Fire, Brimstone and Chocolate Cake Read online

  So I streamed through hell at a run, lower level demons scattering out of my way. If I was running, we had a problem, and since my reputation as a break bones and ask questions later sort of gal preceded me, none of them wanted that problem to be them.

  I hit the throne room at a run, bursting through the doors in a crash of wood on stone to find a scene from my worst nightmare. Well, okay, not exactly my worst nightmare since I was fully clothed and it didn’t involve custard (don’t ask), but it was pretty bloody close.

  Demons lay around the room, writhing in agony as moans of pain filled the air. Now, normally, that’s just a Tuesday morning, but for the connoisseur of pain-filled moans there is a distinct difference between the sound of eternal agony and suffering and the sound of bad stomach issues on a level with “run out of loo roll and really need to go.” Since as soon as I opened the door a demon went screaming past me, one hand on his stomach and the other on his ass, I was going with the latter.

  Quickly, I scanned the room, recognizing a few faces and wishing I hadn’t. It looked like the entire upper echelon of hell was in the room and, considering what I’d just heard down in the lower levels, I was getting a really bad feeling about this.

  Uncle Lucy wasn’t hard to find. He was on the floor in front of his throne, doubled over and clutching his stomach. That in itself didn’t worry me. What did was the fact that, for the first time in years, he’d let his majestic, horned and tailed, red-skinned form slip. Now, instead of the vision of the devil we all know and love, I was looking at his real form as I hurried across the room.

  Uncle Lucy is, like all the original demons, a fallen angel, but he doesn’t like to remind people of that so he hides his real form behind a mask. Under it all, he looks kinda normal, if you can count six foot four of ripped beefcake with long black hair and silver eyes normal. Angels are also tatted up, from head to foot. Wings across their backs and shoulders, other symbols crawling over their skin to represent the knowledge they hold. The fallen were the ones who gave man fire and other arcane knowledge that heaven had decided was above their pay grade. My uncle and his comrades decided that was shitty and gave it to them anyway, getting cast out of the house upstairs as a result.

  Uncle Lucy? He’s the most tatted of the lot. In fact, stick him in some leather and he’d pass as possibly the sexiest biker-dude you can imagine. Annnnnnd… I shut that thought down right there. The word sex and my Uncle Lucy do not belong in the same sentence.

  Ev….er.

  “Uncle Luce?” I asked, dropping to my knees next to him and putting my hand on his shoulder. He groaned and flipped his hair back, looking up at me through unfocused eyes. Sweat slicked his skin and fine tremors racked his entire body. He also was naked. So after making sure he wasn’t bleeding out from a wound I couldn’t see, I made sure to keep my eyes above shoulder level.

  “Mpphmmmhhhffff!” He managed around a mouthful of something. I would have waited for him to finish whatever it was, but before he’d swallowed it, he shoved something else in his mouth. My gaze darted to the plate by his leg.

  Chocolate chip cookies?

  I snatched the next one he took out of his hand, ignoring his pout, and sniffed at it. What the fuck? Just the smell rising from it made my stomach rebel. It smelled like moss and rancid milk.

  “Hey, no!” I exclaimed as Uncle Lucy shoved a couple more cookies in his mouth. Grabbing his jaw, I prized his mouth open, ordering, “Spit, NOW!”

  He did, wet, macerated cookie hitting the floor by my foot with a wet splat. I grimaced as a raisin escaped from the mass and made a break for it. They weren’t chocolate chip cookies. They were raisin cookies. And you see, shit like this is why I have trust issues. It looks like a chocolate chip, it’s in an environment (a chocolate-looking cookie) where you would expect a chocolate chip to be… it should be a fucking chocolate chip! None of this healthy raisin shit!

  I swallowed my ire at the presence of the raisin and looked around the room. There were platters everywhere with demons crowded around them. They were stuffing the things into their mouths as fast as they could, despite the fact they were in pain.

  “What the hell?”

  “Gimme.” Uncle Lucy made a grab for the cookie in my hand, swiping at the air as I held it out of reach and falling into a pathetic heap at my feet.

