,” she snapped.

  It was odd, to be certain, but Sunny quickly looked away and pretended to be just as dazed and confused as everyone else. Partly because she was.

  When the crowd was dismissed for the night, Selah gripped Sunny by the shoulder and stopped her.

  “I am meeting with my father tonight,” she said. “Go straight to your room and stay there.”

  The tone of her voice surprised Sunny, mostly because that was what Sunny had been doing at night anyway. Why the warning and the tone? Selah didn’t stick around to give Sunny any clues and was gone before Sunny realized it.

  Blinking in surprise, Sunny glanced up and noticed that Azrael and his sons were now standing, seeing people off for the evening. And the weight of Vitaly’s gaze rested directly on her. Sunny swallowed hard when her eyes met his and she couldn’t quite read the expression in those black eyes. Curiosity? Perhaps. But something more. Maybe a little more sinister. Blinking away, Sunny headed for the exit as gracefully, and quickly, as she could.

  Out in the foyer, the dazed demons were finding their proverbial footing once again and had returned to the pushy, aggressive mass that they had been prior to dinner. Their voices, numerous and too many to count, were pitchy and animated as servants moved through the crowds with trays of silver liquid in crystal flutes on them. The demon guests plucked the glasses from the trays and greedily drank the liquid down as they engaged in raucous, and often combative, conversation with one another.

  Sunny was well aware that more than a couple pairs of eyes were on her, so she begrudgingly took a flute of silver, mercurial liquid and pretended to take a delicate sip. The liquid burned her lips the moment it touched, so Sunny was extra careful not to let it pass through them. She had no interest to see what effects this drink had, seeing how Azrael was so free in plying his guests with it.

  Trying to remain as casual as possible, she moved slowly through the crowd and used her nervousness as a springboard to appear haughty and unimpressed. She held her nose high and maintained an aloof air as the curious demon partygoers all but sniffed her out. More than once, she witnessed the blacks of a demon’s eyes swirling silver and a shudder went down her spine. The liquid they were drinking was having such an effect on them that it was visible through their eyes.

  Moving toward the back of the foyer, where there was no crowd, Sunny ducked behind the giant tree and seeing no place else to dispose of her drink, she quickly dumped it into the soil beside her.

  She couldn’t quite be certain, but she swore she heard a painful groan come from the roots her drink had landed on. Was she imagining this? Certainly, the tree had not just complained about the drink? She was frowning, looking down at the spot when she heard a commotion coming from a hidden hallway that she had not seen before.

  “Move, half-breed,” a guard was barking. The name had Sunny’s attention in an instant and she searched the group of
bodies moving toward her. “His highness has requested a visit and we’d hate to keep him waiting, wouldn’t we?”

  The guard speaking was not kind at all and was teasing his victim. Sunny moved away from the entrance to the hallway and tried to observe from the shadows. All pretense of hiding disappeared, however, the second she caught sight of Gideon.

  He wasn’t shackled, as she would have imagined him to be. He wore a plain white, simple tunic and brown trousers. His skin was the same sickly pallor that it’d been in Plaxo’s memory, and his beautiful hazel eyes were lifeless as they stared ahead.

  Every fiber in her being wanted to dart in front of him and wave her hands in his face to force him to wake up, to look at her. But it would have been suicide. Instead, she moved quietly to the side and tried to remain unseen by the entourage of guards moving him.

  Something made Gideon jerk his head in her direction, however, and when his lifeless eyes met hers, Sunny hoped beyond reason that he would recognize her, even knowing that it might spell their doom if anybody picked up on it.

  But, no. She got no recognition from Gideon. If anything, she felt the hatred pouring from him across their momentary gaze. He was haunted and nearly shattered, she realized, and hated every being around him right now.

  To this version of Gideon, Sunny truly was Layla--a spoiled, insipid demon noble who might as well have been his kidnapper and torturer.

  The moment was over before Sunny could really process it and as he was led away, toward a staircase that would lead him up to Azrael’s personal floor, Sunny felt his absence like a gaping hole in her chest.

  She’d seen him, yes, but she felt more of his absence in that moment than in the months she had slept in his bed and smelled him on his pillows.