Hell Raising and Other Pastimes

by Jayce Carter

  So much for pretending…

  Troy twisted and let out a low snarl, to which Hunter raised his hands. “Just curious.”

  Hunter didn’t look all the worried—or sorry—but the comment broke the tension in the room.

  Grant chuckled beneath his breath before shaking his head. “Okay, so, we’re all alive. That’s good. Kase filled us in on what happened.”

  Hunter snorted, no doubt in reference to filled in, but had the good sense not to actually say anything. Troy might usually have pretty good control over his wolf, but he’d still hit Hunter if he went too far.

  “Kase said Styx was only a few miles away,” I said.

  Hunter nodded. “We’ll be there in just a couple hours. I scouted ahead, and we should be fine.”

  I felt the need to point out he’d thought that before and look what had happened, but I let it go. No need to pour salt in the wounds, and we’d all survived.

  “Styx surrounds the dead zone and the Court. We’ll get some rooms near the inner edge, then head to the bridge after some sleep. I’m not sure what we’ll face, so we should be rested up and ready for anything.”

  “Did you hear about my blood?” I asked.

  Grant froze at that, his expression darkening. “Yeah. I also head about your little turning incorporeal trick.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing.”

  The words were a lie. It was loud and clear that he had come up with something.

  “Tell me, Grant. I deserve to know.”

  He tucked his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know anything for sure, and I don’t like making wild guesses.”

  “But you think you know?”

  He cut his gaze away without answering at first. The set of his lips said I wasn’t swaying him. “I have a guess, but it isn’t possible. Look, we can deal more with this after we get out of hell. Don’t we have more pressing issues?”

  I wanted to argue with him, but somehow his unwillingness to tell me what he thought cut. It was like Kase and the coven all over again. More secrets.

  I told myself he didn’t know shit. He’d tested my blood and hadn’t come up with a single thing, so the odds that he knew anything now were next to nil.

  I didn’t really believe that, but it was easier to tell myself that then to think he had answers he wasn’t sharing.

  The one thing he was right about was that we had bigger problems.

  Like a hell city and the devil.

  * * * *

  Styx was set up like a bustling city, made up of all bad areas.

  Hunter had retrieved my cloak, and it was once again smelly and damp. After finding out about the plants, I didn’t complain about the garment.

  There were a lot worse things than sticky clothes.

  Hunter disappeared, again, and Kase and Troy hardly looked at each other. They were going overboard trying to pretend nothing had happened.

  Which, nothing really had between them, but apparently two naked and erect penises in the same room created a problem for some men.

  Grant stood just to my side, and during the walk toward the city, he’d created another three of those charms, so each of the men could find me.

  Except Hunter, who it seemed could track me without problem—no magic needed.

  “How often are you here?”

  Grant shrugged. “I visit hell every few months.”

  “Do all mages come here?”

  “No. Not many have the power to create the portals. It means I also make a good sum selling the things I pick up here.”

  “Why can you if others can’t?”

  He pressed his lips together, as if deciding how to explain it. “I told you magic was finite for a mage, right?”

  “The bowl theory. Yeah, I remember, you refused to magic away vampire dust from my cleavage.”

  He didn’t look sorry. “Exactly. Different spells take different amounts of magic, so if you have a mage with a very small bowl, they simply don’t have enough to create a portal.”

  “But you do?”

  “What can I say? My equipment is quite impressive.”

  I ignored his crude joke. “But why? What determines a mage’s bowl? Are they born like that, or do they get more powerful as they grow?”

  A slight tension started in Grant’s cheek, despite his smile, as if the conversation veered down a path he’d rather not go, the secretive bastard. “A little of both. A mage is born with a certain amount of magic available, but all of it won’t be accessible until they become immortal. Mages get better at using their magic as they age and learn, but they’re mostly stuck by that central size issue.”

  “Mostly?”

  “There are ways to change it, but they’re forbidden.”

