Hell and Back

by Patricia Blackmoor

  “But you had to work,” I said. “How could you have changed that?”

  It took him a long time to respond. “I would have made the deal earlier.”

  “What?”

  “I would have made the deal as soon as my parents died instead of spending a year working myself to the bone. I would have taken a little less money and still have died at the same time, or right when my sister was old enough to take care of my brothers. But I would have taken the deal sooner so that I could have spent more time with them when they needed me the very most.”

  I looked up at him, my mouth dropped open. “You would have still taken the deal?”

  “Like you said, I didn’t have a choice.”

  I shook my head. “That’s so not fair. So not fair.”

  He gave me a small smile. “See? A bad person wouldn’t have said that.”

  “Any smart person would think that way!”

  “You’d think so,” he said with a sigh.

  We were quiet for several beats.

  “Do you think you can try to sit up?” he asked me.

  “I can try.”

  He put his hands behind me, gently pushing me until I was seated on the ground in front of him. Slowly I turned around so I was facing him. I took both his hands in mine.

  “We need to get out of here,” I told him. “Somehow, some way, we need to get out of here. You need to be able to see your brothers and sister.”

  He shook his head. “They’re okay without me. I set them up with money. They won’t hurt for a long time. My appearance, my presence, it will only be more painful.”

  I couldn’t lose him as an ally. There was no way I was going to get out of here without his help. “But don’t you want to make sure? To see them one last time? To say goodbye?”

  “I said my goodbyes. Remember, unlike you, I knew when I was going to die,” he said, his green eyes soft.

  “I know, I know,” I said with a sigh. “But...Parker, we have to get out of here.” I clutched at his hands, pain radiating up my arms. I ignored it.

  “I know we do.”

  I paused. “You do?”

  He looked down at our hands, still intertwined, then back at me. “We have to, because you want to. You need to. And that’s enough for me.”

  “Really?”

  “And there’s a slightly more selfish reason,” he admitted.

  I frowned. “What’s that?”

  His eyes flickered away from mine, looking over at the glowing pit. “I can’t watch you be tortured again.”

  He met my eyes once more, and I swallowed, seeing them so full of pain, a raw pain, a pain that pierced my heart.

  “It’s worse than torture,” he said.

  I looked at him for a long moment before pulling my hands away from his. He frowned. “I’m sorry, that was inapp—”

  I didn’t let him finish. My hands clasped his face, pulling him close to me, our lips meeting. They crashed together, frantic, desperate for touch, a connection. But after a moment, our kiss deepened and slowed, more tender, sweet. When was the last time I had been kissed like that? Even when I was alive, my kisses with any of my boyfriends hadn’t been like this. Perhaps it was the desperation, perhaps it was because it had been such a long time since I had been kissed, but my kiss with Parker, sitting on the ground in hell, was the best kiss I’d ever had, dead or alive.

  When we pulled apart, I saw Parker swallow. “Meg, I—”

  He was cut off by a voice calling for him. “Parker? Parker, where are you?”

  “Shit,” Parker said.

  “I’m guessing our vacation is over.”

  “We’ve got to get you back in your cell. I’m so sorry.”

  “No, I get it,” I said. I was still in pain, but my heart was lighter than it had been since I arrived. Together we stood up, and Parker resumed his hand on my arm, back into the pattern of guard and guarded. We stepped out of the shadows, and he pulled me across to my cell. I followed along right behind him, pretending to be resisting, but in reality, I was complying. I didn’t want Parker to get in trouble.

  “Parker, where have you been?” asked the same voice from earlier, a broad man with a military haircut.

  “Sorry,” Parker said, nodding at me, “this one was having trouble walking.”

  “Always the women,” the man said, and I bit my tongue, reminding myself not to get Parker in trouble.

  “I’ll be right there,” Parker promised, and the man shrugged and walked away.

  We arrived at my cell. After such a long time out in the open, the cell looked even more dark and cramped. I sighed and moved to step aside when Parker grabbed me and pulled me in, our lips meeting once more. I closed my eyes, cherishing the last bit of contact, before we pulled apart.

  Parker pulled the cell door shut and locked it, his hands lingering on the bars. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said.

  “Okay,” I told him. “Be careful.”

  “I will.” He began to walk away, then paused, turning back.

  “I’ll find us a way out, Meg. I promise.”

  Chapter Eight

  We didn’t talk about the kisses. What was there to talk about, really? It couldn’t happen again, not unless I was being dragged to or from torture, and that sort of took the romance and the spark out of it. Besides, I was taken. Sort of. Or I used to be. My mind flashed to Mitchell and I tensed. Was it cheating, being with Parker in this alternate reality? If I knew I’d never see Mitchell again? If I were dead?

  I lay flat on my back in the cell of the prison, knees up, arms laced over my stomach. It was my default position now, the most comfortable, and the way I always lay down when I was thinking. And since I had all the time in the world to think, it was what I was doing most often.

  That was another torture of hell. I spent most of the time thinking about my regrets, things I would have done differently had I still been alive. Reconciliations, bridges mended or burned, depending on the circumstance.

