Chapter Two

Hawthorne

The world spins around me faster and faster until the greenhouse blurs into a swirl of color. A cacophony of screams and whispers comes from everywhere and nowhere. I force my vision on Aamon's burning eyes as he tugs me downward into the darkness of the underworld.

Then everything abruptly stops.

My feet still aren't on the ground; instead, my toes feel the silken fur of the Goetia's feet. I'm no longer in the greenhouse. The underworld isn't a cold, lifeless pit void of all life. It is teeming with dazzling lights and towering buildings that stretch into the sky. They're covered in pulsing images that shift and move, showing scenes of sin and debauchery along with laughter and cries of despair paired with a thrumming beats of music.

There are demon figures on painted signs with eyes that glint with hidden promises of pleasure. The streets are a kaleidoscope of chaos. There are beings of all shapes and sizes. There are demons, souls and creatures I can't name, and all are uniquely terrifying.

"What is this place?" I manage to ask, my voice barely audible above the roar of the city. I wish I could take it back. It feels silly to ask because I know where we are.

We're in the underworld.

Aamon leans his mouth closer to the tip of my nose. His presence is overwhelming, and I can see his eyes are brighter and his teeth are sharper than before. He glows here in a way that he didn't in the greenhouse.

"This is the ring of envy. All desires are possible, though there's always a price." He takes a moment to inhale my scent. A sound of pleasure pricks at the back of his throat before he asks, "Is there a desire you want to entertain yourself with?"

I swallow roughly. The gulp in my throat makes a blush creep up my neck. I came here searching for knowledge of how to resurrect the dead. I came for power and lusted after and envied my grandmother's skill, not to bed the Goetia.

His hand relaxes on the chain, finally allowing my feet to touch the ground. Aamon gives me enough slack to see more of the world around me. I take a tentative step forward, glancing down at the street we're on, only to realize it's transparent. Below us there is molten lava, rising in waves and shimmering like flecks of gold. The sky above us is an aurora of red, purple and green. This world is mesmerizing and terrifying. I feel a mixture of awe and dread within me. For what purpose was I brought here?

Aamon steps close again, his breath hot on my neck. "The damned are consumed by their insatiable desires here. This place is designed for endless yearning. The souls who are sent here are obsessed and constantly chasing everything they can't have. It's a miserable existence."

He extends his clawed hand toward me even though the chain around my throat is still lodged in his other hand. I reluctantly take it, and once I do, the chain pulses and dissipates into fireflies. My breath catches as they flutter away.

His hand is so impossibly warm, but the cold hard dread I feel is like a rock in my stomach. "Come on, Hawthorne. There is much I need to show you."

As he leads me through the streets, I try to take in the overwhelming sensations that assault my senses. The city pulses with life or what feels like an imitation of the life I've known.

As I'm led past towering casinos, I catch glimpses of the souls who enter, appearing so self-assured and full of promise. However, the ones carted out appear starved, frail, and screaming. We pass through crowded markets where vendors peddle wares that look like they came from a nightmare.

Those who notice Aamon avert their eyes, and some bow their heads. His presence demands to be noticed. I can feel his power radiating off him, and I'm certain everyone else can as well. While his hand guides me through the crowds, I realize this place, albeit twisted, is similar to my world.

Finally, we reach a towering mansion that looms over the city. It's a palace of obsidian and silver with large glass windows. There are fountains with figures in different states of undress littering the lawn. One in particular catches my eye as we walk up the stairs to the massive ivory front doors. It has a man on his knees before an imp whose finger is curled underneath his chin. The look of longing in the supplicant's eyes and the wicked grin on the imp's face stoke a tingle of lust in my belly.

The doors open on their own, and inside I can see the hall in front of us with moving pictures and opulent furniture. The scent of the air is thick with roses and something woodsy. It isn't the smell of sulfur or death like I expected.

"This is my home," he says as the doors close and the city below goes eerily quiet. "Here you'll find the knowledge you seek, but remember, Hawthorne, every desire," he pauses, turning me with one swift move of his hand, "has its price."

Aamon's tongue darts from his mouth, and before I know it, one hand is on my throat, and one is wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against him. My body tenses, and I gasp. "What price must I pay?" I hate the breathy way I sound. My cock throbs in my trousers, my pulse hammering on the side of my neck. I'm sure his fingers can feel it, and I know he can see the blush on my cheeks.

Aamon bends down toward the edge of my ear. The gust of his breath sends shivers down my spine. "For now, our pact requires a constant stream of mana. I can think of several ways you can give that to me..." His hand on my waist slowly travels further down until it lands on the fullest part of my ass.

Does he want to bed me? I thought the pact had me in control, but so far I have felt like his prisoner. I am in his thrall and under his command, and not the other way around. Was the summoning unsuccessful?

"Why am I here? For what purpose have you brought me?" I can't allow my mind to grow clouded by his lust. It's a trick to keep me here, to steal my soul and make me like one of the mindless souls below in his city.

Aamon's hand grips me tighter, so tightly, his claws dig into my flesh beneath my ass. I scream, and his hand on my throat steals my breath. "You're here because I desire it. You are my plaything, boy."

He raises me onto my tiptoes, and the room grows darker. A miasma teems around the edges of the room. My vision goes blurry as all I see are the bright golden otherworldly eyes before me, until eventually there is nothing but darkness.