by Kyoko M
“Now, now, ladies!” she declared. “Don’t be cheap. This is a fine specimen. Notice the sturdy bone structure. He is certain to surpass all your needs. Surely the bidding can go higher!”
“Oh, come on, just one more!” One of the women insisted in an almost childish tone. “He looks so yummy all bloody!”
The demon pursed her lips. “Very well. The customer is always right.”
She held out her hand and black claws sprung from her fingernails. She started at his collarbone and raked them downward, spilling more blood.
Michael writhed and growled, sending the female demons into a frenzy. He struggled against the nails, but they were large and deep. He couldn’t get down without help.
“Unclean witch!” he snarled, baring his teeth.
The water demon winked at him. “Mm, say it again, big man. You’re getting me wet.”
The crowd howled with laughter. I very calmly stood up and clutched the pitchfork in my hand.
“Now, have you seen enough? Can we finish up here with a final bid for the soul of Michael the archangel?”
“We sure can.”
The woman glanced upward just in time to see the pitchfork I’d thrown at her. It plunged straight through her throat and pinned her to the wall. Her blue eyes bulged and she clutched her neck as her clear blood poured outward, drenching her unnatural skin and luscious curves. She gurgled once more and slumped against the wall, hanging there like some sort of bizarre 3D mural.
I leapt down from the rafters and let the motion take me into a front roll. I whirled around and spread my arms, unable to hide the sheer fury in my voice.
“Show’s over, putas. Next person to touch him is going to have to go through me.”
“Jor,” Michael protested behind me. “Don’t…they’ll tear you apart.”
I wrenched the pitchfork free of the wall and held it tight, glaring at the stunned flock of demons around me. “Let ‘em try.”
“She killed Miranda,” someone whispered. “She’s willing to die for her mate. I’d pay extra for that.”
“Yes, clearly they must be sold as a set,” another hungry voice proclaimed. “It would be absolutely criminal to break them up. How appetizing. I must have them.”
“No way. They’re mine!”
“I’ll never let you buy them! I called it first!”
Then, miraculously, the women turned on each other and began heated arguments. Soon, it broke out into an actual fist fight and then it turned deadly. Throats were ripped open. Sides slashed to ribbons. Eyes gouged out. Faces smashed. I stood there, stunned, as the last one fell. Nothing left but bloody corpses with gold clutched in their fists.
I licked my lips and turned to Michael. “Uh…go Team Amador?”
He let out a weak chuckle. “Take the win wherever you can get it.”
I dropped the pitchfork and then cradled his worn face in my hands, resting my forehead against his. “These nails…they’re deep.”
“I know,” he murmured.
“It’s going to hurt. A lot.”
“I know.”
Tears finally leaked down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry, amor.”
“It’s okay, baby.”
I took a deep, quaking breath and wrapped my fingers around the first nail. I had to pull with every ounce of my strength to get it out, but eventually it popped free. Michael gasped and gritted his teeth, sagging forward. I caught him, wincing as my ribs ached, and steadied him.
“Just one more. Almost done.”
He nodded, gathering his feet underneath him. I pried the second nail free and he collapsed on his knees, crying out. I went down with him, cradling his face against my neck, stroking his dark hair.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, mi amor.”
He stayed hunched over, draped around me, for a couple of minutes. Then, slowly, his breathing evened out and he lifted his face enough to look at me. “Are you alright?”
A watery smile brushed my lips. “There you go with that question again.”
I could tell he wanted to touch my face, but his arms were probably still numb. He kissed my forehead instead. “Thank you,” he said hoarsely.
“You’re welcome.” I lowered my gaze to the hideous holes in his wrists. The nails had gone right through the bones and tendons. The sight made my stomach jerk back and forth like it was in a washing machine.
“Can you move your fingers?”
“It’ll take a while,” he admitted. “But I’ll be alright. I promise.”
“Can’t believe they were trying to auction you off. You’re my boy-toy, dammit.”
