King of Hell

by Melody Rose

  “Who made this?” I asked, suspicious now.

  “I did,” Lucifer declared with pride. “No excessive oil usage, I promise. You’ll love it. Please?” He pulled my chair out for me and gestured for me to take a seat. I did so, feeling oddly as if this were some sort of date.

  Lucifer took his seat, but not before reaching over to grab the bottle of wine and bottle opener off the table.

  “You loved the wine last time,” he said as he went about opening the bottle. “I made sure I had another bottle ready for you.” He silently poured the wine into both of our glasses, letting the wine flow slowly out of the bottle to aerate it as much as possible. He filled the goblets over the halfway point, which I definitely appreciated.

  Lucifer handed me my glass, took his seat, and lifted his own glass to toast. “Here’s to those who wish us well, all the rest can go to Hell.” He winked at me over his goblet as we took a sip.

  I placed my glass down and picked up the spatula, carving out a section of baked ziti, and carefully transferring it to my plate amid ever-growing strands of melted cheese. I noticed a bowl of grated cheese next to the baking dish. Not one to argue about extra cheese, I sprinkled a generous amount over my portion of baked ziti, then sat back to admire it. I was afraid that it wouldn’t taste as amazing as it looked, and I wanted to savor my moment of ignorance and bliss.

  It turns out that I needn’t have worried. I cut away a small chunk with my fork, and brought it up to my mouth, letting each flavor announce itself against my tongue. It was absolutely perfect, with a hint of spice that I was not expecting.

  “This is incredible!” I exclaimed in surprise, mouth still full of food. I immediately chastised myself silently for not swallowing first.

  Lucifer’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “You like it?” he asked, trying to hide his surprise.

  I took the time to finish chewing and swallow my food before responding this time. I gave myself a mental pat on the back.

  “Yes, it’s flawless,” I gushed. “There’s something spicy in here that I absolutely love. I can’t put my finger on it.”

  “Oh, that’s the sausage,” Lucifer replied. “The kick from the spicy sausage, together with the red pepper flakes. Don’t go telling everyone, though! You’ll blow my cover.”

  I stared at him, astonished. “How can you nail something like this so perfectly, yet fuck up some rice and beans?”

  He laughed genuinely. “I’ve made this time and time again and have had ages to perfect it. Honestly, with all my experience and knowledge of all of these exquisite dishes and high-end ingredients, I simply never had occasion to make something like rice and beans. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’ve thrown a can of beans over some Minute Rice in the past as a side dish. But I wanted to follow a legitimate recipe to ensure you got a taste of home, and I’ll be the first to admit that I messed it up.”

  “You sure did!” I laughed, remembering the oil that coated the inside of my mouth for hours after we ate. I had never been more excited to brush my teeth. “You fucked it all up. I did appreciate you trying, though, I have to say. I don’t think I told you that. It was sweet.” I tipped my glass to him slightly before taking a sip.

  He smiled coyly, and looked down at the wine in his glass, swirling it absentmindedly.

  “I also appreciate what you did for me earlier, by the way,” I continued, pushing myself to keep talking before I lost my nerve. “I mean, I did not enjoy that, like at all, but I appreciate the gesture behind it, wanting to bring me joy and whatnot. It didn’t go unnoticed.” I quickly shoveled another forkful of baked ziti in my mouth before I could say anything else and possibly ruin the moment.

  “Thank you for that,” Lucifer responded, looking back up at me from over the top of his wine glass. “I realize in hindsight that it wasn’t the best move, but I guess that’s why they say that it’s the thought that counts.”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, I guess,” I responded, and we continued to dive into our food.

  I felt this lingering feeling that he wanted to ask me something else, but he never did. I had thought originally that when he had knocked on my door, he had some type of ulterior motive for this outing, some kind of questioning that he was going to subject me to. So far, this was simply a very nice afternoon together. I was a bit confused but didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  Once our meal was over, Lucifer stood up and smoothed out his shirt, which had gotten a bit wrinkled around the waist from sitting for so long.

