by K L Rymer
The vampire tosses the magazine and grabs my shoulders. “Bryn... calm down...”
I stare into her mesmerizing eyes. It’s like a spell has been cast over me, and I realize this is one of Angie’s powers. It must be how she placates her victims before she sucks their life’s blood away.
Fuck... where was this beautiful bitch when I had my millions of panic attacks at High School?
“Breathe in.”
I do as she says, taking a long, sharp breath.
“Now breathe out.”
I release all the air again, looking up at her gratefully. “Thank you, Angie. You really are a goddess.”
She smirks with those perfect lips of hers then settles back onto her bed, picking up that magazine. “You bet I am.”
We let the conversation drop, waiting for the next hour to pass until we can have dinner with the Devil.
Dinner with the Devil...
There’s a sentence I never thought I’d say.
...
The waiters serve us food as we all join Damien’s father at a long, mahogany table. We have roast duck, chicken, rabbit, venison, and even lobster, it’s just ridiculous.
Our cutlery is real silver and our glasses genuine crystal. If I’d known Damien had come from such riches, I never would have turned him down the first day.
Not that the sexy demon had ever shown that kind of interest in me; I guess I’m just not the kind of heroine that every male character falls in love with. Oh well.
Speaking of the devil (not the real one, his son), he currently sits on his father’s right-hand side at the corner of the table, and the two couldn’t be any more different.
How do I even begin to explain the Devil? I was right about one thing. He truly is tall, dark, and handsome.
He has slicked-back hair and wears a crisp, black business suit. He’s clean and groomed to perfection. If it weren’t for the big ass flaming horns sprouting from his skull, I’d even go as far as to say he was fuckable.
Why am I surprised? Satan or Lucifer (depending on which one you prefer) truly is sexy. Not that I was ever religious, but you can see now why people give in to temptation if he’s the one whispering sweet nothings into their ear.
His burning eyes find mine, and a devilish smirk flashes across his face. His teeth are dangerously white.
I turn away, red-hot.
Shit. I bet he can hear my thoughts.
“So, how is the daughter of Merlin enjoying her stay in Hell?”
“Father, it’s Myrddin,” Damien corrects, popping a fork into his mouth. “The old man hasn’t gone by that name in centuries. I keep telling you that.”
The dashing man waves at his unkempt son. “But Merlin’s so much more... traditional...” He sips his wine, keeping his scarlet gaze on me.
He barely pays anyone else any attention. I sit between Angelina and Zahara while Thomas, Jack, and Nora sit across from us. Felicity shivers beside Damien, but the seat on the Devil’s left-hand side is surprisingly empty.
Zahara occupies the chair just beside the vacant one. She’s the only one of us who shows no fear. The Unseelie seems to be in her element as she plows her way through the wine.
“Do you know there are legends that claim that I’d fathered the famous wizard? I’m sure you’ve heard those stories, Daughter of Merlin.”
I don’t take my eyes off my roast chicken. What’s he trying to get at? Is he about to announce that he’s my grandfather or something? That Damien is my uncle and Felicity my soon to be auntie?
The little pixie just won’t stop shivering. She hasn’t even touched her food. She’s scared out of her mind. The poor thing.
Damien was right about one thing—Hell definitely is no place for pixies. She screams in the middle of the night from nightmares, and it just breaks your heart.
Lucky her demon beau is on hand to make her feel safe again.
He truly does love her; he even cuts her nut roast for her so she doesn’t choke. So sweet. The pixie doesn’t eat meat. Never has. She grew up with animals in the Enchanted Forest. It goes against her nature.
“Felicity, eat,” the demon orders, picking up a fork as he waves her food in front of her.
She squeezes her eyes, shaking her head.
I don’t know what she has to be so worried about. The Devil simply adores her; he did the moment he met her, but the pixie is still afraid.
The Devil sighs, reaching across to pat her hand. “Fear not, sweet little pixie. I promise that you have nothing to fear. You’re in good hands. I know I may be the Devil, but you make my son happy. Therefore, I don’t wish to harm you. You’re all he ever talks about in his letters after all.”
