I kneel at the cage. “I’ll come back another time,” I whisper to Ripley.
“Like fuck you will!” Belial curses.
§§§
We get to Hellion Tower, and Belial follows me up the back stairwell to my room on the top floor. I open the door and gesture for him come in. My home in the depths of the Underworld is what my father calls, a penthouse suite. Luxurious rugs cover the rich timber floors and priceless oil paintings hang on the walls in gilded frames. My father even allowed me to have a small library of books, and although they're all non-fiction and based solely on the Underworld, they've taught me a lot about the demons, devils and souls who call Hell their home.
I lead Belial through the lounge that looks out over the Void through a ten-foot-wide curved glass window. If you like flames, darkness, and the constant, lingering scent of death, the penthouse is prime position. He follows me to the kitchen where I gesture for him to take a seat at the counter.
It was my choice not to have maids, or slaves, as my father calls them, so instead I have a fully stocked kitchen with a large refrigerator, a coffee machine and an antique stove. All in black, my father's choice. They match the smooth, shiny black marble countertops flecked with particles of red and gold leaf that appear as though flames are burning within the marble. I sigh and tap my fingernails on the countertop. I’m stuck here, a princess in a tower in the pits of Hell, with no way out. I wonder if Belial can help me.
He sits with his elbow on the counter. “So you’re only sixteen?” he asks.
I stop tapping and pull my hair into a pony tail. “Yes. Father says I can start real training as soon as he gets the Ninth Ring and takes full control of the Underworld. He said you’re getting it for him. Is that true? Can I come with you? I know how to fight, a little anyway.”
He shakes his head. “No. You can’t come with me. Hades will never allow it, and I don’t want some kid hanging around fucking things up.”
I cross my arms annoyed. “I’m not some kid, Belial. I’m the Princess of the Underworld. Father will kill you just for being here.” As my anger rises, my demon side becomes stronger and the burn in my chest spreads through my heart, and into my veins, warming me to my core.
Belial waves his hand, dismissing me. “Whatever. You can’t come. You’re not trained. Tell me about your mother, is she really an angel?”
I sigh and drop my shoulders. There's a twinge of something in my chest, pain, or perhaps it's grief. “She was. Father told me she died shortly after childbirth. He said he loved her. I doubt it. He won’t tell me anything else. I hate him sometimes, well, most of the time.”
Belial laughs. “Likewise. But he is the King of Hell, he’s supposed to be a bastard.”
I lean across the counter and rest my chin in my hands. “Have you killed Lola Thorne yet?” I ask curiously.
Belial cocks his head. “You know about her?” he questions.
“Yes. Father said I would have to kill her if you didn’t. He said I will have to start filling a quota to prove my worth and repay him for all he’s given me, and that I’d start with killing mortals, then angels.”
Belial doesn’t seem surprised, then again, this is Hell and Belial is a trained hunter. I’m sure he fills enough quota for ten demons. “I’ll kill her. And you’ll meet your quota. Trust me, killing mortals is easier than it sounds,” he says, as he picks at his fingernails.
“So, you won’t take me up there?”
He glances at me. “Nope.”
Damn. “What’s so special about Lola, Belial? I heard father and Uncle Lucien talking. They said she had to die. They kept talking about the nine rings and that if she died the pieces would fall together. What’s that mean?”
He stands and comes around to my side of the kitchen, I step back, intimidated by his size. He puts a hand on the countertop and glares down at me. “None of your business. If he wanted you to know, he’d tell you. And if you’re going to sneak around, get better at it.”
Damn it. I think to myself. How much does he know?
He pulls the refrigerator door open. "You got anything to drink?” he asks, looking at me past the door.
“There's beer on the bottom shelf,” I tell him. I want to ask him a hundred questions and beg him to take me to mortal earth, or at the very least, Nevermore.
“Can you take me to Nevermore? I won’t tell father.”
He cracks open the beer and takes a mouthful. “Nope. Do you ever shut up?” he asks.
