Bad Boys of the Underworld Box Set

by Jacey Ward

  St. Peter stared at him as if he was slow.

  “No!” he snapped, shaking his head. “Edward does not recall who you are. He was but three years of age when he perished. You truly don’t know who has sacrificed this for you?”

  Nathaniel ignored the slight, his eyes growing wide as he realized of whom the angel spoke.

  “Cass.”

  “Yes. It was Cassiel. Do not disappoint him. For him to bring you here, he has agreed to a probation of one hundred years, during which time he can be judged for what you do. Trust me, I was against this. For I am certain you will be the cause of us losing a very worthy soul.”

  St. Peter glared at him and for the first time, Nathaniel felt a hot flush of shame.

  I cannot believe Cass would do such a thing for me. I have never given him reason to love me - or even like me.

  As if reading his thoughts, the guardian of the gate’s scowl deepened, and he waved his hand dismissively.

  “Now if you would please be gone from my sight, I have more souls to process today – all of them worthier than you. They do not deserve to be kept waiting.”

  __________________________

  “Hola, gringo. Quiere pissar?”

  Nath jolted out of his reverie as a young woman touched his arm. He stared at a face that had likely been stunning at one time, but now however, it looked beaten down. The prostitute was past her prime, but still attempting to get a few more miles out of her tired and well used body.

  “Habla espanol?” she asked suggestively, and he nodded. Her beam widened, and Nathaniel wondered if he could make this happen.

  “Quiere pissar conmigo?” she asked again, and Nathaniel nodded, licking his lips.

  He definitely did want to plow her. In two hundred years, he had only had his own hand during hidden, stolen moments in which he had always feared he was being watched.

  “Forty bucks,” she told him, trying to steer him toward an alleyway. But Nathaniel stopped in his tracks, for once analyzing the repercussions of giving in to his baser desires.

  He knew that whatever occurred on earth could not be held against him in heaven later, but that did not mean he was not being watched carefully.

  It took me a hundred years of pretending to be someone I am not, before they trusted me at all, over their beloved Cassiel. I cannot risk ruining their perception of me now.

  How uncertain his existence had become, how unfair.

  Even in the kingdom of heaven, he was not free, not able to have reckless intercourse with whomever he desired.

  “You may indulge in the act of fornication only in the name of love,” Michael had explained. “But never in the name of lust.”

  The idea of claiming one angel for eternity seemed infinitely boring and instead of falling into an even worse hell, Nathaniel had remained celibate, becoming ever more ambidextrous with the Palm Sisters.

  And increasingly frustrated.

  It was one of the reasons Michele had died.

  The stress had become too much.

  Heaven is my own private hell, he thought bitterly. How cruel a joke is that?

  Nathaniel shrugged his arm free of the clingy prostitue.

  “I am looking for my friend,” he told her in Spanish. “Can you help me find him?”

  The smile faded from her face and she sneered slightly.

  “No,” she replied angrily, spinning to leave.

  “I can pay you,” he called after her and she paused.

  “It will cost you one hundred,” she told him. “More if I have to lose business.”

  He nodded eagerly, reaching into the pocket of his blue pants to retrieve the fistful of cash he had in its depth.

  “I only require your assistance,” he assured her.

  If I keep her around long enough, I can bed her under the guise of romance, he thought happily.

  The erection in his pants was rubbing against the fabric and as he stared at her ample breasts, Nathaniel was sure he was going to pop a hole through his pants.

  “Como te llamas?” she asked, leading the way through the labyrinth of the city.

  “Nathaniel. Or Nath. ”

  “Soy Mari.”

  He did not care about her name.

  The only thing he wanted from the prostitute was what was between her legs.

  Chapter Four

  Cassiel

  His fascination was unparalleled, as he slid off the gurney and stepped toward her.

  She is the one, he realized. She is the one who will win me this wager.

  This had started all years earlier when some of the demons had met for their biweekly poker game at the brothel in the Sixth Circle.

  Cassiel loathed the game but it was required, especially by the worst offenders.

  If he had merely been merely a philanderer or thief, for example, he would have been exempted from cards, but murderers and fallen angels were certainly expected to be at Lucifer’s table.

  Although I am the only fallen angel known in Hell right now besides Lucifer himself.

  It was never a fair game of course, and whatever monies the demons had stolen or plundered through the week ended up squarely back in Lucifer’s pocket, where he would sit back and grin, an Armani clad foot atop his knee, looking as if he had somehow accomplished some miraculous feat by robbing the others of their pathetically stolen money.

  If one was unlucky enough to be without funds that week, he would be strung up on the eternity pole, where he was tortured until the next poker game. Hopefully, at that time, there would be some other poor soul strung up to take his place.

  The females had a baby shower on those eves, hosted by Jezebel, and were in for an equally horrific event from what Cassiel understood.

  The mere words “baby shower” sent a tremor of terror through him when he heard them. He could not imagine what eight to twelve hours of such an event would entail, and in the end, the women always emerged looking traumatized.

  Yet they never spoke of what happened.

  Cassiel was inherently relieved that he was not of the fairer sex on those days, although sometimes, he did believe they had it easier in the underworld.

