Hell's King

by Eve Langlais

  Isobel had once thought how grand it would be to rule over an entire demesne. Now, caught in the bureaucratic nightmare, she wanted out. Especially since the news coming in from topside didn’t sound good.

  The horsemen had been keeping busy since the dinner party. Pestilence went on a rampage, seeding disease around the world. People even caught her on video, not knowing who it was, wearing a bilious green mini dress, shaking her ass in the clubs. Grinding against people. Touching everything she could. Sowing a deadly plague.

  Death—who rumor had it was dating Pestilence—was felling those affected left and right. The hellvine also whispered that he’d claimed some of the plague survivors because they’d touched his girl.

  Of course, not everyone knew the horsemen were to blame. Humans assumed someone had launched a biological agent. They began fighting amongst each other, incited by the horseman of war. It didn’t take much to convince some leaders and countries to attack each other. Famine joined the game and sucked the life from the fields and the cattle. Food shortages began happening all over. Greed and selfishness turned everyone into paranoid hoarders who stockpiled as much as they could and then defended it to their last dying breath.

  Earth was a fucking mess. Chris’s words. And they were stuck down below. Like, literally, because he had no idea how to create a portal and no one would create one for him no matter how much he ordered.

  Poor Chris. Apparently, respect wasn’t automatic with the crown, and he’d yet to learn how to properly instill fear to ensure that they gave it.

  “I hate being king,” he muttered for the zillionth time that morning from behind the desk with its staggering stacks of files.

  “If you hate it so much, then do something to change it.”

  The words didn’t come from Isobel, who sat in a chair, stroking Goshen’s massive head, but rather his sister, Muriel, who strode into the office looking rested and vibrant in red jeggings, a slim-fitting tank top, and the cutest little running shoes.

  Unlike poor Chris, whose hair stood up in ragged spikes, whose beard needed a comb, and with bags under his eyes large enough to carry groceries.

  “What are you doing here?” he snapped. “Come to whine that Daddy didn’t leave the kingdom to you?”

  Muriel visibly shuddered. “Like fuck. I had a taste of running Hell when Daddy suffered from his bout with goodness.” A dark time for everyone because a good Lucifer was worse than an evil one. “I vowed never again.”

  “You could have warned me,” he grumbled as another stack of files dropped out of a portal that suddenly opened overhead. They hit a teetering pile already there and fell over, joining even more damned cases on the floor.

  “Would you have listened?” Muriel asked, flinging herself into a seat.

  “No.” Chris could at least admit the truth. “I thought running Hell was supposed to be cool. Bad-ass. The only bad thing about it is the sludge they call coffee in this place. No one told me just how much freaking work is involved.”

  “It is a ton. And with the coming apocalypse, it’s going to get worse, which is why Daddy bailed.”

  “Is there anything we can do to make it stop?” Isobel asked.

  “How about I just quit?” Chris grumbled.

  Muriel laughed. “You can’t quit. Once you’re chosen, the job can only be passed on to a willing recipient.”

  “Fine, then I’ll find someone who wants the job.”

  His sister shook her head. “If only it were that simple. Oh, brother, you have a lot to learn. No one wants to be the Lord of Sin. No one sane, at any rate. And would you really give this chore to someone who would truly torture everyone that comes here?”

  “Some deserve it.”

  At this, Isobel interjected. “Those who’ve truly sinned and caused harm should be tortured for eternity, but what of the lesser sins? Would you have Hell return to the days of constant brimstone and suffering before Lucifer created the degrees of punishment?” A degree of one was the smallest of sins, barely a slap on the wrist. Get in the triple and quadruple digits, and you were doing hard time. Once your crimes hit seven digits, like the Hitlers and other despots of the world, their suffering was for an eternity.

  “I don’t want that; however, this has to stop.” Chris slammed his hand on the desk, toppling more of his stacks. “This isn’t my destiny.”

  “You are the Antichrist. Destined to rule Hell. So, yeah, it kind of is.” Muriel shrugged. “Sorry. Have you talked to Nef about it?”