  “Forbidden?” I drew out the word to point out how odd it was to hear it from him. “You never struck me as the kind to care about what’s allowed.”

  He cast a withering look my way. “The only way to increase a mage’s innate power is to steal it from another mage, preferably a child, since they have a lesser hold on their magic. The process kills the person if they’re lucky.”

  His words chilled me, though I suppose, in some strange way, it was good to know he did have lines.

  I would have kept asking questions—it wasn’t like I had anything better to do and I was curious—but someone stumbled in front of us before I could.

  A kid flinched, as if I’d kick him for getting in my way. He had a round face, darkened with dirt and bruises, and stood no taller than my waist. I doubted he was older than six.

  It was the first child I’d seen, and after the conversation with Grant, it shook me all the more.

  The kid lifted his arm to ward off a hit. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, reaching down to help him to his feet. “You okay?”

  He brushed off his legs, as if that did anything about the layers of filth caked to him. “Fine. I didn’t mean to get in your way, though. Really sorry.” His gaze flited to the side.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.” He went to take off, but I shifted into his way.

  “Wait a minute. Are you running from something?”

  The kid paused, trading his weight from one foot to the other. “See…”

  Grant caught my arm and leaned in. “He isn’t a kid, Ava.”

  “Look at him. He’s scared.”

  Grant shook his head. “You don’t know what hell is like.”

  I remembered that man who had nearly killed me, the way he’d held that machete. “I’m a quick learner, and I’ve had a few lessons taught to me.”

  “Nothing here is what it looks like.”

  “So you’ll just turn your back on a child?”

  “If he’s here, then he isn’t as innocent as he looks.”

  I stared back at the boy, but try as I might, I couldn’t see any evil in him.

  He looked back, then cowered when Grant met his gaze. “I don’t want any trouble,” he swore. “I’ll go.”

  Before I could stop him, he scurried off, leaving me facing Grant, my hands on my hips. “How do you know he didn’t need help?”

  “Because kids don’t get sent to hell, Ava.”

  “And spirits look like they do when they die.” I thought about the twisted forms I’d seen and amended my statement. “Except when they’re here in hell, where they look worse after a while. They don’t turn into sweet-looking kids, though.”

  “Ava,” he started to say, but I shrugged off his hand.

  “We should get to the rooms.”

  He let out a long sigh, one that said he didn’t appreciate my dodging of the conversation, but I didn’t care. Turnabout was fair play, and Grant had kept plenty from me.

  I didn’t owe him anything.

  The hotel this time was a far cry from the small inn we’d stayed at before. It reminded me of something that would fit in in the living world, a tall building that stretched up into the sky with flat glass wi
ndows across the front. Still, without regular electricity, it held the same orange and green glow that lit everything else.

  Hunter waved us over from the counter, and I pushed past Grant, eager to put him out of my mind. Funny that these men could annoy me so much one moment, and I could worry about them the next.

  It infuriated me.

  “Rooms will be ready in an hour or two,” Hunter said.

  “That long?”

  “Do you really want them to skimp when it comes to cleaning rooms here?”

  Fair point.

  “What are we supposed to do until then?”

  “Take your friend to a show,” the woman behind the desk said, her gaze locked on Hunter like she might cross the barrier and mount him there.

  Hunter snorted. “I don’t think that’s really her speed.”

  “Well, the ballroom is open. It’s early, so there isn’t much activity, but maybe that’s more her style.”

  The way she said style irked me, as if I couldn’t hang with them. I was tempted to tell her I’d escaped a man who wanted to use me as plant fertilizer, that I’d scared off those beasts that guarded the fields.

  A sharp pain to my side had me turning to find that Hunter had pinched me to keep me quiet.

  Probably for the best. No need to be advertising that I’d been a target, or they might decide to figure out why.

  “Sounds good. I’ll just head in there,” Hunter said.

