Hell is a Harem

by Kim Faulks

  I was falling, slipping away to the bright lights of the hospital’s corridor…beep…beep…beep. The sound of the monitor dragged me closer…I took a step, and then another.

  The sharp scent of alcohol was like a razor to my lungs.

  Something moved, a rustle of bedsheets, followed by the soft sounds of weeping.

  “Is there anyone I can call for you, love? Your mom…or dad?” The gentle voice was like a beacon. I left the glaring lights of the hallway behind and stepped into the room.

  Mom…the sight made me stop. I glanced at the monitor beside the bed as the nurse spoke again. “You really should have someone here with you.”

  “No,” mom answered. “No one.”

  The clipboard clattered as it slipped into its place before the nurse turned and left.

  And then there was nothing but that God-awful sound…beep…beep…beep.

  She looked so small lying like that…so damn small. I took a step closer, rounding the end of the hospital bed. Her face was black and blue, one eye swollen almost shut.

  She stared into nothing, until a tiny tremor tore free. Her lip quivered, before a small pathetic sound escaped. I glanced at her body, the heavy weave of the blanket hugged her body…the bump all but gone.

  The baby…

  The baby!

  Blood filled my mind. The heavy pool she left behind, and the marks from their boots as the police trampled through the scene.

  The baby was gone…I was gone…

  Movement under the blanket as she curled her knees higher. “Gotta get outta here…gotta get out. He’ll be back…he’ll find me.” She wrenched her focus toward the doorway. A bitter breeze followed as her gaze swept through me. “He’ll find me.”

  Her arms trembled as she pushed against the steel frame. The bed shook, sending a rattle into the room. Harsh breaths were followed by a hard grunt as she pushed.

  She dragged her feet from under the blankets and over the side of the bed. The monitor’s sound spiked and then stuttered as she fumbled at the cords stuck against her chest.

  She leaned forward and stabbed the button next to the screen. The incessant sound fell silent. But I couldn’t look away as her gown gaped.

  There were marks on her back, U-shaped…just like the toe of a boot.

  He’d left boot marks on my mom.

  My hands shuddered at the sight as she reached for her hand and yanked out her IV tube. Drops of blood fell on the heavy blanket before she gripped the back of her hand and squeezed.

  Inch by inch, she worked herself to the end of the bed until her feet touched the floor.

  Tears slipped down my cheeks at the sight. I lifted my hand, warmth coating the tips of my fingers as she took that first step. Her knees trembled as she fell against the side of the bed, still gripping the back of her hand.

  But she ground her jaw blinked, with her swollen eye, and pushed. I could see myself then—see all the parts of her in me that I never knew.

  She fought, righted herself, and slowly walked toward the doorway. One quick scan of the hallway outside, she gripped her gown closed at the back and stepped out.

  I followed her, keeping two steps behind, as she headed along the corridor and turned, and walked straight into a man.

  “Oh jeez, I’m so sorry.”

  The smooth, seductive tone filled my ears as Lucifer stepped around the corner. He took one look at her, and then froze, brow wrinkled, dark eyes sparkling. “Wait. I know you.”

  My mom lowered her gaze and gripped her hand. “Don’t think so.”

  “Apple and pecan muffins,” he murmured, and bent down to find her gaze, until what he saw made him stop.

  His breath caught, his cold, stony gaze skimmed her body before he scanned the corridor. “He do this to you?”

  Her tremble was an answer. Lucifer looked at her hunched shoulders and beaten body. He shrugged off his jacket in one quick motion. “I’m not going to hurt you, okay? You’re safe…you’re safe with me.”

  The coat skimmed through the air and landed gently on her shoulders.

  “I have to get out of here,” she murmured, and lifted her gaze. “Have to get out before he finds me.”

  His face was a mask of perfection as he answered. “Then let me take care of you…and maybe we can have that chat and you can tell me his name?”

  He stepped closer, brushing her arm with his fingers. Just a gentle touch, just a warming touch. “You can trust me,” Lucifer murmured, “I’d never hurt you.”

