7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Embers of excitement kindled in my gut as I stepped on to the stage. In the center, The Devil himself sat upon a throne of chiseled bones, intricately connected and swirling with an aura of vengeful souls. Usually, it was me sitting there, but today my King took his rightful place. The only thing missing was me perched on his lap. His dark eyes met mine as he tapped long, sharp nails on the armrest, the sound hollow and rhythmic.

The red and white tent around us stood high. A chandelier of skulls and wax with dozens of little flames burning on the three tiers hung in the center. Below it, a dozen rows of seats filled the space. In each of them, a doomed human squirmed, and my favorite little kitten was smack in the middle. Her ears had fallen off at some point, but the black on her nose and the drawn-on whiskers remained. A few tear streaks cut the whiskers into segments—a tribute to the trauma she had experienced. Big brown eyes stared around her in shock.

I relished the fear radiating from them .

Whimpers filled the air. Such a wonderful sound. Pressing my thighs together, I worked to control the slick dripping down my leg. Damn, this turned me on. Part of me wanted to climb on The Devil and ride him right here in front of these fortunate souls. I would stare into Kitten’s eyes as my breasts bounced free of the leather. Watch the way her cheeks flushed as she fought between terrified and turned on.

If only he’d let me. One glance in his direction and the arch of his brow revealed his impatience. Grinning, I faced the crowd.

“ Hell -o, everyone,” I said, chuckling at the wordplay. Everything had gone perfectly. “It’s nice to see so many of you could make it to my show tonight. You are the lucky ones. The ones who will grace the walls of our King’s private wine collection. What a privilege to please The Devil himself instead of becoming fodder for our ghouls.”

Stepping to the side, I motioned towards the throne. The Devil grinned, brandishing his sharp teeth and nodding along.

The sigils I’d carved into each chair silenced their cries. But oh, how their fear permeated the air. Absolutely delicious. My mouth watered. Perhaps my King would share some of the spoils with me.

With a flick of my wrist, I signaled for one of the guests to be brought forth. Claunid stepped forward to grab a young man on the end seat. As soon as he was up off the chair, the sigil’s effect ended. Immediately, he began to beg for mercy. Claunid dragged the unwilling soul to his place on stage. Deep, fresh lines engraved into the dark wood flooring made a beautiful and intricate design. One meant to hold a human in place and help the essence of their soul flow from them to The Devil. With a twisted smile that strained his stitches, Claunid shoved the human roughly onto the sigil where he remained on his knees, looking up to the Devil casually radiating a power that could crush this world beneath his hooved feet. Absolute terror contorted the man’s face, making him smell all the more appealing.

The Devil leaned forward, taking a moment to examine the man.

“Please, God, no,” the human mouthed.

The Devil sighed. “God has very little to do with this. Far too many needy humans calling upon Him, you see. No time for Him to save all of you.”

“My King, this one is fruit-forward and full-bodied. I will age him in an oak barrel to bring out the natural earthiness of his soul. I am considering adding the flavoring of chocolate or cherry but will wait for you to let me know your preference after the tasting.”

With a grunt, The Devil reached out and wrapped his large hand around the man’s bottom jaw, pulling his face close to his. Once they were inches apart, The Devil flexed his hand, easily prying the human's jaws apart despite the man’s struggles. The Devil’s forked tongue slipped between the sharp teeth of his smile and down the throat of the whimpering man. Once it was inside his mouth, the man’s eyes widened. The Devil’s tongue glowed as it solidified their connection, and he tasted the man’s soul. The Devil’s eyes matched the intensity, their obsidian shine morphing to a red glow mirrored in the human’s eyes. With a satisfied hum, The Devil released his grip on the man, allowing him to crumple to the floor, breathing hard and clutching his chest.

The Devil licked his lips and nodded.

“His flavor is acceptable. More suffering is needed to tone down the sweetness. He should have a limb removed slowly before extraction.” The Devil’s brow puckered as he thought it through. “Make it three hours before the limb is fully detached. As for the flavoring, I think almonds would pair nicely.”

My chin dropped forward in a bow.

With a gesture from me, Claunid stepped forward to pick up the man and toss him over his broad shoulder. Another demon, this one short and round with a white face covered in staples dripping with blood, grabbed the next human. The middle-aged man unleashed a relentless string of insults as he fought each step, but once he was on his knees in front of my King, the sigil silenced his anger. The Devil didn’t hesitate to take what he wanted, pressing his hand into the man’s jowls and easily popping his jaw open with a snap that made it clear something had broken inside. After the tasting, The Devil turned to me, and I cowered before the fury in his still-glowing eyes .

“This one is weak at best, Isra. A murderer? What human garbage have you dared to present me with?”

Frightened, I licked at my lips frantically. All signs had pointed to a medium-bodied selection that would be spectacular with the right flavor combination. We’d investigated everyone before delivering their flyers. Sure, the man’s wife had died two years ago, but it was supposed to have been from natural causes. I’d hoped his grief would give him depth. If he was a murderer, he must’ve killed her and made it resemble organ failure. How was I to know the man had committed murder and embittered his soul like all the others in Hell?

“I apologize, my King. Please, there are more.”