  Nefertiti, once a powerful sorceress, now resided in Hell as the king’s mightiest magic user and adviser.

  “The witch?” He frowned. “I met with her only once since my arrival.”

  Once was enough. Isobel didn’t like the way the sultry sorceress eyeballed him and then asked Isobel how much stamina he had in bed. She’d heard stories of Nefertiti’s harem and sexploits. The sorceress relied on orgies to fuel her magic, and Isobel wasn’t loaning out her husband to give Nefertiti a boost.

  Isobel frowned. “What can Nefertiti do to help?”

  “She might be able to see a path out of this. A way to either bring Daddy back or find a decent replacement.”

  “Doesn’t the heir need to be related to us?” Chris asked.

  A crease marred Muriel’s brow. “I don’t know. This is the first time the reins of Hell have changed hands. There is no precedent for what we’re going through.”

  “Why are you being so nice?” Chris’s brow furrowed, suspicion narrowing his gaze.

  “You’re my brother from another mother, and while we haven’t spent much time together because I’ve kind of been going through some stuff, you are family.”

  The words hit Chris, hit him in the soft spot of his heart that Hell hadn’t yet hardened. Still, he scowled. “So this is a pity visit?”

  “Nope. Just a ‘hey, how’s it going?’ Things are finally hitting an even keel for me now, which means it’s past time we got to know each other.”

  “I don’t want a sister.” Said with not much conviction.

  “Christopher!” Isobel exclaimed. “That’s not nice.” The dog, sensing her agitation growled.

  A glare was aimed at Goshen, and then Chris shot her a look. “It’s true, though. I was happy as an only child.”

  “Well, I always wanted a brother. So there.” Muriel stuck out her tongue, and for a moment, Chris was taken aback.

  Then he gave a rueful shake of his head. “I wish you wouldn’t do that. I’m supposed to hate you.”

  “I hate Eva just as much as I love her,” Isobel interjected. Her older sister did love to play pranks.

  “Don’t you dare use the L word, not in here.” Muriel peeked around the massive office. “I’m pretty sure Daddy set traps in case anyone ever used it.”

  “This place is full of secrets,” Chris grumbled.

  Secrets and locked doors. Isobel had gone exploring a few times—because, unlike Chris, she could escape the paperwork monotony—and had come across sections in the castle that no amount of prying would open. Even Chris, when he took a rare break, couldn’t get those doors to open—which only added to his frustration.

  “I’d say it was nice to see you, but”—Chris waved a hand—“as you can see, I’m a tad busy.”

  “No kidding. I’ll leave you alone, but I wanted to remind you of Lucinda’s upcoming birthday party. You haven’t replied to the RSVP.”

  He grimaced. “I don’t do clowns and balloons.”

  “Neither do I. Horrid things. Daddy saves those for the pedophiles. Ours will be a barbecue—steak, corn on the cob, potato salad. My men love grilling meat. Say you’ll come.”

  “I can’t,” he grumbled.

  Isobel hastened to explain. “It’s not that he doesn’t want to.” Lie. “But more that we can’t. He doesn’t know how to create a portal to Earth.”

  Muriel blinked. “But he has magic.”

  “Erratic magic. It doesn’t always do what I want,” Chris admitted.

&nbs
p; Muriel cocked her head. “How interesting. And if that’s the only problem… What if I opened one for you?”

  Before Chris could open his mouth and tell her to fuck off, he wasn’t attending the party, Isobel jumped in. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”

  “Awesome. See you around four-ish on Saturday.”

  Chris waited until Muriel left to snap. “Why the fuck did you say yes? You know I don’t want to go.”

  “Duh,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “But didn’t you hear what she said? She’s going to open a portal to her house. On Earth. Which means a way out of here.”

  “Out…” His gaze brightened then darkened. “Alfred and the other advisors said I’m not allowed to leave.”

  At that, she scoffed. “You’re the King of Hell. They don’t get to give you orders. They work for you.”

  “They do, don’t they?” He drummed his fingers on the desktop. “Surely, they can manage things for a few days while we check out what’s happening topside.”

  Days. Weeks. Months.

