I snatch my arm away. “No. I want a damn drink.”
In the corner of the room the two old men look up at us. One of them catches my eye, the black orbs of his eyes narrow and the centres lights a fiery red. He smiles, revealing a row of sharp teeth. “What the fuck,” I mumble.
Maro follows my gaze. “Now, Ciera. I need to talk to you. This place isn’t safe.”
I laugh hysterically. “We’re in fucking Hell, Maro. Of course it isn’t safe.”
“Just do as you’re damn told for once and come with me.” The tone of Maro’s voice has me checking myself.
“Don’t do that. Don’t do that weird fucking witchy thing,” I say, yanking my hand out of his grasp.
“I’m no witch and I’m not doing anything. I overstepped the mark that time. I won’t do it again. We are further into Hell, Ciera. There are others who can manipulate you.”
I look over at the two men again. Both are staring, both look less old and more demonic.
“Please, Ciera, just come talk with me.” He looks defeated, and it’s that and not his demands that make me go with him. Okay, so it might also have to do with the fact that the demonic old timers seem to be growing fucking horns.
He takes me to a dark corner of the pub and we sit down.
“I want to know what happened with Meg. What did she make you do, Ciera?” Maro is searching my face as though looking for something other than what he can see. I think about lying to him, but then, what’s the point? So, I tell him. All of it, even the part where I killed the me I could have been. Maro doesn’t say anything for a while, but when he does, it makes my skin go cold and my heart near stop beating.
“You’ve come further than anyone else. You’ve faced the Furies and won their respect, that is no easy task, Ciera. But now you’re left with a shadow of your former self. There is no light here in Hell. The further we descend, the darker it will become, the darker you will become. If we reach Tris--”
“When,” I correct him.
“When we reach Tris, you may be too far gone to do what you came here to do. The darkness will take root and it will turn your heart to stone and your soul… well, there won’t be much left of it to give.”
“You seem to know an awful lot about this part of Hell. You’ve been here before? You’ve been lower?”
Maro scrapes a hand over his stubbled chin. “I think it’s time I tell you my story…”
“Fuck the story, Maro. Let’s drink,” Ceb says butting in on our conversation. He places a tray of drinks on the table, the liquid slopping over the sides. “Here, something spicy for my little firecracker, and something strong for Maro.” He hands us both a drink, picks up a glass and chinks it against each of ours.
“Starting without me?” Plutus says as he plonks himself beside me. I glance at him, glad to see him dressed.
“Alright now?” I ask, my voice sounding snarky even to my own ears.
“I am fucking perfect,” he responds before downing three shots in a row.
“Here’s to us. Here’s to the Highway to Hell,” Ceb says.
I look at Maro across the table and swear I can see a shimmer of red fire in his bronze eyes.
18
It only takes that one drink to get me drunk. Whatever Ceb gave me is either incredibly strong, or I’m just not used to alcohol anymore. I’d rather spend my money on food for Tris rather than on going to the pub with my non-existent mates. Usually, being in a pub means being on a job for Lucifer, shadowing someone, or threatening them. Sometimes, stealing, although I’m not very good at that. Seducing, too, if I have to. Anything for Tris. Anything to survive.
“Another?” I hold my empty glass out to Ceb, my hand swaying slightly.
He winks at me. “Same again?”
I nod, not really caring about what he’s giving me, as long as it continues to give me the warm feeling in my stomach that I’m starting to get used to. It’s attempting to fill the hole that the arrow ripped into me, but all it does is line the sides, pretending that it’s a solution. Still, I’m going to take that for now. Better than not feeling anything at all.
“I need the loo,” Plutus mutters and leaves with Ceb, heading towards a door at the other end of the dark pub, where the two demons are still sitting and staring.
I turn to Maro and give him a conspiratorial grin. “Have they left us alone on purpose?”
He doesn’t smile. “You need to know some things about me before we continue on to the lower circles. It’s been okay until now, but you need to be prepared. We’re going to meet…” He frowns and stumbles over the word. “... family.”