  “Mella is serving,” the woman called as Hunter ushered me away. “And I’ll be off in a few hours if you want both of us to help you christen your room.”

  I turned, ready to give that woman a piece of my mind—her sharp teeth and claws be damned—but Hunter pulled at me to keep me moving.

  “I like your jealousy, shadow-girl, but maybe keep it in your pants?”

  “Why? Because I’ll get my ass kicked by her?”

  “Hardly. I wouldn’t let her lay a finger on you.” The declaration was oddly sweet. Sure, I didn’t want to be a damsel in distress, but the protective nature charmed me.

  At least, until he added, “Because then I’d have to fight a shit load of people.”

  “You like fighting,” I reminded him.

  “I do, but see, I want to strip you down and enjoy every last inch of your sexy little body, and I’d really prefer not to have to waste energy on anyone else before then.”

  His words seared me, made my breath short. I’d had sex with Kase and Troy not that long before, and yet I felt entirely up for his plan.

  Then again, I usually felt up for whatever Hunter suggested. He was easy and safe in a strange way. He didn’t have that many hang-ups, didn’t want me to be anything I wasn’t. It was refreshing and relaxing and easy.

  The ballroom was large and spacious, with a stage at the back, tables set in the middle and booths at the sides. The red flames flickered over chandeliers, casting the entire room in an orange glow. A few of the tables and booths were occupied, but most of the room was empty.

  “I never figured there’d be ballrooms in hell.” I sat in the booth Hunter pushed me toward.

  “Trust me, all men knew there’d be ball dancing in hell,” Troy answered, his face pinched into tight lines. No doubt he was thinking back to some traumatic time he’d been forced into the activity by a woman.

  “Hell is as boring a place as any. Worse, really, because there aren’t ever any big changes. In the living world, things move, they grow, the change. People have dying to look forward to. Here? It’s always status quo. Hell, especially the bottom level of it here, is like a prison, so it follows the rules and sticks with what works. Because of that, we make our own fun.”

  “What were the shows she was talking about?”

  “Oh, are you going to a show?” a new voice, sultry and smoky, asked.

  I twisted to find another woman there, small black wings from her back, hooved feet and furred legs up to her thighs and hardly any fabric to cover up the rest of her. She had blonde hair and one hell of a smile for Hunter.

  “Lucifer is holding more of them lately. He had an elder demon a week ago! Have you ever seen one of them?” She leaned in, setting a hand on the table and bending so her breasts became more of a centerpiece to the table.

  “Yeah, I’ve seen one,” Hunter said with a soft laugh. “Last time he brought one of those, I backed the hell out of the competition.”

  I sat straighter. “Backed out? Wait, you participated in these things?”

  Hunter turned his gaze to me. “Sure, shadow-girl. There isn’t a lot to do here, and whoever hosts the competition sets the prize. Lucifer usually just offers a favor, but a favor from him is worth it.” He chuckled. “Well, it is when the opponent isn’t an elder demon, at least. The second I heard he’d gathered up one of those, I withdrew.”

  “Lucifer lets you just back out?”

  “Only before a round starts. Once it’s going, everyone is stuck until the end.”

  Just when I felt like I had a handle on things, they changed.

  Hunter tore his gaze from mine and looked back to the woman. “Sorry, Mella, but no shows for me.”

  “But I haven’t seen you in one for years.” She stuck out her bottom lip in a pout, before exchanging it for a salacious grin. “Of course, we could have our own show, couldn’t we? You could put those skills of yours to other, more fun uses.”

  Oh, I was going to give her a piece of my mind. How dare she try to pick up my… well, whatever Hunter was—right in front of me!

  Before I could, though, Hunter answered. “Sorry, Mella, but I don’t do those shows either, anymore.” He cut a glance my way, a loaded look there.

  She sighed but nodded, then took the orders.

  Once she’d left, I glared at Hunter.

  “What?” he asked as if he had no idea why I might be annoyed.

  “Have you screwed everyone here?”

