For the Hell of It (Razing Hell Book 1)

by Cate Corvin

  I opened my mouth to answer, but he couldn’t have this. My fall was between me and the one who pushed me.

  My teeth snapped shut, catching my tongue, and the hot taste of copper filled my mouth.

  The force of resisting him shook me. Lucifer watched dispassionately as I trembled, every last remnant of willpower focused on keeping my lips pressed firmly together.

  He reached out with his other hand and caught one of my tears on his fingertip. The bead of liquid sparkled with iridescence, and he sucked it off his finger.

  Finally, he smiled. It was barely a shadow of a smile, but for a single second the icy exterior thawed, and I saw why God had loved him so much. “You can keep your secret. For now.”

  Then he blinked, releasing me from his spell. My head dropped as I gasped for breath, feeling like I’d just had razors raked through my skull. I curled my fingers, hiding the burn on my right hand, terrified that if Lucifer saw it, he’d subject me to that torment all over again.

  “She just fell from Heaven and you forced her into your arena?” The ghost’s voice had gone hard with disapproval. “You need to take better care of your pets. Better yet, give her to me.”

  “Absolutely not.” Belial folded his arms over his chest, glaring at the sparkling whirlwind of a man.

  “I can give her what you can’t,” the ghost said silkily.

  “Law of Possession. Maybe you should’ve tried to get there first.” I cringed when Belial knelt next to me, his dark hair brushing my face. He picked up my left hand and flipped it over, examining my filthy palm. Blood had dried in a crackling brown glaze across my fingertips.

  The last thing I expected him to do was raise my hand and kiss the center of my palm, heedless of the sand and blood still clinging to my skin. The ghost hissed when he did it, his displeasure a palpable tension.

  Fiery pain ripped through my nerves and tendons, drawing a snarl from deep in my throat. Belial gripped my wrist so hard my bones creaked, keeping his mouth pressed to my flesh. Something tugged inside my chest, like a small piece of myself was racing along my veins to jump into Belial where his flesh met mine.

  Within seconds the pain faded to an afterglow, and he held my hand out for me to look, his grip no longer bone-shattering.

  “See this, Melisande?”

  I saw it. It was impossible to miss. I’d half-expected a shadow-image of his lips to be burned into my skin, but there was a swirling ebony mark there instead, radiating from the center of my palm to the base of my fingers.

  “Your soul is mine.” I couldn’t tear my gaze from the mark. “As long as this brand binds us, you belong to me. All of Hell knows this symbol; if you get it in that pretty head of yours to escape, there is no one in this land who will help you. They’ll bring you right back here to the Seventh Circle, and then you’ll have the joy of facing my punishment.”

  I folded my fingers, obscuring the symbol burned into my skin. Tears of rage prickled the backs of my eyes. “Hey, Belial.”

  “Yes, angel?” He smiled at me, those aqua eyes somewhere between happiness and insanity, and stroked a hand over my hair.

  “Fuck you and your mother.”

  His pretty smile grew wider. “You don’t want to know the kinds of things that fucked her.”

  By now I was sure it was nearly impossible to insult Belial. It was infuriating.

  Lucifer leaned back in his throne, his wings rustling. “You’ve claimed her, but you’re going to waste her in the fighting pits. The first angel to survive the fall in millennia. There are better uses for her.”

  “When you think of them, let me know,” Belial said, his voice tight. “Until then, I’m going to take the measure of her.”

  “Not if she’s dying,” the ghost said. He began to solidify again, giving me another glimpse of violet eyes and broad shoulders before dissipating into smoke.

  Belial finally seemed to notice that I was slumped over, drawing on reserves I didn’t know I had just to hold myself up. He scooped me up like I was a child, cradling me against his warmth. “She’ll live. If she survived the fall, she’ll survive this.”

  “You can hide her away in your little fortress, Belial, but it won’t stop me.” The ghost’s voice was tinged with threat. Belial turned, and I caught a glimpse of Lucifer watching me. He looked troubled, a crease etched between his brows. “I’ll be having a closer look at her whether you want it or not.”