He shook with silent, exhausted laughter. “Right. I should just get your name tattooed on my ass or something.”
“And ruin that perfection? Don’t you dare.”
He sighed. “We can’t stay here cracking jokes all day. We have to find Belial.”
I helped him up, looping one of his long arms around my shoulder. “What do you think happened? Would they try to jump him too?”
Michael shook his head. “No, not here. He’s too powerful. The only reason they got to you and me is the mob mentality. He probably doesn’t have a scratch on him.”
“So how do we find him? We can’t show up at Pandemonium without him or the scheme will never work.”
“We need to find higher ground and stay out of sight until he finds us. We should head for that spire we saw.”
I frowned. “That’s going to be hard with you glowing like this.”
“I know. I’ll try to suppress my energy. In the meantime, we need to find something we can use for disguises.” He nodded towards the corpses lying around us. I searched them until I found a couple of cloaks that would fit us.
By the time I was done, Michael had managed to dim his inner light so that his skin was its normal creamy hue. I wrapped his injured wrists to stop the bleeding and we both donned the cloaks.
“We’re gonna be alright,” I said after lifting his arm over my shoulder again. “We’re gonna get your brother back.”
He shook his head. “I’m supposed to be your strength down here, y’know.”
“Shut up, pretty boy.”
Michael laughed. It was sickly, but it made me feel better. We left the barn, moving as quickly as we could towards the horse and cart. I detached the cart from it and motioned to Michael. He fumbled a few times climbing onto the horse, but once we left the grounds and returned to the street, he could hold himself up on his own. We stayed away from the main road that led into the city and instead stuck to the alleys, keeping the crystal spire in our sight as we moved. I kept an eye on the sky in case Belial was flying overhead looking for us, but all I saw were the other demons circling like undead vultures.
The front entrance to the spire yawned wide like a shark’s jaws. The entire thing seemed to be made of yellow quartz meticulously carved into a building. Its shape was akin to a Twizzler with runnels and threads looped around that went hundreds of feet high. Like the city itself, it was illuminated with lanterns of hellfire, filling the air with the sharp, nauseating smell of rotten eggs. There was an inscription above the entrance in Latin: In honorem Babel. “In honor of Babel.” Yeesh.
My bare feet hit the staircase leading inside and I had to bite my lip to keep from shrieking. I’d finally gotten used to the sweltering heat of Hell, and the floor was ice-cold, shooting pins and needles up my legs. I clenched my hands into fists and sucked in a breath to steady myself as we walked in.
The hallway was wide enough to fit a couple elephants and there were rooms on either side of us with partially transparent doors. Muffled screams of both pain and joy echoed in the hollow corridors. I kept my eyes on the ground to avoid seeing something I didn’t want to and we headed up the spiral staircase at the center of the structure. The farther up we went, the quieter it got. Demons must have inherently liked staying low to the ground, being in Hell and all.
The biting air finally became too much, so Michael checked out one of the r
ooms once we were reached a few floors below the very top. After he confirmed it was empty, he ushered me inside, closing the door behind us and locking it.
Our refuge was oddly like a hotel room. It was about fifty feet across with a balcony on the left facing the capital. The bed frame was also made of crystal and there were huge golden pillows at the headboard and piles of gossamer sheets. Hellfire licked up the fireplace hearth, staving off the frigid climate. I spotted a table with a white bowl laden with red apples. Nothing else, though—just a bed, a fire, and a bit of sustenance. Even so, the Babel Hotel was strangely accommodating.
Michael shrugged out of his cloak and tossed it on the bed. “Guess we can hole up here for now. How are you feeling?”
I doffed my cloak as well. “Still okay. How much time do you think has passed in the real world?”
“Not sure. Maybe half an hour?”
I fiddled with my wedding band. “Do you think anyone’s caught on to what we’re doing?”
“It’s likely. After we hit the city, one of the demons could have left to let the others know that we’re here.”
