Sinful As Hell

by G. Bailey

  “They are back tomorrow apparently,” one girl says.

  “Who?” the other asks.

  “Who do you think?” The one girl laughs. “The Lucifer sons. I’ve never met them, but I’m looking forward to it. Apparently, they are even more handsome than Lucifer himself.”

  “Be careful who you say that to,” the other replies.

  “Oh stop being so scared of him. Lucifer is in hell; how would he punish you for something he can’t hear you say?” she asks.

  “He is our king,” the other whispers.

  “But the Lucifer sons are our princes, and I don’t know about you, but I’d like to get underneath one of them. Or both,” the other replies, and they start giggling as I roll my eyes. What’s so special about sex? Or having sex with guys that are likely going to be total douchebags because they are pretty. I’d rather have someone who actually wants more than one night and then pretends like you don’t exist afterward. I saw enough heartbroken girls crying in the school bathrooms to know that’s how sex with teenage guys usually plays out.

  We head straight down the corridor, and Sera opens a door which leads into another, much smaller passageway to the next corridor. This corridor I haven’t been in, and it has far fewer doors, just three that I can see. Sera points to the open one in front of us and lifts her head up to smile briefly at me. I smile back just before she goes and lines up with the other two wolves standing by the wall, their heads bowed. I almost pause when I see the scars all over one of the wolf’s arm, some looking new and sore.

  I hear the chatter of students from inside the classroom as I walk in, seeing Maggie first as she sits on a chair near the front of the class, a wooden desk in front of her that she has her high-heeled feet leaning on. I briefly see eight other students in the room, none of them pay more than a glance at me, but Maggie keeps her eyes fixed on me. She raises an eyebrow at me, a much less friendly expression on her lips as I ignore her and walk past to find an empty seat. She reaches out, grabbing my wrist tightly, and I tighten my hand into a fist, praying I find the strength not to slam it into her face.

  “Mr. Morganach is off-limits. You understand me?” she whispers, but it’s a threat.

  “Does someone have a crush on their teacher?” I ask, pulling my wrist out of her hand with a strength I didn’t know I had, and I feel nothing but extremely angry all of a sudden.

  “You’re learning quick. Be careful when your demon does take control, little friend,” she warns with a laugh.

  “You are only taller than me because of those heels you wear, short-arse,” I sarcastically reply, feeling all that anger controlling me as I walk to the back and find an empty seat and sit down.

  Kill her.

  I gasp as a woman’s voice whispers into my mind, and my body jolts, like it wants to get up and do just what the woman suggested. I look down at my fingers, which I swear for a brief second looked like my fingertips were black and my nails were sharper than I ever have seen them. I shake my head and blink, and my hands are normal once again, just plain golden skin. I look up, seeing Maggie watching me with a secretive smirk on her lips. I suck in a deep breath, knowing I can’t rise to whatever game she is now playing. I must just be hearing things.

  “Welcome, class, good to see all of you are on time,” a man says, coming into the room and dropping a pile of old books onto the desk at the front. There is no whiteboard in this room, and it’s just orange walls with peeling paper in the corners and the same white shiny tiles that are in all the rooms by the looks of it. “Is the new girl here? Miss Cameron?” he asks, and I hold my hand up, drawing his attention to me. He quickly walks down the middle of the desk and stops in front of mine, offering me his hand to shake. I slide my hand into his without much thought, and he nods, shaking it firmly before letting go.

  “Welcome to The Choosing class. I am Mr. Johan. We meet twice a week, in which we will study the five speciality classes you can take next year and end up working in if you survive DA,” he says and spins around, walking slowly down the desks. “Will someone tell Miss Cameron the five specialities that are available?”

  “I can, sir!” a guy with red hair and freckles says from two desks in front of me. Mr. Johan nods at him as he walks past. “Manipulation. Hell hunters, but most people call them Hellers. Hell Executioner. Supernatural Politics, and finally Gatekeepers.”

