by Sidney Ayers
“Quit with your incessant chatter, woman. We’ll get there when we get there.” Lamia, hands on her steering wheel, threw back her blood-red curls.
Blood. Rafe. Oh God. Was he… dead?
And it was all her fault. With a frustrated grunt, Lucy fidgeted with the cuffs binding her wrists. These bitches would pay. Adrenaline pumping in her system, she lunged toward the front seat. A slicing pain laced its way from her stomach to her brain. A deep growl of agony wrenched from her mouth. What had they done?
“Where’s Rafe?” she managed to growl.
Lamia adjusted her rearview mirror to gaze at her reflection. “Oh, look. The princess hath woken. Your fuck buddy isn’t dead. Belial isn’t quite done with him. Unfortunately, we had to leave him for now. So hard to clean upholstery, you know.”
“Oh, so kind of you.” She clenched her fists and the cuffs jangled. “I’m going to love kicking your ass. Upholstery stains and all.”
“Should I put her back to sleep?” Larissa asked, her singsong sweet voice grating on Lucy’s eardrum.
“No, let her stay awake for this.” Lamia turned to face her directly, the red rims of her obsidian eyes glimmering. “Comfortable?”
She could only manage a slight roll of her eyes. “Like you care.”
“Oh, I care, all right. Belial is paying me rather well for your safe capture.” She snaked her hand out, allowing a scaly finger to creep along Lucy’s cheek. Clenching her teeth, Lucy fought the nausea that churned within. She should’ve stabbed the bitch when she had the chance.
“Yeah, right. You care.” The only thing the bitch cared about was sucking the blood from innocent children. Lucy’s stomach lurched. Lamia needed to be sent back to Hell, and, given the chance, she wouldn’t hesitate to do it. But that time wouldn’t come now. The danged silver handcuffs made sure of that.
Tugging at the handcuffs, she prayed she could channel some superhuman powers to free her wrists.
“Won’t work. You haven’t been accepted as a Paladin.” Larissa smirked from cheek to cheek. “And after tonight, you won’t ever.”
With that, the car bounced over a huge pothole, sending Lucy’s head crashing into the ceiling. Rubbing her head, she growled.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To Hell, of course.”
“Hell? I wasn’t a geography major, but isn’t Hell a little further south?”
Lamia threw out a low chuckle. “Unfortunately, we don’t have the power to make that journey.”
“I’m confused. You just said we were going to Hell. And now we’re not. Make up your mind, lady.”
Larissa turned her über-gorgeous head and smirked. “Oh, we’re going to Hell, all right. Hell, Michigan.”
Hell, Michigan? Oh please. These bitches would be unpleasantly surprised when they got there.
Lucy flashed a secret smile. “I hate to break it to you… umm… ladies, but the only thing Hell, Michigan, and your Hell have in common is the name.” Unless ice cream parlors with cheesy lounge singers were demonic. Then again she, herself, was demonic and didn’t know it.
“So you’ve been there?” Lamia’s eyes sparked demonically.
Time to play with these bloodsucking bitches. “Yeah. But be careful. You sneeze and you’ll end up in Heaven instead.”
Larissa reached across the seat and slapped Lucy’s face, sending her flying backward. “Not funny. You forget. I’ve been there too. And we’ve confirmed it’s the perfect place for the ceremony.”
Lamia grabbed Larissa’s hand, her grip firm, dimpling into her servant’s skin. “You’ve said enough.” She loosened her hold and traced her finger against Larissa’s lips. “Ahh, silence. If only I could do the same to you.”
“And why can’t you?”
“Cocky little bitch. That’ll get you killed, you know.”
“Whatever. So what’s this ceremony Belial is putting together? Has he decided to have his bris?” If only they could be that fortunate. She heard it hurt like hell. “I’d be more than happy to do the honors. I’m pretty good with a scalpel.”
“If your skills are as sharp as your tongue, I don’t doubt that one bit.”
