by Julie Kenner
Really, this place was boring as shit most of the time.
Leaving the asshole behind, he threaded his way past the kind of horrors one would expect to find in a place where the evilest of evils lived, but the bodies, blood, and wrecked buildings didn’t even draw his eye. He’d seen it all in his thousands of years down here, and nothing could faze him.
Not even the hellhound crouched in the shadows of the gnarled thorn tree gave him pause. The beasts could cross the barrier between Sheoul-gra and Sheoul, and for the most part, Hades let them. He kind of had to, since their king, Cerberus, had taken it upon himself to be the self-appointed guardian of the underworld––specifically, Sheoul-gra. For some reason, hellhounds hated the dead and were one of the few species that could see them outside of Sheoul-gra. Inside Sheoul-gra, they got their rocks off by ripping people apart. As long as they limited their activities to the 3rd, 4th, and 5th Rings, where the worst of the demons lived, he didn’t give a crap what the fleabag hounds did.
Ahead, from inside the ruins of an ancient temple, came a chorus of chanting voices. Ich tun esay. Ich tun esay. Ich tun esay alet!
He frowned, recognizing the language as Sheoulic, but the dialect was unfamiliar, leaving some of the words open to interpretation. Somehow, Hades doubted his interpretation was correct and that the chanters were talking about opening a dime store.
He tracked the sound, and as he approached the reddish glow seeping through a doorway in the building ahead, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. What the hell? He hadn’t been creeped out or afraid of anything in centuries. Many centuries.
Ich tun esay. Ich tun esay. Ich tun esay alet...blodflesh!
What. The. Fuck.
Something screamed, a soul-deep, tortured sound that made Hades’s flesh crawl. Something was very, very wrong.
Kicking himself into high gear, Hades sprinted into the fire-lit, cavernous room...and then he skidded to a halt, his boots slipping in pools of blood on the stone floor. A hundred demons from dozens of species were gathered around a giant iron pot hanging over a fire. Inside the pot, a Neethul demon’s screams died as his body bubbled in some sort of acidic liquid.
“Stop!” Hades didn’t give a shit about the demon. What he did give a shit about was the ritual. In Sheoul-gra, all rituals were forbidden and came with a penalty of having one’s soul disintegrated, so they didn’t happen often. Oh, Hades had come across one or two loners performing religious rituals now and then, but this kind of massive gathering and ceremony? This was a first.
And, by Azagoth’s balls, it would be the last.
The mass of chanting demons turned as a unit, their creepy smiles and empty eyes filling him with a sickening sense of doom. Alarm shot through him, and in an instant, he summoned his power and prepared to blast every one of these freaks into the Rot, the prison meant for the worst of the worst, where suffering was more than legend, and where the only release came when Azagoth destroyed your soul.
With a word, he released his power. At the same moment, one of the demons overturned the pot of acid. The liquid, mixed with the goo of the dissolved Neethul, splashed on the floor in a whoosh of steam. Suddenly, as if Hades’s power had hit an invisible wall, it bounced back at him, wrapping him in a cocoon of blackness.
As he was transported by his own spell to the prison all demons feared, he heard the chant again. Ich tun esay alet!
Oh...shit. This time, he understood.
The demons weren’t trying to open a dime store. Somehow they’d acquired a forbidden object or person of power and were attempting to open Sheoul-gra’s very walls, to allow millions of souls out into the human and demon realms.
They were looking to feast.
Chapter Three
Hades had no trouble freeing himself from the Rot, although he’d had a hell of a time trying to convince one of the guards, a fallen angel named Vype, that he wasn’t a demon in disguise.
Once he’d talked the guy down, Hades gathered a handful of his fallen angel staff and returned to the site of the demonic ritual. Within a few hours, they’d captured two of the demons who had been there. They’d changed their physical appearances, but Hades could see through their costumes to their souls. Idiots.
After delivering them to the Rot, he went immediately to Azagoth, who was surveying his library’s vast shelves of books, some of which vibrated as his gaze landed on them. Hades hung back, a lesson learned after being bitten by one of Azagoth’s rabid tomes. Who knew books could bite? Vicious little bastards.
