by SF Benson
“Ya really don’t know the meaning of leaving me the hell alone,” Edwina drawls.
“Listen, Edwina.” My tone is formal for the first time in years. “This isn’t for me.”
“So, this is business?” She pauses for a moment. Her voice softens. “What do ya want?”
“Qadira’s in trouble. Colt has her held up somewhere. I need to make sure she’s not harmed while I go see someone.” After I make the request, I realize how ludicrous it is. How do you ask an ex-whatever to help you with another female?
“Why should I do anything for her? I thought she was just another female for ya to bed. I find it hard to believe ya care about anyone else but ya self.”
Her words make me hesitate. My concern for Qadira isn’t about sex. At some point, I stopped thinking of her in that manner. I think I understand the concept of a phantom limb. I know she’s not with me, but I feel like she could be. Like at any moment, she’ll bounce in the room and say something in that musical voice of hers.
“Please, Edie. Just find her,” I beg, desperation sliding into my voice. “Make sure Colt doesn’t do anything to harm her.”
“I’ll see what I can do. I won’t promise ya anything, Cash.”
“Thank you.” It’s not perfect, but I can’t go running all over Hell and not know Qadira is safe.
Hadid tilts his head to the side. “Are you ready?”
As much as anyone can be going to Hell. “Yeah.”
I grab my jacket. Hadid looks at it and raises an eyebrow.
“I do not think you will need a jacket where we are going.”
I stare at him for a moment before reality hits me. We really are going to Hell.
Long before Colt made his first appearance in my bedroom, back in the palace, I thought him kind and considerate. I never imagined the charming incubus harbored a side akin to his father. Stealing me away in the night revealed his true nature. Colt is a calculating, cold creature. I guess time changes even demons.
We materialize inside a chilly, dimly-lit building. Moisture coats the gray stone walls. Decay and the smell of unwashed bodies mingle in the cloying heavy air. The soft, shuffle of our footsteps is the only sound here.
Colt leads me down a narrow hall. At the end of it is a tall, metal door. Iron. My bones begin to ache in the presence of the material. In small doses, iron is tolerable. A little fatigue. Perhaps a headache. This much ore is crippling.
He unlocks the door, and it creaks and groans as it opens. A hand touches my back, and I lose my balance as I am pushed inside. Scorched earth assaults my nose. I gag and lift my hand to my mouth. A window, high upon the wall, allows the moonlight to filter in. My eyes dart around the small, filthy space. All that is here is a cot, a candle on top of a rusty candlestick, a table, and a chair.
My thoughts quickly shift to Cash. Allah, please let him be on his way. But will he be able to find me in this prison?
“Is this really necessary?” My voice shakes as I hold up my wrists. “I cannot go anywhere on my own.”
“Sorry, Dira.” Colt strikes a match and lights the candle. “These may not be the accommodations for a princess, but it will have to do for now. It’ll keep you safe. Once our parents come to an agreement, I will gladly move you to another room. Unless…”
A confident smile crosses his face, and Colt saunters forward. His shoes bump against my feet. Fear clenches like a tight fist around my chest. Slender fingers caress my cheek as he gazes at me. I see the glint in his eyes, a reflection of the cruelty hiding deep down.
“If you give yourself willingly to me, we can quit this stupid game.” His thumb strokes my skin. “Get on with our lives. You will learn I can be a gentle lover when encouraged.”
I try to ignore my quivering stomach. Instead, I grit my teeth and lift my chin. “Unless you plan on forcing yourself on me, nothing will ever happen between us. It will not matter what our fathers agree to. If I do not give you my heart, you can never claim me as yours.”
He clenches his jaw, and his eyes flicker red. A shiver travels down my spine. I step back. That little-known fact may have escaped him.
Colt growls, “Once again, this is Cash’s fault.”
“How is this his fault?” I mutter.
“Never mind.” His eyes return to their normal brown, he exhales loudly, and turns away from me.
Feeling braver than I really am, I edge closer to Colt. “If you are going to hold me captive, I deserve to know everything.”
