13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Rayven

“You…fucking…bitch,” he bit out between whimpers of pain.

“Serves you right, you nasty fuck.”

I spit out another mouthful of blood at his feet then turned and ran for the door. I barreled into the hallway as I heard Asmodeus struggle to his feet behind me. I only had a few seconds to get a head start before he caught up.

I had to find a way out— now .

There was more carnage in the corridor. Blood and bones and soft blobs that looked a lot like rotting flesh were strewn all over the floor. If there were servants, they were nowhere to be seen.

There was only the eerie sensation that I was being watched, probably by the poor souls who were sentenced to spend the rest of their eternities here.

No wonder Belial didn’t like sending souls down the Styx to his brothers. Fading away inside a teapot didn’t seem like such a bad fate compared to this hellscape.

Asmodeus’ entire castle looked like something straight out of an old-school swords and sorcery movie, an old underground fortress that had been built into an ancient cavern. Spikes rose from the ground, one decorated with a male torso that had long since had its limbs removed. Another had a full skeleton, entrails wrapped around its neck like a scarf.

Okay. Fuck. This would all just have to go in the little box in the back of my mind, the same place I’d stuffed my run-in with the flesh-eating tree that nearly had me for lunch back in Belial’s labyrinth. This was no time to let the human emotions out.

Exit . That’s all I could afford to think about right now. Find a way out before Asmodeus could put his hands back on me.

Feet moving as quickly as they could carry me, I searched for an exit. I was exhausted from all the fucking running, but Asmodeus’ heavy footsteps behind me pushed me forward. Now that he couldn’t rape me, his punishments would probably get more creative. I was sure it would involve his macabre collection of medieval torture instruments.

The floors were uneven, and the halls were unnaturally tight in some places, feeling more like an elaborate cave system than an actual home.

It was strange and immediately disorienting, even more so than Belial’s castle. I made a right and hurried down a flight of steps carved into the stone, thankful for the torches burning along the corridors to light the way. There were no windows, no other lights.

Such a dim, lifeless miserable pit of a place. No wonder Holga was desperate to stay in Belial’s good graces; an eternity of servitude in Limbo was better than any amount of time here.

A left turn led me into a huge cavern that looked to be the throne room, and I stumbled to a stop to catch my breath. It was a wide space, with a high ceiling, more giant stalactites, and a horde of mangled body parts tucked into every corner. Interesting patterns of stone stretched their way up the walls like pillars, but my eyes were drawn to the middle of the room. What I thought was a red carpet at first was actually a coagulated layer of blood gleaming on the stone floor in the torchlight.

So. Much. Blood.

“Jesus—” I said, but a rumble beneath my feet cut me off.

The stone was vibrating like it was suddenly alive, and I squeaked. A distant roar sounded behind me, coming from deep within the maze of hallways, and I took off across the throne room.

Past the giant spill of blood, which was tacky beneath my boots, sat a large, twisted throne. I assumed it was carved from wood, given that the rest of Asmodeus’ castle looked hand-chiseled, but as I got closer, the sickening truth of the royal chair had me gagging.

Bodies, all beautiful—or at least, they once had been—nude women, were curved and contorted to create the Lord of Lechery’s disturbing throne. Their lifeless faces were now hollowed and blood-stained like the rest of their flesh.

I wanted to scream, but the sound stuck in my throat.

Those poor women, all forced to serve that sick, demented bastard even after their souls were long gone.

I was even more glad I’d bitten off his dick. It was hardly retribution for all the horrors he’d caused, but it was a start.

Prying my eyes away, I darted deeper into the room. I could hear Asmodeus’ curses and snarls growing louder, the tremors in the stone growing stronger as he approached.

Just like in Belial’s castle, the walls, the floors, and even the furniture seemed to submit to their lord and master.

I searched for another exit, but there was none.

Ahead, drifting lazily by, was the familiar River Styx, just as it had in Belial’s throne room.

Slow, somber, unperturbed. Bits of carrion bobbed in the bright red water, which drifted in through a small, shallow opening in one wall and disappeared out the one opposite.

A wild idea sparked, but I wasn’t sure if it would work. The last time I was in the Styx, I hadn’t been whisked away magically or anything but…could it get me out of here?

I shifted on the spot, knowing my seconds were running out before Asmodeus came barreling into the throne room, but I was unsure. It was my only option right now, but if it didn’t work, if Asmodeus caught me and drowned me in the river of blood…

“I’ll make you pay, you fucking bitch!” I spun around to see Asmodeus stumbling into the room, his hand still clutching the bloody stump between his legs.

With the way he staggered with every step, maybe he wouldn’t be able to catch up to me.

Another quake shook the cavern, dust raining down from the ceiling. My hand launched out, grasping for something to steady myself. “Oh, fucking nasty,” I cried out when my fingers plunged into the rotting chest cavity of a one-armed torso speared onto one of the spikes.

I yanked my hand back and screamed when the torso’s arm snatched for me, its bony fingers—with bits of flesh still clinging to the joints—capturing my wrist.