  I understood then…understood all the ways I couldn’t before as that night on the highway flooded back to me.

  I was Lucifer’s daughter…his real fire-in-my-soul daughter. And it wasn’t my mother’s soft nature I carried—I carried his.

  Fragments slipped into place.

  The diner where they met.

  The highway where I was beaten.

  And now here…in the hospital’s corridor.

  He didn’t want to hurt them because he cared.

  Just like I cared.

  “You’re safe with me,” he murmured, and slid his arm around her shoulders.

  She leaned on him, at first out of need, and then it was more than that, as her hands fisted his shirt and they walked along the corridor and out through the automatic doors.

  Lucifer fell in love with a mortal woman…and they hated him for it…they hated him for being anything less than a monster.

  Just like they hated me.

  That thought resonated, tearing through the echoes of the past and the present. And in that dark unseelie world, I could hear Gabriel screaming…screaming my name.

  Pain ripped through me as I left the past behind. I wanted to hold on…I wanted to be with her for just a little longer. To see more than her bruised body and the marks Jay’s boots had left behind. I wanted to see her and Lucifer…together.

  But then I realized I did…every time I looked in the mirror.

  I saw them together in my eyes.

  I was Lucifer’s daughter…I was the heir to Hell.

  Gabriel’s frantic screams filled me, and the unmerciful screams of the Unseelie Prince followed.

  “Do you want to know why Gabriel? Do you want to know why you?”

  Gabriel’s shriek of pain was brutal, as the sickening sounds of sawing filled the darkened space.

  “You’re Gabriel, the archangel messenger, right? Well, this is The Nine sending a goddamn message. The great Lord of Hell will obey us! Lucifer will cower at our goddamn feet!”

  Something soft brushed my cheek as I opened my eyes and turned my head. And in the darkness, I saw them…perfect white feathers floating in the air as they hacked and sawed.

  And still Gabriel screamed and screamed.

  I was the daughter of Hell.

  Who an archangel was dying for.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Redemption

  I stared at the naked hellhound as my world fell from under my feet. “You what?”

  There was fire in his eyes as he took a step and snarled, “I know where she is. Now, you want to stand around and debate all the fucking reasons how, or you want to go and find her?”

  Find her…find her…find her.

  I shook with the need of it. The tortured, merciless need. Don’t go to her, don’t touch her…don’t even look at her.

  Lorn stripped me of my senses. I couldn’t hear…couldn’t see. I was rendered silent, and conscious, floundering in the dark, since the day I pushed her away—the day I broke her heart—just to save her...to protect her.

  I turned my head to the old woman, my senses screaming…roaring like a train out of control, her name a tortured gasp. “Alma?”

  “Go,” she growled, and leaned forward, gripping the end of the sofa as she rose. Her frail body swayed before she righted herself and straightened. Hate, rage, and desperation seethed in her eyes as she growled.

  She grasped her thick black jacket from the armrest and yanked it on. “Go, go ahead, open the veil,
I’ll be right behind you. Kill them, Redemption. Kill them all, but bring her back to me. Do you understand me, warrior? Bring her back.”

  I left her behind, left her stumbling for her weapons as I raced for the bedroom. Jeans…jeans…jeans. My mind was racing. In my head, I was already out the door…I was already running to save her.

  You can’t even look at me, can you? Her words were a stake through my damn heart as I skimmed through the mountain of blue jeans and black khakis to the one pair of pants buried underneath, before I raced for the living room.

  “’Bout fucking time,” the hellhound snarled, and surged forward.

  I drove my fist through the air, slamming the pants against his chest. He looked down, red lips curled into a sneer. “Yellow chinos…really?”

  I hated him…hated him for every fucking second he’d had with her. I’d tear the bastard apart and leave him bleeding if I could. But I needed him more—for he was my way to find her.

  But this…this was a bitter man’s consolation prize as I curled my shoulders, towering above him and answered, “They were all I had.”

