Lucifer Reborn

by Dante King

  “No?”

  She shook her head. “Thanks to the absolutely stellar fuck you just gave me, I’ve got the power to do exactly what’s needed. Observe…”

  The succubus snapped her fingers. My vision dissolved, the world replaced with a blinding, brilliant white light. When it faded moments later, I no longer sat behind the wheel of a beat up, used van. Instead, my ass pushed against a plush leather seat. Christina sat in a similar one just next to me. The interior was sleek, full of the latest features and covered in arcane symbols. Little touches showed everywhere—the pentagram on the volume knob, the horn-shaped stick shift, the fact that the mileage counter seemed permanently stuck on 666. This was the kind of ride a Lord of Hell truly deserved.

  I laughed. This was a goddamn hot rod!

  “Daaaaamn,” I said, taking in the finery around me. “Nice job, Mareth.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she giggled. The car’s lower ceiling prevented her from pretending to be a gargoyle in the back seat, but she still stretched out insolently across the back in ways that thumbed their nose at the idea of safety. “I thought you might like this better.”

  “I fucking do!” I said, barely able to contain my excitement. “I’ve always fantasized about having a car like this, but I never thought I could afford one…”

  Christina’s hand gripped my thigh and squeezed. “You deserve the best of everything,” she panted, the emphasis on the last word telling me she meant women even more than stuff. “And that’s what you’ll get from now on, Luke. Welcome to your new life.”

  Mareth leaned forward and pushed a button on the dashboard. The radio crackled to life, filling the car with a pulsating bass beat punctuated by screams and moans in Latin. Nice fucking speakers, I thought, grinning at Christina.

  “Straight ahead,” the succubus said, pointing. “Crank the fucking volume to the max and gun the engines. Give it a test drive!”

  Her finger indicated a point at the far end of the parking lot. As she finished speaking, a blood-red line cut through the air, opening into a rectangular portal. Beyond it, I saw walls of flame, the asphalt replaced beyond the rent by a stone highway stretching over the lake of fire. Dimly, I made out a sign by the side of the road: Infernal Academy—next left.

  Yes. Hell yes.

  “I thought the road to Hell was paved with good intentions,” I said, gripping the steering wheel with both hands.

  Christina leaned over and put her lips against my ear. Her hand closed around my cock, reminding me what she could do to it whenever I wanted.

  “Of course not,” she whispered, her voice dropping into a demonic register for a single word. “It’s paved with bad intentions, Luke. All those wicked, wicked ideas…”

  Still grinning, I put the hammer down. Christina let out a whoop of delight as her body was forced against the seat, like an astronaut on a rocket in the middle of takeoff. Mareth flipped over, nearly falling out of the cabin as her nails dug in for purchase.

  “Here we go!” I roared, heading straight for the portal. “We’re on the highway to Hell!”

  We cut right through the portal, the suspension beneath my new ride shifting as the asphalt changed to stone. The air conditioning cut on automatically, spraying cold air across the windows to keep them from fogging up instantly against the heat of Hell. We were on a bridge, stretching over a limitless lake of fire. The sounds of tortured screams thudded against the windows, muffled by the awesome tunes.

  I wasn’t sure what to expect from Hell. I’d grown up seeing different depictions of it on TV shows and in movies, and there were only a few things everyone seemed to agree on — the fire, the demons, the tortured souls trapped for all eternity. The real thing turned out to be a mish-mash of everything I’d ever heard — as if Hell tried to be everything for everyone. As we drove over the lake of fire, I caught sight of hundreds of cages suspended over the flames. The metal bars had all gone white-hot from the awesome heat, so that the poor fools trapped inside were forced to dance around constantly lest they be burnt to a crisp. As I watched, one person did just that, slumping to the floor — only to be resurrected moments later to suffer some more.

  “Don’t worry,” Mareth assured me. “They deserved it.”

  “What’d they do?” I asked, watching as the cages receded in the rearview mirror.

