Chapter 25

CHAPTER25

The room I was taken to was simple, a far cry from the luxury and splendor of the other spaces I’d seen, but I was honestly surprised I wasn’t thrown into a dungeon cell. Instead, I was given an accommodation that was better than some of the motels I’d stayed in on Earth. The sparsely furnished room—a no-nonsense bed and an armoire—even had a bathroom. With a shower.

I trembled when I saw it. Yeah, I’d definitely use that one right away, even if I doubted that it would help me get rid of this horrible feeling clinging to me like some sticky residue.

When I came out of the shower after what felt like hours, towel wrapped around me, I discovered a tray of food on the bed along with a set of fresh clothes. I dressed but ignored the food, opting instead to set it aside.

No way could I stomach anything of sustenance after what I’d witnessed.

I slipped into the bed and hunkered down beneath the cover, with only the top half of my face peeking out. The lamps on the walls dimmed to a glimmer.

Despite the ever present heat of Hell, I shivered.

When I closed my eyes, all I saw was the woman in the crib. Her screams echoed in my mind. The memory of her pleading, of her pain, ebbed and flowed, drowning me again and again. And underneath all that, the horrible, gut-wrenching, heartbreaking suffering of her daughter made my chest burn and my limbs shake with rage and despair.

I buried myself beneath the covers, missing Azazel with a fierceness that bordered on pain. I longed for his warmth, the safety of his arms, for the way he’d kiss my forehead and pull me close when I had a bad dream or a bout of anxiety. The way he’d listen to me tell him of what bothered me, and how his calm presence and poignant, empathetic comments would soothe my sorrows. I wanted, needed to share this excruciating experience here with him like I’d shared everything else the past year, and yet I couldn’t, by my own choosing. Because I’d gone and done this against his implicit wishes, and now I was separated from him for who knew how long, and I had to carry this all on my own.

I was so lost in pain and fury and heartache, I almost didn’t hear the flapping of wings.

But I most certainly heard the smacking sounds that came next.

Heart drumming against my rib cage, I sat upright in the bed and scanned the darkened room.

There, hunched over the tray I’d put close to the door, was a shadowy shape. A shape that moved in a distinctly feline way as it apparently ate my rejected food.

A hellcat. I squinted into the gloom, a frisson of fear stealing into my blood. Mephisto was friendly because he was compelled not to harm those who lived in Azazel’s house, but I couldn’t say that the same applied to any other hellcat outside of my darling demon’s mansion.

Was this one going to ignore me, or would it try to extend its dinner by snacking on me next?

Should I talk to it? Or would that only unnecessarily draw its attention to me?

I opted for silently sinking down beneath the cover and pretending I didn’t exist.

When the bed shook with the impact of a large feline jumping on it, I let out a shriek. A paw slapped me over the head.

Quit that, a familiar voice spoke into my mind.

I uttered another shriek, this time of relief. “Mephisto?”

When I poked my head out from under the cover, I got another paw to the face, claws retracted.

I said, quit that. Your screaming hurts my ears.

“Mephisto!” I cried, threw the cover off and hugged him.

My relief was so acute it made my breath choppy. Heart overflowing with the sheer happiness of having a familiar, friendly being here with me, I dove forward and squeezed the hellcat to me. He was large enough that it felt like hugging a human, in a way.

Unhand me at once, Mephisto said, but his voice was lacking any kind of snarl or bite. This is unseemly.

“I’m just so happy to see you!” I did not let him go.

But you can’t really see me.He pushed against me with a paw. It’s dark and your human eyes are ridiculously weak.

“God, I never thought I’d be ecstatic to hear your blunt remarks and lack of understanding of human sayings.” I finally let him go. “But—how did you find me?”

I’m a cat.

I rolled my eyes. “Come on, you can’t use that as an explanation for everything. Seriously, how do you keep showing up in the most unlikely places just when I need you?”

I could barely make out how he blinked at me in the dark. Pure coincidence.

“Uh-huh. Sure. I don’t buy it.”

I’m not selling anything.

Ugh.

You seem upset.The low glimmer of the lamps reflected in his luminous eyes. Are you in need of a fresh kill? Shall I hunt for you?