Hades cleared his throat to announce his presence. Azagoth didn’t even turn around, simply barked out a curt, “Sit.”
The Grim Reaper’s voice didn’t leave room for argument. But then, it rarely did. So Hades took a seat in the leather chair...leather made from the finest Molegra demon hides.
Azagoth took a seat on the plush sofa across from Hades and reached for a tattered book on the armrest. “So,” he said. “What’s going on in the 5th Ring?”
Hades didn’t bother asking how Azagoth knew. No doubt one or more of Hades’s wardens were agents for Azagoth. The guy’s spy network extended from the deepest pits of Sheoul to the highest reaches of Heaven.
“Hell if I know,” Hades said. “But whatever it is, it’s bad. I caught a bunch of assholes performing a forbidden ritual powerful enough to deflect my power and blast me to my own fucking prison.”
One of Azagoth’s dark eyebrows shot up. “I assume you took care of the situation.”
“Once I got myself out of my own jail, yeah. I only found two of the offenders, but I’ve got ’em strung up and awaiting your questioning. I believe they got their hands on something from outside. The power they wielded was like nothing else I’ve felt.”
“Dammit,” Azagoth breathed. “You’re losing control––”
“My ass,” Hades snapped. “The Gra is becoming overloaded with evil souls. You need to stop reincarnating only non-evil demons and start working on the baddies. Get them back to Sheoul where they belong. I’ve been spending way too much time moving Ufelskala Tier 4 and 5 demons to Rings less equipped to handle that kind of malevolence.”
The Ufelskala, a scale developed to categorize demons into five Tiers based on the intensity of evil inherent to their species, was also one of the tools Azagoth used to sort demons into the five Rings of the Inner Sanctum. Not that the guy couldn’t send anyone to any Ring he wanted, but in general, he followed the information laid out in the Ufelskala.
“The 1st and 2nd Rings are clearing out,” Azagoth said. “As per Revenant’s orders, I’m reincarnating a lot of the non-evil demons on those levels. So do some creative reassigning.”
Not only would that be a lot of work, but it would require bringing in more fallen angels to oversee Rings that were going to contain a lot more evil demons, and no fallen angel volunteered to work in the Inner Sanctum. Not when they weren’t allowed to leave and their powers were limited. They’d have to be...recruited. By force.
“Sir, this is bullshit,” Hades growled. “What the everloving fuck is Hell’s new overlord doing?”
Azagoth flipped open the book. “That’s not for you to question.”
Hades burst to his feet. “My hot ass,” he snapped. “I never thought I’d say this, but at least Satan kept order and balance in Sheoul. This new douchebag––”
Burning pain ripped through him, and only belatedly did he realize that he’d been struck by a bolt of hellfire that had streamed directly from Azagoth’s fingers.
“Here’s the thing,” Azagoth said calmly. “Satan didn’t give a shit what anyone said about him. But Revenant? He’s putting down everyone who speaks out against him. Hell, he’s laying out anyone he even suspects might rebel.”
“That’s because he’s a paranoid fool. Learning his true identity has made him weak.” Apparently, Revenant had grown up in Sheoul believing he was a fallen angel, when the truth was that he had always been a Heavenly angel. How could a true angel, no matter how tarnished his
halo, expect to be ruthless enough to rule Hell?
“And yet, he managed to defeat and imprison not only Satan, but Lucifer, Gethel, and the archangel Raphael as well.” Azagoth snapped the book closed with a heavy thud. “Respect him.”
“He couldn’t have done it without help from his brother,” Hades muttered.
“Maybe not. But keep in mind that he and his brother have each other’s backs. Don’t piss off either one of them. Together they are far more dangerous than Satan ever was.”
Hades actually liked Revenant’s brother, Reaver, who happened to be one of the most powerful Heavenly angels to ever exist. Reaver had spent a little time in the Inner Sanctum as Azagoth and Hades’s prisoner, and really, even when the guy had been in pain, he’d been pretty cool.