  Mareth and Christina shared a look. “Tax evasion,” the succubus said, her brows furrowing together. “We take that crime very seriously down here…”

  I couldn’t tell if Mareth was joking or not. Before I could ask, the bridge dived into a deep tunnel through the flames. It was made of glass, and through it I could see tens of thousands of people writhing in agony. Except they weren’t flailing in pain from the flames. Instead, every one of them stared at the top of the tunnel, where a channel surrounded by thick glass ran down the spine of the underground transit.

  Inside were golden tables covered in food, with naked, gorgeous demons and demonesses posing and preening. The ones inside the box took a special pleasure in the screams of the damned, reacting to it like a rock band feeding off the crowd’s energy.

  “The profligate,” Mareth explained. “They wasted Earth’s gifts in life, so now they get to be taunted with visions of what they want for all eternity. Food and sex, mostly. Occasionally they get a movie night.”

  By the time we made it through the end of the tunnel, emerging back into Hell proper, I felt profoundly disturbed. “What a mindfuck,” I said, shaking my head. “You guys are pretty sick down here, you know that?”

  Mareth took it as a compliment. “Ah, it’s so good to be home!” the succubus laughed, tossing her head back. “Turn right here, Luke. I can’t wait for you to make your grand entrance…!”

  Within moments, the stone bridge ended, replaced by a stately roundabout. I took the turn to the Infernal Academy, the world blurring from the speed as my new car tore ass up a nearby hill. The road opened onto a circular driveway, wrapped around a two-story fountain covered in sexy demons and demonesses. No water poured from their mouths, only blood.

  I stopped the car and got my first look at the Infernal Academy. What I saw made me glad I’d accepted Lucifer’s offer.

  “This is crazy,” I said, leaning so close to the window that my cheek nearly touched the glass. Looming over us was the main building of the Academy. Turrets and buttresses sprang from every available space, as if the builder had grown the massive stone edifice rather than putting it together by more practical means. What I’d initially taken for birds flying around the top were winged demons, ducking and diving in some kind of airborne sporting event.

  It was like some weird cross between Hogwarts and an Ivy League school, except it was filled with demonic creatures of all shapes and sizes. There were students wearing what looked like gym tracksuits, while others were walking around in robes that would have given any wiccan LARPer a stiffy.

  I stepped out of the car, my legs shaky beneath me. A beautiful demoness materialized out of thin air, wearing a maroon uniform that reminded me of my old IT outfit.

  “Your keys, sir?” the demon girl asked.

  Mareth tossed them to the demon girl. “Don’t scuff the paint,” she said haughtily, posing next to the hot rod like a girl on a magazine cover. “I just invested my power into this vehicle. You make me expend more energy repairing cosmetic damage and I’ll slit your throat.”

  If the demon girl thought anything of this very physical threat, she gave no sign. “Yes, Madam,” she said with a sigh, climbing into the car.

  I turned my attention to the grounds of the Academy, unable to believe my eyes. I’d been to college, so a few activities I recognized. The hacky-sack team on the green looked the same, though they were all eight-feet tall demons instead of stoners. But the rest was totally new. Insanely hot demonesses were everywhere I looked, in all shapes and sizes. Some were in forms I recognized, the others new to me entirely. Most of them wore very little clothing.

  “Alright girls, pick up
the pace!” a voice called. On the front lawn of the academy, a demon girl shaped like a fertility goddess led a group of her peers in exercise. Only this wasn’t yoga, or Crossfit—the women dropped to the ground on all fours, transforming in a blink into a vicious black cat. The leader clapped her hands in rhythm, each of them shifting back and forth between the two forms.

  “Wow,” I said, slipping an arm around Christina’s waist. “I always knew black cats were demonic…”

  Christina laughed, shimmering in my arms. Now that we’d reached the Academy she had no need for her disguise—she shrugged it off like a too-warm coat. Her body reverted to its new demonic form, her less-revealing clothes replaced with a tight white tank top and cutoff daisy dukes. She looked like a Spring Break partygoer ready for some debauchery, except she was the demon who caused the debauchery.