  During battles between circles and in Lucifer’s cruel games, both physical and psychological, the females were in less danger.

  But of course there were other ways to torture the women.

  Cass had arrived at the burning table, glancing about for a spot where he would be less conspicuous.

  In all the time he had been a resident of Hell, Lucifer had totally ignored him. Cass wondered about this, as he was basically a celebrity of sorts in this realm. No one else had had the opportunity to live in Heaven, but blown it so cosmically that they were banished to Hell for the rest of time.

  It had taken him almost thirty years in Hell to accept what had been done to him and Cass knew no matter how much he hurt, there was no escape from the fate he had been dealt. Moira had spoken. He was doomed to live eternity in this hole, betrayed by his own brother, a man he had singlehandedly allowed into heaven.

  There had been no truckloads of resentment and bitterness to work through. But by far the worst, was a deep sense of loss, one which only grew deeper and more profound in the pits of the abyss.

  Love didn’t exist in the underworld, and any goodness seemed stripped out of him by the horrors which he faced.

  Death was no longer an escape, for it didn’t exist.

  There was only endless pain.

  “You seem lost,” a voice purred in his ear. “Why don’t you come sit near me?”

  Cassiel did not need to raise his head.

  He would have known who spoke even in his nightmares; had he been able to sleep in the sweltering heat of Hell.

  Lucifer stood beside him, sneering with too white teeth and a glitter in his black eyes.

  “You are Cassiel,” he said, guiding him toward the head of the table, licking his lips as if the realization made him happier than it should have.

  “Yes, Lord,” he m
uttered, unsure what title he was meant to use.

  It was not the proper one and Lucifer roared with laughter as he gestured for Cassiel to sit.

  “Lord?” he chuckled when he finally stopped chortling. “There are no Lords here. Michael has filled your ears with lies.”

  Everyone lied. Nothing could prepare us for this.

  “There are no Lords in Hades,” Lucifer continued. “Do you see any one being worth more than another in this forsaken place?”

  Cassiel looked at his hands, sensing a trick in the question.

  “I asked you a question, fallen angel!” he roared, and Cass looked up, shaking his head.

  “Not any of the peons, of course. How exactly would you want to be addressed then?” he asked with a calm exterior, although on the inside, Cass couldn’t deny he was nervous. He had made out very well for himself in this desolate landscape, with the status and intelligence he had. It was never comfortable, and he missed Earth with every beat of his heart, but he had been happy to fly under the radar for all these years, only hearing stories of the high demon’s penchant for torture, but never experiencing it himself.

  Lucifer grunted.

  “Firstly, cease calling me Lord, or I will string you up on the pole.”

  Cassiel cast him a contemplative glance.

  “What should I call you…?” he asked, willing himself not to challenge the demon by saying “‘Asshat’, perhaps?”

  Satan cocked his horned head to the side and examined him closely.

  Suddenly, he lowered his voice and leaned in, his inky eyes darting around the room to look around, as if he feared being overheard.

  “You alone may call me Lucky.”

  Cass was certain he had misheard, but when the high Demon sat back, Cassiel saw an eagerness in his face which both terrified and confused him.

  He seemed like a small, evil child, rubbing his hands together with glee.

  “Lucky?” he choked, and Lucifer nodded.

  “It has a nice sound to it, doesn’t it? Anyway, we are lucky, you and I, Cass – may I call you Cass?”

  The conversation was taking a surreal turn, but he had no choice but agree, sensing a grave danger which lurked beyond the demon’s words.

  After all, it was Satan with whom he spoke.

  “Yes…Lucky,” Cass hesitated, deciding it was wise to humor the old guy.

  It was not God’s fault his brother had betrayed him.

  As if reading his mind, Satan chuckled.

  “You believe that God is without fault, but you’re nothing more than a trained monkey. If nothing else, Hell allows you to be the true you, the man you could not be in life. Here you are encouraged to follow your primitive desires and act, not suppress them in hopes that your soul will be saved. You already know that you are beyond redemption now.”

  Cassiel had to admit that he had a point and that night, Lucifer’s words rolled around in his head.

  In the following weeks, the ruler seemed to seek him out and they began to discuss the virtues of theology.

  “Do you long to return to Heaven?” he asked, licking the blood of a live chicken from his fingers.

  It had always seemed incredible to Cassiel that animals made it into Hell.

  What could they have possibly done to warrant such a ruthless eternity? He wondered but it was a question for another time.

  “No,” Cassiel answered truthfully. “Not any longer.”

  “Is it because you know you cannot?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “Mostly…”

  Lucifer laughed as if he knew the answer.

  Over time, Cassiel began to see the truth in the devil’s words, and the fear he had once had of the man turned to grudging respect.

  One evening, Lucky took Cassiel on a private walk through the immaculately kept grounds of his estate.

  Lava fountains flowed from the mouths of nymphs while the hydra yipped through the yard playfully.

  “You are not alone, Cassiel, but you and I, we are not like the others. We have tasted the glory of Heaven. We have walked the streets paved in gold, heard the harps and met Him firsthand. The loss is more bitter than anything we have ever known. You are more resilient than I. It took me hundreds of years, but I too have been resigned to my fate. And now we must do what we must, embracing the hand which we have been dealt.”