He’s so hard to get through to. I huff and pace the floor, then stop to look out the window. In the distance walls of flames flicker across the horizon. Further out in the Void geysers of fire spurt yellow and orange flames into the air, along with splashes of molten lava that spew from earth’s core. I turn back to Belial. “Can you teach me how to fight?”
He bangs the beer bottle on the counter. “What? You’ve got demons for that.”
“Rylan and Blayne don’t teach me anything,” I tell him.
He comes over to the window beside me. Without thinking I reach out and touch the raised scars on his forearm. He grabs my wrist and holds it tightly. Tears well in my eyes and the pain is almost unbearable. I force myself not to show any emotion. Poker face on.
“Do not fucking touch me!” he growls.
I nod, and he lets my hand go. “Did you really kill that many beings?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he points to the rug on the floor and tells me to stand there. I nod obediently and watch in awe as Belial pulls out his Demon Sword. The long silver blade glows neon blue as he holds it out to me. He’s letting me use his sword.
My heart races nervously, and if he can sense my apprehension, he doesn’t mention it. The sword is heavier than I expected and the muscles in my arms flex as I raise it.
Belial shakes his head and comes over to me, he grips my hands and moves them further up the intricately carved handle. He squeezes his hands over mine. “Hold it tight, like you mean it,” he says. I nod and hold the sword’s hilt with a death grip.
“Okay, now swing a few times to get a feel for it.” He steps back, fearful I'm sure of being accidentally sliced open by my clumsy fumbling. I can feel his gaze on me but it only gives me the inspiration to try harder.
I swing it once, twice, and again, watching the neon blue trail cut effortlessly through the air.
Belial nods in approval, and I continue, focusing only on the blade. After a few minutes, there's a loud striking sound and sparks of silvery blue light startle me. The sword is gone and Belial stands before me with his short sword pointed at my chest. I swallow the lump in my throat, my knees tremble. He wouldn’t kill me. Would he? Seconds feel like minutes as he stares into my eyes as though he’s searching for any indication of fear.
He drops the sword and steps back. “You need to focus on your surroundings, not stare at the sword,” he growls.
After an hour of swinging the sword and learning where to place my feet and how to block, and advance attacks, my arms feel like jelly and I can barely move them.
Belial must notice because he slides both swords back into their sheaths and sits on the arm of the sofa. He rubs his chin and cocks his head. “I’ll make you a deal,” he says.
Any deal is fine with me, especially if it means getting out of this tower and seeing more of the city. “What do I have to do?”
“Do what Hades commands. If he sends you after Lola, do not harm her, summon me right away.”
I eye him suspiciously. There’s something about Lola Thorne everyone seems to want. They’re always whispering about her and saying how important it is that she dies. This is my chance to make a deal too. “What do I get out of this? Because you know I cannot go against my father’s orders. If he sends me to kill her, I will have no choice.”
He exhales and scratches the back of his neck. “What do you want?” he asks, meeting my gaze.
Everything! “I want you to train me, at least once a week. I want you to take me to H
ell Fire and I want to go to the Void. I want to go to Nevermore and Stygian. I want you to take me to The Stoke, and I want a sword like yours. Oh, oh… and I want to know more about the mortals.” The words tumble and I hope I haven’t forgotten anything. My heart’s racing with excitement and my head’s spinning. My wings are itching to get out but I try my best to remain cool, calm, and collected. I can’t let him see how desperately I want to get out of here.
He shakes his head and cracks his knuckles. “You’re a ball breaker Shiloh, you know that, right?”
I smile proudly and extend my hand, I can’t hide my excitement. He takes it and we shake. “Everything except Nevermore, for now. Deal?” he asks.
“Deal!” I say. My smile is so big it hurts my cheeks.
“Remember who you are,” Belial says.