“No!” I gentled my voice. “No, thank you. I’m not hungry.”

You did not touch your human food.

Was he actually concerned for me? My little heart melted. “I’m fine, don’t worry. My stomach is just a bit woozy right now.” I paused and sat back against the headboard, biting my lip. Anxiety fizzed through me. “Does…does Azazel know that I’m here?”

Yes.

Aaaaaand my stress level just went through the roof. “How—how is he?”

In a rage.

Oh, God. I buried my face in my hands. “He’s not coming after me, is he?”

In the note I’d left him, I’d asked him not to, but there was no telling if he’d listen to me. I wouldn’t put it past him to try to get me out, be it through official channels or by subterfuge. Which would undoubtedly make everything worse.

“Can you please tell him not to come? When you go back?”

I am not a messenger bat.

“I know, I’m sorry, it’s just—wait, there are messenger bats down here?”

Not anymore.

“What? What happened?”

They were found to be an unreliable means of communication.

“Unreliable? Like, they couldn’t be bothered to actually deliver the message and just did what they liked?”

No. They kept getting eaten on the way to their destination.

I rubbed my face with both hands.

“Okay,” I said after a moment, “just, when you go back, and you’re so inclined, could you please remind him what’s at stake, and that coming after me in any way, shape or form will only complicate things further? Please?”

All right. He blinked at me. I shall tell him to cease any moronic notions of riding to your rescue because it might well result in your death or his own, unless he intends to prove why his genetic material deserves to be removed from the evolutionary chain.

“Mephisto!” I gaped at him. “You did not just say that.”

Is your hearing impaired?He leaned in and sniffed at my ears, his whiskers tickling me. You will not survive long if that is the case. How will you hunt? Evade your enemies?

I squealed at the tickling sensation of his whiskers, then slid down on the bed until I lay curled in a ball, the cover pulled up to my neck. “I need to find some sleep,” I whispered.

Who knew what else Lucifer had in store for me tomorrow? More torture sessions? Some other way of hurting me?

“Will you stay?” I asked my surly hellcat.

The prospect of going to sleep here alone was freaking me out.

Mephisto walked over me, his paws pressing down on my side, and I grunted. I thought he was leaving, but then I felt the touch of his paws on my back—followed by the fine prick of his claws.

“Ow.” I half-turned my head to look over my shoulder, not that it did me any good in the semi-darkness. “Are you kneading my back?”

He purred.

Prick, prick, went his claws on my back, sharp enough to puncture through the cover and my clothes. I cringed, but didn’t have the heart to tell him to knock it off. Universal Cat Law—thou shalt not interrupt a cat when it kneads on you, no matter how much it smarts.

Prick, prick, purr. Prick, prick, purr.

Ouch.I’d had cats turn my thighs into needle cushions before, but this was a whole other level. I just hoped he didn’t draw blood.

After a few moments, something happened. The initial pain subsided, replaced by a slowly growing sense of relaxation. I’d experienced that before—when I’d tried a yoga session that ended in lying on an acupressure mat.

Inspired by the ancient practice of some yogis to recline on a bed of nails, an acupressure mat featured dozens of small spikes—mostly plastic with modern mats—that were sharp enough to non-harmfully poke the skin and muscles of the person lying down on it. It was supposed to stimulate blood flow and relax the muscles, thereby reducing anxiety, improving sleep, and increasing energy.

Having a hellcat knead my back wasn’t that different. Within minutes, I floated in a sea of peaceful relaxation, my worries pleasantly far beneath the surface.

“Thank you,” I murmured into the dark.

You’re welcome,Mephisto replied, and his purr followed me into sleep.

* * *

When I saythat the last thing I ever wanted to see when I opened my eyes in the morning was the Devil staring down at me…I mean it.

Yet that was exactly what happened.

I woke with a start and a shriek because someone splashed cold water on me. Cold water! This was Hell! There was not supposed to be anything cold down here!

I bolted upright in bed, only to stare right into Lucifer’s cheerful face.

“Good morning,” he drawled. “Time to get to work.”