  “That’s better,” she growled, licking her lips with her forked tongue. “Oh, the look on your face is so fucking sweet, Luke. I wish I could take a picture…”

  Mareth came up behind us, throwing her arms over each of our shoulders in a gesture of camaraderie. “Welcome to the Infernal Academy! Home to imps, demons, abominations, and all manner of hellish creatures!”

  “My new home,” I growled, hugging the demons tighter. “I can’t fucking wait to get settled in…”

  Chapter 9

  As Christina, Mareth, and I stared up at the entrance to the Infernal Academy’s admissions building, a door opened at the top of the stairs.

  Heads turned around the quad as a tall, beautiful demoness made her way down the steps, flashing an upside-down peace sign to a couple of people she knew as she reached the bottom. Long blonde hair reached almost all the way down to her ankles, wrapping around a sleek, pale body wearing what turned out to be very little clothing. In fact, I was fairly certain that, were it not for all that hair, she’d be standing topless before us. What kind of demon could be comfortable walking around showing so much skin?

  Maybe that’s how they all are around here, I thought, devouring the newcomer with my gaze. After all, there’s no Puritans down here—they mostly all end up in the other place...

  The demon came to a halt before us, sizing us up with dark, knowing eyes. Those cheekbones could cut glass, and she knew it—this woman looked regal, like the dark fairytale reflection of the beautiful princess waiting in the tower for her prince to come and rescue her. Something equally dark stirred inside of me at the sight of her, and I wondered if I’d just activated my powers again.

  “Greetings,” the demoness purred. Her voice had a thick Russian accent, which only made her seem even more exotic. “You must be Mareth’s new adherents. My name is Xora. I have been assigned to walk you around the grounds and give you a tour of the Academy. It is my hope that it will be most enlightening for you both.”

  I definitely felt a little intimidated locking eyes with Xora. The demoness had an almost other-worldly beauty; she looked like she should have been crawling through someone’s window during a full moon, not acting as a tour guide. From Christina’s expression, she felt much the same—with a dollop of feminine jealousy on top.

  Mareth, however, already knew our guide well. Her face lit up as she leaned in, bumping elbows with the beautiful demon. “What up, Xora?” the succubus giggled. “Keepin’ it wet?”

  “Always,” Xora concurred smoothly. Now that she mentioned it, I couldn’t help but notice the tiny droplets of water sticking to Xora’s cleavage. I’d taken it for sweat, but of course none of the demons down here felt the fires of Hell thanks to Lucifer’s dark blessing. Had this girl just come from the pool or something?

  Mareth nudged me. “Xora’s a rusalka,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows at the taller blonde demon. “Water demon. Her kind used to drag sailors in Russian folktales down to their deaths in the briny deep.”

  “We did not have to drag,” Xora laughed, preening before us like an underwear model. “One look at us and they gladly jumped overboard.”

  “Like a siren,” I said, nodding. But with a sexy Russian accent. Cool. Nice to meet you, Xora…

  To my surprise, Xora’s eyes narrowed at the compliment.

  “He’s new, Xora,” Mareth said, detecting the icy change in the rusalka’s expression. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

  It was an opening, and I took it. “She is absolutely right,” I said, reaching out and taking the rusalka’s hand. Right there on the steps, in front of more than a few gawkers, I brought her pale hand to my lips and kissed it, like a suitor at an old-fashioned ball. “My apologies.”

  The hurt look in her eyes faded. “Sirens are beautiful,” she explained. “But they are lazy bitches. All they do is sit around and sing all day, trying to give people hard-ons.”

  “I can think of worse ways to waste time,” I said with a smirk.

  Mareth nudged me. “Xora is very driven,” the succubus said, a distinct waggle in her eyebrows as she stage-whispered the words loud enough for the rusalka to hear. “She’s the captain of the Infernal Academy’s swim team. Just last week, she set new records for the 500-yard freestyle, the water-walker long jump and the no-holds-barred water polo Royal Rumble. No other demon can touch her in the water, Luke. You should really go see her at the next meet.”

  I could read between the lines of Mareth’s statement. She’d make an excellent addition to the team, those eyes said. With a driven personality and a long list of accomplishments, I had no doubt.

