by Melody Rose
“Went swimming again?” she joked, but when I turned to address her, her face paled as she registered exactly what she was seeing. I must not have looked very good, because her jaw tensed, and she pressed her lips together like she always does when she needs to start taking things very seriously.
I looked down at my shirt and slowly peeled it up, exposing the bullet wound, and the puddling blood that was spurting out onto the floor.
“Holy fuck,” she spat out. That was all she said for a while, as she became laser-focused on fixing the immediate problem. She sped out of the room, and by the time she returned, I had dropped to my knees. I was losing strength quickly and finally felt comfortable enough to relax, which meant the adrenaline was wearing off.
She returned quickly with first aid supplies and came over to guide me down to the floor, ensuring I was flat on my back. She immediately went to work, grabbing the tweezers to fish out the bullet from deep within my stomach muscles. She cleaned the wound up and did her best with the stitches. I had never needed stitches before, and it was more intense than I could have imagined. I felt the needle pierce my body and saw my skin protrude up as the needle sought its way out from under the surface. I felt the two ends of the wound pull taut with each stitch, over and over, again and again, until the sensation of the needle was all I could focus on. Each time the needle punctured my skin, I wondered just how much longer I had to endure it. When she was done, I took a deep breath and realized that I had been holding my breath for that entire time.
It wasn’t until after she was done bandaging me up, the blood had been cleaned up off the floor, and she had helped me back into my room and onto my throne, that she turned to me and spoke.
“Never in a million lifetimes would I have imagined seeing you this way,” she said, her voice hushed and quiet. When I didn’t answer, her voice rose sharply, and she sounded much more like herself. “You got shot! What the fuck! Are you going to tell me what happened, or am I supposed to guess?!”
That tone immediately told me that I would be okay. I quickly filled her in on what had happened in front of that building.
“So that woman in the holding cell… she did that?!” Lilith looked at me, her mouth open in shock, her hands absentmindedly running through her golden hair, the way she did when she was in high-stress scenarios.
“Yes,” I replied sullenly. “And I don’t know how.”
She didn’t have any idea how this could have happened either. What was plain was that I couldn’t kill this strange woman, not without getting more information out of her. We had at least ensured my own safety and tucked her gun somewhere she would never find it. After checking the weapon thoroughly, and hoping it would give me some answers, I had to conclude that it was simply a gun. This meant the power had to belong to this woman. I contemplated how she could have acquired these powers. Neither of us has ever encountered powers like these. It was a mystery I felt pressed to solve.
Bringing myself back to the present, I looked down again at the cognac in my glass and lifted it to take a sip. I thought about the day’s events so far, and how I was no closer to solving the mystery now than I was when she first arrived.
Another thing that taunted me about this woman was the way she spoke to me. It infuriated me that she spoke to me the way she did. Anyone who had ever given me even the hint of an attitude learned their lesson and never did it again. I’ve had lawyers, politicians, car salesmen… Their mindsets were always the same. And every time one of them tried pushing back, I cut off their tongue and fed it to Cerberus as a treat. But I needed this woman and her tongue. She knew something, and I was determined to figure it out.
I looked down to the left of my throne and saw Cerberus curled up against it, asleep, his heads resting on my armrest. I absentmindedly dropped my hand and scratched one of his heads.
As I finished adjusting my skulls for the millionth time, Lilith walked in. Lilith had been with me since she left the Garden. Her strong, independent nature drew me to her immediately, even though it was cause for us butting heads through the years. Adam would not have been able to handle her, I mused, as I took in her outfit of the day. For some reason, she loved dressing up for work. She always had the perfect amount of makeup on, with her go-to red lipstick and eyelashes that were always unbelievably full. Her little black dress was pulled directly from Audrey Hepburn’s closet. The second she heard the woman had passed, she raced over to snatch it up. The girl had no shame. The shoes were custom made for her, though. She may have tortured Christian Louboutin to get them, but nonetheless, Lilith got those custom shoes just for her. It was ridiculous to think about, but I still got a kick out of it every time.
“Did you scare her with the Hell Tour?” Lilith joked as she sauntered over to the bar and poured herself a glass of pinot noir. The dress hugged her curves perfectly, falling just below her knee, and her calf muscles were accentuated by her heels. She tucked her long, silky blonde hair behind one ear with a well-manicured finger and turned to face me, staring up at me with those gorgeous green eyes of hers.
“Apparently, she doesn’t scare easily,” I replied. “Kinda reminds me of you a bit in the beginning. Pretty unfazed by the whole thing.”
“Ahh, yes, the good ol’ days,” Lilith mused, waxing nostalgic. She took a sip of her wine, then absentmindedly licked her lips. “Did I ever thank you for what you did for me, by the way? I mean, a whole life in just the missionary position, answering to Adam? Shoot me, please. Oh, sorry.” She laughed heartily. “Looks like you beat me to it!”
“Yeah, speaking of, what do you make of all this?” I asked. “I mean, she seems clueless. I put her with Asmodeus. Seemed like a good pairing.”
“What do I make of it?” she asked. “I have no idea! We ruled out the weapon as the source, so it has to be her. I keep wondering why we haven’t come across this before. Why now, after all this time? What makes her different?”
