by SF Benson
“Yeah,” I affirm with a degree of caution. “Why?”
Orphne steps next to her sister’s side. “The Mazrels are legend down here. There isn’t a demon who doesn’t want to be fucked by them.”
Gorgyra’s eyes narrow. “You can get them for us?”
“If that is what you want,” Hadid interjects. “I will bring them myself.”
Orphne quirks an eyebrow and smiles. “Done. In the event they don’t come, Cassius, you will have to do their penance. You won’t just serve us. Every demon in Hell who desires it will be included.”
I nod and swallow the lump fisting in my throat. Reminding Alec and Dante of how I covered up for them should be all it takes to get them here.
I hope.
The raven-haired nymph guides us past the forks leading into the multifarious levels of Hell. I’m grateful not to visit those unending torturous passages of suffering. Souls are either hopelessly lost, attempting to stand against gale strength winds or icy rain, endure physical labor, or survive fire. Nothing I want to witness. Something deep in my chest twitches.
What if Qadira is suffering in one of those places?
I shake the idea from my mind. Colt isn’t that evil.
Gorgyra stops in front of a massive set of double doors with a skull on each one. She places her hands on the gleaming bones. The eye sockets blaze red. Metal scrapes against the stone floor as the doors swing wide. Gorgyra steps to the side.
“This is as far as I go,” she says. “You will find Ashmedai in his chambers off the throne room.”
“Thank you,” Hadid offers. “As soon as this dreadful mess is cleared up, I shall return with your entertainment.”
“See that you do, or both of you can amuse us.” Her dark eyes land on me.
My heartbeat quickens. I can’t make my limbs stop trembling.
She slinks back in the direction we came from.
Hadid grins. “Do not worry. If you cannot convince the twins, I shall lend a hand and see they fulfill their obligation. I have no desire to become one of their toys.”
“Agreed.”
“Ready?” he asks, pointing to the illuminated hall.
With more confidence than I feel, I say, “Sure.”
A robust male voice speaks directly to my mind. If you want to help your mate, this is the only way.
I draw in a frustrated breath and cross the threshold.
Hours pass by. No one, not even Colt, has come to this prison cell. My head droops, and it becomes difficult to keep my eyes open. I stretch my limbs and wince. Death would be better than the pain from the iron walls pulling on my bones.
Someone or something knocks. Seconds later, a female enters carrying a tray. Behind her, the door groans shut. It’s hard to tell who or what she is in the candlelight. The female, her hair worn in a low bun, places the tray on the table. “I hope the food is to your liking. I made sure the cook did not use any salt.”
I push myself up on my elbow. Stabbing pain shoots through my shoulder.
When the female turns around I notice her dark, almond-shaped eyes. It’s Colt’s mother. “Sybil, it has been a long time.”
“It has, Qadira.” She shifts from side to side. “I must say I am not happy about this turn of events.”
“Really?” I smirk. “You aren’t pleased with your son? He shows great promise as the next head of the family.”
Sybil folds her arms over her chest. “I am no fan of my partner. The Najex does whatever he wishes. Same for Colt. Keeping you like a prized possession is nothing to brag about.”
I let go a breath I didn’t know I held. “I am glad you are on my side.” This might be over soon.
The succubus cocks her head. Ugliness twists her mouth. “I never said I was on your side, my dear. I merely do not approve of my son’s methods. He desires you, and he shall have you. My husband will see to that.”
As a daughter of Al-Qadir, he would expect me to be brave, and stand up for what is right. No matter what rationale Colt uses, this situation is wrong. “You cannot force me to do anything I do not wish.”
In a couple of steps, Sybil crosses the room. She grasps my chin in one hand and jerks me close. Crushing pain radiates down my neck and spine. I whimper within her grip.
“Understand this, you little magical brat, my family runs this town. You made the mistake of coming here. Either give into my son or your incubus friend will suffer terribly.”
She squeezes her hand before dropping it, as if my skin scorched her, and saunters to the door. Sybil throws over her shoulder, “Do enjoy your meal. The fattoush was prepared just for you.”
