Daughter of Flames: A Mayhem of Magic World Story (A Girl and Her Hellhounds Book 1)

by Nicole Zoltack

  “There’s one question I have,” Logan says slowly.

  “What’s that?”

  “What’s your thing?”

  “My thing?”

  “Yes. It can’t be that you just want to have hellhounds,” he presses.

  I hold out my hands as I shrug. “Really have no idea where you’re going with this.”

  “We all have our things, right?” Logan presses.

  “Yes…”

  He nods a few times.

  I hug Demonfang tight to me.

  I'm not like the others. I've known this. Why does he have to point this out to me?

  "Think about it," Logan continues. "The seven deadly sins, the four horsemen of the apocalypse… Each of Lucifer's children has something that fits nice and neat into one of those boxes, but you…"

  “I’m the odd one out. I get it,” I grumble.

  "You don't have to be. Maybe you could be the most evil one of us all. The one with the most—"

  “Pride?” I ask with a smirk.

  "Who knows?" he challenges. "Why don't you take a walk on the wild side and find out what it's like to actually be a demon?"

  I roll my eyes. "If you think you can convince me to do something I don't want to do—"

  “All I know,” Logan says, growing more serious, “is that Larissa made a comment about how you have to be wrong about your mom.”

  “What about her?” I snap.

  “You can’t possibly have some of Lilith’s blood in you if you’re so… good.”

  I swallow hard. “Did she say what I think you’re hinting at?”

  Logan shrugs, his smirk making my hand itch with the desire to slap him.

  “If you don’t tell me what she said, then I think you’re talking out of your—”

  “She thinks your mother must have been an angel. Either that or…” Logan shrugs again. “This is me, not Larissa, but maybe Lucifer isn’t your father.”

  I’m not sure why I react the way I do. It’s instinct, pure and simple and deadly.

  Or it would be deadly for anyone but a son of Lucifer.

  That orb of energy I've conjured earlier. I conjure one that's three times the size of the others, and I blast it right into Logan's chest. He's thrown back into the others.

  “Still think I’m not the Daughter of Flames?” I ask coolly as Logan’s suit starts to catch on fire.

  Chapter 4

  To say I’m furious is one of the biggest understatements ever. I’m sick of my siblings all acting like they’re better than I am, that they can talk down to me. I’m the youngest, but I’m not stupid, and just because I’m not like them doesn’t mean that I’m worthless.

  I have plenty of worth.

  Maybe they’re just jealous because I have loyal hellhounds, and they don’t have any pets.

  Not that Demonfang and Shadechomp are truly my pets. They're my friends, my companions. I mean, hellhounds aren't like dogs who live in Hell and can belch fire. They're more like witches or shifters, even though they don't have a human form. They have minds, and they talk through their barks, but I know for a fact that some hellhounds have been employed at Magical Prison as guards. They're good like that. Just don't dare call them watchdogs.

  Demonfang and Shadechomp immediately race after me as I stalk away from my brothers. The three who had been fighting one another tease Logan for being beaten up by a little girl, and I just ignore them all because they’re still trying to get digs in on me.

  Honestly, is it any wonder that I prefer my hellhounds to my siblings? Maybe it’s because our father raised us… or left us to raise ourselves. That’s far more accurate. He’s not exactly the fatherly type. When he wants us to do something, then he’ll summon us, but otherwise, he does his own thing, and we do ours.

  All demons have powers, but it’s not as if he taught us how to use them. It’s all been a bit of trial and error. I mean, for the most part, a lot of it comes instinctively. When you’re angry, you get red-hot, right? Well, conjuring fire is a snap then. And teleportation is fine. It’s almost like you’re yanked through space from one spot to another in the blink of an eye.

  One thing I don’t care for at all is empathy. I almost feel like that’s an ability a demon shouldn’t have. I mean, why can I sense someone else’s feelings when I touch them? And it’s not something I can just turn off either. Worse, whatever the other person is feeling, I start to feel too. You know how it’s innate in all of us to try to touch someone to calm them down when they’re all uptight and anxious or when they’re angry and furious? Well, if you try to calm them down but then start to feel uptight or furious, too… that's not a good thing at all.

