He wanted to follow her and choke the life out of her, but he didn't want to hear any more of her lies. He might not be powerful enough to kill her – he might have conceded too much of his personal power to her in his hope for Mel. Like all hopes in Hell, any chance he'd had with Mel was long gone now – fled far from here.
Stiffly, he rose to his feet and surveyed the mess. The amount of blood looked like he'd slaughtered a pig, or at least butchered several damned souls, instead of attempting suicide. He stared at his wrists, but the holes had closed and healed as if they'd never been. He'd made a Hell of a mess of the floor and his clothes. His fork still had flesh clinging to the barbs – enough to make him feel sick, even though he knew it was only pieces of him.
How did suicide victims' families clean up after a crime like this? Losing a loved one and having to clean up the mess afterwards? Fury ripped through him. The harpies were hardly punishment enough for them – he was going to make them clean the torture chambers on Level Eight. With tiny toothbrushes and no gloves. Let them deal with blood and severed limbs, the smells and sounds of torture echoing around them every day. It was nothing compared to what they'd put people through in their selfishness, violence and waste as they ended the precious gift of their own lives... Demons couldn't die, but he'd damn well make every suicide sinner wish they could, all over again.
But first, he had to clean up his own mess, or the senior demons would know he hadn't been torturing anyone in here but himself. And the Lord of Hell could never show weakness to a demon, because they knew how to take advantage of that...
Luce summoned a bucket and a scrubbing brush, detergent and hot water. This job required hard work and he couldn’t trust anyone but himself to do it. He cleaned up his own messes, damn it, and he wouldn't make the same mistake again.
Right after he'd had a hot shower, he was going to find out what had gone on in Hell in his absence. If the interfering angel who'd made a mockery of the gates and his grief had returned, he'd know about it. He decided to start with the weakest one first.
Forty
Mel lost count of the number of times she'd slipped on the gritty ice. At least the limestone dust was white and not black, so she looked like she'd been rolled in flour or sugar, like some sort of scone. How long had it been since she'd eaten something? Hot, fresh scones sounded wonderful, with whatever she could lay her hands on. Butter. Jam and cream. Jarrah honey. A fresh-brewed cup of tea.
As soon as she reached home, she'd do some baking. A trip to the shop for ingredients and an afternoon of domestic bliss, showering her kitchen in flour as she cooked up a storm. Maybe even with Luce, if she could drag him out of this horrible place. Wearily, she reached for his soul, praying that this time she'd sense him again, though she'd been disappointed so many times since she entered Hell that she wasn't sure what to hope for any more.
Misery. Pain. Anger. Frustration that blood was impossible to clean off porous white surfaces. Deep desire for her...
LUCE! Mel stumbled and fell, but she barely felt the pain. She'd found his soul again and he was close. All she had to do was find him.
Rising laboriously to her knees, she closed her eyes and sent her thoughts searching for him once more. A cold gust of wind chilled her to the bone, but she persisted. He was here.
Luce was...somewhere near the source of the freezing breeze, it seemed. She felt him most strongly when she faced into the frigid air current. Opening her eyes, Mel peered into the darkness, seeing only the dark cavern wall. Her eyes moved down and she caught a glimmer of light, through an opening close to the ground. She'd have to crawl through it, but if it led to Luce...it wasn't as if she had any pride to lose. Losing Luce when she was so close would be a far worse fate.
Prostrate, she slid across the ice onto sand. Tears of relief tracked down her cheeks as she pulled her body through the narrow tunnel, wondering if this was what snakes felt like. No, snakes couldn't cry. Nor could they feel the sort of love bursting out of her soul as she sensed the object of it was so close. Oh God, what if she'd given up and left him here to his fate?
The tunnel widened, the walls disappearing into the darkness, and Mel clambered stiffly to her feet, brushing dust off her body. She could see a faint light in the distance, so that's where she directed her weary steps.
Forty-One
"I've had no report from you all week. How are the damned doing on Level Four?" Luce asked.