Hot, stabbing pain attacks my face. Opening my mouth is torturous. I grip the side of the cot and slowly shift my legs over the side. I suck in a deep breath and drag over to the table.
Thank Allah, I’m in too much pain to eat. Moldy pita bread, rotting vegetables, and slick greens greet me. I gag. Maybe they hope to starve me into acquiescence.
From time to time, I forget supernaturals cause fear. Depending upon the species, we scare, we torment, and we give humans nightmares that keeping them up all night. Right now, a cold worm of terror gnaws at my spine, reducing me to a Halloween version of a demon—plastic mask with an ill-fitting shirt and baggy pants. Nothing scary about me.
The smell of decay isn’t as strong on this side of the door. I’d gladly trade the suffocating heat, curling around us like a serpent, for the stink. My breath is shallow. I’m lightheaded.
Thank Siren, the wails of the damned are almost nonexistent in this room. My heart, thrumming against my chest, makes up for the noise.
A long red carpet spans the distance between the door and Ashmedai’s throne. I step forward, and Hadid yanks me backward.
“Do not step on that,” he shouts, keeping a grip on my arm. “It isn’t what you think.”
I focus on the rug. It ripples and undulates across the floor. “What is it?”
“Boiling blood. It’s a direct path to one of the lower levels of Hell.”
“Thanks for the warning,” I reply and step to the left of the trench. “Where’s his chamber?”
Hadid points straight ahead. “To the left of the throne.”
At the end of the trench is a set of obsidian stairs, each step so shiny it’s blinding. On a dais sits a throne made of ghastly skeletons. A low growl, like the grind of stone against stone, resonates through the room. The shadow of a man appears on the seat. Ashmedai curls his lip and bares his teeth.
“Come forth, Cassius and Hadid.” The timbre of his voice shakes the floor and rattles the walls.
Shit! I thought Ashmedai was supposed to be in his chambers.
“I hear all your thoughts, Cassius. I knew you were here. Why waste time?” His silvery eyes focus on me.
His abrasive voice isn’t the only thing startling me. I heard stories of how handsome the demon is, but the creature before me is unexpected. Ashmedai wears a black suit with a matching button-down shirt and tie. On his feet are shoes made of the finest leather. He even has a stunning gold watch on his wrist. Ashmedai’s thick, black, wavy hair hangs around his shoulders. His appearance is unsettling to say the least.
“I’m glad I chose the right façade for you today, Cassius. I’d hate to scare the hell out of you on a visit.” He winks and shifts in his seat. “Tell me about my son and his offspring. What are they up to?”
I glance over at Hadid. No emotion comes from the quiet djinni.
I exhale and realize this—bargaining for Qadira’s safe return—is up to me. Summoning more courage than I actually have, I say, “Your grandson has kidnapped the fifth princess from the House of Al-Qadir. He plans to force her into a consort match.”
Ashmedai purses his lips. “How can this be? I thought Qadira was promised to Prince Shedad from the House of Djonda.”
“Yes, but my sister ran off a few days ago,” Hadid finally says in a meek voice. “Shedad has disap
peared as well.”
The demon yawns and rests his chin on his hand. “It seems to me my grandson is doing Qadira a favor. What do you expect from me?”
I clench my fists so tight blood drips between my fingers. “I’m sure you have heard about your grandson’s exploits. Qadira doesn’t deserve to be with an incubus like Colt. He won’t treat her the way she should be treated.”
Ashmedai leans forward. His hands grip the dragon heads carved into the armrests. The blood trickling to the floor captures his attention.
“This has become interesting.” Ashmedai inclines his head. “What is your stake in this, Cassius?”
It’s a question I would rather not answer. My stake may or may not be a real one. I can’t deny my attraction to Qadira. But is that all there is?
A curious tone slithers into his voice. “I suppose I shouldn’t ask a question I already know the answer to.”
Sweat trickles down my back.
