Hell High

by Cindi Madsen

  And then I ceased to exist.

  Pain throbbed through my arm, growing in intensity by the second.

  Evidently I wasn’t dead. Or else death was less walk toward the light and more hurts, don’t it? than I thought.

  Water dripped onto my arm, wet and cool. My head felt floaty, and while I kept telling my eyes to open, they weren’t working.

  After a couple of attempts, I finally managed to pry open one of them.

  “What were you thinking?” a voice hissed, and I swore I saw a blur of fuzzy goat legs. A heavy curtain fell, covering the spot whoever had disappeared to.

  I strained to make out the whispered conversation. “I only meant to scare her, but I got carried away. Isn’t that the plan? To…”

  Okay, that’s Ms. Bing. I’d never forget that voice. Too bad I couldn’t make out what she said the plan was.

  “Yes, but after she’s… time to…” The other voice came out in snatches, scratchy and low, making it hard to catch hold of what he was saying. “…heat alone could’ve killed her. He wants us to… centuries for an opportunity like this.”

  Ms. Bing replied, her words quick and mumbled. Something about a test and, “Now we know.”

  My neck ached with a vengeance, sore and stiff from whatever hard surface I was lying on, and as I tried to readjust, I caught a glimpse of my arm. Red, bubbly, and crispified, like overly cooked bacon.

  The few bites of lunch I’d eaten threatened to make a reappearance.

  Great. Now I’m never going to be able to eat bacon again.

  A steady clopping noise filled the air, growing louder, and I squeezed my eyes shut. Then I remembered that was a dead giveaway and worked on keeping them serenely closed.

  “Just heal it the best you can, and I’ll say she tripped while pushing the boulder up the hill,” Ms. Bing said. “His Royal Darkness can’t get mad about a punishment all the students are subjected to.”

  “I’ll do everything I can, but she’s still a living, breathing being, so it’ll take her longer to heal.” Fingers gripped my shoulder. Something sharp pricked my arm.

  And then the blackness sucked me back under.

  The vulture-drawn carriage rolled to a stop in front of the castle. The suns had set, and everything was distorted, blips of memories I couldn’t quite catch hold of.

  Then it came rushing back to me: Ms. Bing’s furious face, how she’d forced me to answer questions about the deadly sins and then held my arm over the flame.

  A long-sleeved shirt had replaced my tank top, and I couldn’t remember if I’d put it on or what had happened after I passed out near the Lake of Fire.

  It all seemed like one big nightmare.

  Ms. Bing leaned across the carriage and gripped my chin, the same way she’d done earlier.

  Nope. Not a nightmare. It had been real. Way too real. Which was worse, because it meant I couldn’t simply wake up and breathe a sigh of relief.

  “You want to survive, Lilith? I suggest you don’t whine about detention to Daddy. Tell him you learned your lesson and that you’ll never disrupt class again.” Those wickedly sharp nails of hers bit into my cheeks. “And if you complain, I’ll kill you and no one will ever find your body. Don’t think I won’t do it.”

  Her nails dug deeper, and a tear, unbidden, trickled down my cheek.

  “I won’t tell. I swear.” My voice came out high and squeaky, unrecognizable beneath the anguish.

  She tugged down the sleeve of my shirt, sending fire across my skin. “The arm—well, it’s not going to ever fully heal.” She gave a falsely tragic sigh. “Let’s call it something to remember me by. And unless you want the rest of the skin to suffer the same fate, you’ll keep it hidden.”

  Fear spiked through me, sending my pulse rate into the danger zone. Did I believe Ms. Bing could kill me before Dad found out? Hell yeah. The murderous glimmer in her eye left no doubt.

  “I won’t say anything,” I said.

  She released me, and I scrambled out of the carriage.

  “See you tomorrow, dear,” she called, nice and loud, voice dripping honey. “I’m glad we understand each other, and I’m sure we won’t have to take any more trips to push boulders up hills, right?”

  Obviously this was for Dad’s benefit—technically for hers, covering her tracks.