I wiped the water from my face. “Work?”

“Fill this up.” He held out the bucket with which he’d just splashed me. “You’re going to clean.”

With a note of wariness, I accepted the bucket and refilled it with water from my bathroom. “What, exactly, am I supposed to clean, Your Grace?”

He summoned a bottle with some liquid and squirted it into the water, then handed me a cloth. “Just the floor, dear.”

That didn’t sound too bad. My gaze fell on the floor of my room.

“Not here,” he said with a smirk.

A tight knot formed in my stomach, which chose that moment to growl. I’d puked out everything I’d had to eat yesterday, and I hadn’t touched the food brought to my room before I’d gone to sleep.

“Hungry?” Lucifer asked.

Why did everything with him feel like a trick question? If I said no, I’d be gone for who knew how long cleaning floors on an empty stomach. But if I said yes, there was a chance he’d shrug and send me to work hungry anyway. Or maybe he’d give me some moldy scraps to eat?

He studied me with mirth lighting his eyes. “So much thinking for such a simple question,” he said with a soft chuckle. “I can just see the gears turning.” He wiggled a finger in front of my forehead. “Let me help you before you hurt yourself.”

And with a flick of his hand, he summoned a tray with food onto the bed. I half expected it to be something disgusting, but the aroma of French toast, scrambled eggs, and syrup-soaked pancakes rose in the air and proved my worries wrong. My legs almost buckled at the delicious scents. God, I was so hungry.

“Eat,” he said, and leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

“Now?” With him just standing there, watching me?

He tilted his head. “Unless you’d like to go without food?”

“Why even give me any?” I muttered as I sat down on the bed and dug in. “Shouldn’t you want me weak?”

He clucked his tongue. “Starvation makes humans delirious. Why would I put you in a state where you cannot even appreciate the intricacies of your punishments anymore?”

So he wanted me lucid enough to truly suffer. Lovely.

“Then I guess you won’t make me drink amrit again?” I asked around a mouthful of pancake.

His smirk was unholy. “That option is not off the table yet.”

The pancake turned to ash on my tongue. Oh, no. I all too vividly remembered the humiliation I’d suffered in front of his court after Lucifer had forced me to drink amrit. And more to the point—the humiliation Azazel had suffered when my drunk babbling revealed that he’d been trapped in a marriage contract by a human teenager.

There was no telling what else I might do or say under the influence of amrit. If Lucifer truly wanted to break me, all he needed was to make me chug that stuff and let me run my mouth.

A shiver stole through me.

“Ever so delightful,” Lucifer murmured, his face alight with vicious joy, “when the threat of something already does half the work.”

My fingers tightened around the knife I was holding.

His attention zeroed in on that small movement. “By all means, do try.”

And lose my life in the process? Or maybe end up chained and snacked on by hellrats?

I took a deep breath to calm the raging sea of fury inside me and then used the knife to cut off a piece of pancake.

“It might be hard to infer from my actions and words,” I said, “but I am not stupid.”

“Says the girl who willingly walked into the lion’s den to be punished instead of sitting this one out.”

I sent him a sharp look. “Why did you wait? Why not come for me right away?”

Even when I’d marched up to him, he’d been curiously reluctant to punish me until I’d pushed him over the brink.

An easy shrug of his shoulder. “Maybe I wanted to let that wonderful anxiety of yours simmer a bit longer.”

He’d said as much the other day, but for some reason I couldn’t explain, that didn’t ring entirely true. He’d been surrounded by his courtiers—or whatever they were—and down here in Hell, even the most powerful being had to play by certain rules or expectations. Lucifer’s words and actions in front of an audience would always be calculated to an extent, more so than if he were alone.

I thought of Azazel’s theory that Lucifer might have a pressing reason to uphold the status quo. Someone as aware of underlying motives as him might see the intricate web of leverage and subtle reasoning behind each of our actions and decide that pulling on one thread—punishing me—could well upset the entire balance.

“Why didn’t you tell them?” I asked quietly.

Why keep it a secret that Naamah was still alive? If his aim was to hurt Azazel, wouldn’t it make more sense to let him know his mother wasn’t dead, but forbid him from seeing her? Wouldn’t that hurt a whole fucking lot more?