  “At what cost?” Cassiel asked and as the words left his mouth, he wondered why he had asked them. A debate with Lucky could not be won.

  “What else could you wish for, Cassiel?” Lucky chuckled. “We are all the feral beasts we were born to be. Nothing separates us from the animals, no matter what Michael and God have told you.”

  Cass knew what it was he wanted, but it would be years before he admitted it to the demon.

  And so, he kept silent for several years.

  The fateful day had come at the poker game, Cassiel at his usual spot at Satan’s side.

  He had become somewhat of an advisor to the ruler, but in what capacity, Cass could not say.

  All Cassiel knew was that Lucky was the closest thing to a friend he had in the fiery pits, bizarre as it seemed - not just to him, but everyone else too.

  He was both an object of pity and envy, for no one wanted to be so close to the sadistic devil, but they vied to know which favors could be curried in such a position.

  In the beginning, Cass had tried to warn himself of the repercussions of befriending the beast, no matter how innocuous their conversations seemed.

  He could not shake the sensation that Lucifer had a dark plan brewing in the depth of his scheming mind. But as the years passed by, there was no mention of anything untoward and slowly, Cassiel began to lower his guard.

  Until three weeks ago.

  “Tonight,” Lucky announced, jumping atop the flaming table, tossing the decks of cards randomly into the air. “Tonight, we do not play poker. Instead, we take wagers.”

  There was a wave of begrudging groans as the men began to fork over their weekly earnings, but Lucky held up his hand.

  “Now where is your sense of adventure?” he demanded mockingly. “What do you take me for, simply assuming your wages? No, we will have a bet, one on one. Who would like to start?”

  Of course there were no volunteers, and Cassiel felt himself grow alarmed as Lucky’s ebony eyes rested upon him.

  “My dear Cass,” he declared. “You and I will begin this game, shall we?”

  “As you wish,” Cassiel sighed, wondering if the devil ever got bored of his own antics. “What are the rules?”

  Not that it much mattered. It was clear that Lucifer would win as he always did, but Cassiel knew better than to fight at this point. He only wished for the game to be done so he could step back and continue his pseudo-life.

  “You must tell me your deepest desire,” Lucky explained. “And if it is in my power, I will make you a wager to ensure it is done. But if you lose, the consequences will be dire.”

  Cassiel stared at him.

  Unrest flittered through the crowd, each one knowing that the game was rigged. But what choice did they have but to indulge him.

  “Lucky, you may as well take what you desire,” Cass sighed. “There is no need for theatrics.”

  Lucifer’s eyes bored into him.

  “If you play by the rules, I will also,” he purred. “On my word.”

  Cassiel stared at him, mouth parting slightly as he tried to gauge his opponent.

  Your word is caca, he thought. Lucky scowled and Cass knew he had read his mind but that did not worry him.

  Their relationship had reached a much deeper point than anyone could have ever anticipated.

  Should I go through with this?

  Cass knew it did not matter what he did; Lucky always won. It would be in his best interest to indulge the demon’s whims. Minimally, it would take his attention from the others; if only for a time.

  When did I learn to feel responsible for every murderer, thief and sinner in Hell? Cassiel wond
ered.

  If Nathaniel still resides in Heaven, who is to say that these men are also not deserving of a place? I am not the one to judge, he thought sardonically. But then, apparently, no one is there to judge except a God who sees nothing.

  “Tell me what you crave, Cassiel,” Lucifer said, his eyes narrowing. “Tell me what you wish for and I will ensure you have it – if you are able to do it my way.”

  “I want love,” Cassiel blurted out, and the others laughed hard hysterically.

  All but Lucifer, who held up a hand to silence them.

  “Love?” he echoed, the word seeming to roll about on his tongue, as if it soured him to speak.

  “Never mind,” Cassiel said quickly, wishing he could recant his blurt. “I would like – “

  “No! You shall have love,” he interrupted slowly. “But here are the rules…”

  Cassiel gaped at him, waiting to hear the beast’s convoluted rules, while reminding himself that it was not real. It could not be. The devil always won without someone on the ‘good side’ watching out for them.

  But he could sure as hell hope, and as he listened, his faith grew a bit stronger.

  It was the closest thing to hope he had felt in decades.

  “You will have one month on earthly ground,” Lucky began, falling back against his throne to make a steeple of his hands as his mind worked furiously. “You may go with your demonic powers, but you may not use them to influence the mind of your chosen.”

  “Cassiel must use his charms without manipulation?” someone in the chamber called. “A sheep has a better chance for seduction!”

  There was a roar of laughter and a sudden explosion as Satan cast the chortling group to flames.

  When the screams subsided, and they reappeared, charred and shaken, he continued.

  “One month and she must be in love with you and you alone.”

  “You will permit me to return to earth?” Cassiel gasped. “For a month?”

  “If you should find this love,” the devil pressed on, ignoring his question. “You will remain there as an immortal soul with this true love. She will also be granted immortality. But if you should fail…”