  Keeping my sore arm tight to my side, I rushed inside of the castle. All I wanted to do was retreat to my bedroom so I could take the weight off my shaky knees and have myself a good cry.

  Dad entered the foyer at the same time I did. I must seriously be out of it, because he almost appeared to be concerned. “Naamah called and told me you had detention,” he said, and it took me a second to realize Naamah was Ms. Bing. “I do hope you learned your lesson. I can only grant you so much leniency, or people will view me as weak, and I absolutely can’t have that.”

  I closed my eyes, fighting the urge to pass out from the overwhelming pain in my arm. “I’ll never do it again.”

  “Good. Now, if your muscles are sore from pushing the boulders, or if your hands ended up blistered, I can take the edge off.”

  Would he even care if he saw what she’d actually done to me? Or would he say I deserved it?

  As much as I wanted to take the edge off, that meant showing Dad my injury, and I could see Ms. Bing’s face, feel her nails digging into my skin. She taught Persuasion for a reason, and I’d been effectively persuaded to keep my mouth shut. “I’m fine. I’m just going to bed now.”

  I trudged up the stairs, and my entire body trembled as everything that’d happened sank in, and without my adrenaline in survival mode, the ache filling my body tripled. The physical pain was one thing, but I’d sworn to never let this place have my heart and soul.

  I didn’t feel either one of those things working for me now.

  Four days in and they’d already won.

  What chance did I have of making it another 361?

  Twelve

  I fought the urge to scratch my arm as I walked down the halls of the school. At least the burned skin looked better this morning. It was red, raw, and blistered AF, but not black or dead looking. Didn’t keep me from nearly passing out every time the fabric brushed it.

  And why did it have to be so damn itchy?

  I had no idea how I was going to survive the physical part of Persuasion today, but I knew better than to piss off Ms. Bing again.

  People in the halls rushed past, and I tucked my arm in tight, doing my best to protect it. A large group came toward me, and I ducked around them.

  Right as Tristan stepped into my path.

  I tried to stop in time—I almost made it, too. But then someone behind me pushed their way through the crowd, and I bumped into the boy I’d been desperately trying to avoid.

  Tristan grabbed my injured arm, and my head swam from the pain, even as it also jolted me awake. I clung on to him, in real danger of my knees giving out, and even through my holy-shit-that-hurt haze I couldn’t help noticing how rock-solid his biceps were.

  Tristan shoved me away from him. “Watch where you’re going!”

  A wave of nausea rolled through me, and I braced my palms on my knees and took a deep breath, chanting don’t puke over and over in my mind.

  “What happened?” he asked, his eyebrows drawing together as he looked at my arm.

  My sleeve had inched up, revealing the bottom of the angry red skin. Without answering, I tugged the fabric down, wincing as it brushed my injury, and then straightened and started around him.

  He quickened his step, keeping pace with me. “Lily, what happened?”

  “Just what you wanted to,” I said. “You got me in trouble with Ms. Bing, and I ended up in detention. You were there when she handed out the punishment, so this shocked act is falling kinda flat.”

  “I thought you’d have to push boulders, and I knew you wouldn’t be able to do that anyway. Honestly, I figured your dad would get you out of it.”

  “I don’t go running to my dadd
y like everyone seems to think I do. But Ms. Bing decided I should spend detention at the Lake of Fire instead.” I gave him the best glare I could manage considering my now-oozing affliction. “So thanks for that.”

  Tristan snagged my wrist and pulled me to a stop. “I’m so sorry, Lily. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. Not like that.”

  “Really? Now you’re going to pretend to care? I know all I need to know about you. You’re here for a reason, and like everyone else here, you don’t think twice about who you have to step on to get ahead.”

  I yanked my wrist out of his grasp and charged past him, into the gym.

  This time he didn’t try to stop me.

  As soon as Abigor walked into the gym, he came over and put his hand on my lower back. The soul-sucking blackness returned, but I could say one thing about my burn—it screamed louder.