  Isobel wasn’t in a rush to return to Hell. The problem was, the new king didn’t want to come back either.

  19

  Being Hell’s King didn’t get any easier as the days passed. On the contrary, Chris could feel himself snapping. Even eyed the abyss a time or two. At least in there, he’d find peace and quiet.

  Sensing his turmoil, Isobel kept urging him to, “Hold on ’til Saturday.”

  She clung to hope, whereas he figured his sister had yanked his leg when she said she’d make him a portal to attend the birthday Earth-side. He didn’t expect her to keep her word. She’d probably only invited him to be polite.

  Yet, there she was, a minute past four in the afternoon, striding into his office, smiling brightly and even giving him a hug, saying, “Glad you’re coming, brother. I can’t wait for you to meet Lucinda.”

  Whereas he couldn’t wait to escape his Hell prison. He didn’t pack anything lest Alfred notice and try to stop them from going. He’d sent the little butler on an errand on the opposite side of the castle.

  “We shouldn’t make my dear niece wait,” Chris said. “Portal away.”

  “Not here.” His sister laughed. “The castle doesn’t allow anyone but Daddy to slip in and out.”

  Did she mean it as a dig? Implying that he couldn’t fill their father’s shoes? That he was nowhere near as strong? Nowhere near as capable?

  Isobel pinched him and hissed, “You’ve got that look on your face again.”

  The one that betrayed that he was in over his head with no clue what the fuck to do.

  Lucifer had eons to hone this machine, to practice and rule over Hell. Chris didn’t even get an instruction manual, and the longer he remained in the Pit, the less he knew. The more he felt his sanity slipping.

  It didn’t help that he’d tried to call for his mother, caving to the need for help, only to have her ignore his call.

  Nothing worse than standing in front of a mirror and saying, “Mother? Mommy? Mum. Fucking cunt that birthed me,” and not having a single whisper back.

  Abandoned. Again. But this time, the stakes were much higher.

  “Why don’t you show us where you can portal us out?” Isobel said.

  “We just need to get outside the castle walls.” Muriel spun and left the office.

  Isobel’s fingers wrapped tightly around his as they followed his sister through the courtyard, Goshen trailing at their heels. They were only halfway across when he heard the dreaded cry.

  “My lord. Stop.”

  “Run!” He gave Isobel a shove. “Save yourself.” Alfred had caught them. So much for an easy escape.

  “I’m not going without you.” His staunchest ally planted herself by his side.

  Dammit. She could have left and maybe found a way to come back for him.

  But, no, she just had to love him too much. Chris sighed as he whirled around, only to blink as Muriel screamed. “Polkie!”

  His sister then broke into a very un-princess-like run. She grabbed hold of Alfred and swung him around. The top of his bald, spotted head turned an interesting shade of purple.

  “Mistress Satana. Delightful to see you,” Alfred sputtered.

  “And you,” she exclaimed. “You’re looking fit. Chris must be keeping you busy.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Polkie is happiest when he’s got lots of work to do. I used to do my best to make sure he had plenty.”

  “No one has ever managed to match your antics. You truly had a gift for pranks.” Said with a fond smile, which, for the uninitiated, had too many pointed teeth.

  “I don’t suppose I can tear you away from the castle to come to a party. It’s for Lucinda. And before you say it, I know she’s not even technically a year old, but given Lilith made her grow up too fast, we thought it only right that we try and give her some of the things she missed.”

  “I wish I could, mistress. However, my workload is much too great.” Alfred’s gaze swung toward Chris. The king pretended interest in the ashy skyline, which he still didn’t understand. There was no actual sun, and yet Hell did lighten and darken, keeping a pattern of day and night.

  Night being a time not recommended for the less violent souls in the Pit. Being somewhat fleshy and edible, he and Isobel didn’t venture forth from their rooms during that time.

  Muriel kissed Alfred’s head. “One of these days, Polkie, I’m going to drag you out for a few hours of nothing but fun.”

  His face wrinkled. “I do wish you wouldn’t. There are those waiting for me to lapse so they might steal my prestigious spot.”