He brushed a lock of hair behind my ear. “That doesn’t mean the guys and Myra won’t be safe. They’re a tough bunch, after all.”
“You should talk,” I said, and it came out softer than I intended. I caught his wrist and kissed the inside of his palm. He exhaled.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen when we get to Pandemonium, but…” My throat tightened. “I think I forgot how much I hate seeing you in pain.”
“Ditto,” he said, tracing my bottom lip with the edge of his thumb. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d rather go it alone and have you hate me than drag you down here with me.”
“I could never hate you. Even on my worst day. I tried for a year, remember?”
“So did I.” He kissed me. It was the first truly pleasant sensation I’d felt since we came to Hell. Our lips stayed melted together for a long moment. He pulled away first, nudging my shirt aside enough to kiss the scar on my chest. I wished that those few seconds could have lasted a lifetime, but he lifted up again to meet my gaze.
“Why don’t you rest for a bit? I’ll keep watch.”
I nodded and shuffled over to the bed. Not ten seconds after I lay down, I was asleep.
I didn’t wake up again until I heard male voices conversing in the direction of the balcony behind me. They were faint, but I caught the tail end of a sentence as I regained consciousness.
“—as long as you keep up your end of the bargain, we’re square.”
I stirred and rubbed my eyes, rolling over to see Belial and Michael standing there. They fell silent as I shifted around, getting my bearings.
“Bels?” I mumbled.
He smirked. “If you call me that again, I’ll bite off one of your fingers.”
I rolled my eyes. “Touchy. What took you?”
“I had an entire host of demons violently interrogating me about your whereabouts,” he said, gliding towards the bed. That helped wake me up even faster. “It was difficult to escape on my own.”
I sat up just as he came to stop in front of the bed, kneeling to examine the soul tether. He ran his fingertip across it, frowning. “We have lost more time than I thought. We’ll have to make a dramatic entrance.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Is there any other kind?”
He grinned. It was so gorgeous it nearly blinded me. I felt my face drifting closer to his and then shook my head. “Cut it out.”
I shivered as he trailed that same finger up my belly. “Forgive me. It’s rather entertaining being in a place where you can fall prey to my true powers.”
I slapped the invading hand away and stood up. “Let’s go.”
“As you wish, my pet.” He stood in one seamless movement and swept past me towards the balcony where Michael glared at him. He spread his midnight wings and crooked a finger at us.
“Follow me.”
Michael gathered me in his arms as Belial dove off the ledge, sinking for a few initial feet and then soaring like a raven on the heat-soaked air. The archangel did the same, holding me close to his chest as he flew.
On a hunch, I turned my head and whistled high and loud. On the street below, our horse neighed and trotted after us, as obediently as a Labrador. The wonders never ceased.
I couldn’t resist glancing down at the city of Dis below me. Had any soul that beheld it made it out alive? Panic clutched my heart. Was I just fooling myself? Only Christ had come and gone in one piece. What chance did we have to make it out?
We reached Pandemonium in a matter of minutes. The capital of Hell shared many similarities to ancient Greek and Roman architecture. Its entrance had five huge ivory columns carved with runes, each with one of the archdemons in all their unholy glory. I recognized Mulciber, Moloch, and Belial, but the other two were unfamiliar. Beelzebub and Mammon—the archdemon of cunning and the archdemon of greed, respectively. I sincerely hoped I wouldn’t be meeting them soon. Archdemons seemed to have a taste for Seers, if my luck was any indication.
Belial extended his hand once more and the broken chains around our necks lifted. The length of chains reappeared and he wrapped them around his fist. I watched his broad shoulders rise and fall as if he’d taken a deep, reassuring breath, and then his baritone voice spoke only one word.
“Come.”