Ploutos gave a shaky shrug. "Same. They battle pointlessly and the cats play. I took a video of the cats playing and Nybbas uploaded it onto the humans' internet in the office. He called it Cats from Hell and it went viral, he said, which is good. Spreading like some sort of horrible disease among humans. I recorded a few more and he's looking to put in subliminal messages, like 'Greed is good' and 'You need sex now but you don't need to know his name' and 'HELL Corporation is your hero'. All standard propaganda, he said."
Luce stared at him. "Cat videos? Humans can get sick from cat videos?"
"No, Lord Lucifer. Nybbas said it's a sort of sickness of the mind. He said it makes them forget everything else and want more cat videos. They flood the internet with such things. He said it inspires sloth, laziness, procrastination...all things that bring people to us." Ploutos' face moved in a fleeting smile, as if there was more he wanted to say, but wouldn't.
"So there's no change in your domain?" Luce pushed. "No unusual visitors, or anything strange happening?"
Ploutos screwed his face up. "Mmm...mmmy sister came to visit," he managed to say.
"Your sister?"
"My sister...Persephone. She...she comes to visit and asks questions about you, Lord Lucifer. I believe you have a very willing recruit there, if you're looking for junior demons."
"Oh Hell, no! That's the last thing I need – that little nephilim permanently here in Hell. I can't imagine anything worse. I don't want her anywhere near here again, you hear? You go visit her on the surface – every weekend, if you want, but I don't want to see her in Hell." Luce looked down at his list. "Go tell Camael and Samael I need to see them."
"That's all you wanted to know?" Ploutos asked, looking almost happy.
Luce stared at the small man. "Is there anything else I need to know that you should be telling me?"
"Ah...ah...no, Lord Lucifer," Ploutos mumbled. "I'll go get the twins. And then...more cat videos!"
Cat videos. Humans were crazy, Luce decided, and Ploutos wasn't far behind. But if he was related to Persephone, he wasn't surprised.
Camael and Samael, he thought. The experts in animal welfare. He had a job for them.
Forty-Two
Mel crossed the cold cavern and found an ordinary door, set in a fairly standard door frame in the rock. The icy blast blew from this open doorway. She didn't need directions or a map. She knew Luce lay through this portal.
She stepped inside, face turned toward the full-bore fan from the air conditioner as it blew a fine mist of dust from her hair. Now she wished she'd brought the tablecloth from Heaven, or, better yet, a coat. But...no. She'd come this far without anything. Her clothes were inside this room and she'd have them back soon enough.
"I don't want to hear any more excuses," she heard Luce's voice state without emotion. "I want to know the dog is fed, twice daily, as he should be. We have a reputation to maintain and that includes animal welfare. I've taken Kas off animal control and I'm making both of you responsible for Cerberus – a hungry dog has questionable loyalty and he's a guard dog, after all. There's always space in the lower levels of Hell for more souls if you feel this is beneath you."
Mel heard sullen voices murmuring their acquiescence. With a degree of pleasure, she noticed it was Camael and Samael, the two former angels who'd coined the animal welfare legislation that had caused so much trouble for herself and Gabrielle in the office. Karma was indeed a bitch – one who liked dogs.
Luce dismissed the fallen angels and Mel stepped back against the concrete wall to let them exit. Both nodded to
her in recognition before leaving quickly. Samael shut the door behind him.
She took a deep breath, letting it leave her before she rounded the corner to where she could see Luce. He sat at the desk, his head buried in his hands. He didn't seem to be aware of her presence.
This close, she could tell the darkness he surrounded himself with was guilt. She could feel it rolling off him in waves. The soul within, though despairing, was as light as ever. The dark master of Hell no longer had the heart for the job. She wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him, but she didn't know what to say.
As Mel hesitated, Luce looked up and his eyes met hers. His face was flat, revealing nothing. "A very well-thought out illusion, but not very thorough," he said after some time. She could feel her heart close to breaking at the pain in his, but he showed no outward sign of it at all. He stood and approached her. "You see, you've missed details. The real Mel had a scar on her index finger from a fight with a stapler. She had a half-healed burn on her hand from where she spilled her tea when I surprised her in the kitchen last week. And she had two gaping holes here." Luce pointed at her breasts, making Mel wish they didn't stand out so prominently in the cold air. His eyes were hard as he looked at her. "She'd also be perfectly presentable and clothed, without a hair out of place. You have mud splatters up to your thighs and limestone dust everywhere. Nice try, but you can get out." This time he pointed at the door.