Telling Azazel and Azmodea that their mother had died had actually given them a sort of closure. Knowing a loved one was gone gave someone the chance to move on, no matter how vicious grief could be. At least one didn’t cling on to the desperate hope of seeing them again.

How much crueler would it have been to dangle the fact their mother was still alive but nevertheless forever out of their reach in front of them, for thousands of years? Maybe even use it as leverage—as in, “Behave, and you’ll get to visit her.”

“It doesn’t seem like you,” I whispered.

A silver sheen rolled over his eyes, and a visual echo of mighty wings flickered behind his back. For a split second, I saw him as he must have been before he’d fallen from Heaven—startlingly white-silver wings, gleaming armor, his power brimming with the force of the first elements of all that existed, divine light limning his form. The Morningstar, in all his glory.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice seeming detached, rolling with thunder. “Time to put you to work.”

I left my half-eaten breakfast, grabbed the cloth, bucket and detergent, and hurried after him as he strode out into the hallway. It took all of my concentration not to spill any of the water inside the bucket, and so it didn’t dawn on me where we were going until we stepped out into the giant hall.

I stopped dead in my tracks, my gaze glued to the floor under my feet—the glass floor of the Hall of Horrors, under which scores of demons lay chained and suffering.

Oh, no.

Lucifer faced me and waved at the hall with one hand. “This is where you’ll clean the floor today.”

My hands trembled so hard, the water sloshed in the bucket. “All of it?”

“Why, yes. I expect it to be spick-and-span.”

I glanced at the demons walking through the hall, some of the many visitors of the palace. They looked on with unveiled curiosity as Lucifer, King of Hell, First of the Fallen, stood with a lowly human and personally instructed her what to do.

“Will the hall be closed while I clean the floor?”

Lucifer smirked. “No.”

So there’d be demons walking in and out, tracking fresh dirt over the areas that I’d just cleaned…making sure I’d never get finished with this task.

“Come find me,” Lucifer said, leaning down to me, “when you’re done.”

So…never.

He patted me on the shoulder and strolled away.

Closing my eyes on a sigh, I set the bucket down and collected myself. I could do this. I’d just keep my gaze unfocused and not look too closely at what lay underneath that floor. Easy-peasy.

And he couldn’t truly leave me here until the floor was clean. That was hyperbole, right?

* * *

Wrong.

I scrubbed that floor for hours upon hours, with no end in sight. I only stopped every once in a while to drag the bucket over to a fountain near the entrance to refill the water and pour in more detergent, not even taking potty breaks. I didn’t even know if there was a toilet anywhere nearby. I was only glad I hadn’t had any coffee, or else this whole thing could have been so much worse.

At first, ignoring the demons writhing just inches from me, only separated from my mopping hands by glass, worked rather well. I kept my gaze in that state of half focus necessary to see one of those hidden images in the Magic Eye books, and it allowed me to avoid taking in any details of the horrific scene underneath me. Who knew nearly wrecking my eyesight squinting at those books when I’d been a child would come in handy someday?

Still, I knew the demons were there, of course.

And as the hours dragged on, as my physical and mental strength waned, it became harder and harder not to see them.

Some were still fully clothed, looking rather fresh. Probably recent additions to this horror show. Others lay there in tatters, their clothing torn and ripped, chewed through by the rats to better get to the meat.

The eyes were a favorite of the rodents.

The first time I vomited while I cleaned that floor was when I couldn’t keep my gaze from straying to the sight of a rat plucking the eyes out of a demon’s face. He screamed through the entire process, throwing his head from side to side in an effort to dislodge the rat, unable to use his hands due to the restraints, but the beast had sunk its claws into his skin and rode him like some grotesque caricature of rodeo.

All while chewing off his eyes.

The breakfast from this morning splattered onto the floor before me, effectively obscuring the view of the eye feast.

Tears streamed down my face, my throat burned, and my stomach wanted to heave some more as I cowered there on all fours. Derisive laughter echoed in the hall, the demons passing me snickering and making snide comments.