  “You gonna stand around and argue fashion?” Alma sneered as she bent, gripped the handles on her pack, and heaved the damn thing through the air, onto her back.

  The bag weighed almost the same as she did, still she made no whimper. She made no sound at all as she fed her hands through the handles and centered the pack’s weight.

  “I’m coming with you,” Betty demanded. “Give me a gun, I can fight.”

  Alma stalled, lowered her head, and sucked in a breath. There was a shudder through the old woman’s body, just a glimpse of the vulnerable woman underneath, before she straightened, clenched her jaw, and turned.

  It was a mask…always a cold, unfeeling mask. But I knew the truth inside her. I knew the real fears she carried—and they were far heavier than any pack.

  “No, Betty. You can’t,”

  “—but I can fight, Alma. I can save her, Goddamn you, she’s my granddaughter, too.”

  There was a twitch at her temple as Alma softened her tone. “I know she is. You raised her more than I have. You looked out for her, fed her…loved her,” she took a step closer and reached out. There was love and kindness in her touch as Alma brushed the feisty receptionist’s cheek. “But this place is no place for someone like you. You are far too bright a soul. Instead I’m asking you to do something just as dangerous. I’m asking you to do something that will terrif—”

  “Anything,” Betty cut the old warrior off. “Tell me.”

  “I need you to summon the Lord of Hell. His powers are useless through the veil. But he can do what the Lord of Hell can do. He can call those responsible out into the open. He can bend the laws of this world and others at his will. He can call upon the one person who can help us…”

  “God,” Rival murmured. “He can summon his Father…God.”

  Alma nodded. “And let’s hope He answers. We’ll get her out…don’t you worry about that. But there will be a reckoning. There will be hell to pay.”

  Betty’s face paled, but the woman had balls, as she nodded. “I’ll do it. I’ll go there now.”

  The answer was all in the touch as Alma stepped forward and gripped the receptionist tightly around the shoulders. “I’m so proud of you. So proud to call you my friend.”

  There was a shine of tears as Alma dropped her arms and stepped away, and, of all the places she could’ve turned to, the old woman lifted her gaze and stared at me.

  And the sting of bitter rage left me as the shine of tears slipped to leave a trail down her cheek.

  “I’ll go now then,” Betty murmured, glancing at Alma’s back.

  I took a step, moving past the old woman, to place a hand on Betty’s shoulder. “Yes. You know where? The Darkened Moon cemetery, under the tree. If you call his name and tell him Lorn’s in trouble, he will come.”

  “He won’t…won’t hurt me, will he?”

  Rival’s hand stilled, yanking the zipper high, and he answered, “Never. He’d never hurt a mortal who’s committed no cardinal sin. Call him, don’t ever be afraid…go now…hurry.”

  She turned, glanced around the room, lingered on Alma’s back, and then left, hurrying through the door of the safe house. I could hear the clamoring of her heels against the stairs—I could hear the pounding of her heart…

  For it mirrored mine…it mirrored all of ours.

  “What are you two standing around for?” Raw words tore from the old woman’s lips. “Lead the way, hellhound. Don’t worry, if I lose you, I’ll soon find you in those god-awful pants.”

  Fire flashed in the dark pits of his eyes as he gave a growl and then headed for the door. “Do I get a weapon, or you gonna shaft me on that, too?”

  I snatched the shotgun from the sofa and tossed it through the air. The steel smacked his open palm before he gripped the firearm tight and headed for the door. “Follow me,” he turned his head to snarl over his shoulder, “if you can keep up.”

  I strode forward, grasped my pack from the ground, and hauled it over my back. “Oh, I’ll keep up, hellhound, don’t you worry about that.”

  And then he was gone, racing down the stairs to the foyer. Heavy steps echoed behind me. The old woman wasn’t as strong, or as fast, as she once was, but that only made her just as determined.

  There was no weakness here.

  Not when it came to Lorn.