Damien drops his fork and glares around at his father. The Devil sips his wine smugly.
Felicity opens her big eyes, gaping up at the Devil with those sparkling blues. “He... he really does?”
That sinister smirk stretches over the dark lord’s face. “Very much indeed. He’s quite the poet too. He loves his poetry. Or should I say Haiku... Apparently, you made his black heart beat again... or something along those lines.”
Zahara almost chokes on her wine. Angelina suppresses a chuckle, but all I can do is stare.
Damien’s eyes have just turned an alarming red.
Felicity throws her hand on her heart, swiveling around in her seat toward Damien. “Damien... I... I never knew...”
He blows smoke from his nostrils, making me think of Brynmawr instantly, and now he storms out of the room, his coat billowing behind him.
Felicity stumbles out of her chair, running after him. “Damien, wait!”
An awkward silence falls over the table as Damien leaves us with his father. The lack of sound is only broken by Zahara’s obnoxious snort. “Ha, good one, Your Unholiness.”
The Devil grins, pouring more wine into her glass. “Here, have some more.”
The Unseelie flashes him a wicked sneer of her own, and it’s hard to tell who’s more sinister than whom. “Don’t mind if I do.”
The two share a knowing glance as they give a toast, and I ogle my cold chicken.
Well, at least my time in Hell will be memorable.
Chapter 2 - Bryn
The others are starting to get a little too lenient in our short stay in Hell.
Zahara I can understand since she’s always been such a twisted bitch, but then everyone else soon joined her, and before I knew it Damien was taking us all to the best clubs that Hell has to offer.
He gets instant VIP access since he’s the Devil’s son. The bouncers give him no trouble, and we get free drinks all night.
Thomas, Nora, and Felicity shock me the most since they’ve always been the good guys. Jack is still an enigma to me, but Angelina and Zahara are lapping up the royal treatment.
Seriously, do they want to go to Hell? Well, again, after they die...
It’s as Damien said: don’t give in to temptation.
I roll my eyes as Zahara waves a fruity cocktail under my nose. It’s called Orgasm. Wtf.
We all sit up in a cozy booth, overlooking the sinners of Hell atop a high platform. They’re supposed to be suffering eternally, yet they still dance and enjoy themselves. Well, I do notice the anguished expressions on their faces when they sip the alcohol. I bet it tastes like shit to them.
“You sure you don’t want an Orgasm, Bryn?” The Unseelie croons, waving that drink.
The others snort at her crude joke. Felicity giggles and it breaks my heart. She shouldn’t even know what an orgasm is. She’s like... twelve (well, in my eyes).
I grit my teeth. “No, Zahara. Get that disgusting drink away from me.”
She shrugs then downs the cocktail in one go. “Suit yourself.”
I continue to glower at her as she licks her lips, turning cross-eyed. That’s her fifth cocktail tonight.
I glance around the booth. Felicity pops a strawberry into her mouth that came with her pink cocktail, letting Damien chew it from her eager lips as
they break into a kiss.
Jack eyeballs one of the sexy demon girls dancing in a glass-box by the DJ, and Nora dozes off.
Zahara picks up another Orgasm, giving Thomas the eye who sits beside her. He watches her thoroughly disturbed, then says, “I still have a girlfriend, you know.”
Only Angelina meets my eyes, a smirk growing across her lips. “Relax, Bryn, and enjoy yourself. There’s only one true hell, and it awaits us above.”
I deflate. She’s not wrong. War is waiting for us once we return to the surface. A war against the Humphreys, and my heart races.
Fuck... I’d rather stay in Hell.
But I won’t abandon Myrddin and my duty. I still have yet to have heard from my biological father, and I worry about him. I truly do.
I’ve never told him before, but I’ve come to love him like a real father. Well, he is my real father, but that doesn’t give him instant brownie points. He has to earn my love first, and he has goddamn earned it.