With a sob, I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hands, took a rattling breath, and then went on to clean the mess I’d just made.

The next time I puked was when I had to witness how a group of rats tore into one and the same demon. One of the rats was eating its way through the demon’s guts, as in, the rat was inside the belly, and the way the abdomen’s skin rose and fell with the movements of the rodent sent the rest of my breakfast careening out my mouth.

As I blinked through tears at the new mess on the freshly cleaned stretch of floor, I realized why Lucifer had insisted that I ate this morning.

He knew. He knew that having to watch the demons on the subfloor would make me nauseous, so he made sure I had something in my stomach to puke out.

He truly didn’t need to lay a hand on me to torture me.

On and on it went. I scrubbed the floor, demons walked over it—some taking extra care to specifically stomp their boots where I’d just cleaned—I rescrubbed those areas, my gaze unwillingly strayed to the live-action butchering going on in the subfloor, my stomach rebelled yet again, I vomited and sobbed, rinse and repeat.

In the end, I only dry-heaved, nothing left in my stomach to really make a mess. The only thing I stained the floor with then was snot and tears.

My arms burned, my muscles so weak I could barely move the cloth over the floor anymore. I didn’t even have any strength left to wring it out. I’d gone hours—days? I couldn’t tell—without anything to eat or drink. Not that I’d be able to keep anything down, but the exhaustion, dehydration, and starvation were getting to me.

When I moved, I swayed. The room seemed unstable. I couldn’t think straight anymore.

I knew I was definitely hallucinating when I heard a friendly voice ask, “Zoe?”

I tried to look up, but it only made me lose my balance, and I toppled over myself and planted my nose on the glass floor. Directly underneath me was the half-eaten face of a demon. She screamed. I sobbed.

“Zoe?” asked the voice again, the one I’d surely made up in the desperate attempt to interrupt my torment.

A strong hand grasped my arm and pulled me upright, and then fingers under my chin lifted my head…to meet the gaze of Lilith.

Her warm brown eyes studied me, her elegant brows drawing together. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m hallucinating you,” I rasped, my throat raw from all the puking and sobbing.

She examined me more closely and then took in the bucket, the cloth, the way I crouched on the floor. Her expression darkened, and it was like a storm front casting its shadow over a spring valley. “What is the meaning of this?”

“P-punishment,” I whispered.

A second longer she looked at me with something like anger brewing in the depths of her honeyed eyes, then her features smoothed out and she raised her chin as if in understanding. “The vow.”

I nodded.

“He called you in?”

“I came on my own.”

Her brow furrowed again. “Why?”

Maybe it was the exhaustion, but I told her the truth. “Azazel wouldn’t see his mother because he didn’t want to give Lucifer any incentive to punish me. But if I face the consequences of breaking the vow and endure my punishment, then Azazel won’t have a reason anymore not to visit his mother.”

She sighed and rubbed her forehead, the most human gesture I’d ever seen her make. “Come,” she said and rose to her feet.

Still on my knees, I peered up at her, not at all sure if I could actually stand up. And remain standing.

Lilith frowned down at me. “How long have you been here?”

I swallowed past my parched throat. “It’s hard to tell time. Hours? Days?”

With a wave of her hand, she summoned a bottle of water and handed it to me. Remembering to pace myself, I took small sips until my mouth didn’t feel like the desert anymore and some of the haze in my mind cleared.

Lilith eyed me, something dark simmering underneath her outwardly calm exterior. “Can you walk?”

“I’m not sure,” I answered truthfully.

She made a gesture over her shoulder, and the next second, a female demon stepped up.

“Carry her,” Lilith said.

The demon bent, grabbed me around the waist and hefted me over her shoulder like a sack of rice.

“Respectfully,” Lilith added with a hiss.

“Apologies, Your Grace.”

The demon maneuvered me around until she carried me with one arm under my knees and the other around my upper back. I hung there limply and grimaced at the utter indignity of it all, but I’d very likely crumple in a heap if set on my feet right now. It was either being carried out, or staying here to scrub the floor some more.

