8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Pain was my world.

The sound and smell of my own charred flesh as I slowly cooked on the aptly named hot plate, an added horror. The flat surface was big enough for two or three people to roast on, but I lay in the middle, all alone save for the she-demon whose gaze never wavered. She wouldn’t miss a moment of my suffering. A ball of white-hot agony festered in the middle of my back no matter how I squirmed to move away from it. It wasn’t long before I was glued to the table and my efforts ceased.

How long I lay on the metal table in the middle of the room, I didn’t know, but I prayed to anything or anyone to save me. My fool self thought my prayers were answered when the she-demon walked up. But she just gave a delicate sniff and turned a hidden dial under the table.

The table grew impossibly hotter, and I tried to scream again even though my voice had long given out. But then the table beneath me cooled, and the she-demon pulled out a metal spatula she used to begin prying me free, tsking as she did so like my being fucking melted onto her table was such an inconvenience.

Eventually, she stood back with her hands on her hips, satisfied, though I knew the skin at the center of my back where the pain had been worst was firmly attached to the table.

“Pull her off and bring her along. I’m going to do this one personally.” Her wicked grin filled me with a fear I hadn’t realized I had the energy for. What else was there? The Devil had mentioned something about cuts, but surely, I would die soon .

The clown stepped forward at his mistress’s bidding and pulled me off the table. A tearing sound met my ears, and a scream tried to rip its way out of my ruined throat but failed. I refused to look back to see how much of me I’d left behind.

Shaking uncontrollably from the pain, I would’ve cried if I could gather the moisture. The smell of burnt hair made me want to vomit, but something told me if I vomited on the clown, whatever was to happen next would be all the worse.

Where was he taking me? My body bounced painfully in his arms, my burned skin pure agony against his thoughtless jostles. Bloodied. Well-bloodied. Those were The Devil’s words, and something about cuts. I shuddered, knowing I would die here and no longer caring if it would at least bring an end to the hideous pain they were about to inflict on me.

But I had to do this right. They wanted something from me, and if it was the last thing I would do, I would make sure they didn’t get it.

My King was pleased, and it was time to prepare his prize. Humming a cruel song from the underworld about the beauty of splintered bones—how they shined, how they glistened—I followed behind Claunid as he took the girl to what would be her final destination.

The metal operating tables within were still soaked with blood from their previous occupants, and I eyed them with annoyance.

“Can we get this shit cleaned up, please? I’m about to work.” It wasn’t often I wielded the knife myself nowadays, but I wanted to make sure my kitten was perfectly prepared for The Devil.

I couldn’t trust anyone else with her.

A girl wearing the ruins of a pink sweater was being hauled towards the extractor, and I put my hand on Claunid’s arm so he would know to stop.

My kitten could use another little dose of fear.

The extraction began with a chair much like the ones from the tasting room. This one, however, was made of ancient wood, it had been used in Hell for centuries to constrict whatever unfortunate soul was being tortured. Human or not. Beside it stood The Machine, a metal monstrosity stretching almost to the ceiling with a hole in the center. It was a creation of my own that eased the extraction process and allowed us to work more efficiently.

Demir and Joden, a couple of low-level demons whose meat suits bubbled along the joints of their grotesque human forms, shoved the girl into the chair. Immediately, her arms locked into place on the armrests.

Oh, she tried to resist, screaming and fighting. We could put a sigil of silence on her, but the sound really was pleasant, and the ghouls did like to hear it while they worked.

It put everybody in a much better mood.

The bigger of the two demons, Demir, trailed one finger along her cheekbone, wiping away a tear as it fell. Then he brought it to his lips and sucked. Shuddering, his lips parted into a wicked grin, exposing jagged rows of teeth. One of the boils on his inner elbow burst at that moment, dripping puss onto her leg. She whimpered, her body shaking visibly, eyes wide with terror as the tendons along her jaw and temple strained against the stretched skin. Her tongue flailed uselessly as she begged for her life, spittle rolling down her chin.

The girl’s terrified eyes darted around the room, seeking a salvation that wasn’t coming. I chuckled, loving when they did that, like they expected one of God’s angels to come bursting into the room just to save them. Demir stepped away, allowing Joden to take his place in front of the girl. In his hands, he held a special talisman. Something The Devil gave to me with careful instructions. Only a handful of my demons knew of its existence, and even fewer were permitted to wield it. A chalice, carved from one piece of The Devil’s horn. After it was shaped, my King had carved special sigils into it. To keep them hidden, and his soul magic secret, he covered it in layers of metal sourced from demon blood. I don’t know how many of my kind were sacrificed for its creation, but the beautifully crude tool allowed me to continue my mission.

Joden brought the chalice to the gap in the center of my machine, carefully placing it inside before returning to the terrified girl. The chalice would draw on The Devil’s own magic to activate the machine. It was beautiful.

With a yank, Joden brought over a stand holding black tubing we’d harvested from a vacuum cleaner. The tube was positioned in front of the girl and a metal head piece lowered over her head. The girl tried to turn away, and I chuckled. She must feel the way her muscles were locked into place, but she still tried. It was adorable when humans did that. The metal piece was fit over her head and a round circle with hooks was dropped in front. She watched in horror as Joden pried her mouth open and fit the metal circle behind her teeth, holding her mouth open. Joden went to press the switch, but I stepped in front.