Lilith took another sip of her wine. “Asmodeus, though, that is definitely a good pairing. He is just fabulous enough to irk the crap out of her, I bet.” She smirked knowingly. “Problem is, I just ran into Asmodeus in the hall. He got nowhere, so he locked her up again. But he had fun, so that counts for something.”
“Shit,” I replied, looking back down at the skull in my hand. Asmodeus was great at pushing people to their limits. It’s why I gave him Level Two. Lust was a tricky beast, and as one of the seven sins, definitely deserved its own level. Asmodeus had a unique creativity when it came to handing down punishments, which fit perfectly for that. I was hoping that same creativity would help me up here.
“I know that face.” Lilith crossed the room to where I was and picked up one of the skulls, thoughtfully repositioning it. “That’s your ‘I won’t rest until I figure this out’ face.”
“You know me too well.” I exhaled sharply. I was frustrated and in pain. While I was familiar with frustration from my, uh, distant past, the pain, that was new to me.
“Remember back in the day, when we first met and traveled all over together?” Lilith asked. “Wreaking havoc on the world as we explored it all? I mean the sex was amazing, don’t get me wrong--”
“Yeah, anything but missionary,” I interjected with a sly grin.
Lilith laughed. “Yes, exactly! Adam never understood what was wrong with that, but I will never put myself in a position to be submissive ever again.”
“Some men can’t handle a strong woman,” I offered.
“It’s not just that,” Lilith replied thoughtfully, “It was like my freedom of choice was taken from me. It was all about what he wanted. The sexual position was just a piece of the puzzle. I was expected to be submissive in every aspect of our lives. And I know, I know… We’ve discussed this a multitude of times, and it was eons ago, but it still pisses me off.” Lilith laughed now. “What’s a woman gotta do to get a little equality around here?”
“Spend a little time with the Devil, apparently,” I joked, adding: “And they were amaz
ing times, too. I’m pretty sure we tried, well… everything. Multiple times!”
“We definitely did!” Lilith laughed again. “But aside from that, we really got to know each other on a personal level. I still see that same curiosity in your eyes now that I did then. Sure, it’s much more low key now, but it’s still there. This is a new puzzle. We will figure it out. I can help.” She rested her hand gently on my arm in reassurance.
“How can you help?” I asked.
Not that I didn’t believe her. As a matter of fact, she was the perfect person to help. Unlike Asmodeus, who focused on creativity and fun, Lilith was a pro at sweet-talking her way into gathering any information she needed, without getting her hands dirty. I just wanted the details.
“Give me a shot at her in the morning,” she suggested mysteriously. “Let’s see what happens.”
“Alright,” I replied. “Go for it. Let me know how it goes.” I loved her initiative. She didn’t have to get so involved, but I always knew I could count on her.
“I will,” she chirped, as she turned and strutted out the door, leaving her wine glass on my bar “See ya!”
The last thing I saw was the red sole of her shoe as she turned the corner. It was the only color in the room.
4
Evelyn
If you had told me before I took that security gig last night that in twenty-four hours I would be locked up in Hell, I might have referred you to the Psych ward. Twenty-four hours ago, I did not believe in Hell or Heaven for that matter. Now I was in it. Hell was real. Very, very real. Either that or I was having the most vivid dream of my entire life.
As I sat on the floor of my small, bloody prison, I pulled my hands around to rest in my lap, looking down at the shackles around my wrists. I touched the cold metal, placed the palms of my hands against the cold concrete floor, then looked around at the dripping red walls. I had initially thought it was fresh blood, but shouldn’t it be dry by now? It seemed to leak perpetually from the top edges of the walls, where they met with the ceiling, but the substance never seemed to reach the floor. I didn’t understand how this was even possible, but I was grateful. At least I had a dry floor to sit on. While I didn’t have a bed to sleep on tonight, at least I wasn’t sitting in a puddle of blood. I shuddered. This whole scene was creepy. I desperately wanted to go home.
If this really is Hell, how would I escape anyway? How did I get here? Was there a doorway? A gate? A seemingly endless flight of stairs? Maybe it really was a highway, and there was a giant garage somewhere with some badass Hell machines in there. I started humming AC/DC tunes while imagining a Mad Max-esque setup, the funky off-road post-apocalyptic vehicles lined up deep inside some giant underground parking garage. If ever there was a time for a drink, I’d have really appreciated one right now.
I was deep within my thoughts and well into my AC/DC repertoire when the door swung open again. Asmodeus stood in the doorway. After all these hours, his bright-colored outfit was still immaculately clean. It provided an interesting contrast to the disgusting bloody walls.
He had a flimsy tray of what looked like prison food in his hands - or at least what I imagined prison food to look like. He placed it down on the floor and slid it over to me with his toe. The tiny container of milk tipped over and fell off the tray.
“Eat up,” he offered as he stood there observing me.
“I’m not hungry,” I snapped even though I was fucking starving. Part of it was defiance, sure… but another part? Another part worried that if I accepted the food, I’d be trapped here like with Persephone and Hades. Sure, that was a different mythology… but still?