The Devil’s mouth twisted. His eyes promised pain for my mistake, and I caught my breath.

With a quick gesture, Claunid stepped forward, shooting me a look as he went to retrieve the murderer still on his knees before my King. With a nod, I let him know the man was to be given over to the eager ghouls behind the scenes. They were allowed precious few living humans, and I longed to be present when the little ones swarmed him like a school of piranhas, chewing and consuming until there was nothing left.

This continued for half a dozen more people. I badly wanted to present the kitten to my King, but she would go last. Oh, how I couldn’t wait to see her reaction. Would she fight? Beg? Offer a trade? By the way her eyes darted around the tent, it seemed as though she searched for an escape route. Unfortunately for her, there were none.

Of all the sights I’d seen this night, the thing sitting on its macabre throne was the worst. Black horns shining in the dim light, the she-demon called it The Devil. He was all things wicked and cruel. The spider, the centipede, the horrible monster who had flayed a living man. They were nothing next to the thing, tasting humans and coldly prescribing ways to mutilate and torture them. And for what?

As much as I wished the screams from tonight had deafened me, so I didn’t have to hear the deep timbre of his voice, I heard everything .

We were nothing to him, and he sought to improve our flavors before consuming us. Cold sweat forced a shiver down my arms despite the heat of the room.

I would die tonight, or maybe I’d died the moment my blood touched that cursed contract, but perhaps there was still a way to win.

With no time to spare, I tried to free my hands, but they were glued to the arms of the chair by an invisible force. Just when I thought I was able to lift my pinky a fraction of an inch, someone grabbed me under my arms. Hauled to my feet, the chair released its magic, but any hope of a rescuer was dashed when I saw who held me.

It was the clown with his patchwork face of horrors, and by his grin, he was no savior.

Despair washed over me as he pulled me forward, his thick fingers digging into my arm hard enough to leave bruises.

My familiar bulky camera hung from his neck, bouncing and bumping as he dragged me closer to The Devil. Seeing it sparked a new wave of energy, one that had me attempting to elbow his ribs and slip free from his grasp.

“That’s mine,” I snapped, trying to grab the strap where he’d tied the lanyard back together. His throaty chuckle was the only response he gave as we reached the stage, ever closer to The Devil.

The air grew stiflingly hot as I was pulled towards the lord of Hell, and I realized the oppressive heat in the room came from him, not some secret heater.

He was the heat .

Pain rippled through my knees as I was slammed to the floor on the sigils and locked into place. My voice stolen, rendering my demands silent.

“Hmmm, yes, this one smells pleasing.”

I shuddered, closing my eyes and trying to ignore the feeling of his forked tongue flicking against my cheek.

“She’s a hero. The one who stepped forward when others cowered, who took a moral stand at the Mine door.” The grating voice of the she-demon caused The Devil to stop his exploration temporarily, but then he was all the more eager. His slimy tongue darted out to lick the corners of my mouth. Whimpering, I tried to turn my face away, but he laughed.

An invisible hand straightened my head. I kept my eyes screwed shut, certain all it would take was to stare into The Devil’s eyes and my mind would be completely lost. One look and I would succumb to the madness threatening to pull me under.

He gripped my chin roughly, and the scent of my own cooking flesh filled my nose even as I screamed into the silence consuming my voice. His tongue forced its way into my mouth, and I couldn’t manage even a strangled cry as something inside of me ripped open and pulled into him. The pain was unlike anything I had experienced—a stabbing, tearing, searing sensation that went beyond what the nerves of my body could handle.

He broke from me with a satisfied grin.

“A hero. Yes, this one will do for my special collection, but she needs some refinement. She is full-bodied but—” His lips smacked together and a drop of his spittle fell onto my face, burning like acid. Still, he held me in position so I couldn’t turn away, could only wait to hear what atrocities he had planned for me next. “There is a harsh finish that should be rounded out. Yes, she will make a fine addition once she’s been through the next stage of our process.” He turned my blistering face, his thumb stroking down my cheek, leaving a trail of agony.

“She’d do well to be placed on the hot plate. It’ll give a toasty edge to her essence.” His forked tongue flicked out to run along the seared flesh his stroke left behind. “She must be bloodied as well. Yes, well-bloodied to temper her fire and ensure she will go down more smoothly. Treat her to one- thousand cuts, then to the oak barrels. No flavor additions for this one. I want to taste her.” His tongue caressed my cheek, and I flinched away from the searing of my flesh. “What a bit of perfection she is, Isra. Your King is well pleased.”

He shifted his back to me, and I gratefully fell forward onto the floor, savoring the pain of smashing my elbows into the hard tile because at least I’d been released from the fire of his hand on my face and the crushing weight of his malevolence. I coughed, surprised when the sound was audible. My knees, too, were unlocked from the stage. My mind turned to escape, but when I looked up, all I found was the clown watching me with a twinkle in his eye.

He stood a few feet away, with my camera in his hands. New scratches marred the black finish, and his grimy hands left smears where they touched. Lifting it to his face, he offered a raw, stretched grin as he clicked the button. A single flash, along with the audible shudder of the lens. Usually, the sound was cathartic, bringing a wave of serotonin. Instead, it was like a knife to the heart.