  Been there. Done that. No fun.

  Seriously. No wonder I prefer Demonfang and Shadechomp.

  While my hellhounds don’t judge me, my family judges me. Well, I don’t know if my mom’s alive or not or if she judges me too or not, but the rest of my family does. They don’t think I’m strong enough or that I’m demonic enough, and it’s not that I want to shove it in their faces.

  Or maybe I do.

  No. That would be ignorant, to stoop to their level. If Logan and the others don’t think I’m Lucifer’s daughter, what do I care? Their beliefs don’t make it true. I know who my father is.

  But my brother does have a point. I don’t exactly act like I’m a daughter of Lucifer.

  So, what? I should create a little mayhem just to prove who I am?

  Who am I?

  Demonfang rubs his heads against my left leg and growls softly.

  “I know, boy,” I murmur. “I’m all anxious, and you hate when I’m like this.”

  Shadechomp barks and yips with his head, and he races ahead of me, heading over to the part of Hell that mimics parts of Earth. It's not so much that we have the same buildings and structures down here in Hell as those above the soil, but parts of Hell literally are beneath the cities, and I keep on walking, moving a bit faster now because I have a destination in mind.

  The one place my father wishes to go but can’t for whatever reason.

  Bethlehem, PA.

  Hell is a hot place. You get used to the heat. At least you do if you’re a demon. I’m not so sure the condemned souls agree, but the closer I get to the area beneath Bethlehem, the colder I become until my hellhounds even start to whine, the sparks on their fur starting to dim a bit.

  “You don’t like it here, huh, do you, boys?” I squat down to pet their heads some, hoping to set their minds at ease. “You two don’t mind that I don’t let a vice control me, do you?”

  They lick my face, wagging their tails. They don’t really care at all about what I’m talking about.

  “I don’t like war. I don’t like fighting, but I will stand up for myself. To some extent, at least. I don’t care for famine and gluttony. I’ll eat and enjoy my food, and I won’t starve myself or eat to excess. My siblings… they are all unique in their badness, and I suppose that makes father love them more, but he specifically asked for me when he was upset. Why? Why me? He could’ve asked for any of the others.”

  Demonfang tries to climb onto me, and I pick him up. It's a bit awkward because he's getting to be too big for that, but he can act like a puppy still at times. Neither of them is fully grown yet.

  “Do you think he wanted me to come here? Is that why he mentioned Bethlehem to me? He knows I’ve never been topside.”

  I glance upward. Here, the ceiling of Hell is really low. I could reach up and touch it, maybe, if I jumped.

  But I don’t jump. In fact, I sit down and let my hellhounds climb all over me. They want to play and be rough, but I just let them go and do what they want.

  “The others don’t think I’m evil enough,” I mumble, “and I don’t care about what they think… and I do care. It’s stupid. I shouldn’t need their validation, but what if Lucifer feels the same way? What if he doesn’t want any more kids because I’m a disappointment? Or maybe he’s waiting for me to decide what kind of demon I
want to be. I’m not a warmonger. I’m not. I… I actually know what I want, and you two aren’t going to like it.”

  I hug them both, nuzzling them, but even Demonfang is wary and doesn’t give me any licks.

  “Relax. I’m not going to turn you guys loose and tell you to never come back to me,” I tease them.

  They are not amused.

  I try to force a smile, but I can’t. “I want a friend,” I admit.

  It sounds lame even to me, but it’s the truth. None of my sisters or brothers, none of them, not one, truly give me the time of day. Even Logan had to go and insult me after we had that nice chat. That’s how it always goes. They insult me more times than not, and I don’t normally let it bother me, but for some reason, today, I’m on edge.

  Hmm. Are the hellhounds on edge that I’m picking up on their emotions? Or are they on edge because they’re picking up on mine?

  A vicious cycle, either way.

  There are weaker points in some locations that mimic Earth down here in Hell. We can affect what goes on above us in those parts, and I’m not at all surprised that this seems to be the case here beneath Bethlehem.