“Okay, don’t eat up.” Asmodeus shrugged. “I literally do not care.”
“Where did you get this from anyway, a prison?” I pressed as he turned to leave.
“Yes,” he replied casually. “The Federal Correctional Complex in Butner, North Carolina, in case you were wondering. I took it from Bernie Madoff. He…” Asmodeus looked down at the tray. “He already had the fork in his hand, so I didn’t get you a fork.” He shrugged nonchalantly.
After noticing my probably dumbstruck face, he added: “Don’t look at me like that. He’ll be here sooner than he thinks. And missing a meal will be just a small blip on his radar.”
Asmodeus propped one shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest and placing one ankle over the other. He looked down at me.
“So,” he said in a musical tone, “how was your first day?” He had a wicked grin on his face, one that told me he already knew the answer.
“It was great!” I said sarcastically. “This is all very creative, I have to say. I’m impressed. Also, I love what you did with the place.” I gestured around the room.
Asmodeus chuckled heartily. “This is actually a bit dreary for my taste,” he replied, running one hand through his shoulder-length hair. He shrugged. “I’m more into the dramatics.”
“I couldn’t tell,” I muttered, still sarcastic as hell. I made a show of looking him up and down. “I mean, who the hell sees a turquoise suit for sale and decides they must have it?” I made finger guns at him. “This guy, apparently.” I pretended to fire at him. “And not only did you buy it, you decided to jazz it up with some purple accents.”
“Oh, I like you.” He was laughing out loud now. “The great thing about Hell, you see, is I can wear whatever I please. No one would dare make fun of me, because if they did...” He trailed off and cocked his head. “But I’m not allowed to end you. So, it appears we are at an impasse.”
“Aww, too bad, so sad.” I made a pouty face. “It must be terrible to be treated badly.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Is the big bad demon a little upset?”
“A little,” he continued, a thin bead of annoyance flowing into his voice. “The reason I wear the most ostentatious outfits possible is to invite comment.” An evil grin spread across his face. “I welcome the opportunity to put someone in their place… permanently”
“So, you’re daring them?” I wondered aloud.
“Yup!” He smiled again. “Makes the job a bit more interesting.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Usually, anyway.”
“Speaking of your job, what exactly is your job?” I asked, suddenly curious. “I mean, I’m sure you weren’t sitting around here, waiting for me to show up so you can be my babysitter.”
“Is that really your question?” he asked. He reached around the outside of the doorframe and pulled a folding chair into the room. He shook it open with one hand, placed it on the floor, and slowly sat down. He propped one ankle over his other knee and crossed his arms so that he looked at me curiously.
“Of all the questions I’ve been asked upon welcoming people to Hell,” he continued, “no one has ever asked about me. I have to say, there is something different about you, something I can’t quite figure out. I like it, though. I’m always up for a challenge.”
He paused, then asked, “Why did you keep crocheting earlier?”
I wasn’t expecting that. “Err… what?” I asked intelligently.
“Earlier.” He was looking at me with his head cocked slightly. “You didn’t stop. You didn’t beg for mercy. You didn’t complain. You just… crocheted. Why?”
I shrugged. I wasn’t really sure how to answer that question. “I guess there really wasn’t any point to complaining. I saw what some of the others were experiencing. It didn’t look like there was a choice. I do like to crochet, so I just made the best of it.”
Asmodeus pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. “Interesting,” he muttered. After noticing the curious look on my face, he continued. “I’ve been doing this for quite a long time, and I can usually see the breaking point for people right away. I can’t see it with you. I can tell our usual methods won’t work on you. It’s rare, but it happens. There’s something about you. You’re wired differently.”
Wired differently? I wasn’t sure what that meant.
“Speaking of different, how did you acquire you
r powers?” I asked. My eyes caught the prison food on the floor. Goddamn, I was hungry.
“Lucifer gave them to me,” he responded simply with a shrug as if there wasn’t so much more to that story.
“So, are you going to tell me about your history with Lucifer?” I pressed.
Asmodeus looked down at me from his perch. “Lucifer brought me into existence. Let’s just say we go back a ways. He is the reason I’m here. So, when he asks for a favor, I do it. It’s really not that deep.” He smiled, and it seemed much more genuine than when he had first entered the room. It reached his eyes now.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I asked, and I immediately regretted it. It sounded so pathetic.
Asmodeus laughed and looked at me for a moment before replying. “Watching people adjust to and accept Hell... Well, it is my favorite part. This is when newcomers are the most pure. They are experiencing something brand new and terrifying, and their reactions are always genuine. It’s when I really get a glimpse behind the curtain. Even after all this time, it’s still exciting to me. I learn a lot from it. It keeps me young.” He seemed much more relaxed now, and I could almost see us being friends. If, you know, he wasn’t a demon in Hell holding me hostage and all.
“Well, that’s deep,” I said while adjusting my position on the floor. Sitting on concrete for this long was incredibly uncomfortable. “I wasn’t expecting all of that. Let me ask you this then: How are the decisions made?”
“What decisions?” he asked, cocking his head to the side again.