With a shrug, Lucy craned her neck to check the highway mile marker. Ugh. Still another hour to go. Lansing’s lights whirled by as she sucked in a deep breath. This wasn’t a dream. It was real. She needed Rafe. Even though they just met, they had a connection. Aw heck, it was more than a connection. She loved him. And now he was lying on her floor in a pool of blood and she couldn’t do anything to help him. Teeth clenched and hands fisted, she struggled to remain calm. Tongue between teeth, lips pursed, she let the gnawing pain combat the anger that boiled and flamed inside.
“And to answer your question, it’s a wedding ceremony.”
Glancing up at the star speckled sky, she shook her head. “Wow, that’s surprising.”
“Most women, human and demon alike, would jump at the chance to become Belial’s wife. He’s one of Hell’s strongest princes.”
With a wrinkle of her nose, she recalled her one run-in with the wannabe prince of darkness. “If they can get over the stench of cinnamon and rotten eggs. It smells like someone cut a huge one and tried covering it with cheap air freshener.”
A steaming hiss erupted from Lamia’s mouth. “I should’ve known.”
Boo yeah! She found a kink in their plans. She mentally steepled her fingers with devilish delight. “That your boss smells like a rotten cinnamon roll?”
“Very funny. He’s spent most his life in the bowels of Hell. When I say bowels, I mean bowels. If you can smell him, you’ve been blessed. Damn Lilu!”
“Gotta love Dad.” Lucy smiled triumphantly.
Lamia turned her head, her sneer burning. “Just a minor setback, my dear. So stop gloating.”
She chose to ignore. “I’m blessed! I’m blessed. Lord help me, I’m blessed.” Maybe if she annoyed the witch long enough she would kick her to the curb and leave her on side the road in some boondock town.
“What has been blessed can be unblessed.” Lamia’s mouth curved into a snide smirk. “We’ll need just a few more items.”
With that, she pulled out a red-and-black striped iPhone and punched a button. The red matched the rims of her eyes way too perfectly. Holy cow, these Infernati and their minions went all out where communication was concerned. An annoying beep emitted from her phone. “Blast it. The battery’s going dead.”
“Even demons are slaves to technology, eh?”
“Whatever,” Lamia muttered, fidgeting with the charging cord. “Another minor setback. And I can make calls and charge at the same time.”
With a triumphant, in your face smile, she mashed her finger to the phone. “Ooh, it’s ringing.”
“Yippee!” Lucy twisted her arms behind her back. Surely there had to be a way break free from these stupid cuffs. She was the princess of the Sexubi, after all. There had to be more than just kung fu and Latin translation. Not that those were bad skills to possess.
“Would you like me to put the speakerphone on?”
“Nah, it’s cool,” Lucy said, leaning back into the stiff seat. “Belial and I started out on the wrong foot.” And they would stay on that wrong foot too.
Lamia’s mouth slithered into a creepy smile. Lucy cringed inwardly.
“It’s not customary for the bride to talk to the groom before the wedding, anyway.” She brushed her finger over her lips, shushing Lucy with a soft hiss. “Yes, I have her…”
Yeah, Lucy should’ve figured she was the bride. It made perfect sense. After all, these demons were pretty backward as it was. So she was supposed to be Belial’s meek little wife, barefoot and pregnant in his hellish kitchen? She had news for him.
“Actually, the rules state a groom can’t see his bride before the wedding. No rules about talking to her.” Lucy made her best attempt at a friendly smile.
“So what happens when Belial and I say ‘I do’?” If it was anything like Hollywood the
atrics, the Earth would split, emitting flames and bursts of lava into the air. “Do I get a T-shirt that says ‘I married Belial and all I got was this lousy T-shirt’?”
Lamia ripped the phone from her ear. “Silly girl. Your banter will get you nowhere. If you must know, Belial takes ownership of everything in your possession.”
Sucked to be Belial, since the chest was actually Serah’s. “I’ve got bad news for you, girl.”
“Oh?” she asked, her lips quirking up with delight. “About the chest belonging to your friend? It was easy to convince her to gift it to you. It’s yours now, darling.”
Her heart plummeted. They hurt Serah. They would die. “What the hell did you do to her?”
“A little torture never hurt anyone. She was stronger than I expected.”
Lucy gritted her teeth. “What. Did. You. Do?”