I stare at him. “You’ve got family?” Somehow, I didn’t imagine angels to have parents, or siblings. They’re created by God, right? Or some other kind of higher being, anyway.
He sighs deeply. “A twin. I’ve got a twin brother.”
I’d love to drink right now, but Ceb hasn’t returned yet. I take a large gulp from Maro’s glass and shriek as the liquid burns my throat. “What the bloody fuck are you drinking?”
“Something not made for mortals,” he mutters, watching me intently as if I’m about to explode or grow boils. “Are you alright?”
I swallow several times, trying to get rid of the fire that seems to be lodged just behind my tonsils. “A brother?” I croak, not letting him distract from the matter on hand.
“When the angels fell… we weren’t just thrown out of Heaven. We rebelled. Some of us did, not all. Others were undecided, trying to stay neutral, while the rest fought on the side of the Maker. It was chaos. Of course, the one who’d incited the rebellion was Lucifer, but he had a faithful friend, a second in command…”
Maro takes the glass from my hand and empties it in one go.
“Your brother,” I whisper, watching as the last bit of golden glow leaks from his face.
“Yes, Marbas. He was always the more talented of the two of us. Better at fighting, better looking, better at attracting the attention of female angels. And better at rebelling, I guess.”
He looks at his empty glass, not meeting my eyes.
“What side were you on?” I ask him, keeping my voice as steady and neutral as possible. I can take an educated guess, but I want him to confirm it.
“Neither.”
His answer surprises me. “Huh?”
“Of course, Marbas wanted me to be part of the rebellion. Most of my friends were on the other side, though. I didn’t want to abandon them, but I also didn’t want my brother to fight alone. I tried my best to be both, to help negotiate and bring the two sides together… but it didn’t work. They all assumed that I was secretly supporting my brother, so when he was thrown out of Heaven, they expelled me too. Luckily, the few friends I still had managed to convince the Maker to let me live on Earth rather than be stuck in Hell like Marbas. I’m free to travel here and visit him, but I’m barred from Heaven. I guess they still assume that one day, I’ll come and join my twin.”
“And Plutus thinks that too,” I say quietly. It’s not a question, I already know that it’s true. It’s been obvious from the way the two men have been talking to each other.
“He and every other damn demon,” Maro sighs. “They can sense the darkness in me. They know I’m not one of the heavenly angels, so they automatically assume that I’m one of the fallen. Which I am, technically, but not quite.”
He stops talking and stares at his glass, deep in thought. I'm not quite sure what to say. I want to hug him, but he doesn't look like he's in the mood for it. With his angelic glow gone, I see the darkness in him, the darkness that the demons are sensing too. What matters though, is if he decides to act on it. All of us have darkness inside, but not all of us become sinners. That might be the difference between Maro and his brother.
"You helped me," I tell him, before noticing that he might need a bit of context. "You knew you'd have to face prejudice in Hell. You didn't have to come here. And yet... you did. To help me, someone you don't even know. You're goin
g against your brother's ally, or friend, or whatever Lucifer is to him. All of that... only a very good person would do that. You're not a fallen angel to me, Maro."
Finally, he looks up at me, his eyes blazing with an echo of the golden hue they were when I first met him. "That's sweet of you to say, but you don't know me. You have no idea what I've done. I deserve to be living down here, hell, I deserve to be punished in one of the circles."
I can't help it, I have to laugh. "Blasphemy!"
"What?" His dark expression is turning into confusion.
"Ever since I met you, you've been telling me not to use the word hell as a curse. Well, now you did it yourself."
He stares at me blankly for a moment, then a tiny smile is flickering on his lips. "I guess you're right. How very hypocritical of me."
"No, it makes you human."
The smile disappears. "Ciera, I'm not human. I'm as far from being human as it gets."
I reach out and take his hands into mine. "And that's what makes you special. You're an angel, a real bloody angel. You know that humans tell tales of having guardian angels watching over them? Well, you're mine, and I'm not letting you believe that you're anything else than a good, selfless person, human or not."