  My captor just shrugged one shoulder and turned to plunge back through the smoky veil.

  As soon as we emerged, I realized how quiet it had been in there. The arena was still packed with screaming demons, and there was a new fight playing out across the expanse of stone.

  A female demon had her back to us. Whirling blades of fire swirled around her, but her male opponent just knocked them out of the way like they were gnats.

  He took my breath away, that giant striding across the floor. He was shirtless, revealing the entire broad expanse of ridged and rippled muscles that made up his torso, and pale locks fell over his shoulders and back.

  His chiseled features were stoic as the woman sent a blade flying towards his face. He raised an arm, and I realized he wore metal bracers that deflected the swords like they were nothing. Her blade shattered against it, disappearing in a puff of smoke and leaving a scent like brimstone behind.

  Belial’s arms tightened around me. Without noticing, I’d tensed up at the sight of the male gladiator, my lungs frozen inside me.

  Like the tug in my heart of Belial soul-bonding me to him, there was something about this fighter that drew me. He almost looked… angelic.

  Even if he was a denizen of Hell.

  “Don’t get ideas, my feisty one,” Belial said. He watched the fight, his eyes glowing with satisfaction. “I need you strong again before you face my champions.”

  “I’m not your anything,” I growled, and Belial chuckled.

  “Keep playing hard to get, Melisande. I’ll only run you down faster.”

  I shivered and watched with rapt attention as the male gladiator moved in on the woman. He was so fast, lightning on two feet, and he gripped her head in one massive hand.

  She went shooting across the arena, smashed into one of the metal gates, and slumped to the bottom, knocked out cold. The demons went mad, just as I’d expected. Many of them were now waving pale blue banners overhead with a name scrawled on them, but my eyes were too tired to make it out.

  The male took a breath, his shoulders loosening, and his gaze found us as Belial descended the obsidian dais.

  There was such deep sadness there, I ached to reach out and touch him.

  He carefully schooled his expression, erasing any trace of the momentary sorrow. The sight of one emotion besides lust, rage, or possession in this brutal wasteland was like a sip of cool water after crawling through a desert.

  Even the sight of the few cuts across his bare chest, some still seeping blood, brought my rage back in full force. If Belial would only put me down, I’d totter over to the unconscious demon woman and give her a few cuts in retaliation, possibly across her throat.

  Belial kept walking, and the male’s gaze followed us, cool and assessing. As soon as my captor passed under one of the gates, the spell was broken, and I realized I sounded utterly insane even to myself for the explosive emotion I’d just experienced over a total stranger.

  Because he was sad? Who the fuck wouldn’t be sad in a place like this? Even I was sad, and the minute I could walk without falling over, I was going to make Belial sorry he’d found me first.

  I tried not to snuggle against his warmth as he carried me down the dark, clammy corridor. My shift was all but tatters now, and goosebumps had risen over my skin. We came to another gate before long, guarded by two demons in leather armor stained a deep scarlet, with Belial’s sigil emblazoned over their chests.

  “These are my Overseers,” Belial said. He carefully lowered me to the floor, gripping my waist when my legs threatened to give out on me. “They�
��ll care for you, feed you, clothe you. The only thing they won’t do is help you escape.”

  Warm lips brushed my ear, and a coil of heat rose in my chest as Belial took my hand and unfolded it again, examining his mark.

  It had to be the heat of anger, because I would never be capable of feeling anything else for this monster, soul-bond or not.

  “Every time that thought crosses your mind, look at this and ask yourself: what would be worse? Fighting for me here… or being torn apart, raped, and eaten out there?”

  Belial kissed my temple, pressed his thumb into the sigil like a reminder, and released me into the care of his Overseers.

  “Good night, angel.”

  One of the demons slammed on the gate, and it slowly creaked open. I stepped inside when the other urged me forward, and glanced over my shoulder at Belial.

  My face hurt from exhaustion, but I forced a sweet smile just for him as the gate began to lower again. “Eat shit, Belial.”

  The fucker blew me a kiss.