  The hinges on the front door gave a whimper before the hellhound was gone, tearing through the night. I was close behind him, slamming my boots against the ground.

  The burn of exhaustion swept through my lungs. I sucked in the cold night air and barreled through the front door to the apartment building. Purpose filled me…the same cold, stony need I’d carried all these years.

  I broke into a run, and then lengthened my stride as the familiar growl of a motorcycle filled the air. She was soon behind me, tearing through the night like a woman possessed.

  Alma was like no other human I’d ever seen. Tough as damn nails on the outside, but underneath, she was just a mortal woman fighting for justice.

  Justice for her daughter, and justice for Lorn.

  It wasn’t just the death of Steph that had sent her spiraling into the hunter she was today, God knows that was cruel enough. But it was how Steph died…and why, and, as Alma scratched the surface of her perfect mortal world, she found something far more dangerous…

  She found monsters, and beasts—she found me.

  She could’ve outed me that night. She could’ve led The Nine straight to my door. I barely made it out of the veil alive that night—barely made it past the warriors I’d trained—men I fought alongside in the Great Battle against the seelie race turned against me with one command from their Prince.

  They wouldn’t believe me when I told them what the Prince was planning to do. How could they? How could anyone…the sanctioned murder of an immortal was terrifying…but the cold-blooded killing of a mortal was beyond disgusting.

  Why? I’d asked myself that question a thousand times. Why her…why that night? It wasn’t until I saw Lorn for the first time that I knew.

  She was special.

  She was perfect.

  She was the daughter of the Lord of Hell.

  I took a vow that night. I dropped to my knees in front of a mortal woman I barely knew, with her daughter’s blood still dry on my hands, and pledged my life to find the true reason for Steph’s death.

  But Alma had another idea…Protect Lorn…care for her, and until we uncover the truth of why they wanted my daughter dead—you will stay by her side.

  I never meant to fall in love with her. I never meant to be anything other than a shadow to a child, and, as she became older—a friend to a strong, stubborn pain in my ass.

  But that pain in the ass had a way of worming her way into my heart.

  I hurt her the night I made her leave. I broke a part of her that was beautiful and naive to the kind of man I really was…
and I’ll live with that for the rest of my life.

  But I refuse to live with it for the rest of hers…

  My head played tricks—cruel savage tricks. In my head, it was Lorn’s body I held as she lay dying. In my head, it was her blood I wore, and the vision of that made the man in me weak.

  I stared at the glaringly ugly yellow pants on the hellhound and felt a twinge of guilt as I drove harder, punching the air with my fists.

  The snarl of the Harley filled the night.

  I knew where we were headed. In my mind, I was already there, standing in the middle of a cannery in its prime. But as we turned the last corner, memory and reality collided.

  The once perfect building was now a shattered shell, with fallen walls and missing sections of its roof. It had been a night just like this—perfect and still as I ripped through the veil from the unseelie world.

  I slowed my steps as the corner of the building came into view—now I was going back there. Back to the cold and the dark. Back to a world I wasn’t part of anymore.

  The glaring yellow beacon of ugly ass pants slipped through the break in the chain- link fence before the hellhound took two more steps and disappeared into the derelict building.

  Alma was next, pulling her Harley close to the curb, killing the engine as I slowed my steps and met her at the fence. She was already locked and loaded, with a shotgun in one hand and a book of spells in the other.

  I glanced at the black leather cover and sucked in a hard breath. “One of those will help you, the other is useless.”

  “I’ll throw the damn thing at ’em if I have to,” she snarled, righted the pack, and stepped toward the fence.

  She moved a little slower tonight, still carrying the bite of a wolf we’d interrogated earlier. She may have left The Circle, but the real hunt had never ended for her…all the gridlines, all the markings—we’d been searching for, not just the veil, but for those who’d pledged their allegiance to the Unseelie Prince.

  The night hag.

  The bodoach.

  The whole unseelie army, if we had to. Anyone who could give us a clear connection with the death of a mortal and Absolon, we’d hunt to the ends of the earth.