  Why? Why am I different? Why can’t I be more like the others? Why can’t I actually do something truly evil for once?

  Why does being a demon have to equate with being evil?

  We live in Hell. We have demonic powers. Why do we also have to want to kill, to take, to do whatever we want? I mean, who wouldn’t want to be able to do what they wish with no consequences? Humans can go to Heaven or to Hell. The choices they make matter, but we’re already in Hell. We can’t go to Heaven, and honestly, why would I want to go there? Everyone I know and care about is right here in Hell with me.

  But I don’t know how much any of them care about me. I know that teasing can be how siblings treat each other, but I’m just annoyed and agitated, and Logan thinks I’m not his sister.

  Or does he not want me to be.

  Fury wells up in me, and I want to lash out. Glowing, fiery orbs of energy appear above both of my hands, and I throw some all around, a few for the hellhounds to have fun at, but a lot of them are directly overhead. The full force of my might is unleashed.

  And it feels good. It feels oh so good to just relax and release some magic, some tension, to give in to my emotions.

  My emotions.

  Not anyone else’s for once.

  And I feel anger and rage and frustration.

  And even a bit of fear. I’m not sure why. For a long time now, I’ve felt like I don’t belong, but am I the ugly duckling of the family? Am I such a failure and that’s why Lucifer doesn’t want any more children? I would love to have a younger sibling, a brother or sister, and I would protect him or her from the others and allow him or her to grow up and do what she wanted and not force her to be evil.

  Demons have free will.

  Don’t they?

  Maybe not. After all, even I’m acting out, but that’s because I want to act out, not because anyone else is forcing me to.

  It’s not as if I’m hardwired to have to act out. I can do what I want. I want to rage, to fight.

  But not fight anyone.

  Or not fight my siblings at least because all of this has to have an effect on those above me in Bethlehem. Probably in the form of an earthquake. I should care because earthquakes can cause serious issues for those on Earth, even deaths, but this release of my magic, it's intoxicating. I've never felt like this before, so powerful even if I'm completely out of control.

  Is this it? Is this what my siblings feel? When Lance is being all envious, does he feel like this? Or Logan with his pride? Does Larissa somehow feel stronger by being a sloth and being apathetic all the time?

  But what is this root in me? It’s not anger.

  It’s all stemming from fear.

  My own fear.

  That’s not demonic at all. Demons shouldn’t feel fear, and I shouldn’t be afraid that I’m not Lucifer’s daughter. I know who I am.

  And I am flames. I am fire. I am power.

  Maybe that is my root. That is me.

  Power.

  Chapter 5

  All around me, bits of red rock and stones and pebbles fall down, the soil ceiling above me crumbling from the force of my earthquake. I turn my chin up high, allowing the pebbles to rain down on me. Demonfang and Shadechomp are barking at the rocks, trying to catch some of the pebbles on their noses. It’s ridiculous, and I laugh, throwing out my arms, spinning around in a circle. One of them, probably Shadechomp, nudges into me, and I fall down onto my rump, laughing.

  I’ve never felt this free.

  I hold out my arms and embrace my hellhounds. “Come on,” I urge them. “Let’s go.”

  I’ve never gone up to Earth, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know things. I know all about their movie theaters, their fashions, their restaurants. I know how to drive a car even though I’ve never sat in one, and I know how to use their weapons too, all kinds of weapons, even, like the various guns and rifles and axes and maces and swords and knives.

  There’s nothing for me to be afraid of up above on Earth. I’ve never gone, though, before because… Honestly, because I never thought I could bring Demonfang and Shadechomp with me, and I shouldn’t really bring them, but I am beyond caring. If a human sees them, I’ll just cloud their mind and strip those memories away. I’m going to do what I want, and I’m going to go and see this fabled Bethlehem.

  "Let's go and see the effects of my earthquake," I urge. Maybe next time, I can actually try to have a terrible earthquake. I'll find a spot where people don't live. Maybe in one of the oceans. It might cause a tidal wave, but if I do it in the middle of the ocean, then there won't be an issue because the wave won't carry all the way to an island or other landmass.