  And sometimes, when I was out of regrets and could-have-beens, my thoughts turned to Parker. He sat outside my cell often, my only company in this lonely place. I think, for the most part, I was his only company as well.

  I found myself longing for his touch, his kiss, his lips on mine, hands wrapped around my body. Any physical touch would have been a blessing, but in this place, touch was akin to torture. You couldn’t have one without the other. It was the trap of being here. They made you long for touch, no matter how petty. They made you trade your health, well-being for it. If you wanted to be touched, you had to be tortured. You were left craving touch so badly that you were willing to face unending pain in exchange for it.

  “Hey,” Parker said, crossing to sit down beside the bars of my cell.

  “Oh, hi,” I said, pulling myself to a seated position so I could face him. “I’m all right.”

  “Feeling any better?”

  “The pain seems to have faded, for the most part,” I said, rolling my shoulders back.

  “I’m glad. It can take a long time to recover for some people.”

  “I’ve had some help,” I said, looking at him with a smile.

  He looked at my hands for a moment, like he wanted to take them, but instead he let his rest in his lap. “I’m glad that even in this hell hole, I can make you feel a little bit better.”

  “You’re the only thing in this place that does,” I told him. “I look forward to your visits.”

  I expected his eyes to soften, the way they did when I complimented him, or for him to break into a smile, but he did neither. Instead, his forehead crinkled and he pressed his lips together.

  “What’s wrong? What is it?” I asked.

  “I’ve been given an opportunity,” he said slowly.

  “Okay?”

  “They want to train me to become a...well, a salesperson, essentially.”

  “You never struck me as the sales type.”

  “They want me to train to go to Earth to make deals.
”

  I tilted my head. “You mean, like the deal you made that got you here?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I thought they had demons for that sort of thing.”

  “They’re running out,” he said with a shrug. “They’ve had to move demons from sales to torture to keep up with demand, and so they’re using people like me, people who have made deals, to take their place.”

  “I see.”

  “You don’t approve.”

  I glanced at him. “Is my approval necessary?

  “It’s appreciated.”

  I paused, trying to gather my thoughts and find the right words. “Well, a deal is what brought you here. Do you really want to put that on someone else? Do you really want someone else to come here because you sold them hopes and dreams?”

  “That’s fair,” he said. “That’s absolutely fair. But…”

  “There’s something you’re not telling me,” I said.

  “The ones that make the deals, they get to go to Earth. They get out of here.”

  I nodded.

  He continued. “If I do this, I’ll learn how they do it. How they get to Earth.”

  “They don’t just snap their fingers and they’re there?”

  He shook his head. “Doesn’t quite work like that,” he said. “I know they get there somehow, but I don’t know how, yet. I thought that if I did this, if I become one of the ones who peddled deals, I could find out how they do it.”

  I looked at him for a moment. “Yeah. Then absolutely, do it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I grasped at the bars of the cell. “Parker, I would do anything to get out of here. Anything. Please.”

  He hesitated, pinching his lips together the way he did when he was thinking. “All right.”

  I leaned back on my heels. “We could actually get out of here.”

  “Please, don’t get your hopes up,” he begged. “I don’t know that anything will come of this.”

  “Of course,” I said, shaking my head. “Of course.”

  “If I do this, it means we spend more time apart.”

  I swallowed, flickering my eyes down at my lap. Perhaps that was a good thing. I shouldn’t be flirting, kissing, longing for another man. I had Mitchell. Although, the “had” was in the past tense. I didn’t have anything anymore.

  So, with nothing left, could I lose my one friend, my one companion, the only person in this place who I could talk to?

  I looked at him and he looked at me for a long time. I needed him to keep myself sane in this place. What would I do without him?

  His green eyes looked down at his lap. He needed to get out as much as I did. I had to get the money to Mitchell and Courtney, he needed to check on his siblings. Neither of us could put that part of our lives to rest until we had closure. This place would be a worse hell if we didn’t get that closure.

  I reached my hands out, as if I could grab his, but of course I couldn’t.

  “Do it,” I said. “Do it for us.”

  Parker had needed to leave to attend to other duties, but he returned later. Much later, although I wasn’t sure how much. Hours, maybe, if I’d had to guess. The lack of concrete time was messing with my head, and I felt like I was under a constant fog. Still, the moment I caught sight of him wandering my way, I grinned.

  “How’s it going?” he asked, sitting down, and I moved across my cell to sit beside him, though the bars kept us apart.

  “Well, you know. It’s hell,” I said, and he laughed.

  “Did you tell them?” I asked.

  He nodded. “I’ll be switching off between training and guarding until I’m all trained in. You’ll have a new guard.”

  “I’m guessing he won’t be as friendly as you.”

  “Probably not.”

  “Are there any perks to being one of their deal-makers?”

  He shrugged. “Pretty much the only perk is that I get to go back to Earth. They’ll still treat me as badly.”

  “Going to Earth must be a good incentive, then.”

  “For most of us, it is, if for nothing more than cooler temperatures and fresh air. I don’t think we’re allowed to just wander freely.”