  “Very good, would someone else briefly explain each of the specialities?” Mr. Johan asks, and Maggie puts her hand up.

  “Manipulation is the art of voodoo and hexes, and using them to manipulate important humans in governments around the world to make sure our kind stay a secret,” Maggie explains. Good to know demons have been all around us for so long and they are properly making the world a disaster like it currently is. If demons feed off pain and suffering, then they must be rolling in it at the moment.

  “Very good. Manipulation is one of our most important specialities. It is the only reason our kind and the supernaturals we have truces with have kept our existence a secret for many years,” Mr. Johan enlightens me on that, but I raise my hand.

  “Yes, Miss Cameron?” he asks.

  “Then what happened in New York, Greece and London? Everyone said it was a woman with powers,” I ask. “That wasn’t kept a secret very well.”

  “There is one supernatural race who is well hidden and doesn’t usually cause trouble, but they did on those terrible days. We call them the tales, and that was one of their race’s doing. We are currently in peace agreements with their new leadership now that the threat is over,” he explains to me, though that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. Why would a race be called tales? Like fairy tales? Holy hell, this world I’ve just been dropped into is weird. “Please explain another speciality, Miss Menzora.”

  “Hell hunters are the army of our kind and important to keep everyone and everything in line. A hell executioner is exactly what the name suggests, and not many demons choose to take that job. Supernatural politics is a job for those skilled at dealing with other races and knowing the right thing to say. Last but not least, gatekeepers are the guardians of the doors of hell. They make sure no demons who are not permitted ever leave hell, no creatures and monsters escape. Gatekeepers are the heroes among us who do not care about dying in order to protect the world.”

  “Very correct, Miss Menzora,” Mr. Johan replies and leans against the desk at the front, keeping his arms pressed against his chest as he looks to me. “What would you choose, Miss Cameron?”

  “None,” I reply, which makes a few students gasp.

  “Why?” he asks, not looking anything but interested.

  “I’m not a murderer; I’m not a politician or a soldier. I’m currently not good at manipulating people, and last but not least, I’m no hero,” I list.

  “What an interesting student you are. It has been over a year since anyone ever gave me that answer,” he replies.

  “Who was stupid enough to say that answer, sir?” Maggie asks.

  “The sons of Lucifer. They answered very similarly to Miss Cameron, and I wouldn’t say she is stupid at all. Miss Cameron and the Lucifer sons did what most will never do, they were honest about their nature,” he replies, and I smile at Maggie.

  “Everyone knows the Lucifer sons are cursed to hell no matter what they want once their demons appear,” Maggie huffs.

  “Careful,” Mr. Johan warns, and for a second, his eyes glow green, bright enough to hurt my own eyes.

  “Sorry, sir,” she mumbles, shifting her gaze down to the desk. Mr. Johan gets himself under control and clicks his neck in a way that makes me cringe, before straightening up.

  “Either way, it doesn’t matter. The red stone of hell will choose the speciality that best suits you at the end of the year. You will spend the final two years training in whichever is chosen,” he explains.

  “I’m looking forward to holding the stone,” Maggie says, sounding sheepish.

  “Many do look forward to it. The stone is th
e only object in this world—in heaven and hell—that knows what everyone wants in their soul. It knows who you are,” he says. We are all silent for a moment before Mr. Johan starts talking about exploring each one of the specialities in great detail and that they are halfway through the books on Hellers.

  The only thing I can think of as he goes on is how I want to hold the stone. Maybe it can tell me who I am, because I don’t have a clue.

  I doubt anything but a magical fucking stone could tell me at this point, and with how confused I am, I bet I will break it.

  Chapter 10

  There is a big, bad wolf after all

  “I’ve decided you being a demon has its benefits for me. I have never tasted food this nice. You must have been feeding me poorly before; it is the only explanation I can think of. How could you do that to me?” Amethyst asks as she jumps onto the sofa next to me and curls up in a ball, looking up at me for an answer with her big purple eyes. She somehow makes me feel bad, even though I shouldn’t.