Lilith turned on her heel and marched in front of us, her golden dress glittering in the lights of lamps and chandeliers as we passed through corridors and halls. She was resplendent as ever, her brown locks cascading down her back in a shining waterfall of earthen tones. Damn, I really wanted to know her hair routine. Did she use oil? I had to ask her.

Beside the demon carrying me—her blond hair complementing her fair skin—there were two others who apparently made up Lilith’s retinue for the day. A male with a bronze tan, dark, curly hair and assessing eyes, and a female with light skin and ginger hair, who kept sneaking curious glances at me.

Lilith approached a double door and threw it open, striding inside with all the brewing tension of an impending storm.

“Leave,” she barked.

I peered around her back and saw a group of three demons seated on armchairs around Lucifer, apparently interrupted in some weighty-looking conversation. At Lilith’s command, they shot to their feet without hesitation, bowed low, and hastened out with murmured greetings.

Lucifer rose from his seat, genuine warmth lighting his eyes as he beheld Lilith. “My heart and soul,” he said, clearly not the least bothered by how she’d just chased off those demons with no regard for whether they’d been talking about something important with Lucifer.

“I found your guest,” Lilith said without preamble and waved at me. “When were you going to tell me that you’re torturing someone who holds my favor?”

Lucifer’s eyes flicked to me, the warmth in them frosting over. “Enough favor to bestow a piece of yourself unto her.” His gaze slid back to Lilith. “When were you going to tell me about that?”

I felt like a proverbial ping-pong ball between them both. Even though I’d lived through a divorce of my parents, I’d never experienced someone using me as an excuse to fight. This was a novel feeling.

“She needed power,” Lilith said. “I gave her a headstart.”

“And made it so I can’t hurt her.”

Lilith tilted her head and frowned. “That is no magic of mine.”

Lucifer studied her for a moment, then he sighed and shrugged. When he spoke again, his voice had gentled. “It’s because I won’t hurt you. Not even the smallest spark of your essence, entrenched in someone else. My soul rebels against the very thought.”

I blinked at Lucifer in shock. He could be like this?

Lilith exhaled roughly. “Her punishment ends now.”

His eyes glinted hard. “I wasn’t finished.”

“She is.” She waved at me again, as if to underscore her point by indicating my sorry state of being.

“Breaking a vow requires penance.” Lucifer crossed his arms. “Her debt is yet unpaid.”

Lilith huffed. “Breaking that vow was inevitable, and you know it. She did not fail so much as she ran afoul of an impossible ask. She’s suffered enough.”

“Because of her,” Lucifer said with a growl rumbling in his voice, “a secret kept for millennia has been revealed.”

“A secret that was never yours to keep.”

I pursed my lips, and I could swear I heard one of the demons from Lilith’s retinue inhale sharply. If we were in a Jerry Springer episode, the audience would be howling by now.

“It was time,” Lilith said more gently and stepped up to Lucifer. “I know you meant well, but it was never right to keep her from them.”

Meant well?Lucifer? Was she talking about a different person than the one I knew?

“As for Zoe”—Lilith laid her hand on his face, and his features softened, his attention rapt on her—“I am claiming her. If the vow she broke requires more penance, she will make amends with me.”

He held her gaze for the span of several heartbeats, then he said, “As you wish.”

A small smile on her lips, she laid her forehead against his and murmured, “My love.”

When she drew back, Lucifer grasped her hand. “Nessar’s teeth need cleaning. You should make her do it. Her hands are small enough.”

“No.” Lilith clucked her tongue. “I will not make her brush your dragon’s teeth.”

“She heals fast. Her fingers will regrow.”

Excuse me, what?

“Shush, Lu.” Lilith squeezed his hand, then let go. “I will find her something to do that will not harm her.”

“Pity,” Lucifer murmured, his cold gaze on me.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

Lilith turned to me. “Come. I will take care of you.”

She walked out into the hallway, her retinue following her, the demon carrying me included. Before the door closed, I glanced back over the demon’s shoulder. Lucifer stood watching us leave, and the entirely contrary part of me that wasn’t the least bit concerned about self-preservation made me lift my hand and give him a cutesy little finger wave as I winked at him.