I nod and bite the inside of my mouth until I taste blood. I'm a demon and whether I like it or not, I am the daughter of Hades. I shove my hands into my pockets. “So, tell me about Lola Thorne. Why can’t I kill her? Are you in love with her or something? I thought you loved Kamen,” I question.
He’s back to picking his fingernails. “We have a deal. You keep your end. I’ll keep mine. Practice your poker face, your eyes are a dead giveaway. And stay away from the angel. If Hades catches you down there feeding him and shit, he’ll kill him just to hurt you, and I’ve got a feeling you don’t want that to happen.”
I nod so fast it feels like my head’s about to topple off my neck. I compose myself and sit down beside him.
Belial gets up and walks to the door. “And quit spying on me with Kamen, or else,” he warns, before he turns back to me. “You’re not too bad, Shiloh, for a child.”
I jump up and stomp my foot—like a child. “I’m not a fucking child!”
He laughs and slams the door on his way out.
SEVEN
Lola
Nevermore
§§§
It’s so hot, I kick the covers off and roll over. Holy shit, I’m still in his bed, and he’s right beside me. I don’t dare move. I consider getting up, but I’ve got nowhere to go and nothing to do.
I turn my head to Belial. Even in the candlelight he’s strangely beautiful. His forehead has a few small scars and a large one below his hairline behind his left ear that curves down in an S shape, all the way to his neck.
He’s so big, my head reaches the middle of his chest, making me look like a little girl instead of a nineteen-year-old woman. He has one arm over his chest and the raised scars on his forearm are clearly visible. I put my hand out to touch his arm. Just one touch won't hurt, right? Surely he won’t stab me while I'm in his bed. Then again, maybe he will. He is a hitman, with wings. Speaking of wings, they’re gone again. Some type of angel or demon illusion no doubt.
With my index finger, I touch his arm. As soon as I make contact, he grabs my hand and turns to face me, holding my wrist tight above my head.
“Sorry,” I whisper. He glares, and I can't tell if he's angry or just not used to being touched. “Sorry,” I say again, as he continues to stare at me through dark soulless eyes. “Um, Belial, can you let go of my hand?”
“Don’t touch me,” he murmurs.
I nod and he lets my hand go. “What are they?” I ask.
“Scars.”
I turn to my side and prop myself up on my elbow. “Obviously, but from what?”
He stares up at the ceiling. “I like you better when you’re asleep,” he says.
I smile, amused at his attempt ignore me. “Likewise. So, the scars?” I ask again.
He closes his eyes and replies, “If you must know, they’re for each kill.”
“Okay then,” I say. “How many?”
He turns his head and opens his eyes. “Will you shut up if I tell you?”
I close my eyes for a second before opening them again. “No… I don’t think so. What’s your problem anyway? And why didn't you kill me?” I question.
“My problem is you. Why? I’m not sure yet. You’re pissing me off though.” He stares back up at the ceiling, but I’m not giving up.
“How many people have you killed?”
“Go back to sleep, Lola.”
I lean down close to his ear and when my hair falls across his chest, I’m positive I hear him suck in a breath. “How many?” I ask, determined to find out something about this guy.
He huffs. “Do you mean humans?”
I bite my lip and think about it. “Um, okay humans then.”
“Hundreds.”
“Why?”
“They were marked for death.”
I push the blanket off and sit up with my legs crossed. “So, you are a hitman, an angel hitman?”
He turns to me again and this time his eyes narrow and he’s clearly annoyed. “I’m not an angel, I told you that.”
“Then what are you Belial? It’s not like you’re letting me go, so tell me.”
His eyes focus on my chest, so I cross my arms around myself. Pervert. His lip curls a little. I wonder what he'd look like if he smiled, a real true smile.
He tells me, “I’m a hunter, a trained warrior.”
“With wings,” I say.
He sighs. “I’m a demon, and yes I have wings.”
“Ok then, hitman demon. Not angel. Why me?”
He rolls his eyes and for a moment he’s silent before speaking again, “I don’t know. I told you, I get the name, I kill.”