  “Come on, I’ll walk you back,” he casually offered.

  “Sure,” I replied, a bit surprised at the offer. Wasn’t that something Asmodeus would normally do?

  I pushed my chair in and followed him out the door. Once in the hall, he slowed his pace, ensuring that he was walking side by side with me. This was certainly different from any other trip down this hall I had experienced. I had a strong urge to reach out and hold his hand. I fought it and desperately wished I had worn jeans instead of leggings so that I would have pockets to shove my hands into. Instead, I was painfully aware of the awkward way my arms swayed by my side aimlessly as we walked.

  When we did finally arrive at my door, he turned to face me, looking down into my eyes.

  “I had a very nice time with you today, Evelyn, even if I may have scarred you earlier. But, it’s not a date without some emotional scars, right?” He winked and reached out to tuck a rogue strand of hair behind my ear.

  Date. Did he say date? A now-familiar tingle shot down my spine, and I knew it right then and there.

  I was falling for him.

  “Enjoy the rest of your evening,” he continued before I could respond, and took a couple of steps backward before turning and walking down the hall, around the corner, and out of sight.

  And the crazy thing was? The silly, utterly insane thing?

  I was sad to see him go.

  12

  Evelyn

  I woke up slowly in my own bed. It was an incredibly welcome change after the past couple of days. I felt a bit off, though. I had grown so accustomed to waking up to the warmth of the sun on my face. I knew, based on that light, exactly what time it was.

  This morning, though, my room was still dark. It felt like the middle of the night, but my body told me it was time to get up. I sat upright in bed. I did not want to get up and learn what yet another day in Hell had in store for me. Thinking back on all of the torture I had witnessed so far, it seemed everyone down here was so nonchalant about it all as if they were numb to what they were actually doing. I couldn’t imagine ever getting used to that. Every part of my body just wanted to go home, to my real home, with my old, creaky hardwood floors and the sunlight that flooded my bedroom in the mornings.

  I knew that wasn’t an option, so instead, I stared mindlessly down at my comforter and noticed a loose thread in one of the seams. I played with it for a while, twirling it between my thumb and forefinger, feeling the fibers twist against my skin. I pulled it taut with my other hand and snapped the thread free. I placed it on my nightstand and stared over at the bare wall where my glass door should be, trying to accept my new dark normal.

  Yesterday had been an interesting shift from the day before. Not long after I had woken up, I had impossibly fluffy pancakes brought to my room by someone I could only imagine was a low-level demon, his puckered red skin and oversized black horns jarring me awake better than any cup of coffee could. I then had the opportunity to take a nice, long shower.

  After my unexpected lunch with Lucifer, I spent the evening curled up with some Netflix and my blanket. I had made good progress on that thing, grateful for the extra bulky yarn that worked up quickly. The documentary made the perfect companion to my work. It had a fitting name, Holy Hell, but oddly enough had nothing to do with Hell. I made a mental note to start watching more religious things on Netflix. More and more, I realized how little I really knew about Hell, Lucifer, Lilith, and all of that. I needed to start taking note
s.

  Eventually, I forced myself up, showered, and got dressed. I opted for simple and comfortable, blue jeans and my favorite purple flannel button-down over a plain black tank. The flannel had caught my eye in the store because of the bright colors, especially since my wardrobe was already mostly black. I hadn’t expected it to soften up so much in the wash, though, and now it felt like I was wearing a cozy blanket all day.

  I wandered into the living room, and my eyes were drawn down at the blanket I’d started crocheting. The stark contrast of the soft white material against the darkness of the room drew me in, the closest thing to comfort I could find in the room. I moved to my recliner, pulled the basket closer to me, picked up my hook, and got to work.

  I was well into my groove when I heard a chipper knock on the door: two quick knocks, followed by two slow ones. After a beat, the door swung wide, and Asmodeus was standing there, dressed in an off-white seersucker suit, a white dress shirt, and no tie. His top button was undone, and he was wearing his white Chucks again. His hair was immaculate as usual, and I was immediately jealous of his perfect shiny copper waves.

