Hell High

by Cindi Madsen

  Did I truly even have a chance? Or was Grim right when he said Heaven wouldn’t want me?

  Crosses, holy water, and even shaking hands with an angel hurt me.

  If I’m that uncomfortable with holy things, I might not even want to end up in Heaven.

  Dad climbed out of the carriage, his mouth pressed in a tight line as he gave a pointed look at his watch. I thought of what Tristan had said that first fateful day our paths crossed: Trapped down here for eternity, and they insist we keep a tight time schedule. No rest for the wicked and all that.

  The people filling the area bowed to their king.

  Heaven might be a no go, but I couldn’t imagine embracing the Princess of Hell thing, either.

  Focusing on the fact that Tristan believed in me, I stepped toward Dad. I can do this, I can do this.

  Please let me be able to do this.

  After petting the dragons, who snuggled me like an old friend, I climbed inside the carriage. A short ride later, my father and I were in a processing facility that, big surprise, looked a helluva lot like the DMV.

  “All the high-level souls with demon possibilities, like the succubus hopeful, go directly to the demon in charge of that branch.” Dad swept his arm, gesturing to the line of new personnel. “These are the ones who still need sorted. I usually leave that to Caim, Baal, or Phegor—before he got demoted, that is—but it’s important for you to see how it works.”

  Sure. You say important, and I say destructive. Classic case of tomat-o, tomat-oh.

  The other downer? Telling myself that I wasn’t happy to see these people here wasn’t working. Being near them made intoxicating energy surge through my veins, and even as my body took it in, a voice inside of me demanded more.

  “It’s the newness of the souls that gives you that vitality,” Dad said. “They’re full batteries, undrained from spending any time in Hell yet.”

  I opened my mouth to deny experiencing the pull. Then I decided not to bother—it wouldn’t fool him anyway.

  Dad marched down the line, nodding and making notes on his notepad. “Ah, here we go. This is the individual I was looking for.”

  The man who’d received the Medal of Honor—the one I’d been so happy for Dad to win for our side—stood at attention. Unlike the rest of the shocked and horrified faces, Army Dude remained stone-faced, ever the obedient soldier.

  “Hold out your hand,” Dad said.

  “Yes, Sir!” Army Dude stepped forward and extended his hand.

  “Take it, Lily. Welcome him to Hell and tell him that he’s been assigned to work with Abigor. It’s a big honor, and I know you felt bad about wanting him to come here so badly.” Dad held out his notepad to me. On it, he’d scribbled, Steven Hill – Abigor: the Forty-fifth Battalion.

  I reached for Steven’s hand, repeating forty-fifth in my mind over and over so I wouldn’t mess it up.

  But the instant my hand hit his, a jolt zoomed through me. I gasped as the power slammed into me. Unlike the searing touch of the angel, this one wrapped me in soothing coolness and enticed me to come and play.

  The veins in the man’s head popped out, his face reddened, and his body trembled. The coolness, the enthralling transfer from him to me—I didn’t want to let go.

  Army Dude fell to his knees. I told my hand to release, but it wasn’t listening. My sense of self grew fuzzy, replaced by everything I could be. So much delicious power.

  I closed my eyes and recalled earlier today, when Tristan and I were kissing in the dark hallway. Tristan loves me. Tristan believes in me.

  Using every ounce of my strength and self-control, I jerked my hand away.

  Army Dude crumpled to the ground, clutching his chest.

  I turned my accusing gaze on Dad, so angry words wouldn’t form.

  Dad gave a nonchalant shrug. “Relax. He’ll recover in a couple days, and then you can feed off him again. It’ll never be quite that robust, but he’ll bump our reserves up nicely. I wanted you to experience what raw, fresh power like his felt like.”

  A smug smile crossed his lips as he tipped his head toward mine. “I should probably also mention that I’ve never seen anyone kick the habit after they’ve experienced it.”

  Furious tears burned my eyes. I clenched my jaw, refusing to let Dad see he’d gotten to me. My limbs trembled with power, though, and yet I craved more. “I guess I’ll be the first, then.”