To emphasise - this man seems to need some encouragement - I lean over the table and press my lips against his. A kiss sometimes solves everything… but it doesn’t last. A cough behind me makes me jump and pull back.
“Sorry to interrupt, but I’ve got some bad news.” Ceb puts two glasses in front of us, as if to prepare us for the coming shock. “We can’t go on straight away. The sixth circle is closed.”
19
“Closed? What do you mean closed?” I ask, my voice sounding both shrill and inebriated. Currently, Plutus has two heads and is looking more like Ceb in hellhound form than himself.
“Under construction or something…” Plutus shrugs. “No doubt Lucifer is up to something. Bottom line is, we ain’t going anywhere just yet.”
“Are you serious?”
“Sorry Ciera, this happens every so often. We just need to wait it out for a bit,” Ceb says apologetically.
“Well, how long’s a bit?” I slur. Suddenly, the chair beneath me seems to turn to liquid and my body falls to the side.
“Long enough to sober you up,” Maro says, catching me before I slide to the floor. He shoots a look at Ceb. “Ciera downed my drink…”
“Ah, fuck,” Ceb responds. “This should be interesting.”
Maro hauls me to my feet, then realising that my legs seemed to have lost the ability to walk, picks me up in his arms. “Let’s get you a bed to sleep off the drink. Hopefully by then we’ll have access to the next circle.”
“But I want to go now. Just let me talk to the gatekeeper, they’ll let me through. I’m badass,” I slur.
“I think that’s the issue,” Plutus mumbles as he follows Maro and I across the pub and into a darkened corridor, Ceb following behind.
“You’re all coming to bed too?” I ask, with a giggle.
Ceb and Plutus glance at each other. “We don’t really sleep. That’s a luxury bestowed upon those who aren’t…”
“Aren’t as what? Demony?”
Ceb chuckles. “No, Ciera... Dark. Dreaming is for souls who still have light.”
“But I gave my light up. It’s gone now. I don’t need sleeeeeep,” I say, drawing out the word. “I think we should do something far more exciting than sleep to pass the time.”
“Don’t tempt me, Ciera,” Plutus says, his voice rumbling. Even in my drunken haze my body reacts to his dominance.
Maro stops abruptly in front of a door at the furthest end of the corridor. He turns with me in his arms and looks from Ceb to Plutus. “Stand guard. No one gets in this room. Got it?”
“You want us to wait out here whilst…” Ceb’s voice trails off at the glare Maro gives him.
“Fine, fine. I’ll be your bloody watchdog.”
“Plutus?” Maro asks, waiting for a response.
Plutus’ gaze falls from Maro’s face to mine. “Will you be alright, Ciera?”
“Why wouldn’t I be alright? Maro’s an angel,” I giggle, running a hand over the thick muscle of his arm.
Plutus scoffs, looking far from convinced. “If you need me, call. I’ll be here with Ceb standing guard, okay?”
“Okay.”
Before Maro is able to open the door and step inside, Plutus leans over and presses a rough kiss against my mouth. My heart lurches in my chest at the contact.
“I haven’t forgotten our kiss, Ciera,” he murmurs against my mouth, before pulling back.
I feel Maro tense around me, but he doesn’t say a word.
“Since when did you kiss Ciera?” Ceb grumbles looking more than a little pissed off. I can’t help but giggle. It’s fun being the centre of their attention, and by ‘their,’ I mean the several Cebs and Plutus’ that are multiplying in front of me.
“It’s none of your damn business, hound,” Plutus responds.
Indignant, Ceb’s arm reaches out to stop Maro from heading into the room.
“Wait!” he says. “I’ll be damned if I’m the only one who doesn’t steal a kiss.” He leans over, his huge bulk blocking out the overhead light. Above us, I can hear Maro murmuring obscenities under his breath, but, surprisingly, he doesn’t try to stop Ceb. He lets him kiss me.
Ceb’s mouth is soft, gentle even. I can feel the tickle of his beard against my skin, and in my drunk fuelled haze I wonder what that beard would feel like against other, more delicate areas.