  “I’m not hand making you meals like the cooks do here,” I warn her.

  “Why ever not?” she asks.

  “Because you’re a cat,” I point out.

  “And I should be treated as nothing but the royalty I am. Honestly, you are a terrible person, and it’s best you accept it,” she says before resting her head down and drifting off to sleep as I watch her with a smile. She can always make me smile, though. The door opens from the bedroom, and Sera walks out with a wash basket full of clothes and some blankets.

  “Hey, you alright?” Sera asks, stopping near the sofa, resting her hip on it. “I was just going downstairs to wash these, but I will be back in about an hour. I can stay if you want.”

  “I’m fine, don’t worry. It was just a long, very strange day,” I reply to her.

  “Wanna talk about it?” she gently asks.

  “I talked to Maggie, you know one of the bitchy chicks I told you about, and she made me angry—like blindingly angry. The sort I’ve never been over anything. When I forced myself to walk away and sit down, my fingertips where black and my nails were long—deadly long and sharp,” I tell her. “I heard a voice in my head that kind of sounded like me, and it told me to kill her, and I wanted to. Does that make me a monster?”

  “Your demon is awakening because you are around your kind. I’ve never seen a fully-shifted demon before, so I don’t know what you guys look like, but I imagine it’s scary. I just know wolves need to be around other wolves to shift,” she explains to me. “As for being a monster, you could never be one. Your human side is there to counter your demon side; otherwise, every one of your kind would just go around killing.”

  “Are angels the same?” I ask, not in agreement that we aren’t monsters. Hell, she is my fucking slave. That makes us monsters on its own.

  “No, angels are like nothing else, but they are secretive about their kind. No one knows much,” she explains to me.

  “Then why is Mr. Morganach working here as a teacher?” I ask.

  “I’ve heard some whispers in the kitchens...” she says, and I lean forward, not sure why I’m so interested in what the asshole did. “Apparently, he killed another angel, and this is his punishment. He is banished from heaven until he pays his price.”

  “Why would he kill one of his own kind?” I ask.

  “You said he wasn’t very nice—”

  “I said he was an asshole, and actually, do you ever swear? I don’t think I’ve heard you swear before,” I interrupt.

  “Swearing isn’t ladylike, or that’s what my father taught me,” she explains to me.

  “Your dad isn’t here,” I say with a grin, seeing how red her cheeks are as she shakes her head.

  “Oh, I couldn’t. Do you want me to stay?” she asks, changing the subject.

  “Nope, I’m going to have an early night anyway. I’m still aching from the run this morning,” I tell her.

  “It will get easier the more you come closer to your inner demon and the shift. You will get demon strength, demon agility, and be able to see in the dark. Demons have some cool powers, I’ve heard,” she explains to me. “Demons and angels are equally matched on Earth. You might even be able to beat Mr. Morganach one day.”

  “Demons also feed off pain and murder,” I mutter. “I’m not sure I want to be like that, even if it means beating Mr. Morganach.”

  “Well, yes, there is that,” she mutters with a frown. “If it helps, my wolf likes to eat rats when she takes over. It’s seriously gross to wake up in rat blood and bones.”

  “It does help. We are gross monsters, but at least we aren’t crazy,” I reply with a big smile.

  “Speak for yourself, Lexi,” she says with a small laugh, and I can’t help but laugh with her as she walks to the door and leaves the apartment. I climb to my feet and stretch a little as I hear the pitter-patter of the heavy rain against the window outside. Walking around the couch, I head to the window and look over the stormy sea through the rain. It really is one hell of a view: lights from the academy just about illuminate the sea, which crashes into the rocky cliff before falling back down into the ocean and repeating the cycle all over again. It’s almost soothing to watch the sea pound into the cliffs, again and again, never making a visible difference but slowly eroding the rocks. The sea never gives up. I need to be more like the sea, more resilient and stronger.