  “If anyone dares, I’ll skewer them myself,” she said. “I wish I could stay and chat, but I’ve got to get back to Lucinda. I left Bambi in charge of dressing her, which means Auric will probably blow a gasket. He has no sense of style.”

  “We can’t have your consort hurting himself. Not now with the end of times coming,” Alfred announced.

  “The end of times had better wait until after the cake.” Muriel scowled. “Lucinda will have a meltdown if someone ruins it. We’d better get moving.” Said to Chris.

  Alfred noticed and cleared his throat. “Um, my lord.”

  Before his servant could start lecturing him again about his duties, Chris barked, “I’m going, Alfred, and that’s final.”

  “Of course, you must, my lord. She is your niece. But you forgot the gift.” Alfred held out his webbed hand. In it was a tiny box.

  Isobel was the one to reach out and snatch it. “Thanks, er, Polkie?” she replied on a querying note, testing out the name. “See ya later.”

  They continued on their way, out the gate where Muriel sketched a portal. Chris kept expecting someone to tell him he couldn’t go. But no one stopped them, and a moment later, they were back on Earth.

  Sweet fucking Earth. Chris hit the ground and pressed his lips to it, murmuring, “I missed you.”

  Freaky thing was, he got a reply.

  “Missed you too, my son. See you soon.”

  Shit.

  20

  Putting the finishing touches on her niece’s makeup, Bambi stepped back and smiled. “Don’t you look darling, lambkin.”

  “She looks like she’s ready to go clubbing,” grumbled Auric as he entered his daughter’s room—also nicknamed the pink monstrosity. “You do realize she’s a child.”

  “And?” Perusing Lucinda’s face, Bambi couldn’t see what his problem was. “I used pink for her lips and, look, mascara this time instead of fake lashes.”

  “Did it ever occur to you to just put her hair in braids and not put any makeup on her at all?”

  At his complaint, Lucinda giggled. “Oh, Daddy. You’re silly. Don’t I look pretty?”

  At the dulcet, lisped query, his face softened. “You are always beautiful, baby girl.” He held out his arms, and she hopped into them. “Are you ready for your party?”

  “Un-huh.” She nodded her head. “I wanna dance. Auntie Bambi says she’s gonna
teach me to twerk.”

  He glared over her head. “Auntie Bambi is going to keep her moves to rated G, as in good for all audiences.”

  “Such a spoilsport.” But Bambi laughed. While she did love to tease Auric, she would never do anything to ruin her niece’s innocence. No one dared, not when they all knew the power potential encased in her little body. The sweeter and kinder they taught her to be, the better it would be for everyone in the long run.

  She followed Auric as he carried his daughter downstairs, patiently answering her thousand and one questions.

  “Did Mommy make a cake?”

  Less make, more like catered. “She did.”

  “And we have ba-woons?” Said with an adorable accent.

  “Yes, David got you balloons.”

  “And a tent for Uncle T?”

  “The tent is up.” A thick canvas affair that meant Teivel, Muriel’s vampire mate, could also be present for the barbecue.

  “Wait until you see the piñata David bought.” Auric snickered, and with good reason. They’d commissioned a plaster of Ursula that they’d all get to whack with a stick.

  “Tristan”—Muriel’s merman consort, because her sister had four, yes four men to satisfy her—“made sure the pool is nice and warm. Wait until you show Daddy your new swimsuit.” Bambi winked, and Lucinda giggled when Auric growled.

  Overprotective daddies were so awesome. Not something Bambi knew firsthand, but she did so enjoy her clients who liked to role-play.

  “Mommy says Uncle Christopher is coming, too.”

  “Because Mommy is nuts,” Auric mumbled. He wasn’t crazy about the Antichrist being invited to his daughter’s party, especially with all the shit happening in the world.

  An army of the dead gathered on the mortal plane. One led by Christopher’s mother. To what purpose, no one yet knew. But at least she’d finally called back her horsemen to act as generals for her troops.

  However, the fact that she no longer sowed death and discord didn’t reassure. What did she plan to do with all those dead soldiers? Where were they? Because, somehow, Morgana had managed to hide them with her magic.