“So, who decides, a demon gangster?”
He runs his hands through his hair and then rubs them over his face. “You’ve got no idea, Lola. You should sleep. I’m taking you somewhere else tomorrow.”
“Where?” I question.
“Away from me.”
I sigh and lie back down with my head on the pillow. “Let me go home then,” I say.
“No.”
“Why?” I ask turning my head to him.
“He always sends someone to check.”
I want to ask who, and why he has wings, and if he knows about the demons I’ve seen in my dreams. Instead, I sigh and pull the blanket up over myself.
“You’re cold,” he says. I’m not sure if it’s a question or a statement.
“Nope,” I say.
“You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not.” I pull the blanket around myself.
“Yes, you are, I’m an expert in lying, it’s what I do.”
I sit up again. “Oh, okay then. So you are an angel and you’re really a nice guy who’s here to rescue me from certain death?” He rolls over so his back is to me. “Well that’s it then?”
There’s no reply and once again I lie down and stare up at the roof for an hour before I finally fall asleep.
§§§
I don't know how much time has passed when I open my eyes again. What I do know, is that my leg is over Belial, and my arm is across his chest. I swallow the lump in my throat. Considering how fast he moved when I touched him with just one finger, I'm surprised he's letting me have this much contact with him. Part of me expects him to dump me on the floor, just to ensure I can’t touch him again.
He’s fast asleep, so I don’t move a muscle. I breathe slowly, hoping he doesn’t wake. A loud knock on the door startles me. Belial wakes with a start and puts his arm over mine… protectively? I stay dead still and pretend to be asleep.
“What?” he calls.
“Come on brother, we need to go,” the voice calls from the other side of the door.
His body becomes tense. “Fuck off, Evan, I’m coming.”
More knocking. “Belial, bro, come on, let me in man.”
He pulls the blanket up, so it just covers my head. “Come in!”
Heavy footsteps pace the floor. “Belial, man, do you do anything but fuck and kill?”
“What do you want?” Belial says angrily.
“He wants to see us.”
“Why?” Belial asks.
“I don’t know.”
“When?”
&nbs
p; “Fuck, brother, what’s with the questions? You sound like a stinkin’ human, let’s go. Wait, is she hot?”
“Average,” Belial says.
Asshole. I think to myself.
“Can I have her when you’re done?”
His arm tightens around me, and beneath my arm, his heart beats faster. “No, this one’s mine.”
“Let me see her.”
“No, fuck off. I’ll be out in ten.”
“You suck brother.”
“So I’ve heard. Where’s Nik?”
“Stygian, waiting for your lazy ass.”
“Get out Evan, I’m not in the mood for your shit.” The door slams closed.
Belial takes the blanket off my head. “Lola?”
I don’t answer, still feigning sleep as I savour the touch of his hand on my arm. As he strokes it up and down, I get goose bumps. His fingers trace over my shoulder, up my neck and to my cheek, then back down. His breath is warm on my face, his body, hot against mine. He smells delicious. How on earth can his breath smell so good this early in the morning? He is intoxicating and I don’t want to move. If I did, my body would certainly betray me.
He slides his hand lower and runs it over my waist, past the swell of my hip and then down to my thigh. Gently caressing me, exploring my body with his fingertips.
Butterflies fill my stomach and my heart has a mind of its own, beating faster than ever before. I’m insane letting this demon hitman feel me up, but his touch is like nothing I’ve ever felt, and certainly doesn’t match his lethal hitman exterior.
He lifts my arm and slides out of bed.
I want to sigh out loud. I want to ask him what the hell his problem is. Most of all, I want him to come back and touch me again, I want to feel his hands wandering over my body.
He lowers his voice, “Lola.”
I sit up. “Yeah?” I say, rubbing my eyes.
He opens a closet full of swords, daggers and a deadly looking crossbow. “I have to go out, I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“Can I go home?”
Untamed: Demon Soul Page 6