But Revenant could suck Hades’s balls.
The thought of having his balls sucked made an image of Cat flash in his head, which, granted, was way better than thinking of Revenant. But still, off-limits was off-limits. Dammit.
“Yeah, whatever,” Hades said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Ever since Rev took over as King of Hell, the Inner Sanctum has been a war zone.”
“Which is, in part, because he requested that I only reincarnate Ufelskala Tier one and two demons.”
“And the result of that idiotic order is that my domain is filling up with majorly evil fuckheads who only want to cause trouble.”
Azagoth’s dark eyes flashed as his patience with Hades wore thin. But then, he’d never had much patience to begin with. “Deal with it. Now. Your rebellions are leaking over into my part of Sheoul-gra, and the archangels are starting to get twitchy.”
“The archangels are starting to get twitchy? I’m the one trapped down there with demons who are desperate to get out.”
“Then keep it from happening.”
Keep it from happening? As if Hades had just been laying around on a beach and drinking margaritas while the Inner Sanctum went up in flames? “What the fuck do you think I’ve been doing for thousands of years?”
There was a long, brittle silence, and then Azagoth’s voice went low. And maybe a little judgmental. “There have been escapes.”
“Very few, and never more than one at a time. And come on...there were special circumstances in each case.” No demon could escape on his own, not when demons had no power in Sheoul-gra. Escape required energy or objects from an outside source, which was why visitors were very rarely allowed inside the Inner Sanctum. A single feather from an angel could be used in spells to destroy barriers or kill a target. One seemingly harmless vampire fang had once given a Neethul the power to reincarnate himself without Azagoth’s help.
“Still, you must be extra vigilant.” Azagoth dragged his hand through his black hair, looking suddenly tired. Good. Hades shouldn’t be carrying the stress of all of this by himself. “I’ve never seen Sheoul so unstable.”
Vigilant. Vigilant, he’d said. As if Hades was a total noob at this. But instead of saying that, he merely gritted his teeth and offered a tense smile. “Yes, sir. Anything you say, sir.”
“Good. Now get out. And do not fail me again.”
* * * *
Somewhere outside Azagoth’s Greek-style mansion, a bird of prey screeched. Cat loved hearing it. Not long ago, Sheoul-gra had been a dead realm, a physical manifestation of Azagoth’s emotional state. Dark and dreary, the “Gra,” as it was sometimes called, had resembled a toxic wasteland that couldn’t support any animal or plant life that wasn’t straight out of Hell itself.
But Lilliana’s love had changed Azagoth, and with it, his realm.
Now, when Cat strolled outside the palace, the grounds and buildings surrounding it teemed with life, from the lush grass, leafy green trees, and sparkling water, to rabbits, birds, and even the occasional fox or deer.
Smiling, she put down her feathered duster and headed from Azagoth’s pool room toward the mansion’s entrance, and as she rounded a corner, she collided with a body.
A huge, muscular body.
Hades.
An instant, hot tingle pricked her skin as she leaped backward, crashing into something behind her. She heard something break, but at the moment, it didn’t matter.
This was the first time she’d touched Hades. The first time her ability to sense good and evil as a physical symptom on the surface of her skin had triggered. At least, it was the first time with Hades.
She’d always suspected he’d give off an intense blast of evil, but she hadn’t expected the evil to be tempered by a ribbon of goodness. She also hadn’t expected to be so...aroused by the vibes he gave off. Then again, merely looking at him aroused her, so why wouldn’t touching him do the same?
He stood there, bare-chested and wearing a skin-tight pair of silver pants that showed every ropey muscle and presented that impressive bulge at his groin like a gift. Criminy, he might as well be naked. She wished he was naked.
“E-excuse me,” she squeaked.
He looked down at her, one corner of his perfect mouth tipped up in a half-smile. Which was a first. Everyone seemed to get smiles but her.
“You broke Seth.”
She blinked. “What?”