“You’re not being held captive, Qadira. My intent isn’t to harm you. I’m only taking back what’s mine.”
“Wrong. I’m nobody’s possession.”
He runs a hand through his hair and sits at the table. “Has Cash told you about his sister Kelsie?”
“Bits and pieces.” I lower myself to the lumpy cot. “I know she is out of the country with her fiancé—a vampire.”
“Well, that wouldn’t have happened if Colt had done what he was supposed to.” His fingers curl like a set of claws.
“And that was?”
His fists shake along with his voice. “He should have discouraged their relationship. Kelsie promised herself to me.”
I rub my brow. What he says makes no sense to me. “Seriously, Colt? Something doesn’t ring true here. Remember my gift of sight?”
Colt expels a deep breath and drops his head. “If someone tortured you…tormented you until your brain ached, wouldn’t you do anything to make it stop?”
“I suppose, but what has that to do with me?”
He lifts his head and looks at me. The mixture of resentment and hate dancing in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine.
“I lost one consort match. You’re my next option. Without you, my father will continue to torture me. I can’t take it anymore.”
My heart stutters. No matter what Colt has done, I don’t hate him. On the contrary, I feel bad for the being. If it weren’t for his father’s influence, I think Colt could be one of the good guys. He used to be.
“Did you love Kelsie?”
His head jerks back, and he clenches his jaw. “Love has nothing to do with it.”
“Fine.” I lie back on my elbows and swing my foot from side to side. Escaping this place depends on me staying focused. “Okay, you do not love her,” I say softly. “Explain things to me.”
Colt stares at the ground. He rubs his hands on his pants. “There’s nothing to explain. My father promises worse torture if I don’t produce heirs.”
Rumors of the Najex and his cruelty swirl around the supernatural world. Djinn speak of the demon’s horrific manners—the mind games he plays with his own family.
“Stand up for yourself, Colt. You’re an adult. Tell him how you feel.”
“Not happening.” He glances at me. “Did your talk with Al-Qadir call off your wedding to Shedad?”
My mouth opens, but I’m speechless. Colt speaks the truth. Both of our fathers are stubborn demons. They hear what they want, and everything else is just fodder for lesser beasts. “So, why bring me here? I’m not Lilin.”
“Like I said, you’re my next best option. Our children would grow up to be strong, powerful demons. Eventually, they’ll rule this forsaken town and fulfill my father’s wishes.”
So, this is about harnessing my powers? I will be a slave to their desires. No way will they free me from my iron bonds. Please Allah, send Cash for me.
There are some journeys not even a demon should have to make. Going to see Ashmedai, the father of the Najex and the king of all demons, in the depths of Hell is one of those trips.
I’m starting to question my sanity, especially since I’m an incubus. Going to Hell for a female? Absolutely insane. Losing my mind is the only explanation for what we’re about to do.
Liar.
This is about your feelings for Qadira.
As much as I’d like to ignore what my actions might mean, I can’t. The vacancy settling in my soul
won’t let me.
Hadid glances at me. “Ready?”
A pair of asbestos-lined boots might be nice, but otherwise… “Yeah. As ready as I can be.”
“Good. Just a warning. This might sting a little.” He claps his hands together, and we fade away.
We materialize in a vast, empty field. No grass or weeds grow here. This place makes the desert seem like Antarctica. Instead of snow and ice for miles, we’re standing in an intense heat wave. I suspect whatever once grew here incinerated on contact. Thank Siren, I left my jacket at the cabin. I’m sure it would have seared to my body in the short time we’ve been here. Smells of decay and burning flesh mingle together, assaulting my nose. I clutch at my stomach and try to hold it together.
Low, almost palpable rumbling booms overhead. I look up into an oxblood sky. Darker crimson clouds churn through it. Red rain drops land on my arm. Agony, with an intensity like sharp needles, courses through me.
“What the fuck?” I scrub at my arms, but the pain is still there. A hollowness moves into my chest. I can’t concentrate. Thoughts of being alone forever cloud my mind.