  I needed to do something to take the edge off. To summon something—something big.

  Would that help, or would it make me need more power?

  If only I had a dad who actually cared about me enough to help me through the process.

  “You’re sweating, sweetheart,” Dad said. “You should probably summon up a bottle of water. I bet you could do it if you tried.”

  I should’ve been happy he didn’t know I’d already summoned anything, on top of using my influence. Only it was hard to be happy when all I could think about was how hot I was, and how it felt like my body might rip apart from the amount of power I’d taken in.

  I will not use my abilities. I will not use my abilities.

  “Just think of what you want—lemonade, soda, anything—and snap your fingers.” His hot breath stirred the hair at my temple. “You know you want to.”

  “‘You know you want to?’ That’s the phrase they use in every bad antidrug video. Really, Dad. Get some new material.”

  If anything, the wattage on his grin turned up. “I’ve never experienced thirst. They tell me your throat gets so dry it burns.”

  Heat licked at my throat; my tongue felt scratchy.

  Tristan, Tristan, Tristan.

  My sudden thirst gagged me, attempting to take over every other thought. I folded in half, propping my hands on my thighs.

  When I’d touched Army Dude, coolness had washed over me. I looked at the leg of a woman in line. All I had to do was reach out and wrap my hand around her ankle, just long enough to cool off again.

  “Is she okay?” I heard, accompanied by quick footfalls.

  “She knows how to be,” Dad said.

  Abigor squatted next to me, concern swimming in his eyes. He put his hand on my forehead. “She’s burning up. She’s too far in, and I think she’s dehydrated.” His gaze met mine. “Have you had anything to eat or drink all day?”

  With how upset I’d been this morning, I hadn’t.

  I clung on to Abigor and glanced up at Dad. “I need to get out of here.” My words were sandpaper, and my head swam. “Are you seriously gonna let me die?”

  Dad crossed his arms. “The question is, are you going to let yourself die?” His smile turned cruel. “If you die right here and now, I won’t even have to fight the angels in order to keep you here for eternity.”

  Abigor draped his arm under my shoulders, bracing my body weight as my knees gave out. “Your Highness, I realize you have a purpose for everything you do, and I trust your judgment… But as you know, I care for your daughter. It pains me to see her like this. Please, let me help her.”

  “She needs to help herself.”

  “I thought we’d made progress,” I cried.

  Dad bent at his waist and shoved his face in mine. “We have. I’m doing this out of love.”

  “You think this is how you treat people you love? No wonder Mom didn’t want to stay with you.” The ground spun, which at least made it impossible to focus on the new souls and how easy it would be to reach out to one and bask in the coolness touching them would provide.

  Dad raised his hand like he was going to strike me, and I flinched, waiting for the slap.

  Last minute he dropped his arm, and with the blurriness it was hard to tell, but he seemed to be genuinely worried now. “It looks like your human body can’t handle all the power you sucked out of the commander. You took in the power, and now you need to expend it. Summon some water and food, and I’ll let Abigor take you home. I don’t get much more loving than this, so I suggest you take me up on my offer.”

&n
bsp; Abigor cupped my chin. “Lily, please.”

  A couple of puny tears escaped, leading me to believe even my tear ducts were too dry to work. “It’s my soul. I don’t want to lose it.”

  I wanted to stay strong, but the power was doing odd things to me. I didn’t feel strong. The brink of death was more like it. My breaths slowed, and the world spun. One by one my organs were shriveling up and shutting down.

  For the third time today I did the very thing I’d sworn to stop doing.

  Picturing a giant bottle of water, I snapped my fingers.

  The release was immediate. The frantic energy buzzing through me lessened the instant the cold bottle hit my palm.

  I tore off the lid to the water, downed half of it, and shoved myself to my feet. The hydration was much needed, but with a portion of my power spent, I felt empty with the lack of it.

  Dad stood with his back to me, already on to processing more of the new recruits.

  Ragged breaths racked my chest, and hatred flamed in my gut. I reached out and swiped my hand across the stomach of one of the fresh souls, and then used the extra power to advance on Dad.