  “So good,” he mewled, followed by a pathetic cry as he grimaced and clutched at his stomach again. I threw the thing away before he could make another try. Yeah, I’m a demon princess, but he’s the freaking devil. If he wants to take something from me, he’s gonna bloody take it.

  Before he could launch himself after it, though, another demon scuttled forward, scrabbling across the floor for the fallen treat. Uncle Luce would have gone after it, but I stopped him. In his weakened state, he sagged against me.

  “Shit, you’re burning up,” I said, checking his temperature with the back of my hand and nearly coming away with a third-degree burn. Before I could say anything else, though, the sound of marching boots brought my head snapping up. A voice shouting orders took me right back down to that darkened hall on the lower levels.

  Nabzon, and it sounded like he had a freaking army.

  “Sorry, you’re not gonna like this…” Uncle Lucy looked at me in confusion, right before I zapped him. In the ass. Hey, I’m half-demon after all. A gal’s gotta find fun where she can, and he had planned to marry me off, remember?

  The spell was more a curse, turning him into a little stone version of himself with a poof and shower of sparks. He was okay… as in not dead… but he’d probably be pissed as all hell when I turned him back. That was an issue for later though. I grabbed him up from the floor and stuffed him in my back pocket, vaulting behind the throne just as the big double doors crashed open for the second time in an hour.

  Peeking through the gaps in the throne, I watched Nabzon and his gang of usual suspects as they swept into the room. Nabby, of course, was dressed in all his splendor, but with a new addition. A sparkling crown sat on his currently blond locks.

  “DON’T eat anything,” he bellowed, as some of his men side-eyed what was left on the cookie platters. “Get rid of them all. Throw them in the lower levels.”

  A small figure emerged from behind him and I gritted my teeth as Baulor’s familiar oily voice filled the room. Trust that little fucking rat to be in on any coup going on. “Yes, Your Most Magnificent Majesty. Immediately!”

  The little rat-demon started yelling orders, and the moaning demons were spirited away. I ignored the little shit in favor of watching Nabzon. He strode around the room, looking for something.

  “Lucifer is not here,” he declared suddenly as he came to stand in front of the throne. I held my breath, just in case he could see through the demon-wrought steel and bone. Highly unlikely, but the way my luck was going at the moment, I wasn’t taking any chances.

  “He should be here.” Nabzon kicked over the platter by the throne. “His plate had the highest dose. He should be puking and shitting his guts out right here.”

  My nose curled at the thought and I was suddenly glad I’d turned Uncle Luce to stone rather than just making him really, really small. Really, really small shit and puke was still shit (pun intended) I didn’t want in my damn pocket.

  “Find him!” The demon lord’s voice rose in temper. “I want him on his knees in front of me. And his niece. Find her too. I want her on her knees as well…” He chuckled as he cupped his crotch, the sound low and full of filth. “But for entirely different reasons, of course.”

  I shook my head. That was so not happening. He didn’t want my teeth anywhere near his family jewels… I’d bite his fucking dick off first. Taking a careful step backward, I called shadows and used them to transport me out of the throne room to safety.

  In the space of an hour I’d gone from royalty to being hell’s most wanted. Can you say “my life sucks”?

  Wrapping shadows more securely around myself, I used a minor curse to alter my appearan
ce and give myself a bad case of the warts. They itched and my hair had poofed out like a fucking bush in reaction, but I didn’t care. If it meant that anyone who got a glimpse of me through the shadows saw a hideous she-demon, then so much the better. Staying out of Nabzon’s clutches and therefore alive was worth the blow to my pride.

  A horde of demons surged past me, all chattering excitedly about the change in management. I tried to take note of faces for later but quickly gave up. It didn’t matter anyway. As soon as my uncle was back to himself and on the throne, his torturers would root out the opportunistic little assholes who had supported Nabzon and we could all go back to the way things should be.

  I hoped so anyway. I really fucking hoped so. I already missed my rooms, my hot tub and all the little luxuries that came with being the niece of the king of hell.