  “Good morning, gorgeous,” he drawled. “How’s it going?”

  “Just another morning in paradise,” I sang a bit sarcastically.

  He looked over at me from the doorway with a smirk. “Well, at least you’re keeping your spirits up, hon. Don’t mind me, just do your thing.” He waltzed past me into my bedroom and started making my bed. “Consider me your personal assistant down here. Hell is a hell of a place to adjust to.”

  “Hey, you know, you never answered me before,” I called as I put my blanket down and walked over to the bedroom doorway. “What is your usual role down here? You never told me. Also, why are you always checking in and taking care of me? Don’t you have better things to do than make my bed?”

  Asmodeus’ honey-saturated voice filled the room. “Well, I usually run the second level,” he said casually as he fluffed the pillows. “I’ve got that place running very smoothly nowadays. Don’t really need to do much more than check in on occasion. I do like changing up my schedule, though. It keeps everyone on their toes and helps ensure things stay on the right track.”

  “What’s on the second level?” I asked. I did not realize there were levels, although it made sense, based on what I had learned about Hell through the years in theology and pop culture. “Does each level get worse and worse?”

  “More like each level has its own flavor.” Asmodeus moved over to my closet and started sorting through my clothes, putting all of my dresses together in one section and my work clothes in another. “Mine is the most fun. If lust brought you down to Hell, you’d usually get sent straight to me.”

  I reflected back on what I knew about all things Hell-related as I propped myself up on the bedroom door frame. Arms crossed, I watched him continue to organize my clothes and straighten my hangers. I’d actually been meaning to do that.

  “So if you’re Lust, are you saying the seven sins are actually demons?” I bit my lower lip in thought. “So then there would be seven levels of Hell?”

  “Not just demons.” Asmodeus straightened up and turned to face me, his voice taking on a more serious note. “I’m one of the seven Princes of Hell.” He waited for a beat and then winked at me and smirked before turning back to my closet and resuming his work. As he did, he hummed a few notes of something that sounded remarkably like Taylor Swift before turning to look at me again.

  “But yes, I suppose you’re right, and there are more levels than seven.” He grinned. “Ours, the seven sins, I mean, are the biggest, though, and they keep growing.”

  “Yeah, I suppose Hell is forever, so the souls just keep accumulating,” I mused.

  “Pretty much. It does provide me with endless entertainment.” Asmodeus let out a hearty laugh. “Lust is a big level, as I’m sure you can imagine.” He had an innocent-looking smile on his face as if he were talking about the number of children that rush to the County Fair on the weekends instead of the number of depraved lunatics that get chucked into Hell because of their lust.

  I shuddered at the thought of just how many people could possibly be down there. Considering Lucifer’s propensity for issuing his souls their just deserts, twisting their passions to turn against them, I very much did not want to know exactly what was going down on Level Two.

  “I’d, uh, rather not imagine,” I muttered, closing my eyes and shaking my head in an attempt to shift gears. Asmodeus chuckled as he continued to work through my closet.

  “So, what’s your relationship like with Lucifer?” I asked, figuring that would be a much safer topic. “Do you guys argue about what needs to get done, or do you guys have to follow a strict set of rules?”

  “Well, darling, he tells us what he needs to be done, and we make sure it gets done.” Asmodeus seemed completely nonchalant about it. “When you exist as long as we have, it just works itself into a routine. No need for any drama. We make sure to keep our demons in place and keep the order down here.”

  “Easy for you to say. I’ve been butting heads with him this entire time.” I felt comfortable with Asmodeus for some reason, and I needed to discuss some things out loud to ensure I wasn’t making this up in my head. “I know he won’t let me go home until he figures out whatever he needs to figure out. Honestly, I’m not sure I’ll make it out of here at all, but I also know my attitude hasn’t been helping the situation.”