My pulse lurched as the human remains strewn around the giant cavern started to twitch and shift to life. Skeletons rattled to their feet, severed lumps slithered across the floor, leaving slimy trails of gore in their wake. The bodies impaled onto the stalagmite spikes shivered and gurgled, reaching for me with whatever rotten appendages remained.

An invisible hand raked down my back, ice branching down my spine and freezing my system over. This was like when I’d fallen down the oubliette with all those hands reaching for me, touching me. Hurting me.

Only, Belial wasn’t here to pull me to safety.

With a scream, I slammed my free hand down on the joint of the skeletal arm holding me, karate-chop style. The dusty joint broke, and I shook myself free, the bone clattering to the ground.

“Don’t let her get away!” the demon lord snarled at the carrion as he limped toward me.

I hopped over a hand dragging itself in my direction, trying not to look too hard at the tattered flesh from where the arm had been severed at the elbow. Another hand pulled at my dress, and a skeleton pierced to a wall with a rusted spear snatched at my hair.

Tamping down on my fraying nerves, I plucked myself free and whirled around, making a break for the Styx.

“Oh my…” My whisper came out hoarse, terror and pure shock winding tight as I took in the most gruesome, horrifying sight I’d ever laid eyes on.

Standing in my direct path to the Styx was the Lord of Lechery’s throne of rotten flesh.

It had come to life.

Writhing flesh began to ripple and shift, like water under a foam-choked pond. Then, the limbs and hunks of meat started to discorporate from each other, and I could make out the female bodies as they rose, reaching out for me.

Their skin was a mottled gray, with bits of bone peeking out from the holes in their ripped and mutilated flesh. They sloshed and creaked as they moved toward me, and I couldn’t tell if it was bones and bodies breaking or reknitting themselves together. Dozens of dead and gaping eye sockets honed in on me, and I could see a deeper presence behind them.

Almost like parts of their souls remained.

“You fucking monster,” I cried out to Asmodeus, anguish and fury making my voice shake. “How could you do this to poor, innocent women?”

“Innocent? They are anything but,” the demon retorted, his voice demonic and booming as it filled the whole room. “Or they wouldn’t have been sent to me.”

“No one deserves this. No wonder Belial doesn’t send you souls anymore. You don’t deserve to govern rocks, let alone mortal souls.”

When I’d first learned of the souls languishing around Belial’s realm, I’d felt sorry for them. But languishing around in what was Hell’s waiting room for all eternity was paradise compared to here.

Belial hadn’t stopped sending souls down the Styx because he was lazy, or even because he was distracted. It was because he was merciful.

If he had the time and the help, I was sure he’d place almost every soul in his library where they could rest in some version of peace.

“As the future queen of Limbo, I’m going to make sure this place never sees so much as another soul.” My words came out sure, sounding every bit the vow it was.

The throne’s pieces faltered, and they collapsed on the ground, one by one. It took me several intense seconds to realize they were kneeling.

Holy. Fuck.

These bodies were submitting to me.

As if I was their lord and master, instead of Asmodeus.

Like some kind of queen of carrion.

Asmodeus roared another command to his army of undead, but they weren’t listening.

Using the distraction, I made my way to the edge of the River Styx, steeling my nerves before jumping feet first into the bloody current.

My skirts billowed up on the surface like a makeshift life jacket. At some point, this thing would be so crusted over, it would stand up on its own.

I waited, but nothing happened, my flicker of hope dimming.

“Fuck, why isn’t it working?” I muttered, turning around to see Asmodeus storming through his throne, kicking the women aside.

All six of his eyes were lit with deadly hatred.

Shit. Shit. Shit!

If this sick bastard got his hands on me, there wouldn’t be any pieces of me left for Belial to put back together.

I turned and hurried with the current toward the wall with the small opening where the Styx trickled out, hoping that some magic current would come along and sweep me to the next realm. Whatever lay further down the river, it had to be better than here. I banged on the stone wall, pain lancing up my arms, but to no avail.

“Please, please, please.”

“ Please. Please. Please ,” Asmodeus mocked as he stepped closer to the edge of the Styx. His goat head brayed as his other two laughed cruelly. “Don’t you see? There’s no escape for you. You’ll never get back to Limbo. You’ll never be queen. The closest you’ll ever come to demon royalty is when I sew you into my throne. What a pretty new addition your corpse will make.”

My eyes burned with acid tears, visceral hatred snaking through my veins. “Whatever Belial does to you, I hope you fucking suffer. ”

With a sharp inhale, I plunged into the water, completely submerging myself. It was a feeble attempt to buy a few more seconds, though I was sure it was pointless. After all, since Belial owned my soul, the Styx didn’t affect me. I’d known that, but still, I’d hoped…

I want to get away. Please, take me away.

Something grabbed my foot, and I fought the urge to scream—drowning in blood and who knew what else wasn’t how I wanted to go out. The thought of Asmodeus ripping me out of the Styx was instantly torn away when I started to move, dragged along with the current. The tug intensified, and my thoughts turned to white noise.

The current grew stronger, carrying me down river and away from Asmodeus’ throne room to the next unknown layer of Hell.