Page 81 of Endless Terrors
His words brought the memories back again. Spider legs on the wallpaper. A branding iron glowing red. Blood splattered across sand. My hands curled, and I felt the bite of my fingernails. “I think he did a little more than ‘endanger my life,’” I heard myself say.
“Exactly.” Lucifer’s arm shifted, and after a moment, he held something out. “I understand that he was killed by his brother. Would you like to do the honors this time?”
I glanced toward his offering and saw that it was a knife. The edge of it was crude but sharp—it would tear Belanor’s throat open and ensure a slow, painful death. I didn’t reach for the small blade, but I didn’t look away from it, either. My insides turned to crashing waves and roaring winds. The tempest howled so loudly I couldn’t hear anything else. I pictured Belanor choking on his own blood. I imagined the sounds he’d make. I felt the satisfaction it would bring me.
Away. I had to get away.
I turned and walked out of the room.
I didn’t know where I was going, so I let my feet lead the way. They brought me back down the passageway, past the cells, and into the elevator. I didn’t say a word to the guards. My ears rang as the doors closed and the elevator shot upward. When it stopped, I stepped out and kept walking. I felt detached from my own body, and I barely registered the sight of the sky.
Near my room, I finally slowed to a stop. I approached the low wall that separated me from a perilous fall to the streets below, resting my hand on one of the pillars. The stone was smooth and cool against my palm. I stared out at the winged beasts swooping slowly through the flashes of light. The image of Belanor’s destroyed face was replaced by a daydream. I saw myself leaping onto the back of one of those creatures, seizing hold of its curved horns, and forcing it to fly up, up, up, through the layers between the universes, heading home. Home. A sharp, piercing sensation filled my chest, and I held the pillar tighter.
A moment later, there was a slight scraping sound behind me. I knew Lucifer had done it on purpose, to make me aware of his presence. I straightened my spine and blinked rapidly, clearing my eyes as best I could. I still didn’t speak, so Lucifer did.
“I sense the ferocity in you. The hunger,” he said. “You’ve just been conditioned to believe you should contain it.”
I made a disdainful sound. “You know, that sort of thinking is how you got kicked out of your daddy’s house.”
I’d hoped the reminder would sting, and drive him away. Instead, Lucifer moved to stand beside me. Roused by a spark of defiance, I turned from the sky and met the devil’s gaze. He already knew I was afraid of him, and that another part of me was drawn to him, but I wouldn’t give Lucifer the gratification of seeing it. Not this time.
Then he ruined everything by leaning in and pressing his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes instinctively to avoid his gaze, his closeness. Lucifer inhaled as if the scent of me was intoxicating. My insides quaked, but I was even more terrified to open my eyes. They were still closed when I forced myself to step away.
He was like Gwyn, I thought, raising my face to Lucifer’s. Time and power had stripped him of whatever compassion or goodness he’d once had. I couldn’t let him get to me. No matter how long I was trapped down here, I needed to keep finding ways to resist the devil’s allure. I looked directly at him and gave a small, mocking smile.
“Is this it?” I asked softly. “Is this your big plan? Coax me to the dark side, warp my mind, and finally use that to get what you want? I see you, Your Majesty. You’re just a lonely, spoiled prince.”
“You see nothing. But you will.” Lucifer turned away. Then he paused. He came back, hands in his pockets, and leaned close to murmur, “By the way … I’m the fucking king.”
His scent was all around me, masculine and intoxicating, and my gaze dropped to his mouth of its own volition. With one last, lingering look that sent a whisper of heat through me, Lucifer turned again. This time, he left me there, moving soundlessly down the walkway. Moments later, he was out of sight.
Once he was gone, I turned and frowned at the dark horizon.
I didn’t go back to bed for a long, long time.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Roger informed me the next morning that Lucifer had gone away.
It was the opportunity I’d been waiting for. Since my search in the library had proved to be fruitless, it was time to go into the city and speak to some souls. One of them had to know a witch, or a spell that could send me back to my dimension. Lucifer had never explicitly stated that I wasn’t allowed to leave the tower, but it was implied. I couldn’t operate the elevator on my own, and every time I stepped out of my room, Roger or Saida was there. Once, it was the female guard that I’d seen with Lucifer.
I wasn’t a prisoner, but I wasn’t free, either.
The answer came to me while I was lying in bed. Narfu. Narfu was my ticket out of the tower. He could climb through windows and down vertical walls. With his help, I’d bypass the elevator and the risk of discovery altogether.
There was just the tiny matter of communicating this plan to him.
I also hadn’t seen the demon in several days, which meant I needed to get more aggressive. Especially since I wasn’t sure when Lucifer would leave again. He didn’t hover, by any means, but he always seemed to be nearby. I probably wouldn’t get another chance like this by the end of my three weeks here.
Roger was still standing in the hallway outside my room, waiting for an answer. He’d just asked if I would like to have my breakfast in the dining room.
“Actually, will you send Narfu to me?” I asked. “There’s something I need him to … clean.”
The old demon looked concerned. His forehead wrinkled. “Is everything … well, my lady?”
“Yes, everything is fine. Just send Narfu as soon as you can. Thank you,” I added.
Roger bowed and walked backward, moving out of view. I closed the door and went over to the bed, where I perched on the edge and tried to look as unthreatening as possible. I wore a black button-down and another pair of leggings. My feet were bare because I’d just been about to put on some socks when Roger had knocked. Layers were a necessity in Hell—despite the stories of eternal fire and unbearable heat, this world was cold. So cold even my soul could feel it, apparently.