  4

  Melisande

  The Overseers prodded me along. I realized I was walking on carpet now, soft and plush under my bare feet after so much time spent in sand and on cold obsidian.

  The hall opened on a long, wide stone chamber, and I stopped in my tracks and backpedaled, bumping into the Overseer behind me.

  He nudged me forward, an implacable force at my back.

  The room was teeming with pit fighters, male and female, demon and… other. Some were tall and wide, others short and wiry, but all of them were muscled, scarred, and equipped with hard faces and harder hands.

  “What the fresh hell is this?” I snarled, digging my nails into the Overseer’s armor as they tried to push me into that fray.

  The room was lined with simple cots, and most of the fighters were gathered around the long table spanning the length of the space. Every face was pointed towards us.

  “Suzara!” the Overseer barked. He’d wrapped his hands around my arms, holding me in place.

  One of the fighters, a blue-skinned woman, got up from the table with a deep sigh, like she was terribly inconvenienced by our arrival. She strode over and stopped, her eyes lingering on my wings.

  “Hold up your hand, new blood.” To my surprise, the other Overseer sounded nervous. “Show them.”

  I hesitated, but there were a hell of a lot of demons here, and Suzara wasn’t the only one eyeing my wings. I held up my left hand and splayed my fingers, giving the room a good look at the sigil on my palm.

  More than a few eyes went wide and averted immediately. I curled my fingers and pressed my arm against my stomach, like I could erase the mark from my being if I hid it well enough.

  “Hands to yourselves, all of you,” the Overseer called. “You know who she belongs to. Fuck with her, you fuck with him.” He dropped his voice. “Get her settled, Suzara. If anything happens to her, it’s on your head.”

  Suzara’s lips twisted in a displeased pout and she gave me a dirty look. I swallowed hard, but the Overseers were already retreating, leaving me in the hands of the not-so-welcome wagon.

  “What’s your name?” she asked, crossing her arms. I had to admit, she was pretty for a demon: her skin a deep blue, her braided hair an icier shade of the same tone.

  Belial already knew my name, and there was nothing to be gained now by holding it back. “Melisande.”

  Her tongue poked at her gums as she looked me over. “I’m giving you a cot in the back. It’s not worth my skin to let any of these fools mess with you. I’m warning you, though: if you make this harder on me than it needs to be, I will make you sorry you ever laid eyes on this place.”

  I nodded tersely. We were on the same page. All I wanted to do was sleep for the next hundred years in peace, without any demons trying to yank out my wings to use as a featherbed.

  Suzara turned on her heel and strode away. As galling as it was to need to use someone else as a living shield, I was in no shape to take on another fighter right now. I stayed close to her as we cut through the mass of demonkind, and she stopped at another cot along the way.

  “Hand over one of your blankets, Ishka. You’ve got more than enough as it is. They’re not giving out more until tomorrow.”

  Ishka, who strongly resembled a salamander, showed her teeth. “My blankets.” She clutched a square of dark wool to her chest, even though she was sitting on a stack of at least five more.

  “Ish-” Suzara started to say, but I was tired, pissed, and an empty cot was calling my name.

  I punched Ishka in the face and plucked the blanket out of her hands while she was clutching her nose. Then I surreptitiously wiped my knuckles on my tunic. Her skin was slimy and cool, and some of that had definitely transferred over to me.

  Suzara glared at me. “What part of ‘don’t make this harder’ was unclear to you?”

  I stared right back. I’d like to see any one of these demons fall a thousand miles and still be on their feet.

  She huffed and beckoned me along. “You’ll probably do okay here,” she muttered. When we reached the furthest cot, tucked into a dank corner, I could’ve cried from relief. It was tiny and flat, but it was a bed, and every one of my bones was screaming for rest.

  Suzara sat on the next cot, only two feet away, while I unfolded my blanket. “Look, new blood. It’s on my shoulders to explain how this works to you, so listen up. I don’t like having to repeat myself.”

  I winced as I crawled onto the cot. I was bruised in places I didn’t know existed. My wings pulled in tight against my back, warming my chilled skin.