He nodded at something behind her. She turned and gasped in horror at the black, waxy hand lying on the floor and the now-handless statue next to it. “Oh, shit. Azagoth is going to be pissed.”
This was his Hall of Souls, a giant room filled with mounted skulls and fountains that ran with blood. It was also where people who did especially vile things––or who made Azagoth really angry––were turned into tortured statues. Inside, they were still alive, screaming for all eternity. And she’d just given one an amputation that must be agonizing.
She scrambled to replace the hand, but Hades just laughed. “Don’t worry about it. Seth was a demon who passed himself off as an Egyptian god back in the day. He tortured and killed thousands of children. He deserves worse than anything Azagoth or you could do to him.”
She stared at the statue, the naked body twisted in whatever agony Azagoth put him through before turning him to stone, his mouth open in a perpetual scream.
“Children?”
“Children.”
Sick bastard. She dropped the hand, grabbed Seth’s tiny penis, and snapped it off. “I hope he’s feeling that.”
Hades’s booming laughter echoed around the chamber, and she swore the crimson liquid in the center fountain stopped flowing for a heartbeat. “I’ll bet you just made every poor stiff in here fear you more than Azagoth. Awesome.”
She dropped the nasty appendage next to the hand. “Yeah, well, I’d probably better find some Superglue before he notices.”
Hades nudged the pieces with his boot. “I’ll take care of it. I’m the one who ran into you, and besides, I live for this kind of thing.”
The note of mischief that crept into his voice made her suspicious, and she narrowed her eyes at him. “What have you got up your sleeve? You know, if you had sleeves.”
“Don’t worry,” he said with impish delight, “I know what to do with a cock.” He shifted his gaze to her, giving her a roguish once-over that heated her skin even more than touching him had. “So, what’s got you in so much of a hurry? Hot date?”
Flustered, because this was the first time he’d spoken to her like she wasn’t diseased, she stood there like an idiot before finally blurting, “I heard a bird.”
He looked at her like she was daft. “And that’s significant...why?”
Heat flooded her face. She must be as red as a Sora demon’s butt. “They have wings.” Geez, could she sound any dumber? “I guess I miss mine.”
“If you miss them that much, you could just enter Sheoul.” Massive black, leathery wings sprouted from his back and stretched high enough to brush the ceiling. Blue veins that matched his hair extended from the tips to where they disappeared behind his shoulders, and now that his wings were visible, the veining appeared under his skin, as well. It was as if he were a marble statue come to
life.
Cat’s breath caught in her throat as she took in his magnificence. He’d transformed, and for the first time, she could see why the demons in the Inner Sanctum would kneel before him.
I’d kneel, she thought, but for far different reasons.
That image burned itself into her brain, and she wondered if her face went even redder. Then, to her horror, she found herself reaching out to skim her fingertips along the edges of his wings. He went taut, but her body did the exact opposite as shivery, wild sensations jolted her system and coiled between her thighs. Damn, this male was a danger to everything that made her female, and she stumbled back on unsteady legs.
“Sorry,” she whispered, hoping her voice didn’t betray her lust. “Like I said, I miss them. I want them back, but I want to get them by earning my way back to Heaven, and I can’t do that if I become a True Fallen.”
“Not joining me on the dark side, huh?” Now that she was no longer touching him, he’d relaxed, probably relieved that the crazy, horny Unfallen was keeping her hands to herself. Shrugging, he put away his wings, and the veins under his skin faded away. Good, because her fingers might have been all about his wings, but her tongue had wanted to trace every vibrant vein on his body. “Suit yourself. More evil cookies for me.”
Shooting her a wink, he sauntered off toward one of the portals that allowed travel between Sheoul-gra proper and the Inner Sanctum. Cat watched him––and his drool-worthy butt––until he disappeared around a corner.
Outside, the bird of prey screeched again, but now that she’d seen Hades’s wings, she wasn’t sure anything else could compare. As she contemplated her next move, she eyed the castrated statue and, unbidden, her mind popped an image of the bulge in Hades’s pants. She glanced down at the sad little male appendage on the floor and laughed.
Nope. No comparison.