Mel blinked. "I wasn't focussing on blemishes when I assembled this body. They weren't necessary. I've just crossed the nine circles of Hell, looking for you. I felt you were more important than a few streaks of mud or the dust accumulating outside your front door that I had to crawl through to get here, though I'd love a shower if you can point me the way to your bathroom. Mud sure sticks in this place – especially from that swampy River Styx."
Luce laughed. "No angel's ever made it through all the circles of Hell. They give in to despair, or corruption, or disgust at the array of sins the souls here have committed. You're a demon in disguise, though a good disguise. Did Persephone put you up to this to distract me?"
"I'll certainly be paying Persi a visit when we get out of here, but I haven't spoken to her yet. I wanted to see you first," Mel said, allowing a little of her irritation to colour her tone. Some demons were dense, but today Luce really took the cake. Surely he knew her better than that. "You do know that angels aren't capable of deception, don't you?"
"Which is why you must be a demon, not some decoy sent by those bastards in Heaven," Luce replied bitterly.
"Leave here with me and I'll show you, Luce. I don't want to drag you out of here against your will and I haven't come this far, only to leave alone. I want you to choose to come with me."
"I told you to get out and you will." He waved at the door and Mel felt the full force of his will, pushing her in the direction of the exit. It wafted right past her, though – his power was in no way equal to hers. Even here.
Patiently, she stood her ground and held his gaze.
Luce's eyes widened in surprise. "Persephone? Now you've given yourself away. No one else in Hell has that kind of power. Appearing in Mel's body... This is beyond a joke. You have everything you asked for. Leave me to my solitude." He walked back to the desk and threw himself into the chair, his eyes staring at the concrete wall.
Mel wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. How could Luce forget that angels couldn't die? She could feel his grief and guilt, yet he couldn't accept that she was herself.
"Please leave," Luce said again, his voice cracking. Mel could see tears brimming in his eyes as his hand tightened on a bundle of white cloth in his lap. "Please. If there is any sympathy, any kindness left in you at all, I'm asking you to leave. I don't want to see you here again."
Mel reached out. "Luce." If she could touch him, she'd know why he wanted to shut her out. Maybe she'd even know what to say. While she'd been wandering through Hell, what had happened to him? What had Persi done?
He yanked his arms back, as if shielding his heart with them. "Don't touch me. Just get out. Now."
Wordlessly, she turned her back on him and marched toward the door. She didn't want him to see her cry for him. She'd come too late to help. All this had been for nothing and Luce didn't deserve her failure.
Forty-Three
Tears blurred her eyes as shadows surrounded her. The darkest shadows she'd only glimpsed as she strode through Hell now seemed to have congregated here, lying in wait. Like the shadows she'd first seen on Luce's soul, which he'd somehow sold to Persephone for her. Or the sort that had hidden him from her as she walked through the deeper levels of Hell. The sentient cloud she thought she'd glimpsed on Level Eight didn't seem so silly now.
Her eyes flew to the open door behind her, which was darkening already as if beset by black smoke. But there was no fire – this smoke was made from souls. The blackest souls this world had ever known. So dark they couldn't be confined to a single circle of Hell, for its punishments and tortures held no power over them any more. She could feel the malice pouring off them – they had neither name nor identity. They were clouds of hate. And they were headed for Luce's lair, to hurt him more than she already had. To Hell with that.
She shouted, sealing off the entrance even as they deserted the door to attack her. It had been centuries since she'd fought anything stronger than a ladle-jammed drawer – or used a weapon other than words. But today she fought for one she loved. One she'd wronged and owed reparation to, who had begged for her help. Nothing could withstand a righteous angel, and she had a millennia-old wrong to right.