  The knife I carried in my waistband felt heavy against my hip, as if it were telling me to use it.

  I whipped it out, flipping the blade open. Dad had metaphorically stabbed me in the back, but there’d be no metaphor in my payback.

  I raised the knife, ignoring Abigor as he yelled my name.

  Last second, Dad spun. I brought the blade down, the point aimed at his throat.

  His expression remained void of emotion as he commanded Abigor to stay back.

  Then my father stepped forward so that the tip of my knife dug into his skin, pride filling his features. “I knew you had it in you.”

  My hand shook, and I dropped the knife.

  Dad turned to the lined-up people who wore faces of shock and fear. “This is your princess. A girl who’d slit her own father’s throat if she thought it would do any good. You’ll all remember how dangerous she is, I’m sure.”

  Heads nodded. Some of them even bowed, and a traitorous surge of satisfaction ran through me even as I blinked back tears. My adrenaline faded, leaving me shaky and questioning who I’d become.

  “Abigor, take the princess home and make sure she gets enough to eat and drink. Our lesson for today is done.” Dad made a check mark on his notepad. “I’ll go ahead and mark it down as a success.”

  Thirty-Nine

  Hot air blasted my face as I opened my bedroom window. The two suns obviously made it hotter, but even though they’d set for the day, it was still an uncomfortable ninety, ninety-five degrees. And yet the heat no longer bothered me much, a mere blip compared to every other

  heinous thing in Hell.

  Since I’d never opened the window before, I’d half expected an alarm to sound. Once I was satisfied there wasn’t going to be one, I climbed onto the window ledge. My breath hitched as I stared down at the four-story drop.

  I hesitated, tempted to step back inside the safety of my room.

  Only there was no safety there. There was no safety anywhere. Tentacles of disgust and self-loathing wrapped around my heart, suffocating me, and I nearly lost my footing.

  Pebbles tumbled to the ground, and I clamped on to the stone pillar closest to me so I wouldn’t join them. The grittiness dug into my palms, but at least that momentarily distracted me from the dark hole in my chest.

  Remembering how far I and my soul had fallen today sent a sickening, toxic sensation churning through my entire body. Not only had I used my influence, I’d summoned water, sucked power from souls, and pulled a knife on my dad with the intent of using it.

  I probably deserve to be here more than half of the other people here do.

  I tried to console myself with the fact that jabbing the knife into Dad’s flesh like I’d desperately wanted to wouldn’t have actually killed Dad. My intention in that moment had been murderous, though, so it didn’t provide any comfort.

  I shuffled away from the pillar and flattened myself against the outer wall, taking deep breaths that failed to relieve the tightness in my lungs. As horrible as the entire scene with my dad had been, I couldn’t stop thinking of the incredible power I’d received from even the lightest touch of those damned souls.

  Crave was an understatement.

  I tiptoed to the ledge of one of the castle outcroppings and looked across the horizon at the red sky. To my left, the engraved face of a gargoyle did the same. While a few demons were deceptively handsome and angelic, most of them had grotesque faces. If I gave in and became the princess Dad wanted me to be, would my appearance change? Would I look like this gargoyle staring out into the night?

  At this point it wasn’t a question of if Dad would get my soul; it was a question of when. Heaven didn’t want me, but Hell did, and it wanted me bad.

  No way could I survive another month of this, much less over nine more. Even if I managed to make it through, how could I go home and look Mom in the eye? What if I went back to Earth and craved souls like I did here? What if I couldn’t control myself and ended up doing the job Dad so desperately wanted me to do, not because he forced me to but because I wanted to.

  “I can’t win,” I whispered, and the breeze threw my words back in my face.

  I peered down once more at the black ground that could swallow me whole, gripped the gargoyle statue, and swung around and began to descend the wall.

  I stretched my toes, searching for grooves in the brick. Inch by inch, foot by foot, I crept toward the ground. Halfway down, my arms and legs ached, my hands were scratched, and I thought this had to be the worst idea I’d ever had.