His tongue nudges open my lips and dances against my own. Ceb’s kisses are surprisingly sweet for someone so full of fire and brimstone. When his mouth leaves mine, the look he gives me is hard to read, but there is as much surprise in them as I know there must be in mine. My fingers flutter to my lips, the drunken haze fading fast. Has his kiss sobered me up?
“Damn it Ciera…” he mumbles before looking up at Maro. “I will guard this door with my life, you have my word.”
Maro dips his head in acknowledgement and then steps inside the room.
“I think I can walk now. Ceb’s kiss…”
“Sobered you up?”
I nod. “How?”
“Damned if I know how it works. What I do know is, the couple of times I’ve been in trouble down here, Berus has managed to heal me enough so that I can battle my way out again.”
“He kissed you too?” I ask, my mouth dropping open, my brain completely bypassing the fact that he has had to battle his way out of Hell in the past. Maro releases me from his arms, but I wobble on my feet still feeling a little tipsy if not rip-roaring drunk. He reaches out his hand to steady me.
“You may feel less drunk but you’re still not fully sober. Get on the bed, Cookie.”
“Back to Cookie now, is it?” I ask, climbing on the bed. I make room next to me for Maro to sit down, tapping the empty space beside me. Maro remains where he is, staring at me from his spot in the middle of the room. I tap the bed again. This time he obeys, and slides into the empty space next to me.
“You haven’t answered my question.” I insist.
“You don’t like my nickname for you?” he asks, turning his body to face mine.
“That’s not the question I mean…” I smirk.
Maro chuckles. “No, Cerberus has never kissed me, Ciera. He wouldn’t dare.”
“Fair enough,” I laugh, then raise my hand to my head as the most explosive headache flashes behind my eyes. “Holy fuck, what is that?” I ask my hand flying to my forehead. White spots enter my vision.
“Ah, that will be the mother of all hangovers,” Maro says, apologetically. “You’re better off trying to sleep it off.”
“I don’t suppose there are any painkillers in Hell?” I mumble, my eyes closing against the pain.
“Afraid not, but there are my hands…”
“Your hands?” I ask, cracking my eye open a fraction to see whether he’s takin
g the piss or not.
“Yes, my hands. Come here, Ciera,” he demands gently. This time he is tapping the bed between his parted legs. “Sit here, lean your back against me. I will rub that headache away.”
I’m not sure if it’s because he’s doing that hocus pocus thing of his, or whether it’s because I really, really want a head rub, but either way I crawl into his lap. This headache is the mother of all headaches and I don’t really care whether I’m under his spell or not, I want it gone. If his hands can give me relief, then so be it.
For the next half hour, Maro massages my head. His fingers start across my temple, moving in a circular motion before heading across my scalp. He is so good at it that the headache eases within minutes, but I don’t tell him that. Frankly, he could massage me like this for the next bloody week. When his fingers move to the back of my head and to the tops of my shoulders I can’t help but let out a long moan of ecstasy.
“Ciera, don’t do that,” Maro says, his voice husky.
“Do what?” I ask, twisting my body so I can look up at him.
“That noise you made. It’s very…”
As I look up into his eyes, I am very aware of Maro’s hands resting just above the top of my breast. “It’s very what, Maro?”
“Sexy. You’re very sexy, Ciera.”
Without really thinking about what I’m doing, I twist in his lap and straddle him.
“What are you doing?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” I ask, reaching up and brushing a strand of hair that has fallen in his eyes.
“I think you’re playing with fire. I think this could be a mistake. I think I want you to kiss me and damn the consequences,” Maro says in a heated rush.
“I’m already in Hell, so playing with fire is something I do quite well. As for it being a mistake, I’ve made plenty of them and lived to tell the tale…”
“And the last part?” Maro murmurs quietly, his hand reaching up to hold the back of my head.
I lean in close, my hips rocking against his pelvis as I do.
“What do you think?”
We both move to close the space between us, our lips joining in a heated rush. Maro’s fingers twine in my hair whilst mine wrap around the back of his neck. Our kiss is filled with red-hot desire, with passion, with longing. Our teeth clash with the urgency, our tongues entwine.
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