Page 41 of Gift for a Demon

At least the tomes didn’t look as dusty as that one had after his mother stopped bothering to take care of it.

Dave sighed.

The books were Volumes I & II of what he guessed would be a much larger encyclopedia collection. Hell: History and Hierarchies.

In other words: fun.

What he saw inside gave him even more flashbacks to his childhood. It really was written like a Bible, from the small font in columns to the convoluted language and notes every two words.

Dave shivered. At least he could put church camp to use, but he wasn’t happy about that fact.

He made it through the very tedious introduction before he had to pause and get the books out of his sight.

That was when his gaze fell on the discarded robe.

Yes, one cursory glance down reminded him of the fact that he was still naked. For someone who never slept naked—let alone chilled around the house with everything hanging around—he thought he would’ve had a harder time getting used to it now.

Apparently, that wasn’t a thing.

Now that he was aware of it, though, the need to cover up fueled him, had him speeding around the room to grab all the set pieces. Not that it covered him much, but he felt better with it on. Stronger, too. Dave had to be strong to own such an outfit.

There wasn’t a mirror he could marvel about his figure in, but he knew he looked hot. The lingerie fit him perfectly, too. He didn’t want to think too much about the demon, or what he’d have to do to get more of these… rewards, he guessed he could think of them as. He couldn’t help it, though.

Dave didn’t know what to think about all the mixed signals the demon gave him, and it wasn’t like he had a manual or someone to ask for demonic relationship advice. He couldn’t help it if he expected someone he was fucking to not behave like an asshole two seconds later. He was willing to accept partial responsibility because he got attached too quickly when sex was involved, but still.

An idea started to form in his head. Minions were just like annoying, but scary, children… and he could summon Melchom. Regardless of how shitty he could be, Dave knew he didn’t want any other demons to touch him. He was Melchom’s property, after all.

Taking that first step toward the door he always caught Melchom appearing from was one of the hardest things he’d done since he’d woken up in Hell. It was probably second only to accepting this was his reality now, even if a small part of him still worried he’d accepted that fact too soon.

It was strange, going back and forth all the time, and then he remembered he’d only been here for two mere days, and it all felt even wilder. More ridiculous, too.

Dave shook his head and shoved all of that aside as his fingers curled around a slight indentation in the stone wall. That was what had to open the door, right?

He was definitely losing his mind, venturing into the unknown where the minions and who knew what else could get inside his head.

There was an inner voice—one he, strangely, trusted—urging him to do it, though. To explore, and try to make sense of all the things that were going on.

He peeked his head through first. He remembered the hallway with all the blue and orange flames. They didn’t look to be as tall as they had been when he’d first been forced to walk past them. They didn’t crackle as loudly.

Dave had to wonder if it had all been one of Melchom’s tricks. He’d gotten the flames going to keep Dave more scared, more dependent on him. It would be cruel, but how could he put cruelty past a demon who fed off fear?

There was a weird draft he didn’t remember from the other day. He wrapped his arms around himself as he glanced to both sides. There was no indication about what lay to either side. He still chanced to go the opposite way he’d originally come from. There might be more things than the cell he’d been stuck in to his left, but he had no interest in risking it.

It was eerie. There was too much silence. He’d grown used to accidentally stepping alone into the bathroom and being assaulted by at least four minions before Melchom would kick them out—however that worked.

Dave still walked slowly, watching for every shadow, every spark of the flames that got too close for comfort. He probably should’ve read more of those books before trying to explore. Dave had just always been the kind of kid who learned things by burning himself. It had never mattered how much he read on a topic; it didn’t stick until he experienced it firsthand. He assumed the same principle would apply here.

Summoning Melchom would always be an option if things got bad, too. Dave was definitely going to get himself killed for putting that trust in Melchom, but doing so was the push he needed to stride in the opposite direction from the cells.

There were a few turns that he picked randomly, but there was nothing to see. No art on the walls, or even little stakes with fire like in the medieval movies.

Hell was strange from an architectural viewpoint. On the one hand, it looked modern. Everything looked like it worked, and at least Melchom’s bathroom was fully functional. All the fire and the stone walls and flooring and the lack of actual, proper light, though, kept making him feel like he was inside of one of those soap operas set in medieval times. The fact that his demon only wore clothes covering his groin didn’t help.

Dave rubbed a hand against his face. The images of Melchom, with all his bare chest and ink, walking around weren’t helpful.

It was the opposite.

Distracting, too.

---