  “I prefer the breaststroke,” Xora said, crossing her arms beneath hers like the signature on a contract. Okay. The two of them had to be working together on this.

  “That’s really cool,” I agreed, sliding an arm around Christina’s waist. “I had no idea demons were into sports. I guess it makes sense, though—you’ve got to keep your mind and body sharp when you’re dealing with mortals.”

  “Exactly,” Xora said, smiling. The too-sharp teeth shining in her mouth gave a dangerous edge to her beauty. “Do you swim, darling?”

  It took Christina a moment to realize that Xora was talking to her. “Me? Oh, um...yeah! I mean, I love going to the beach.”

  Xora looked Christina up and down, her gaze lingering on the blonde’s thighs. “I’m sure you look quite a figure there,” the rusalka drawled in her strange accent. “I’d love to get you nice and wet some time…”

  Mareth let out a little yelp. “Xora, this is Christina,” the succubus said, putting a hand on the small of Christina’s back. Taking the hint, Christina did a little curtsy, nodding before the rusalka.

  “Very nice.” Xora squinted, as if there were tiny words written on Christina’s face and she was having trouble reading them. “You have only recently become a demon, is that correct?”

  Christina gave a little start. Clearly, she hadn’t expected Xora to clock that so quickly. “Yes —I used to be human. Though I worshipped the Prince of Darkness in that form, as well. How did you know…?”

  “It’s the eyes,” Xora said smugly, indicating Christina’s gaze. “You can change every other aspect of your body, but a Mog will always have those. They’ll give you away every time.”

  “What’s a ‘Mog’?” I asked. I hadn’t liked the way Xora said it—as if other demons might spit on the ground with such a word in their mouth.

  “Short for transmogrified,” Xora explained. “Meaning someone who wasn’t born a demon, but became one. Technically you’re in the same class of being as well, Luke—although no one would dare say that to your face. ” She gave Christina another smug look. “Don’t worry about it, darling. We’re very progressive here.”

  Somehow I doubted that. I didn’t like the idea of anyone discriminating against Christina. Being looked down on by demons would definitely cut through the excitement of attending the Infernal Academy.

  Xora noticed this as well, and she became eager to change the subject. “Who turned you, darling?”

  “That would be Luke,” Mareth said, only a trace of nervousness in her tone as she gest
ured at me. “Luke, Xora—Xora, Luke. Christina’s the first official member of his, ah...entourage.”

  Xora’s eyebrows shot to her hairline at that. They shot up even further when Mareth added in a low tone: “he’s one of the candidates for Archlord of Hell.”

  The rusalka let out a high, ululating cry, startling two nearby demons who’d been checking the three of us out from the stairs leading up to the admissions office. Her bare feet stamped the stone, going up onto her toes for a moment as she scrutinized me with greater vigor.

  “Hmm...yes. Yes!” Xora stepped around me, tracing a swift circle around the spot where I stood. “I can definitely see why Lucifer would choose this man to represent humanity at the Academy. And to think he’s already bonded with a woman deeply enough to perform a demonic transformation...well!” Suddenly she was in my face, peering at me nearly eye-to-eye. “You haven’t even signed up for a single class yet, and I’m already thinking of placing my bet on you!”

  Her gaze should have unnerved me. Instead, I found myself thinking about something she’d said a moment ago.

  “Uh...candidates? As in, plural?” I glanced from Mareth to Xora.

  Xora was nonplussed. “Yes, of course. Were you not aware of that?”

  I hadn’t been. “Lucifer made it sound like I’d already passed whatever audition he wanted from me,” I said, trying to keep the disappointment from my voice. “He sure as hell talked to me like I was his only candidate for the job…”

  “Oh, no,” Xora said. Her eyes glittered with mirth, like she hadn’t expected the new guy on campus to be quite so naive. “Of course not. It wouldn’t be the Prince of Darkness’s style to just hand the keys over to the first person who comes along, now would it?”

  That...made a certain amount of sense. I could admit that. Still, the revelation stung. My fatherly chat with Lucifer had left me favorably predisposed to the man—even thinking that maybe he wasn’t as bad as thousands of years of literature had led me to believe.