“We need to hurry,” the blue djinni says. “The tears from tortured souls burn your skin. Their despair will intensify your worst fear. We do not want to stay out here too long.”
In the distance, souls wail nonstop. The sound reminds me of the banshee’s screams I heard coming from the alley. My knees buckle. Longing finds a home deep inside me. I can’t do this.
Hadid tugs at my sleeve. “Keep moving, incubus. If you do not fight this, you will stay here forever.”
My mouth falls open, but I can’t speak. I force myself forward along the path. Small rocks crunch beneath our feet. I stumble and nearly fall. When I look down, I see an eyeball and a few skeletal fingers amid the stones. I crouch low and run my hand over the surface. These aren’t pebbles. No. These are bones covering the trail. Some large and some small. The fragments, clinging to life, scurry to the side before we can step on another one.
I stand up, and Hadid’s eyes meet mine. “This place should not faze you terribly. You are a demon after all.”
He’s wrong. No one, demon or human, wants to go to Hell. This isn’t some vacation spot near the equator. Even a demon has limits. I reached mine with the scorching tears.
“How far do we need to go?”
Hadid points to a towering structure on top of a hill. It resembles a church except the walls are covered by a shimmering, flexing mesh. As we draw closer, I see skulls poking through the surface. They twist and turn, as if searching for something, before withdrawing into the horde. The motion is constant as skeletons switch position with one another.
I swallow hard and try to relax, but I can’t. My heart beats so fast I think it might explode from my chest and high-tail it back to Falls Creek. A deep-seated scream threatens to escape from me. I rub my chest and try to focus.
“You must care deeply for my sister to endure this suffering,” Hadid says.
My head rocks over to him. “Why do you say that?”
“I feel your despair. This place eats away at your resolve. I do not believe you would withstand this agony for an acquaintance.”
The truth in Hadid’s words is troubling. I haven’t felt right since Colt snatched Qadira from me. I now know my disturbed sleep was his fault. Instead of stealing essence from a human, he sucked away my energy insuring I’d stay sleep. If I did wake up, I’d be too weak to stop him. The hollowness inside hurts.
Sharing my feelings with the blue djinni is a foreign idea. Something I just don’t do. I simply explain, “I’m here because your sister deserves someone better than Colt Najex. Plenty of supernaturals would chance becoming his consort. It’s not necessary to force somebody into the role.”
Amusement glints in Hadid’s eyes. “Would this better someone be you, my friend?”
“Shut up,” I growl and push past him.
His laughter follows me down the path as we keep moving toward the menacing structure guarded by skeletal sentinels.
After what feels like an eternity, we finally reach a giant-sized wooden door. It’s covered in a variety of locks—some are plain with simple keyholes, and others feature intricate designs made from bones and teeth. Wispy shadows surround the dark entrance.
“Who goes there?” A voice booms out of the abyss.
My gaze darts over to Hadid.
Beads of sweat cover his forehead. “It is Hadid, second son of Al-Qadir and Cassius Martin, an incubus. We need an audience with Ashmedai.”
Cold tendrils curve around my mind. Dark fingers move across it, ransacking my thoughts.
I side-glance at my companion. He wags his head side to side.
The intruder’s pillaging stops. The chilly presence pulls out of my head. “The Master shall see you now.”
An enormous eye emerges in the center of the door. It drifts from side to side and blinks once. Something metallic clangs followed by an earth-shattering rattle. The door opens, scraping the ground along the way. Thick, choking smoke rushes out and stings my eyes. The stench of decomposition, like repugnant stale breath mixed with rotting flesh, filters from inside. It’s far worse than the foul air we’ve been inhaling. My mind tells me to stay put, but then I think of Qadira being tortured by the Najex. A few moments in the presence of the master of evil is worth it if it frees her from Colt.
Despite my growing feelings for Qadira, once this is over, I’m gonna find myself a sexy shrink and let her examine my brain. No male in his right mind would endure Hell for a female.