  My parents need that from me. I have to get them out of the mess they got themselves into. I step closer to the glass when something catches my eyes, a reflection in the darkness of the rocks. The moonlight from the half-moon shines down around the part of the rock where something caught my eye. I stare longer, and shock freezes my feet to the spot as a wolf the size of a friggin’ car crashes through the window and knocks me onto the ground, glass cutting into my legs and arms. My breathing is heavy as I try not to move as the smoky brown wolf leans down, baring its teeth as a long growl leaves its throat, the sound so loud it vibrates through me.

  Where is this inner demon to protect me? Mine is flipping broken.

  “There is a dog in here,” Am feels the need to state nervously from somewhere nearby. “I’m going to leave you to it. I’m not a dog person.”

  “You’re not a person at flipping all,” I mutter, regretting talking out loud when the wolf growls once more, moving even closer to me just seconds before its wet nose brushes across my cheek.

  “Please don’t kill me,” I whisper. “My parents need me to help them escape. If I die, everything they did to protect me is for nothing.” I have no idea if the wolf can understand me, but he suddenly steps over me, and I let out the breath I was holding, and the tears pricking my eyes finally fall down my cheeks. I shakily stand up as the wolf moves in front of the sofa, and I step back as the wolf makes some god awful clicking and snapping noise and disappears, only to be replaced by a guy.

  A naked guy.

  A very, very attractive naked guy. He has shoulder-length, wavy black hair that is tucked behind his ears, his skin the same colour as Sera with a golden tan. His muscles look like they have their own muscles, and there are two bands of tattoos around his upper arms. I don’t dare look down any further, knowing once I look, there is no going back from that. I do spot three claw marks straight across his chest, and they look like they were once a nasty injury.

  “Where is my sister?” he asks me, his voice deeper than most guys. It has a sexy hum to it that is borderline illegally seductively calling to me.

  “Sera?” I ask because I really don’t know any other wolves. The guy just nods once, sniffing the air.

  “I know this is her room, and that makes you her master. Where the fuck is she?” he demands, getting angrier.

  “She went to do some washing. I’m sure she will be back soon,” I tell him because he honestly looks like he is going to rip my head off at any moment, and I’m clearly as powerful as a dull knife against a pineapple.

  “If one hair on my sister’s head is missing, I will murder you.
Understood?” he asks, and to my surprise, he sits down, his legs wide and not one care in the world for his nudity.

  “Oh my. I’ve just changed my mind, I’m now a dog person,” Amethyst says as she walks into the room, her freaky, purple cat eyes fixed on the naked wolf on my sofa. He growls at her, and all the hairs go up on her back. “Change of mind. Good to see the dog didn’t eat you. I have things to do.” I watch as she runs back into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind her. That was a poor rescue attempt or whatever that was. I step to the side, the glass cracking under my shoes, and I thank my common sense for not changing out of them earlier.

  “Don’t leave,” he commands me. “I have not given you permission.”

  “I’m going to get you a blanket,” I say, walking across the room. “And you know what? I don’t need your permission, whoever the fuck you are. I’m pretty sure it would be illegal for you to kill me, and Sera would be the one who suffered if you did. So try speaking to—” I cry out as he slams me into the wall, somehow not really hurting me as his hands grip my hands tightly above my head in one smooth motion. I’m stupid as all I can focus on when we are this close is how his eyes are as gray as heavy, rain-filled clouds that always appeared when my dad said we should have a barbecue growing up.

  Saying the word barbecue pretty much conjures storms in Scotland.

  “I am soon to be alpha of every wolf shifter in the world, and I make the rules about what is illegal between our kinds and what is not. If I want to fucking murder you here and now, I could and would,” he growls, making me shiver.

  “Alpha is a leader, right?” I ask.