  The thought of letting my magic loose again like that has me whistling as I press both of my palms to the soil ceiling. My hands glow a color similar to my hands, and the soil fades away, opening up a hole, and I climb up into a bright, sunny spot. My hellhounds scramble up beside me, nuzzling my legs and barking like mad, and I just laugh. There’s no one around to see me, and I just feel a sense of freedom I’ve never experienced before.

  My clothes will probably cause a few second glances. A sleeveless dark brown, with some red, almost black depending on the lighting, duster covers my entire backside. There’s an emblem painted in gold on my back that’s exactly like my glowing orb of energy. Larissa did it for me. To get her to do it, I had to basically be her slave for a week, which hadn’t been all that bad because she’s so lazy she kept forgetting to tell me to do stuff.

  The top part of my super-tall boots is covered by three green bands. The armbands and my matching bracelets all glitter in the sunlight. My short bodysuit jumper crisscrosses above my chest, and I wear a belt around my waist and the duster. There’s a bit of material that flows down in front of my legs, and honestly, I love this look so very much. I don’t care if I’ll stick out here on Earth. I’m me, and if someone doesn’t like that, too bad.

  The sign in front of me is blue and states to follow the star to Bethlehem attractions. There’s no sign of an earthquake anywhere around here, and I start forward, toward the sign, only it feels like there’s an invisible barrier.

  I can’t set foot in Bethlehem. Interesting. Father can’t, and I can’t either. Makes me wonder…

  My right hand goes up, and I toss an orb of energy toward Bethlehem, intending for the hellhounds to chase after it. They do, but the moment my magic crosses to Bethlehem, it dissipates.

  Even my magic can’t affect Bethlehem.

  Interestingly enough, though, my hellhounds are racing so swiftly that they still enter Bethlehem even though my magic has disappeared.

  Is that why the earthquake didn’t happen? But that’s ridiculous! Who ever heard of such a thing? I mean, I should definitely have caused an earthquake, and if I didn’t…

  I jerk my head, and my hellhounds trot over to me. A car slows
by, and the driver eyes me. I wiggle my fingers at him, sending a bit of magic before he can head into Bethlehem so that he forgets he ever saw me or my hellhounds, and we head away from Bethlehem. I glance around, and in the near distance, I can hear sirens.

  Bingo.

  Seems like my earthquake did happen. It just funneled away from Bethlehem for whatever reason. Maybe it has some kind of protection spell over the entire city so paranormal beings can’t enter? No, that can’t be the case considering my hellhounds were able to enter. Maybe it’s only demons who can’t. Yes, that would certainly infuriate my father to no end to the point that he would still be bitter about it years later.

  We listen to the sirens and walk in that direction. A few more cars slow down as they head on by, and one halts on the side of the road. A guy about my age rolls down the window on his passenger side. “Hop on in. You and your… What kind of dogs are they?”

  “Oh, thank you, but no. I’m not a hitchhiker.”

  “No? Those boots look amazing, but I can’t imagine they’re all that comfortable to walk in.”

  “Why wouldn’t they be?” I ask, hands on hips. My hellhounds stand tall on either side of me. I don’t think they like this guy. Honestly, I don’t care for him at all. There’s something in the glint in his eyes that rubs me the wrong way.

  Either Demonfang agrees, or he’s feeding off my emotions because he curls back an upper lip, snarling at the guy, who draws back closer to his wheel.

  “My hounds will probably set your car on fire,” I remark idly. “Do you want that?”

  “I’d rather a different kind of fire.”

  “Hmm. Tell me,” I say, my voice changing slightly, mimicking that of a siren’s. “Tell me the worst sin you have ever committed.”

  “I… I have rope and duct tape and a bag in my trunk. I… I’ve been thinking about… I’m trying to work up the courage… I need… I want…”

  “What do you want?” I press.

  “A…”

  He’s fighting me, battling my influence, which is pretty remarkable, so I have to give him credit for that.