  I sighed and shrugged. “So, I’ve been trying to tone it back a bit. I’ve also noticed that he seems to be warming up to me as well. He’s starting to seem more and more human as we get to know each other. He’s actually kind of sweet.”

  Asmodeus turned and raised an eyebrow at me, hands hovering over my hangers, my closet forgotten. “Did you just call the King of Hell sweet?” He smirked. “My goodness, girl, he did a number on you. I don’t think anyone in the history of…” He paused for dramatic effect, complete with his fingertips propped underneath his raised chin, as he stared up at the ceiling. “... well, never.”

  “Well, he is, kinda,” I thought out loud. “A bit misguided, but he is trying to make me comfortable. Look at you. He has one of the seven Princes of Hell organizing my closet.”

  “Girl, look at me.” Asmodeus spun around to face me, gesturing at his own outfit dramatically. He then put one hand on his hip, jutting that hip out as he transferred all his weight to that side as he pointed at himself for effect. “I was made for this. My closet is impeccable. I’ll show you one day.”

  “Yes, but he didn’t need to ask you to look after me,” I replied, unimpressed by his dramatics. “He could have just let you stay on Level Two and not get involved, but he wanted it this way. That’s gotta say something, right?”

  Asmodeus smirked again. “Good luck, darling. He’s a tough beast to butter up, but if you can pull it off, you’ll probably go down in history.”

  He straightened up the last of the hangers and brushing down my clothes to hang perfectly. “Alright, your closet is organized, and your bed is made. I’ll be by to check on you later.” He stood back to admire his work.

  “Thank you,” I chimed, and I popped myself off the doorway to follow him to my apartment door. “I do appreciate everything!”

  “No sweat, darling.” Asmodeus smiled genuinely, although I looked at his smile a bit differently since his statement about the size of his level of Hell. He grasped my doorknob, twisted it, and let himself out.

  The door was almost shut behind him when I saw dark gray nails wrap around the edge of the door and push it back open. A split-second later, Lilith poked her head in.

  “Hey, Evelyn!” She skipped toward me, and I immediately recognized her gray Jimmy Choos. They had been on my wishlist for a while now. I kept going back to the website and trying to convince myself to put in my card information, but the price tag stopped me every time. “I heard you had a lovely date yesterday!”

  “I wouldn’t call it a date,” I replied, feeling my
self blush a bit. There was that word again. Had it been a date?

  “Well, whatever it was, did you have fun?” She walked the perimeter of the room, scanning it all as she went. “What did you talk about?”

  “Nothing really noteworthy, to be honest.” I thought back to the meal and tried to summarize it, but I couldn’t put it into words. “I think we mostly talked about the food.”

  “No romantic moments?” she jested, looking over at me from across the room.

  I let out a sharp laugh. “No, absolutely not,” I replied a bit too quickly as I shoved my hands quickly into my jeans’ pockets. I had learned my lesson from yesterday’s outfit: Always have pockets so you can hide your awkwardness. “I just wanted to get the hell out of that first room, and he made up for that faux pas with some lunch.”

  Lilith looked suspicious for a split second, her eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly before resuming her chat and her stroll around the room.

  “Well, at least you got a good meal,” she responded mischievously, “and I have something else for you. Grab your gun belt, we are going to the range!” She suddenly seemed overly excited.

  “The range? Seriously?” Something fun to do in Hell? I wondered what the catch was. It seemed there was always a catch.

  “Yes!” She threw open my closet doors, looking for my gun belt. “It’s got a little twist to it, but I think you’ll enjoy it, nonetheless.” I had little time to wonder what the twist was since she gleefully tossed me my gun belt and headed toward the door. “C’mon, girl. Let’s go!”

  “What about my guns?” I called out. I had noticed that my safe had not been sent over with the rest of my belongings. I had a strong suspicion that Lucifer had done that on purpose, knowing that I could cause some real damage with them.

  “We have a nice collection you can use, don’t worry about that!” Lilith called out from the doorway.