Michael’s fingers grazed the back of my wrist. I held his hand and together we walked into Pandemonium.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
JORDAN
Pandemonium had stage seating like the coliseums of olden days—humongous stone seats that stretched the length of the rectangular arena on both sides. From end to end, it was about the length of a football field. Along the uppermost ridge of the arena stood beautifully carved stone figures of Hell’s most famous patrons: Judas, Adolf Hitler, Brutus, Nero, Irma Grese, Queen Mary I, Mao Zedong, and those were just the ones I recognized off the top of my head. The statues stood in various poses and held different weapons from their time period. The careful detail depicting them suggested that it was out of honor of these wicked men and women.
The far end of the coliseum led up to a staircase with five elegant thrones. They were all the same size, but no two were alike in style. Each had been specifically designed for the archdemon who sat there and their names were all engraved across the back of each seat. Mammon’s throne was made entirely out of gold and diamonds. Beelzebub’s throne was made of copper. Moloch’s throne was made of onyx. Mulciber’s throne was made of amethyst. Belial’s throne was made of silver.
Next to them, a long staircase led up to a black sphere with the largest throne I’d ever laid eyes on. Instead of metal or stone, it was made of bleached bones. It could have easily fit three African elephants standing on each other’s heads. To my relief, the main throne was also empty, which hopefully meant that Lucifer was elsewhere.
The pit in my stomach deepened as I saw who was in front of the thrones.
Gabriel.
I had hoped he would be in chains, but fate was not kind this time. His bare body, clothed only at the waist with a thin scrap of linen, was held up by long, wickedly sharp spikes. They pierced nearly every inch of his body from his calves to his collarbone. Blood dripped down his ivory skin in rivulets, forming a brownish-black puddle in the rust-colored dirt that made up the floor of the arena. Hellfire shone off his golden locks, also smeared with dried blood. His head hung forward as if in defeat. There were scratches on his forehead and cheeks, ruining the former delicate beauty of his face.
Behind him stood a woman only a couple of inches shorter than Belial, but they shared no similarities in appearance. She wasn’t wearing clothes, but any nudity was obscured by the greenish-brown vines that clung to every inch of her except for her face, shoulders, hands, and feet. Her skin was a burnished copper. Her wings were the color of mud and had the same burnt tips as Belial’s. Her wild black tresses were long enough to touch the floor, but they didn�
�t. The hairs writhed and slithered like snakes. Her cotton-candy-pink lips were pouty and heart-shaped, her dark eyes almond-esque, her nose small like a button. As soon as she set her gaze upon us, I knew who it was. Mulciber.
“So,” the archdemon who built Pandemonium said in a throaty voice. “The rumors are true. You have returned home. Welcome back, Belial.”
Belial inclined his head towards her. “Mulciber, you are looking well.”
“Oh, I’m doing fantastically,” she said, trailing her fingertips across the back of Gabriel’s shoulders. His body gave a great shudder. Michael’s grip on my hand hurt and I barely noticed; I was holding his just as tight. “Moloch brought home quite the prize. I haven’t had this much fun since the Spanish Inquisition. However, it looks like that is all about to change. Is that who I think it is?”
“Of course. Did the Master not ask me to kill the woman?”
Belial dragged the two of us forward by our chains and shoved us on our knees. “Her mate decided not to let her go alone and so I took him as well.”
Mulciber’s tongue flicked out across her pink lips. She walked towards us with a sensual sway in her hips and the ground beneath her rippled as if she were a part of it. She came to me first, lifting my chin until I had to meet her gaze.
“Jordan Amador,” she whispered, her rancid breath smacking my cheeks. “You cannot imagine how I have dreamt of this moment.”
She let go and then slid her fingers through Michael’s thick hair, pushing it away from his face. “And dear, righteous archangel Michael. How far you’ve fallen.”
She leaned in, brushing his cheek with her own, her voice deepening. “The things I’m going to do to you will make the last hour you’ve spent in Hell seem like seconds.”
My entire body tensed, but Belial yanked sharply on my chain as if in warning. Not yet.
“Now, now, Mulciber,” Belial said in a chiding tone. “I’m not finished. There is a reason I brought them here, and it’s not for your entertainment.”