“I’ve got this one, Jodie.” With a wink back at Kitten, I skipped forward and pressed the red button, feeling a thrill when the machine roared to life. The chalice changed from metallic to a deep purple as the ethereal magic worked and the tube quaked with the force of suction. The girl’s screams became garbled as a shimmering, translucent mist plumed from her throat and flowed out and into the dark tube. By the time it was processed and pulled into the chalice, her essence had turned a pleasing amber hue.

The girl’s eyes rolled back as the talisman pulled out every last drop of her soul, the convulsions coming to a stop only once the glimmering liquid touched the brim. Joden hummed cheerfully. I walked around the dead girl, holding out my hand expectantly. Without hesitation, he pulled the chalice from the machine and handed it over. I took a sniff to get an idea for the final step of the process before wordlessly handing it to the ghoul who shadowed me.

“Put it in the barrels with a bit of cinnamon and cherries. It’s not quite special collection material, but it can go into the general stores.” I just hoped the others proved better than this one. My gaze fell on the kitten, who watched the dead girl with horror.

Yes, yes, she was dead now. Boo-freaking-hoo. With a roll of my eyes, I turned to the mid-level demon awaiting my command. Her tattered clothes didn’t quite hide the proud horns atop her head.

“Dispose of it.” If only I could use her corpse for the ghouls, but with her soul so completely extracted, they would balk at the empty flesh.

The cup’s efficiency was a bit of a problem that way. With so many ghouls to feed, it’d be helpful to use all these corpses, but no. I’d have to take them out to the rural village I’d noticed nearby, let them feast and then set a fire to burn the evidence.

They’d be happy with that, but for now, I directed Claunid to bring my kitten to the blood-soaked table. I’d have preferred it was clean, but whatever. I was about to make it a whole lot bloodier, and I couldn't wait to get started.

Everything the girl with the bad makeup and pink sweater had been, every word, every deed, bottled like it was nothing. She was left a husk, drained but rigid and not even able to slump forward. Her skin rapidly grayed. I couldn’t tear my horrified gaze from her stiff form, even as the big, puss-covered demon stepped forward to rip her from her prison. Only then did she flop like a rag doll in his monstrous arms. What did they do to her? Try as I might, I couldn’t recall the punishment The Devil had prescribed for her. The memories were muddled by terror and the agony that had followed .

That ripping I’d felt when The Devil tasted me, though, I remembered that well.

It had been my soul.

Confident I would die and that would be the end of it, I stared at the dead girl flung haphazardly over the demon’s shoulder, and I understood.

Death was just the beginning.

They were going to prepare Bad Makeup’s soul now, I realized, as the smaller creature took the crude cup back and moved to the side of the room. He poured the same shimmering liquid—the soul—into an oak barrel.

Prepare it for him. A shudder moved across my shoulders, cracking the crispy skin. I couldn’t let that happen to me.

Burnt and mutilated, the she-demon didn’t find me a threat at all. To be fair, I probably wasn’t to her, and I would use that to my advantage. Every movement hurt, from the jarring steps as they carried me to every maneuver of my own as I brought my hands together to rub the metal charm bracelet. At least with it on, I didn’t feel so alone. Mallory was with me in some way. Through the despair, tears wouldn’t come. There were none. No moisture left in my body after sweating and cooking on the hot plate.

A thick band made up half the diameter of the charm bracelet, with the other half being large chain links, every one with a charm. As I held it tighter, it slipped apart. Broken and fragile from the heat. I’d have cried if I’d been able to. Mallory’s bracelet breaking felt like a new slice to my broken heart.

But then I looked, and my heart stopped. Silver glinted in the light. Turning my wrist slightly, I realized the metal band held a small, curved knife.

The beach is where I feel safe.

Safe.

Of course. Mallory’s words echoed in my ears as I stared in wonder at the hidden blade.

She’d kept a weapon for self-defense. Only a couple of inches long, it would do very little to my demonic attackers, but if the edges were as sharp as they looked, it would be perfect for me .

I tightened my grip on the knife, comforted by the pain as the sharp edge cut into my skin.

Not yet.

Thankfully, the bracelet slid closed without a sound. I tightened my grip on it.

It wasn’t time yet.

But soon.

The clown threw me down roughly on a table slick with blood, and I felt my limbs snap into position, much as they had in the chairs. Even my head was locked straight. All I could move were my eyes, and, thankfully, my fingers.

I’d get my chance.

I just needed to be patient.

But I almost lost my nerve when the she-demon stood over me with a wicked-looking, black-handled blade and a smile that showed off her sharp teeth.

“Hey there. I know we haven’t officially met, but I’ve been watching you, and I want to thank you in person for being awesome.” She gave a shrug of one slender shoulder. The woman-thing would have been a stunner if I didn’t know she was the one in charge of this house of horrors. “I mean, I couldn’t have impressed him without you, really. So, thanks.”