  “Not everyone,” he said, then pointed at a man at another table. “Not him. Wait, never mind.” He turned his head as if getting a better view. “From this angle, I think maybe I have.”

  I sat back in the booth, the ease of my relationship with Hunter suddenly not quite so easy.

  “Come on, you can’t be mad I’m turning people down.”

  I was pretty sure I could be annoyed, at least, so I didn’t answer.

  Mella brought the drinks a few minutes later and gave the entire table one hell of a show as she leaned over.

  Though, from my glance around the table, it seemed I was the only one who noticed.

  She left, probably since she didn’t seem to be getting anything she wanted and tried at another table.

  “I don’t think I should drink anymore of that alcohol,” I said, recalling how I’d passed out against Kase the last time.

  Hunter nodded. “This close to the palace, it isn’t smart. Lucky for you, this is one of the few places where I could get you safe water, so enjoy it.”

  I hesitated as I took a sip, glad to see it was in an actual glass but not sure I entirely trusted him. I didn’t think he’d give me something that would hurt me, I just wasn’t sure he knew what water actually was. I recalled whatever he’d put into the waterskin for me, and while that had worked in a pinch, it certainly wasn’t what I’d consider water.

  Yet, when it hit my lips from the large cup, I could have cried with joy. It was not just water but cold and entirely pure-tasting. I sent out an apology to water for all the times I’d passed on it before, the times I’d thought I’d rather have coffee or something else.

  I took big gulps, finally able to fully quench my thirst.

  The men drank their items, though none of them ordered water. Then again, supernatural metabolism meant they didn’t get hit hard with alcohol like I did.

  Plus, Grant handed out more tablets.

  “Do you really think Lucifer will just have the bridge ready?” Grant asked.

  “Well, he’s the one who sent for her.” Troy leaned back in his seat. “Why send for her
and make it more difficult for her to get there?”

  “Why have her arrive all the way out at the boundary anyway?” Grant asked. “When I come here, I portal directly to where I’m headed. Only an idiot would go to the boundary then walk.” He cut a look toward Hunter, then grinned. “Well, I mean, you do that.”

  Hunter blew a kiss back. “I do it because I can’t make random portals like a lazy mage. I can only cross the boundary line.”

  “How do you end up where you want, then?” I asked.

  “The space between the realms, the boundary, is like this nil space. It connects to the living realm anywhere, really. I follow the trail I want, and it takes me to where that being is, or at least pretty close to it.” He shrugged. “Travel like that is always iffy.”

  The conversation went on, back and forth, but I wasn’t sure how useful any of it was. In the end, it was really just guessing. Guessing what Lucifer had meant to do, how we’d get across the dead zone if there was no bridge, how to deal with Lucifer.

  So I drank glass after glass of the water, since each time I neared the bottom, Hunter ordered another from Mella.

  Eventually, though, the water won.

  “I need to use the restroom,” I said when squirming stopped working.

  Hunter slid out of the booth, making room for me. He walked me back toward a door.

  I opened the door and he tried to follow me in. I turned to block his way. “I don’t think so.”

  Hunter looked past me, as if surveying the empty bathroom. “Modesty is useless if you end up dead.”

  “But if I can’t pee in peace, is it even worth living?”

  He lifted an eyebrow then studied the room once more, drawing in a breath as if to sniff. I could have told him trying to smell a public restroom in hell was probably a really bad choice, but I just wanted him gone.

  Finally, he nodded. “You have five minutes before I’m coming back in, privacy be damned. I’ll be right here.”

  I shut the door, thankful to have a moment to myself. I thought about how moms always talked about sitting in the bathroom for far longer than it took to actually pee because they needed the break, the quiet, the time to get off their feet and just sit in silence.

  After I did my business, squat-style over the seat because I was not going to be sitting on that—who knew what sort of diseases one could get in hell—I washed my hands, ignoring the red-tinged liquid that left the faucet.