  “This is the bottom of the barrel. Everyone here is looking to fight their way up, but until you win your fifth fight, this is where we live. There’s about… oh, seven or eight more chambers just like this one, packed with people who will do anything to climb to the top.” Suzara crossed her legs, watching me rustle around and make a comfortable nest out of the bed. “Even if it means stomping you to death. Literally. The people who make it to the fifth fight have their own quarters.”

  “Is that uncommon?” I asked. My voice came out as a harsh rasp. I dragged my fingers through my tangled hair, and some of the strands came loose and tore away, stuck to my fingernails.

  “Well, about half the new bloods will die before they make it to their fourth round. You’ve gotta be dedicated to come here. If you make it to the fifth, you’re almost always up against the big leagues: Lady Savage, Blind Luck, Exile. So, I mean, if you make it that far, you’ve got nothing to worry about from the rest of us. It’s them you have to worry about.”

  I examined the strands of hair tangled around my fingers. Two of them were black, but the other two were a bright shade of violet, like the color had been burned into my hair. “Do you have a mirror?”

  I was just glad my voice stayed even. On the inside I was shaking. Suzara got up, pulled a small round mirror on the other side of the room from the wall, and brought it to me.

  I took it, cradling the little circle of glass in my hands, unsure of what to expect.

  Most of the lower-ranking angels in every choir were obscured by a heavenly glare, a light so bright it washed away our true faces. It made us all equal in God’s eyes to have the same features, and prevented the sin of vanity.

  I looked into it and found an unfamiliar woman’s face, sharp-chinned with wide cheekbones and straight black brows. My pupils were a pale gold dusted with blue, a muted inverse of Belial’s gaze.

  My hair was violet. How odd. I touched the tangled locks, and mutely handed the mirror back to Suzara.

  She hung it up and returned. “Do you like what you see, at least?”

  I shrugged, still internalizing that I was no longer a peer among angels. It’d been… what, centuries since I’d seen myself? Gabriel was particularly strict with my choir. Righteous Fury had no time for vanity, he’d said. Sexual attraction and beauty were distractions from the purity of war.

  Suzara gave me an odd look. “Anyways, if you win
seven consecutive rounds, you win your freedom. Or so they say. No one’s ever actually done it.”

  “Why is that?” I pulled the blanket over myself and settled onto the cot.

  “Did you see the woman chained to Belial’s throne?” I nodded. My eyelids were already drooping. “She’s Nephilim. Her name is Yraceli. He has to keep her under lock and key or she’d slaughter everyone in this place, but she’s the seventh round. He calls her his ‘Last Argument’, but even the old-timers know better than to take her on.”

  “Why would they come here, then? Or has he kidnapped everyone?”

  Suzara laughed, the sound tinged with disbelief. “Why? If you can make it to the fifth round, you’re golden. You’re under Belial’s aegis forever, part of his legion. All you have to do is stir up the crowd and put on a show, and he’ll treat you like gold. It’s the fucking life, serving in Belial’s army. The jackpot. The motherlode.”

  She was clinically insane. “If you say so.”

  “You’ll see.” Suzara got to her feet and stretched. Her palms flashed, and I caught a glimpse of a dark mark on her left palm, but the design on hers was smaller, simpler. “Go to sleep. I’ll watch your back, so don’t worry.”

  “Thank you.” I moved to tug the blanket over my head, but the demon hesitated. “What?”

  “Did it hurt? When you fell from Heaven?”

  A very old, faint memory tugged at me and I almost smiled. I was pretty sure that had been a pick-up line on Old Earth, but she was dead serious.

  “It was the worst imaginable fucking agony I’ve ever experienced.”

  “Oh.” Suzara nodded and backed away. “Right. That would make sense.”

  She finally left, and I settled down on the scratchy cot. I opened my hand and held it in front of my face, examining the elaborate, swirling lines of Belial’s mark, so different from hers. What did it mean?

  Maybe I was the only one here who was soul-bonded to him. Everyone else was under his protection, but he didn’t necessarily own them. Not the way he did me.