I promise... when I next see him, I will tell him.
And I will tell him to get back with my mother too. He’s clearly still crazy about her; he’s still in contact with her parents.
Fair enough. I guess I’ll relax for a few days. Then we can return to Hell...
I snatch the drink from Zahara’s hand, gulping it back.
“Hey!” she barks.
Damien notices then clicks his fingers toward a vacant-eyed girl carrying a tray. “Waitress, more drinks...”
Wow, rather rude to click his fingers, but I suppose she must deserve it since she’s in Hell.
Soon she arrives with eight more cocktails, and we all help ourselves. The more Felicity drinks, the more hands-on she gets with Damien, and I soon find myself laughing along with everyone else.
Who knew she had it in her.
“Oh, Damien...” she whispers into his ear, nibbling his lobe, and I see the fire in the demon’s eyes instantly. His sizable manhood juts through his pants as he gasps for air.
Zahara won’t stop cackling. “We’re about to get a free peep show!”
She’s not wrong. The tiny pixie reaches for that demon’s hard-on, stroking tenderly at that hardened shaft from beneath the fabric of his pants, and a wet sheen forms over Damien’s top lip. “Fuck...” he breathes.
I should stop them, but everyone is having too much fun. Zahara takes Thomas by surprise next and throws her mouth against his lips, and we all scream. At first, the wolf tries to push her off but he soon caves and starts kissing her back.
I start to get a little jealous. I have no one to kiss, but then Damien announces that Angelina and I should have a go.
The pervert.
Just as I go to scoff at the ridiculousness of his suggestion, the sexy vampire throws herself down beside me, takes my face in her hands, then kisses me.
I freeze.
Well, I guess Katy Perry and I finally have something in common. Except I don’t like kissing a girl...
Or do I?
Ah, fuck it. When in Rome they say... or Hell.
I part my lips and let her slip her wet tongue into my mouth, and damn she’s good and tastes like pure sin. Matthew was a really lucky guy. How the hell did he ever give her up for me?
An odd thing to say about my ex while I suck the face of his ex, but who cares.
The men watch us in complete silence. Hell, it seems every guy in the club does.
Two girls kissing... So hot.
We break away at last and now I just stare at the vampire flabbergasted. “That was... Thank you I guess, Angelina...”
She smirks, wiping my spittle from her lips. “Don’t get too excited now, Bryn. I was just merely curious. I wanted to see what Matthew saw. After all, he did dump you for me. I’ll admit... you do taste good.”
My chest constricts at the mention of Matthew. Zahara whacks Angelina on the shoulder. The vampire glares at the Unseelie.
“Nice going, vampire Barbie. You’ve depressed her now.”
Angelina goes to protest, but I cut her off. “No, it’s fine... I just have one question... Am I a better kisser than him?”
I look at the vampire pointedly now. That smile grows over her glossy lips, and now we all break into a fit of laughter.
I never got my answer, but I was just grateful for my friends at that moment.
I really do need them at this tough time, and I look forward to saving the world with them.
We’re so going to beat the Humphreys.
...
“Bryn... wake up... are you there? Bryn...”
I rouse the next morning in the Devil’s penthouse suite.
We partied till six am in the end. Not that time moves in Hell, but we enjoyed our moment of freedom.
It was the least we all deserved...
My head’s pounding as I roll around in my sheets, glancing at the beautiful vampire girl on her bed across from me. She wears an eye mask, her perfect breasts slowly rising and falling beneath her luxurious silk nightgown.
Turns out the half-vamp does sleep after all. It’s not a necessary, biological requirement, but she has the ability to close her eyes and see images or dream...
She’s pretty lucky I guess. Not being able to dream would suck.
I’ve just woken up from a weird dream myself. Who was just talking to me now? It’s a voice I know I’ve heard before but I can’t place it.
It was a man’s voice. Deep yet smooth.
“Bryn?”
My hand shakes as the voices echoes through my mind again, and now my heart thumps. “Who... what...?”
“You don’t recognise my voice? That’s understandable, I guess.”