  But I couldn’t deal with a face-to-face with Dad, and it was easier to keep going down than to go back up, anyway, so I pushed past the pain.

  Finally I reached the bottom floor. Good thing, too, because my burning muscles were this close to giving out. I pushed off the wall, and dust puffed up around me as I landed. Black soot streaked my skin and clothes, but it didn’t matter—it wasn’t like I needed to look nice to follow through with my plan. I simply needed to do it before I lost my nerve. Before I tossed and turned all night and talked myself out of it.

  I wove in and out of trees, my feet beating a steady rhythm. With the breeze in my hair and lungs straining for more oxygen, the darkness inside me seemed lighter. Bearable. Yesterday this would’ve scared me, being out in the night alone, unarmed.

  Now I almost wanted someone to come for me—for the Ratman to appear and put me out of my misery. Sure I’d only end up here in Hell again, but wouldn’t it be better to be here by someone else’s hand than mine? Yeah, it was a total cop-out, but I was tired of constantly fighting it.

  Especially since I kept losing.

  Too many thoughts. Must go faster.

  I pushed harder, breathing in the smoky air.

  The second I stopped running, the bleak emptiness gripped me again. Maybe the part of my soul I’d tainted would slowly infect me until only the nothingness remained.

  I thought there would be snoring and the soft sounds of people sleeping, but I guess that would require breathing, and no one in the hut village required that.

  Shadows stretched across the pathway, and I mimicked them, swaying with the breeze, moving with the branches of the trees.

  Keeping close to the wall of the hut, I ducked inside. Like last time, Tristan was shirtless. Unlike last time, he was asleep—just like I hoped he’d be. The sleeping thing made it easier, the shirtless thing more difficult.

  I sat next to him and resisted the urge to run my fingers along his jaw. “You were right when you said we’d never work,” I whispered. “But not for the reasons you thought. Because I don’t deserve you.”

  The other reason I needed to do this tonight was because if he pulled me into the hall and tried to kiss me, I’d never be strong enough to resist one last kiss. It was all I could do to resist one now.

  My pulse sped up as I focused on his lips
and remembered how they felt pressed against mine. Thinking clearly around him was impossible. This was why I’d had to write everything in a note. I’d told him every detail of what a monster I was today. He’d most likely look at me with disgust tomorrow, and it would hurt, but it was better than knowing that he only looked at me with love because he had no idea what I was capable of.

  Breaking it off would’ve been easier if he’d never told me he loved me. Even easier if I didn’t love him back with all the soul I had left.

  As I pulled the letter out of my pocket, my heart slowly ripped in half. The ache in my chest grew as I placed the folded paper next to him.

  I took in his calm, peaceful face one last time, and then I rushed out before I crumpled up the letter and undid the one strong thing I’d done all day.

  Forty

  A storm cloud of misery hung over me, thick and suffocating. As soon as I’d returned to the castle last night, I’d regretted my decision to leave the note for Tristan.

  Then I was glad.

  Regret. Glad. Happy. Sad. All morning the emotions ran on a constant loop that did nothing to relieve my deep-rooted despair. Because the happy wasn’t so much happy as maybe I’m not completely awful.

  Dad called out for me as I passed the entryway of the dining room, but I didn’t stop. There were too many knives on the table, and hell only knew how badly I still wanted to pick one up and jam it into his throat.

  My hand wrapped around the doorknob, my escape from the Hotel California I couldn’t ever truly leave seconds away.

  “You need to come eat,” Dad said from behind me, which meant he’d left the dining room.

  Keeping my gaze locked on the door, I said, “I’m all full from the water I summoned up yesterday.”

  Dad put his hand on my shoulder, and I tensed. “Admittedly I might’ve pushed you too hard,” he said. “I knew you could take it, though.”

  I whipped around, pivoting out of his grasp. “You think this is taking it? Look at my face. Do I look okay to you?” Tears sprang to my eyes, and I didn’t bother blinking them back. “I give up, okay? You win. The power is intoxicating, and I’m not strong enough to fight it anymore. Now you can stop pretending you care anything about me and just leave me alone.”