If my mouth hadn’t been so dry, I would’ve spit in her face, but all I could manage was a feeble glare I was certain lacked any real heat.

Her blade flashed and sliced across my abdomen, cutting through the pleather that had melted to my skin, becoming one with my charred flesh. I ground my teeth against the pain. The Devil had said one thousand cuts.

This bitch was just getting started.

“Although,” she sighed. “I must admit, destroying your beautiful body hurts me far more than this all hurts you. I would have preferred to destroy you in a more fun way, although it would have been just as delicious in the end, I’m sure. For both of us.”

Flash, slice .

Flash, slice. She focused on my arm for a while, shallow cuts up and down it like she was making some kind of gruesome pattern. The she-demon certainly looked like she was creating art. There was a fervor in her movements and a frenetic energy in her eyes.

Occasionally, she paused to rub her clit through her skirt with one bloodied hand, clearly enjoying herself.

Flash, slice.

At some point, the pain all blended into one agonizing cacophony of torture. No longer did each individual affliction matter. Only constant torment existed between us. I was properly bloodied now, maybe even well-bloodied . I thought of the Devil sipping at my soul and of it disappearing into the depths of his hideous body.

No.

I wouldn’t allow it.

The she-demon was desperate to craft me into the perfect beverage. She needed this. Needed me alive to put me in that machine.

When the she-demon turned her attention to my legs, I waited for a heartbeat. The chain would clang against the table when I pulled the knife open. The she-demon cut my calf, admiring the way the blackened skin cracked under pressure. I let out a guttural scream, my parched esophagus burning from the effort. The pain and strong-willed determination gave me the strength to fight the magic holding me in place. I opened the knife and let out a garbled sound to mask the noise. Thankfully, the she-demon remained focused on her incisions. My whimpers were commonplace, and the self-inflicted ones went unnoticed as I fought against the restraint and dug my tiny blade vertically along one wrist, pressing as deeply as I could and slicing through the veins. I only hoped that between the burning and blood loss, one wrist would be enough to kill me.

It hurt, but the maniacal laughter of the she-demon as she continued to slice up my body was distraction enough. Before long, my hand went numb and I could feel the warmth of my blood pooling around the deep wound, adding to the crimson blanket which encompassed me .

The pain the she-demon inflicted started to fade, and I barely reacted as the clown finally lifted my body and brought me over to the soul-sucking chair. With the last of my strength, I held the bracelet in the palm of my hand, desperate to join Mallory and hoping it would bring me nearer to her in the end, so I could apologize for being such a shitty protector and thank her for the gift of her knife.

My body was heavy, and I gave a weak smile as the demon magic locked me in place, and I felt the metaphorical invisible hand pull open my jaw.

Fuck you, I thought as I felt myself lift away from my body before the chalice could be placed against my mouth. I floated above, watching as the she-demon took the chalice and pressed it to the lips of my corpse. I may have had to leave my body behind, but my soul was safe.

Only, as I started to rise slowly upward, the chalice deepened to the same purple color which highlighted The Devil’s skin. It tugged at me, a suction I couldn’t quite escape from. Much to my horror, I began moving back down, the power too strong for the force drawing me gently upward.

Tears I shouldn’t be able to feel streamed down my face as I reached upwards, clawing at the air as though I could grip it and use it to pull me away from the terrible fate awaiting me below.

Screaming, I watched helplessly as my feet became transparent, drifting towards the chalice and the black hole within.

Sobbing, I began to disappear into the abyss, that horrible tearing, searing pain taking over as despair squeezed my heart.

No, no, no. How could this happen now? I was so close. I’d done it. I’d tricked them all and killed myself before they could take me. Only, I’d taken my life too late, and now I would soon be packed into an oak barrel and prepared for The Devil.

Crying, I gave into the despair, resigned to my fate, when a strong hand wrapped around my wrist and pulled me upwards, easily breaking the suction that had been dragging me downward. Incredulous, I looked up, but light consumed my vision. Then I was drawn into a warm, comforting embrace. Grateful, I sank into my savior’s arms.

“Welcome home, Lisa.” The voice was pure sweetness and joy, happiness and truth, like this being had been waiting for me.

It was almost heavenly .

No.

No, no, no no no. I stared in shock as the talisman failed to extract a soul from my kitten.

Every pierce of my blade had been shallow, artful. I was a master of the craft. I’d taught fucking lessons on ensuring not to kill the victim. Death was seldom the goal, and now?

I stepped forward to examine my kitten, feeling for a pulse in her neck and taking a stumbling step back when I couldn’t find one.

But what happened? How did this happen? Blood pooled around Kitten’s hand, and I angrily snatched it up, examining the deep, jagged cut on her wrist. I hadn’t done that, which meant—her fingers relaxed, and a charm bracelet clattered to the floor. No, not just a charm bracelet. A tiny, concealed weapon.

“You stupid, selfish, girl!” I roared, kicking at the corpse in front of me.

Screaming, I pulled her free of the chair and shook her.

Screwed. I was screwed. The Devil had tasted her. He wanted her, and now…I stared at her peaceful face, hating it.

What the fuck was I going to serve him tonight?