She breathed deep and steady, feeling the malice swirling around her. Closing in. The shadows whispered of failure, of pain, of the day humans stoned her to death for daring to make a difference in Crete so many millennia ago. Angels in Hell would fall because nothing was stronger than they. Not even the Lord of Hell could destroy them, for this was their domain, before it ever was his. Growing in strength through the ages until nothing could match them. They would destroy him.
Mel was painfully reminded of the memory Luce had shared with her before they'd left for Heaven. His fall and the shadows closing in. Not metaphorical shadows, she realised, but these – those that had surrounded his soul and pushed for a way in. A way they hadn’t found yet, no matter how hard they'd fought.
The hissing whispers told her what they wished to do. First, they'd destroy the arrogant angel who thought she was better than them, that she could best them with her petty perfection.
"Not your domain. Your prison. I am not perfect and I never will be, but each day I strive to be better and that lies at the heart of an angel." She kept her voice steady.
Weakening in the world, with every step through Hell, the shadows continued. Another angel would fall. Couldn't match their strength. They'd been watching. Still wounded from the harpy. Too weak to fight.
Mel's arms ached from how tightly she held her knees to her chest, crouching on the floor. She'd hold firm and protect herself until they gave up.
Stupid angel to think she could take on Hell. Too weak. Too arrogant. She would fail. Here, they were strongest. She was no match for them. They would never give up, the shadows insisted.
"Nothing can match you in here, but Hell is tiny compared to the world I walk in. The powerful have no need to enter here. You can never leave to see. Never..." She cried for the once-damned souls, driven to madness in this confined space with no chance of redemption, until they became nothing but malicious whispers and intent. The shadows crowded closer to her, as if they would drink her tears. "Take them," she said, flinging her arms wide. "Drink my pity for you."
The hissing continued, No pity for the weak angel. No one would come to help her. She would fall and one day join them. All souls did.
Mel's mouth flew open at the thought of souls that didn't even know of the presence of Heaven, or anything outside this dark cave. And they never would. A dark tendril of shadow, almost like a finger, touched the tear on her chee
k. She couldn't see the door to Luce's lair, they shrouded her so thickly, but Mel could see the tendrils forming what looked like a hand. She reached out and grasped it.
That one touch let her read the entire swirling cloud of souls. A miasma...many minds with no recollection of who they once were, but burning with desire...all wanting one thing. To get out and wreak havoc on Earth again, on those who had trapped them here. If they tormented Luce enough, he might send them away far enough to escape...but first, they would imprison this angel's soul like they had everyone else's – starting with the one she'd come to save. Mel watched them remember shrouding Luce the first time he'd fallen into Hell from Heaven – the angel thrown among them – even as he'd tried to shut them out. That's what angels did. They curled in on themselves, tried to protect themselves from darkness as it surrounded them and won. By the time they realised, it was too late – their soul was sealed in with no escape. No angel was brave enough to burn – not after they'd seen the other burning souls in Hell.
Souls fell, but the source of the taint was here. Mel wasn't going to let them surround another soul. Even if she had to surrender her own to destroy them. If they touched her soul, they'd burn with her. Maybe she could light a pyre that even Luce, the hot devil, would notice.
Poor, naked angel. No clothes, no help, no pity. Only tears. Like the day they stoned her to death. She could relive that here. Over and over and over again. Just like the Lord of Hell, remembering the day he killed her. Or his fall from Heaven.
"NO!" She could take her own pain. She knew her failings and her failures. Luce didn't deserve guilt for what she knew was her fault. Hadn’t she come this far? To Hell with hiding what she really was – Hell’s fires only consumed bodies, but as an angel, she could destroy souls. If the shadows really wanted her, they’d need to be stronger than they thought possible.
Mel shot to her feet. The weight of her wings tugged at her shoulders, but she stood firm. Her soul burned for justice denied and nothing could withstand a righteous angel. It was time for her to show her light. "You will not touch him. You won't touch any angel, demon or the Lord of Hell. Not even the damned, unless they approach you directly. I forbid it." The cave seemed brighter, and the shadows became more insubstantial. She could barely see the tendril fingers she still held in hers. "If you want my soul, take it!"
Welcome to Hell Box Set: Paranormal Romantic Comedy (Mel Goes to Hell Series Book 123) Page 31