“Nothing that can’t be reversed… with a little surgery.”
Cuffs clanking as she struggled with her hands, Lucy growled—deep and guttural. “Bitch.”
“One of Belial’s hired assassins kidnapped her and the chimp, and delivered them to me.” Her jaw clenched and her red eyes flickered. “Your friend put up a good fight. The assassin, however, did not.”
“Good for Serah.”
“Larissa took care of the assassin, not Serah. I can’t have too many people knowing our plans.”
“She’s your tool.”
Lamia shrugged. “She enjoys it, though. See.” She craned Larissa’s head around to face Lucy. A calm, almost sweet smile, crept across her face. Such a masochist.
Hell, next right, emblazoned in reflective tape, caught Lucy’s eye.
With that, Lamia cracked her head up. “Oh goody. We’re almost there.”
“I hate to tell you, but you still have at least another hour to go until you reach Hell.” Yes, it was the exit, but Lamia failed to realize that the road to Hell—pun absolutely intended—was a bunch of backwoods county roads and highways. If she was lucky, Lamia would take a wrong turn and end up in Climax—Michigan, that is—instead. One could only hope.
Grinding her finger into her phone, she punched buttons. “ Lovely! I enjoy a scenic trip every so often.”
“Hope your suspension doesn’t mind.”
“Pardon me?”
“Michigan… country roads… Winter. Do the math.” And, as if to illustrate her point, the car rumbled over an icy chunk of asphalt, sending her head into the ceiling—again!
Her only satisfaction was watching Lamia’s head crash against the ceiling too. “Devil’s balls! How much further until we reach Hell?”
“As I said earlier, another hour or so,” Lucy replied with a nonchalant shrug. “You’ll be disappointed. Hell is a hole.”
“Belial is quite confident it’ll work for our purposes.” The red flashed around the irises of her eyes. “Try all you want to dissuade me, my dear. It won’t work. I’m almost as powerful as your father.”
“But not quite.”
“Belial has promised me more power.” A sinister smirk crept across her lips. “And then I’ll take over your father’s kingdom.”
“You’re such a tool.”
“A tool? Me? I think not.”
Lucy shrugged. “Whatever, lady. Belial is only concerned with Belial. I could tell just from looking at him.”
“We’ll see.”
Yep, she knew one thing. Larissa was an extension of Lamia, the biggest tool of them all.
Chapter 25
Pain, grinding and throbbing, shot through his entire body. Eyes squeezed shut, he groaned. But nothing was as painful as the sight of Lamia and that bitch Larissa manhandling Lucy’s body. If only he had just an ounce of strength. He could’ve saved her. Immortality came with some drawbacks. Instead of death, pain plagued your body until your wounds healed.
The metallic tang of blood curled along his tongue. These wounds cut deep, just barely missing his heart. It would take at least a day for him to properly heal without treatment.
Treatment. Kalli, his mind screamed.
Digging into his pocket, he fished for the phone. Blood pooled around him, thick and crimson. It was a miracle he remained conscious.
Fingers slipping on buttons, he pushed the button to dial Kalli. Another miracle. She was the last person he called.
“Hello?”
“Kalli,” he sputtered out.
“Rafe? What’s wrong?”
“Lamia… has… Lucy.”
A loud breath of air rumbled in his ear. “I’m on my way.”
Dragging his bloodied body across the floor, he reached for the dilapidated chair—Lucy’s favorite—and pulled himself up. There was no way in any part of the afterlife that he would cower in fear. The Fore-Demons chose him for a reason. He—they—Lucy and he—wouldn’t fail. He owed it to her. Sucking in a ragged breath, he shook his head. There wasn’t any need to fool himself any longer. He wouldn’t save her because he owed her. He would save her because he loved her.
A sudden swirl of adrenaline pounded through his system. Blood pumping in his chest, he hoisted himself up and stood tall. Rays of heated energy radiated through his veins, warming him, comforting him… healing him. Even as the freezing swirls of Kalli’s arrival flew around him, the energy pulsed through his body, sizzling against the icy crystals.
“How is this possible?” he muttered, gazing down at the jagged gash in his abdomen as it faded and blended into his skin. All that remained was a thin pink line.