I start to take a deep breath and have second thoughts. I tuck my nose in the crook of my arm and step into a cavernous, gloomy hall. It’s time for us to meet with the king of Hell.
Hadid and I walk through corridors leading us farther into Ashmedai’s lair. Voices call out in unrecognizable languages. The constant wailing, however, isn’t what eats away at me. It’s their torment—a level of pain I have no experience with.
One would think I wouldn’t be a stranger to pain. I’ve encountered my fair share in my lifetime, and even inflicted it on others as a tattoo artist. This suffering is markedly different. It pierces and cuts, shredding my insides. The urge to sink to my knees and curl up like a baby wars with the need to keep moving.
“Stop fighting against it,” Hadid advises.
I barely hear him speaking to me. “Huh?”
“This pain feeds off your emotions and thoughts. If you desire for it to stop, it continues. Try to ignore it or redirect your thinking. If you don’t care, the pain will pass you by.”
In other words, welcome to Hell—a place where your torment is personalized and capitalized on for an eternity.
At the end of our path is a many-forked crossroad. Each branch leads to another level of Hell, each one more twisted and depraved. At its apex stands a pallid figure. The silver-haired woman, clad in sheer grayish fabric, holds a torch. She extends her free hand, beckoning us forward.
Recognition flickers in her colorless eyes. A thin smile edges her lips, and she asks, “What brings you to Hell, Hadid?”
“Nonsense between my sister and the son of the Najex.” Hadid’s posture relaxes, and he speaks in a warm tone. “It is good to see you again, Orphne. Where is your sister?”
Orphne, one half of the Lampades—the torch-bearing nymphs who follow Hecate—turns away from us. Another nymph steps from the shadows. She is the yang to Orphne’s yin with licorice-black hair and clothes the color of soot. “Sister, dear, we have company.”
“Second son of Al-Qadir, your presence is unexpected but welcome.” Gorgyra’s voice is raspy and low. “Your business, however, is not yours. Who comes with you?”
I summon up strength I didn’t know I possessed and step forward. “My name is Cassius.”
“Finally. We get to meet the incubus,” Gorgyra hisses. “Your mother is Cyrena. I’ve met your sire.”
Suddenly the heat doesn’t feel
so bad as a coldness hits my core. I never considered either of my parents would have an affiliation with this place.
Her eyes rake over my body. She comes closer and walks around me, touching me like I’m some possession in a gallery. For the first time, I feel like a piece of meat on display—not a welcome sensation. Gorgyra runs a wrinkled, calloused hand over my forearm. I wince when she presses her body against mine. The tingling she leaves behind is uncomfortable.
“Why does this business concern you?” Her putrid breath fans my cheek.
“This is my sister’s intended,” Hadid jumps in and cuts an eye toward me.
I take the hint and keep my mouth shut. I’m out of my element in the depths of Hell. No need racking up any debts down here.
Orphne adjusts her light and licks her lips. “That’s too bad. The three of us could have had fun.”
Fun? The prospect of a threesome with a couple of Hecate’s nymphs sends a chill down my back. These dark goddesses would play an endless, torturous game—drain me, restore my energy, and then drain me again. My soul would wither beneath them. I’d spend an eternity so weak death would be preferable. No thanks.
Gorgyra stops stroking my arm. “You are in luck. Ashmedai is in his throne room. I shall take you to him for a price.”
I jam my hands in my pockets. “What is it?”
“A moment with you,” she says. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a good fuck.”
Shit! Why me?
I’m ready to pitch a fit—not a good idea in Hell—when it occurs to me. Proffer an arrangement to my advantage. The Mazrels were never punished for their behavior.
“Gorgyra, let us finish our business with Ashmedai,” I begin. “When it’s all done, I’ll send a couple of twins to service you.”
The dark-haired sister regards me, twisting her head from side to side. She picks up a discarded torch and touches it to Orphne’s. Flames sputter and lurch from the stick and more light floods the passageway. Her eyes glow brighter than the torch. “Would these be the Mazrel twins?”