  After calling the class to order, my intended pulled me up front to help demonstrate the moves we’d be working on. Every time he brushed my arm, I fought back a cry. Sweat broke out across my forehead as I struggled to maintain my composure, and my new goal in life became not puking or passing out in front of everyone.

  “You were doing so well the other day,” Abigor said, running his fingers down my non-injured arm. “Now your form’s sloppy.” His fingers drifted back up and skirted the exposed inch of my collarbone. “It’s a shame to hide your skin under all this fabric.”

  I cringed, the icky darkness too strong to ignore without a fabric barrier in the way. I breathed a sigh of relief when someone asked a question that drew Abigor’s attention away from me.

  “Tell him you need a break,” a deep voice said near my ear. “He won’t care.”

  I turned to find Tristan at my side, standing so close I didn’t know how I hadn’t heard him approach. “It’s not a big deal. Just leave it alone.”

  Just leave me alone, I wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come. Probably because it wasn’t truly what I wanted, even though it was what I should want.

  Frustration pinched his features. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

  Across the room, Ms. Bing straightened, the threat in her eyes impossible to miss.

  “Go away,” I whispered, adding a shooing motion. “You’re making it worse.”

  Abigor headed for me, and I took a deep breath, telling myself I could get through the rest of the class. We only had… I inwardly swore when I eyed the clock and discovered we were merely at the halfway mark.

  “If you’re not going to listen…” Tristan put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. My pulse slowed, my vision swam, and when my knees turned to jelly, he eased me to sit on the floor.

  Abigor rushed over, his last few paces ridiculously long and fast. He squatted next to me, his forehead wrinkled with concern. “What happened, Lilith? Are you okay?”

  “I think she overdid it,” Tristan said, his hand still firmly on my shoulder. “Should I take her outside to get some fresh air?”

  Yeah. Like there’s any fresh air anywhere here, I opened my mouth to say, but talking was so much effort. Thoughts floated on by, my body sank farther into the ground, my limbs liquid and heavy, and I wanted to lie back on the floor and take a nap.

  Abigor sighed. “Yes, by all means, take her outside and give her time to recover.” He put his hand on my cheek, and I felt that cold, bleak pull. “Wait for me after school, and I’ll escort you home.”

  Tristan wrapped an arm around my waist—keeping to my uninjured side, thank goodness—and escorted me out of the gym and down the halls of Hell High. He pushed out the back door and sat me down on a bench shaped like a giant bat.

  For a long time neither of us spoke. My body gradually returned to normal, and I wasn’t sure whether to be mad or grateful for whatever he’d done to me.

  He draped his arm over the back of the bench. “Did you tell your dad about your arm?”

  I shook my head. “My dad and I don’t exactly have a good relationship. See, he dragged me to Hell and won’t let me leave. If I can help it, I don’t talk to him at all.” I picked at a stray thread on my jeans. “He probably wouldn’t care, though. I’m not sure if you know this about him, but he’s not exactly legendary for his kindness.”

  Tristan pursed lips that were definitely on the pouty side as he stared at me. “I can’t figure you out.”

  “Right back at you. One minute you’re getting me into trouble, and the next you’re forcing me to pass out so you can keep me out of pain.” I twisted the end of my ponytail around my finger. “How did you do that, by the way?”

  He suddenly became interested on the ground even though it was equally as dreary as the rest of this wretched place. “I’ve, uh, been payin’ attention in class. Plus, I learned all sorts of defensive techniques back when I was on Earth. Kept the kids from making fun of me.”

  My gaze ran across his well-formed chest and toned arms, and there might’ve been some lip biting going on. “I have a hard time believing anyone would mess with you.”

  “I used to be a pudgy kid.”

  I snort-laughed. “Yeah, right.”

  His mouth dropped open. “I’m serious. I’m from the South, where it’s against the law to eat anything that’s not fried.”

  I laughed again. “That explains the accent. So let me get this straight. You were pudgy and had to learn self-defense moves to keep the bullies away?”