Bursting out of the wall of ice, Kalli allowed her gaze to rove around the room. “Rafe, where—” Gaze locked with his, she arched a brow. “I thought you were hurt.”
With an irritated huff, she crossed her arms across the magenta lace of her bodice. “We don’t have time for jokes, Deleon.” Pacing back and forth in her ripped fishnets and tall army boots, she scrubbed her fingers through her rainbow mat of hair. Still perplexed by her strange choice of garb, he shrugged. He’d seen images of her through history, had seen her beauty. Not that she wasn’t beautiful now…
“Stop reflecting on my life and tell me what’s going on? I don’t like leaving Lucy’s friends unattended.”
“I healed myself.”
Kalli blinked. “You what?”
He blew out a frustrated breath of air. “Exactly what I said.”
“That’s impossible. Even I can’t heal myself.” Kalli shook her head. “Would totally rock if I could though.” Scanning the room, she blinked. Dark crimson blood trickled and coated the floor. No denying that fact.
“Good God! Is that your blood?”
“Yes. I’m telling you the truth. Look.” Ripping up his T-shirt he traced the thin line that remained of his scar. “See.”
Leaning in for a better view, Kalli traced a finger over the faded pink jags. “Definitely a fresh heal.” She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. “You lost a lot of blood. Even I can’t heal someone that fast.”
“What’s happening?”
“Duh,” Kalli said, planting her leather-clad ass on the futon, the only piece of furniture not coated in blood. “I don’t know. I’m a healer, not a miracle worker.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Kalli angled a serious gaze his way. “What do I mean? No demon has ever healed himself. It isn’t supposed to be possible.”
“Well, it is.”
Kalli grumbled. “We need to talk to the Fore-Demons. Do you remember anything at all before you healed? Anything you said? Thought? Anything?”
Lucy. He’d thought about Lucy. Saving her. Loving her. “Lucy.”
“You were thinking about Lucy?” Bemusement and amusement both swirled in her gaze.
“I need to save her.”
Kalli’s lips quirked up into a knowing grin. “That’s it?”
“She needs our help. They’re taking her to Belial. I owe it to her. I…” he cut himself off. No way was he ready to admit to Kalli he’d fallen for Lucy.
Kalli’s brow jutted upw
ard. “You what?”
“Nothing. I just want her safe. She’s Lilu’s daughter.”
With a shrug, Kalli crossed one leg over the other. “There has to be more. Maybe the Paladin manual will say something.” Angling her gaze down to the large bulky tome next to her, she smiled. “Still as massive as ever.” She lugged the book to her lap and flipped it open. “Don’t just stand there looking dumb. Help me read it.”
“Section 24-6-A.” He’d spent hours poring over that book during his early years as a Paladin trainee. There wasn’t any sentence or word he didn’t know. The section in question pertained to the healing skills… skills he shouldn’t have… skills reserved for certain Paladins only.
Swiping the mop of hair from her face, she scrunched her brows. “You need to get out more often, Rafe.” Glancing down at the book, she drew her finger across the ancient text. Narrowing her gaze, she let out a deep grumble. “There’s nothing here about self-healing. Where’s an index when you really need one?”
Rafael recited the words, as if he’d just read them yesterday. “To heal yourself, gather your internal energy and focus on that part of you which needs healing.”
“Where in the heck did you read that?” Kalli thumbed through several pages, scanning each line. “There isn’t anything like that in this entire section.” With a frustrated grumble she flung the book at him.
Flipping the pages, Rafael scanned through the text, his gaze flying over word after familiar word. He knew he read it somewhere, but where? Bloody hell! He knew he wasn’t going insane, but he certainly would be if he didn’t get to Lucy in time.
“I swear to all that is the Paladins I read it.” He turned the page to where he’d seen it. “It’s missing a page.” He turned the page back and forth, frustration and anger creasing his brow. Jaw ticking, he slammed his fist down on the book.
Kalli perused the book. First she pointed at page 792 then to 793. “Does this look as if it’s missing a page?”
Shaking his head, Rafael clenched his fists. “There was another page when I read it.”