  Once the horde had passed, I eased myself from the nook I’d been hiding in and made my way carefully through the level to one of the lesser used stairwells. I was a hot mess, and not in a good way. Sweat slithered down my spine as my heart pounded. Any moment I expected to be discovered. I was used to traveling through hell in secret but this was something else. This was hell. I couldn’t assume previously friendly faces would remain so. These assholes would sell their own mothers out if they thought it would gain them something, so selling me out? No freaking brainer.

  Reaching the stairwell, I looked down and then up. The fact it was a huge open pit, the stairs rough slabs sticking out of what were laughingly referred to as the “walls” would give many people nightmares. Not me. I’d been using them since I’d been able to walk and I’d never fallen yet. And, technically, I’m part angel, if the small wing tattoo across my back is to be believed. It covers my shoulder blades, but doesn’t extend all the way down my back like a full fallen… but still, if I fell, wings “should” erupt and save me.

  Should. I think. Not planning on testing that theory any time soon.

  Movement below made me squint. Shit, there was another horde down there, and by the looks of it, they were searching every level from the bottom up.

  Shit. What should I do?

  I couldn’t go back to my rooms. That would be the first place Nabzon would send his lackeys. Unless he assumed I wouldn’t go there and didn’t send them… I quickly shook my head to clear the thought. Nabby might have managed a successful coup on my uncle, but he wasn’t intelligent enough for that kind of double thinking. He’d have my rooms searched and probably a guard posted there. Since demons could disguise themselves as anything, living or inanimate, I had to assume my rooms and anything in them was suspect.

  I looked up again. There was no activity on the upper levels. They obviously hadn’t reached up there yet.

  Hell wasn’t safe for me anymore and I needed a healer. Like end of the world needed a healer. A lock of my hair flew across my face… not in that Hollywood movie special effect sort of way, but in a full-on stinging slap in the face, wake up kind of way.

  “OI!” I hissed when the hair did it again. “Knock it off, asshole!”

  Okay, it probably seems kinda weird for someone to be swearing at their own body parts but my hair is a special case. It really does have a mind of its freaking own at times (and there is a rumor that Mom is part gorgon). Suddenly I focused on it as it waved in front of me, the light from the burning torch beside me turning the normally inky strands fiery.

  Hair. Red Hair.

  Healer witches had red hair.

  Crapcrapcrap. It looked like I was going topside.

  As soon as the decision was made, I turned left and started up at a run. If Nabzon was clever, he’d also have a horde working from the top down. I needed to get ahead of the curve here and get the hell out of hell before he figured out the best way to trap me.

  Taking the steps as fast as I could, thank he-who-shall-not-be-mentioned for angel stamina, I pulled my cell from my pocket and speed dialed the mom.

  “Come on, come on… pick up,” I urged under my breath, using yet another curse to ensure anyone I might pass, concealed or otherwise, only heard the unintelligible screech of a succubus. My phone, though, was spelled to counteract any curse (can you tell I really don’t trust my family) so my mom would hear what I actually said.

  It continued ringing.

  That was if she decided to pick up.

  Me and the mom don’t have the best relationship, if I’m honest. She lives topside most of the time, and I’m stuck down here in hell and… well, we’ve never had much of a mother-daughter thing going on. Tends to happen when your maternal unit is narcissistic, self-absorbed and has the attention span of a hyperactive squirrel.

  I’d nearly drowned in a lake of boiling lava on one of the lower levels as a baby when the mom was supposed to be watching me. She’d gotten into it with one of the fallen, forgetting completely that I had started to crawl. One of Uncle Lucy’s guards had happened to wander by at just the right moment (I suspect he was doing the mom as well but he’s always denied it to my uncle… but then, so would I as Uncle Luce has a ban on any of his guards doing the nasty with any of his family. Having your guts ripped out through your ears is one of the nicer punishments for breaking the rules…) and snatched me up before I could come to any more harm than a bad case of “sunburn.”