What the hell is going on? Why is some strange man talking inside my head?
Oh no... have I developed Schizophrenia?
“It’s all right, Bryn the human. You don’t have Schizophrenia. It’s me... Brynmawr. I’ve... sort of downsized.”
My heart goes again and now I topple out of bed, catching my legs in my sheets.
It’s my dragon; he’s alive.
“Oh, Brynmawr, are you okay? Where are you? How did you reach me?”
“Ugh, be quiet!” Angelina hisses, facing the other way.
I doubt she’d care much that Brynmawr was alive. She never did see eye to eye with the big, scaly beast, but I’m just grateful my dragon is alive and well.
“Bryn, you need to come back as soon as possible. I’m hiding in the human world. The Humphreys haven’t taken over there yet.”
I untangle myself from my sheets then rise. “How... how are you hiding in the human realm? And what’s with your voice? You almost sound—”
“You’ll see when you arrive... Just come, quick. I’ll give you further instructions along the way.”
A silence passes between us now. I blurt out my next question. “Where is she? Is she with you?”
Brynmawr sighs and I notice that his voice no longer has the growl of an animal or beast. “She is... She wants to talk to you too. Set the record straight. She was not in on the Humphreys plan.”
I close my eyes, pinching between my brows. “All right. I believe you.”
I can almost hear the smile in his voice. Not a toothy sneer but a genuine, handsome grin. Strange.
“See you then...”
My dragon cuts the connection, and now I gaze out the window at the cityscape of Hell.
Finally. Now the real show can begin.
Chapter 3 - Bryn
We set off the very same day, still hungover as hell.
I really need to stop with the hell puns; it doesn’t help that we’re literally there now.
Damien’s dad was sad to see his son leave, but he paid us all a hearty farewell, wishing us luck with our war on earth. I wonder then why he doesn’t help us out. I mean, he’s the frigging Devil. What does Matthew Senior or the Black Dragon have on him?
I guess it’s not his war to fight. His business is down in Hell after all. Maybe he hopes to get Matthew Senior’s soul
when we’re finally through with him?
He will not have Mattie’s soul; I haven’t completely given up on the boy yet.
Mister Diablo (The Devil was getting kind of boring after a while), lets us ride in one of his private cars on our way to earth’s entry point.
There’s only one way into Hell. Damien’s shadowy passage in Mendacious quarters was a tunnel his father built just in case he ever got homesick at the academy. Mister Diablo really does love his son. It’s kind of sweet. Despite the fact he embarrasses him on purpose every second.
The handsome, clean-cut businessman in question leans down toward the tinted window of the private car, peering in at the glum face of his son. “See you soon, my son.”
Damien blinks slowly, not even bothering to look his father’s way. “Yeah, bye Dad.”
“Now, now, is that any way to speak to your loving father? Come on, give Daddy a big, evil smirk... You always look so morose.”
Damien releases an exasperated breath, blowing the black bangs off his face, then glances up at Daddy.
I refrain from snorting. And I thought Myrddin was embarrassing enough.
Suddenly, the broody demon stretches his lips, producing a toothy, sharp smile, and his dad applauds.
“That’s my son! You will make quite the dashing devil when you finally take over the family business...”
By family business, he means the running of Hell.
“But first,” Mister Diablo continues. “We must work on your appearance. This heavy metal look just won’t do. You may find this surprising, Bryn, but I’ve never seen the appeal in the genre, even though they all seem to worship me.”
Mister Diablo offers me a pointed look. I sit opposite Damien, so I’m the closest to the window.
I shift my eyes, not knowing what to say. “Oh...”
“Personally, I much prefer classical music like Beethoven or Bach.”
Damien sinks in his seat, covering his face with his long coat. “Kill me now.”
Zahara laughs at his misery. She sits by the other window.
Mister Diablo rises once again, smoothing down his smart suit, and I get a really good look at him then. He really is handsome. If Damien looks this good in the future, then Felicity is one lucky pixie.