  “How do they control that?”

  “I don’t know. I’m guessing that’s something I’ll find out at training.”

  “When do you start training?”

  Again, he shrugged. “Whenever they tell me. Not like they gave me a specific time.”

  I nodded.

  “So, I thought, since I could be pulled away at any second, I’d like to spend some time with you.”

  I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face. “That’s sweet.”

  “Well, normally,” he said, leaning against the stone, “this isn’t exactly what I’d do for a date.”

  I put my elbows on my knees and rested my head in my hands. “What would you normally do on a date?”

  He crinkled his eyes as he thought about it. “Depends on the day. Maybe a walk along a lake and dinner outdoors.”

  “That sounds nice.”

  “Or, if it were cold and rainy, a museum or movie.”

  “That sounds fun,” I said with a sigh. I didn’t realize how much I had taken those little things for granted anymore, a Sunday walk in the park, a Tuesday matinee.

  “Then what?” I asked.

  “Well, I’m a gentleman,” he said. “I’d walk you to your door, maybe give you a kiss.”

  I got up on my knees, hands grasping the bars. Had we been able to touch, I could have easily brushed a hand across his arm or thigh. “But what if it wasn’t our first date? What if we’d been dating for a while?”

  He considered. “Do I have someone at home watching my brothers?”

  “You do.”

  “Are your roommates home?”

  I put all thoughts of Mitchell out of my head. “They are.”

  He shifted his position so he was facing me, hands on the bars right where mine were. “Well, then,” he said, his voice low and husky, “I’d kiss you slowly outside first. Maybe we hadn’t planned on me coming in.”

  “But I just bought a new bottle of wine.”

  “And I don’t even like wine, but I like the invitation. So I accept, and we sit in your living room, and you go into the kitchen to get the bottle.”

  “I don’t have any wine glasses, so we drink from mugs.”

  Parker laughed. “Sure. We don’t drink much of the wine. You throw on an old movie…”

  “The Princess Bride.”

  “Perfect, because you know every line.”

  “And you tease me at first, but you really think it’s cute.”

  “I think it’s adorable. I put my arm around you, pulling me close.”

  My heart began to beat faster at the suggestion of the touch. God, I was desperate.

  “We haven’t even gotten to Buttercup’s kidnapping when I kiss you again,” Parker said, resting his head on the bars. “You pull me on top of you.”

  “But the couch is too small, so I suggest we move into my bedroom.” Mine and Mitchell’s bedroom. Shit. Ignore it.

  “We go into your bedroom and we’re still kissing, my hands around your waist.”

  “And mine around your neck.”

  “We shut the door behind us and stumble to the bed. I push up your shirt, kissing your stomach up to your chest.”

  “I arch my back, begging you for more.” My breathing was becoming ragged.

  “I help you out of your shirt and lean up to kiss you again.”

  “While we’re kissing, I tug your shirt off over your shoulders.”

  “We keep kissing—”

  “My hands grasp your back—”

  “Skin against skin—”

  “I can feel you against me—”

  “I kiss down to your chest, reaching around to undo your bra with one hand.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “You certainly are imaginative.” I let my voice drop. “I like it.”<
br />
  “You also like it when I brush my thumbs against your nipples. I can tell because of the way you moan.”

  Fuck, I was so turned on. How did he know how much I loved it when a guy touched me like that? And of course, this was hell, so there would be no relief.

  “Sometimes I wondered if you’re really a demon in disguise,” I breathed.

  I could see it in his eyes, a glint. He liked knowing he was turning me on like this, liked knowing he had this little bit of extra power over me, power he had probably never imagined. He leaned in close, almost whispering in my ear.

  “I kiss down your stomach to the waist of your pants. I hook my fingers in and pull them off with your panties, leaving you naked before me. I can see how wet you are. I nuzzle myself between your—”

  “Parker!”

  We both jumped and looked back to see a man standing there, arms crossed, looking at us.

  “Time for your training,” the man said.

  “Coming,” Parker called out as both of us scrambled to our feet. “I’ll see you later?”

  “Yeah,” I said, my breathing still heavy. “See you.”

  I watched as he walked away. I took a deep breath and sat back down, leaning against the wall of my cell.

  “Fuck.”

  Chapter Nine

  My name is Megan Anne Cross.

  I am twenty-six years old.

  My birthday is July fifth.

  My parents are Susan and Kenneth.

  I was born in Minneapolis.

  I sat on the floor of my cell, arms around my knees, whispering these things to myself. It was a trick my therapist had taught me in college, when I was out of my parents house and free to see a therapist if I wanted. Repeating facts about myself, true, verifiable facts, would help keep my grounded through anxiety or depression.

  I wasn’t sure if this qualified as either, but I certainly needed help staying grounded. I was struggling to find reality in this cell, and if I wasn’t careful, I was going to end up drawing on the walls in my own blood or something.

  My name is Megan Anne Cross.

  I am twenty-six years old.

  My birthday is July fifth.

  My parents are Susan and Kenneth.