“Here’s a better one for you to ponder. If I speak to my son, what will you give me in return? And before you bother with the question… I am serious. I rarely joke.”
What on earth could I possibly have that would make a difference to Ashmedai? I’m a fucking incubus for Siren sake. I truly doubt a demon king would find my cabin, shop, or bike of interest.
Ashmedai steeples his fingers and glares at me. “Let’s have a little heart to heart, Cassius. This member of the djinn means something to you whether you wish to admit it or not. If she didn’t, you would not be here. So, I’ll make it easy on you. I have the need of someone to hunt down demons who fail to keep their obligations to me.”
My head rocks back. “You want me to become a hunter? I’m not an executioner.”
“Such harsh words. I’m not asking you to execute anyone. Just bring them to me.” Ashmedai snaps his fingers, and a long parchment appears before him. A quill pen rests in his free hand. His gaze shifts to Hadid. “You will be responsible for bringing them here since it’s your sister.”
The blue djinni hangs his head.
“If I refuse?” I ask tentatively.
“Then you learn what happens to demons who don’t comply with my requests. I did ask nicely.” Ashmedai points the quill at me. “Your answer, please.”
I scratch my head. If I don’t do it, Ashmedai won’t help us with Qadira. Let’s face it, I didn’t make the trip to Hell to hang onto my pride. No. This trip is all about helping the female who has worked her way under my skin.
“Fine. I’ll be your hunter.” I step forward.
“Your hand.” The demon king points to my bleeding palm.
I hold it out, he dips the pen into the blood, and then gives it to me. I scribble my name on the dotted line.
“Next,” Ashmedai says.
Hadid steps forward, and the same procedure takes place.
“I took the liberty of including the deal you made with Orphne and Gorgyra in the contract.”
Needless to say, I should have asked before signing, but something tells me it wouldn’t have mattered. “How long are we in your debt?”
“Just a hundred years.” A sinister smile twists his lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure your mate lives as long.”
Mate? A shiver snakes down my back.
“Good. I’ll send you a copy of the contract. In the meantime, I need to visit my son.” Ashmedai stands, buttoning his suit coat as he walks down the stairs. “Hadid, is Khan still with your father?”
Khan Najex?
Ashmedai stops in front of me. I’m a little over six feet, but the demon towers over me. “Did you think I named my son the Najex?”
“He is with my father at the summer palace,” Hadid interjects as I swallow the retort dangling on my tongue.
“Very well. I will go to him.” A smile crosses Ashmedai’s face, but it never reaches his pale, cold eyes. “Cassius, it was a pleasure finally meeting you. Tales of your exploits keep me entertained.”
I can’t tell if it’s my face heating up or the temperature increasing.
Ashmedai leans closer. “Just between demons. You might want to slow down on some of your activity before you find yourself down here sooner than planned.”
His words are like a glass of ice water in my face. To be honest, I never thought about where I’d spend eternity. Yes, it goes without saying that demons end up in Hell at some point. I’m still holding out hope for a more comfortable afterlife.
Ashmedai grins. “Stranger things have happened.”
A large weight lifted from my shoulders when Ashmedai agreed to help us. I don’t appreciate being in his debt, but then again, anything worth it comes with a price. Part of me, deep down, believes rescuing Qadira is worth my becoming a hunter. Regardless, I’m happy to be leaving Hell.
The large wooden door opens, and we’re free of Ashmedai’s tower. When it slams behind us, Hadid turns to me. “We were lucky, my friend. Things could have gone seriously sideways.”
“But it didn’t.” And I’m very grateful for that. “How long do you think it’ll be before Qadira is freed?”
Hadid sticks his hands in his pockets and starts to walk along the trail.
I jog behind him. Bad idea. The blistering heat burns my lungs. I rasp out, “Hadid? Did you hear me? When will Qadira be freed?”
“She’s already free,” he says solemnly.
“How is that possible? We just left Ashmedai.”
The blue djinni faces me. “Time is different here. Although it seems as if we have only been here for hours, we have been in Hell for days.”