  Tristan rubbed the back of his neck. “Pretty much. I stopped eating all the junk food and worked hard to get in shape—get this—so I’d live a nice, long, healthy life. Fat lot of good it did me.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. Sorry just didn’t seem to cut it.

  “You going to be okay for the rest of the day?” He jerked his chin toward my arm.

  “I’ll be fine. And um, thanks, for…whatever you did.” I so didn’t buy his explanation. Sitting on that floor, I’d felt completely at ease, like Dad could’ve shown up and reprimanded me in front of everyone and I would’ve remained totally chill.

  “No problem.” Tristan stood and offered me his hand. “We’d better get back inside.”

  I placed my palm in his, and he pulled me to my feet. Standing so close, my hand in his, that same sense of calmness washed over me even though my pulse was rapidly pounding through my head.

  Tenderness flickered through his eyes. “I am sorry about gettin’ you in trouble, and I swear it’ll never happen again.”

  “It wasn’t all your fault. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I tend to have a hard time keeping sarcastic comments from popping out of my mouth.”

  “It’s hard not to notice you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And trust me, I really tried.”

  Before I could come up with a response to that, he released my hand and walked back inside the school.

  My arm throbbed and I was utterly exhausted, but I’d made it through another day of school.

  As soon as I walked outside, I scanned the crowd.

  Just because.

  Not like I was looking for anyone in particular.

  The no-one-in-particular looked my way and gave me a small smile, and my heart jerked in response.

  Yeah, I was totally crushing on Hell boy.

  Okay. I need to think about this rationally. Falling for a guy in Hell is the worst idea ever. I need to think of Dom. Just enough bad boy without actually being sentenced to Hell.

  So maybe I accidentally influenced him, but there was something real there, too.

  Once I get back home, perhaps Dominic and I can pick up where we left off. Maybe I can even talk Dad into letting me call him. That’ll help put everything back in perspective.

  Tristan stepped toward me, and perspective flew out the window. My tummy tingled, and I didn’t care how bad an idea it was. I wanted to talk to him. Wanted my hand in his like it was earlier today.

  A hand gripped my elbow, and that sense of despair I got whenever Abigor touched me washed away my other emotions. “How are you fe
eling?”

  I pulled my gaze from Tristan’s face and plastered a smile on mine. “Um, better than this morning.”

  “Glad to hear it. We should get going. I have a meeting with your father, and he’s invited me to stay for dinner.”

  I did my best to look happy about that news.

  Abigor led me away from the school, and I tried to convince myself it was for the best—flirting with Tristan was a bad idea.

  For all I knew, he was a murdering psychopath.

  But I remembered the calm I’d felt around him earlier, and the tenderness in his eyes. While all evidence pointed to him being at least part evil, I couldn’t help but believe a bigger part of him wasn’t.

  Thirteen

  Over dinner, Abigor and Dad talked business—as in how to lure more to the underworld to keep the place all powered up. I attempted to excuse myself once I’d finished my food, but Dad shot me a stern look and shook his head, keeping me in place.

  Finally Abigor pushed away from the table. He bowed his head at Dad. “Do not fret, My King. I’ll send messages to my aboveground warriors, and we’ll get our numbers up as soon as possible.” He turned to me, head bent, and I fought the urge to squirm in my seat. He took my hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed my knuckles. “Good night, Princess.”

  I swallowed past the rising revulsion. “Night.” See what I did there? Not so much wishing him a good one, just stating the time of day, all while sounding civil. Go me.

  Abigor dropped my hand, and I winced as my arm brushed my side. Oh my gosh, when is moving going to stop hurting so much?

  As soon as I heard the resounding boom that signaled the castle door had been closed, I stood. “It’s been a long day. I’m going to turn in.”

  Dad stepped in front of me, moving so preternaturally fast I hadn’t even seen him stand. “Not so fast. What happened to your arm?”

  Terrified of Ms. Bing’s repercussions, I stumbled for an excuse. “Nothing. I mean, I just twisted it while we were doing our physical training this morning, but it’s nothing.”