  Right after that, my uncle gave me my guards to protect me from all the nasties down here and banned the mom from looking after me. Strange to say, but Satan himself made a way better parent than my mom.

  “This is Lilly,” a voice trilled as the mom’s voicemail kicked in. “You know what to do after the beep, darhlings!”

  I only had a second or two to think what to say. I couldn’t tell her that there had been a coup and Uncle Luce was in dire straits. They might be siblings, but they were also twins with the same ruthless streak and lust for power. And, being honest, I wanted the mom on the throne of hell even less than I wanted the assgroom, Nabzon, on it.

  Beeeeep.

  “Hey, Mom!” Grandfather, my voice sounded way too high and chipper. She was bound to smell a rat. Quickly I dropped the “cutesy” down a level. “It’s me. Listen… I’m…”

  I grinned as a plan formulated in my head.

  “I need you to do me a favor, okay? Uncle Lucy is being a total bore so I need a diversion…” Appealing to the mom’s rebellious side was always a good idea. She was less likely to ask questions that way. “I got his credit card details. Listen up…”

  Quickly I reeled off the details I’d memorized after getting a glimpse of his card a couple of months ago. I had been saving the info for a rainy day, like a mahoooosive online shopping spree. Saving my ass was less of a rainy day and more of a freaking tornado with hailstones the size of cars, but a gal had to do what a gal had to do.

  “So… I need you to go big, right? Really hammer that card and take the heat off me, ‘kay? Love you… Thanks, bye.”

  I cut the call. Short and sweet is always the best way to deal with the mom. Give her too many things to think about and things start to go sideways. That dealt with, I slid my cell into my back pocket next to Uncle Lucy and kept running.

  One issue down, about a thousand to go…

  Chapter 3

  To my utter surprise, I made it to the upper levels of hell and over the Styx without any problem. Kharon, the ferryman, did give me a bit of a weird look. I think. I’m not entirely sure he actually has eyes behind that hood of his and I’ve never gotten up the courage to ask. Kharon doesn’t have a temper so much as he doesn’t like questions… and being half-mortal, I really don’t want to end up in the Styx.

  I’ve seen souls that he’s thrown overboard for not having the right payment. Just glimpses of them beneath the surface of the black water, but their expressions? I’m a demon, the stuff of nightmares, and the look in their dead eyes gives even me the willies.

  Eyes or not, the hood had been turned my way a lot on the journey across to the shores of the living. I have no clue how powerful he is (or even if Kharon is a he)
but he didn’t give any indication he could see through my disguise.

  I’d picked a reaper this time, all in your face black leather, shiny blades and attitude because they’re one of the few creatures that move easily between the lands of the living and the dead. No one stops a reaper. Angels ignore their existence and demons give them a wide berth. I’m not entirely sure they can kill either, but it seems no one wants to take the chance.

  After a while, s/he’d gone back to looking ahead and paid me no mind. But when I’d gotten up to leave the boat, making way for incoming passengers, I’d found a coin on my seat. I’d palmed it before anyone else could see it, but I’m sure it wasn’t there when I sat down. He must have seen through my disguise and decided to let me pass. Otherwise why give me a way to return?

  Not asking questions, I beat feet and headed for one of the gateways to the mortal world. Anticipation and, yes, nerves mounted as I neared the closest one. I’d never been “up top” but I watched a lot of cable. Would it be the same as I’d seen on screen, or worse? I’d seen plenty of mortals and they were all shits… made me think that the shows I watched weren’t exactly indicative of reality, you know? But then, we got the worst of the worst, so I was only seeing half the picture.

  I had wanted to take a little time and savor my first steps in the mortal world, but as I approached the gate, the skin between my shoulder blades itched and the hairs on the back of my neck rose. I was being followed. Whistling a soft tune to myself, I hid a curse to dispel shadows within the tune, dropping to tie my perfectly secure shoelace at the same time. My breathing rasped in my ear, almost deafening me.

  Using the movement for cover, I both looked around me and called hellfire in my closed fist at the same time.