My eyes widen, and my fingers clench. “How many days?”
Hadid avoids eye contact. He deadpans, “Five days have passed since we came here.”
Five days.
Five fucking days!
Sweat drips down my back, but it has nothing to do with the furnace I’m standing in. I flex my fingers and glare at Hadid. Wrong person. This is Colt’s fault. He stole valuable time from me…from us.
Thinking of Qadira and me as we shines a light on some new facts. Coming to Hell for her cements it. Time to get my girl back. “Hadid, where would Qadira go if she’s free?”
“Home is the safest place for her, but…” His voice trails off, and he starts to walk away.
I grab his collar from behind before he gets too far. “But what?”
“If she went home, she may be married by the time we get there,” he admits.
No. Not after I’ve made a deal with Ashmedai and lost part of my soul. “Take me there. Now.”
Without delay we materialize in the middle of the desert. I bend over, place my hands on my knees, and puke my guts out. Wiping my mouth on my sleeve, I realize spectral travel isn’t for me.
I stand up and am instantly drenched in sweat. The heat, although a thousand degrees cooler than Hell, is still too hot. I trudge up the sand hill behind Hadid. I’d give anything for an ice-cold beer. Unfortunately, there isn’t even an oasis to swim in.
I’m walking with my head down when I hit something solid. I look up, but there’s nothing visible in front of me. Tentatively, I reach out my hand and touch cold, smooth stone. My head rocks over to Hadid who’s roaring with laughter.
I burst out, “What’s so damned funny?”
Hadid, holding his sides, leans against something I can’t see. “You have discovered the family palace.”
I stare toward the sky. An entire structure hidden from plain view? Damned clever. “But why?”
“Makes life easier for djinn if humans cannot easily find us. Unfortunately, there are those who hunt for us. They hope to bottle us and have their wishes granted.” He gestures for me to follow him. “C’mon. Let us see if Qadira is inside.”
We pass through an invisible doorway and enter a great hall with terra-cotta floors. Multi-colored walls inlaid with gold leaf surround us. Overhead is a sparkling domed ceiling. To our right and left are double doors covered in more gold. Hadid po
ints to the hall in front of us.
“If Qadira is here, we shall find her in the garden. First, we must see my father.”
“Why?”
Hadid turns to me with his lips curled. “If you plan on making an honest djinniyah out of Qadira, you will need his blessing.”
An honest djinniyah? I shake my head softly. Nothing happened between us.
Yet.
The blue djinni jabs me in the ribs. “It is not like you haven’t imagined it.”
I slip my hands into my pockets, afraid to entertain any thoughts around this mind-reading creature.
Time slows to a trickle, each day blending seamlessly into the next during my captivity. I continue embracing the hope Allah will send Cash to me. Unfortunately, faith does not stave off hunger.
I fought hard to abstain from the suspicious meals served me. Eventually, my appetite won, and I gave in. The ill-prepared food knocked me out. How long? I have no idea.
“It’s about time you woke up,” Colt says from the shadows. He sits on the chair and stares at me.
My bones ache as I push up off the cot. I shudder as icy cold snakes through my veins. “What is it you want?”
Colt remains speechless.
The boy I first met years ago no longer exists. Back then, he was my sweet protector. As time went on, he changed and became someone I feared. Thanks to my sight, which has become stronger since Colt kidnapped me, I see the demon he’s becoming. In time, he will be worse than his father. Too bad he believes he is nothing like the Najex. Colt is evil personified—from his inky black eyes to his scornful lips. My heart goes out to him, but it’s not his to claim.
I lean against the rough wall. Colt thinks I’m now willing to be his. “You have weakened me, but I shall not comply.”
“I no longer need your compliance.” His voice sounds like two rocks scraping against each other. He leans back in the chair.
Fear prickles my scalp. My voice breaks as the words tumble out, “Why not? What’s changed?”
Colt crosses an ankle over his knee, and a small grin steals across his face. “Our fathers met. Al-Qadir saw the wisdom in our match. We marry tomorrow.”
