Page 1 of Princess of Hell

One

Silver

This had to be the beginning of a bad dream. But then, Demons don’t dream, not in the conventional sense, at least. When we dream, our dreams are prophecies, glimpses into what is to come.

The events of the last few weeks all lead me here--flat on my ass, next to a dumpster, and fighting a Burlo Demon with my bare hands. That’s not the kind of dream I hoped for. I leaned more toward dark, tall, and handsome, nibbling on my neck and doing unspeakable things to me.

“Yeah, not you. I mean, you’re tall and stinky!” I spit toward the Burlo Demon, knowing that he didn’t understand a word of what I said. Burlos are beasts born out of anger and darkness, lost pieces of souls who live for the hunt.

As I have this stupid inner monolog, chastising myself for allowing the Burlo to get on top, he tries to take a bite out of my cheek.Nice move, Silver. Awesome way to fuck it up.

Its rancid breath makes me choke. Its huge body rests on top of mine, pressing my head and my once clean hair into a mix of vomit, spilled beer, and Gods know what other disgusting things are on the ground of the parking lot of a biker bar. The perfect way to spend a Wednesday evening in town—laying on my back in a parking lot.

How did I get myself into this predicament? Oh, yeah. I know. Everything is coming back to me in HD clarity, especially as the demon tries to lick my face and melt my flesh with its acid drool.

The Burlo Demon yelps loudly in pain and jumps back, confused as to why its prey burns its mouth, preventing it from savoring a bite of the juicy flesh.

I burn him. Literally. My skin is covered in some sort of invisible magic protection, like the full-body chastity armor that my father, Lucifer, bestowed on me at the tender age of sixteen. He got so upset because I kissed a boy at a demon ball that he yelled curses in Aramaic. It’s always bad when dad curses in Aramaic. First, because I don’t understand most of what he says and, second, well shit, it’s Aramaic. Everything you say in Aramaic sounds like invoking the forces of chaos and the underworld. I had never in my life seen Dad as pissed as he was that night. I mean, it wasn’t as if I got raw dogged in public by a gang of hellhounds. I had my first kiss with a boy.

There wasn’t even tongue involved. The ball itself wasn’t even a big deal. I somehow managed to get my Dad’s okay to go to a Demons and humans mixer party in one of the castles of the Vampire Nation. I was so excited. I still remember how I spent hours picking out the right dress. My best friend Amala was to join. The perspective of going to the human dimension for the first time had me giddy.

Dad is very strict about that. Maybe it’s because I never knew my mother. She died when I was little, and he protected me from everything, no matter if it was good, evil, or even myself. Because of that, I had zero social experience. I grew up in a golden cage with Demons keeping the distance out of fear. No one wants to piss off Lucifer. I’m the only exception. Pissing him off is fun. He’s my dad. What’s he going to do to me?

The ball we attended was still painted in vivid colors in my memory. I dressed like a vampire and Amala wore a fae costume. It was such a hoot. Two full-fledged Demons pretending to be members of other species. That night should have been memorable. In a way, it was. Everything beginning with that night has led me here, fighting this crazy thing that was dead set on ripping out my throat.

The Burlo Demon used its strong claws to try to tear my leather corset, but my corset is made from the skin of dark eels, the hardest material known to Hell, and is impossible to cut through it. My personal body armor shines in a hue of silver light, touching my skin and making the Burlo cry out again since it’s stupid enough to touch my throat with its paws.

“I told you, I don’t like to be touched!”

Its weight is too much for me. It has all four strong legs planted firmly on the ground. No matter how hard I try to push it away, it finds a way to regain its footing and tries to scratch my skin. Blood. It tasted a drop of my blood, and now is after more. Each time its claws or paws touch an exposed surface of my skin, it whelps in pain and anger.

“Stupid much? You really don’t get how this works, right?”

It made no sense to argue with a Burlo Demon. It was nothing more than a wild beast that followed the orders of its masters. My only question was who the fuck was its master. Once he sent one Burlo after me, he would soon send more.

Burlo Demons look like a cross between a bear and a gator and are horribly strong. This one was no exception. Quite the contrary, it was a rather large male. Its acid saliva melted everything in its path, only it can’t hurt me.

“We’re caught in a Mexican standoff, so what next?”

The Burlo roared, throwing its huge head back, maw open, showcasing the two rows of teeth that lined its mouth. It was confused as to why it couldn’t get to its prey and why I was still talking, breathing, and being a pain in its ass while it mounted me and tried to have a snack. That’s all I am to it with my slim figure. I was merely a snack. Burlos consume huge amounts of meat to satisfy their appetite.

In Hell, Burlos are used for hunting. They should not be loose in any other dimension. In Hell, my other powers would still be available. A minor hit with my electric whip would get it off me but, sadly, on Earth, my ass is mortal. The only thing that I can’t shake off is this damned armor entwined with the very fabric of my spirit. Dad does things the right way. He doesn’t play around, otherwise it would have been way too easy to shake off the armor of chastity just by stepping into another dimension. Now, with the Burlo trying to take a bite out of me, I’m a little grateful because I have the armor to protect me.

I try to wiggle under the huge creature that keeps snapping at my face. It has learned to stop inches before touching the silver shine of protection that moves like a second skin with each move of my body. Usually, I hate my shield. It singles me out, like everything that my father does to protect me. One does not get to be Lucifer’s only daughter and have a large amount of freedom. I don’t have any freedom at all.

Not usually.

That ball was my downfall. I danced with a boy. Damn, he was so handsome. A mask covered his face, but I will forever remember his mysterious eyes, like two glowing pits of darkness shinning like embers under those thick black lashes that touched his cheeks. He had long, silky black hair, the perfect contrast to my silver-white hair.

I was born under the sign of the moon. That’s why my hair looks like pure, silky silver. I can call on the help of moon worshipers. At least that’s what I’ve been told. That night, I was so innocent and unaware of the lengths my father was ready to go to make me obey his wishes.

The chills I had when the boy held my hand as we walked through the Vampire Nation’s territory. The way he leaned into me and touched my lips softly as the full moon shone toward the river that flows through Budapest. I think it was the Danube, but I’m not certain. I suck at geography and Aramaic! All I know is the city's lights were pale compared to the fire that burned in my boy’s eyes. He said his name was Ash, but that name was probably fake. It sounded too perfect, to made up.

We stopped, holding hands. Ash took my face into his cool palms. His full lips parted and crashed against mine, igniting a fire like no other. I imagined my first kiss before. I had talked to my friend Amala about it. She had described hers as a sloppy experience, but her first kiss was with a Chaos Demon, and he had four mouths, so there’s that. A lot of saliva and tongues that all wanted a piece of the action.

My boy was a demon. I feel his dark energy resonate with mine. There was something else. I felt some sort of hook that embedded itself deep into my soul, rendering me speechless. For a few minutes, the only thing that held me on the surface of Earth was this boy. His lips pressed against mine. His sweet, earthy scent. The way his arms created a warm cage for my body, a cage I wasn’t eager to escape. Quite the contrary, I wanted him to tie me up and hold me prisoner forever. We promised each other to meet again on the next day, to explore the beautiful city, but little did I knew that I wouldn’t be able to leave The Underworld and my father’s dimension for the next hundred human years.

Ash. His name was still on my mind, even though it wasn’t his real name. I didn’t tell him my real name either. He’s probably forgotten about me by now, so it’s not as if this matters much. Why would he remember a virgin demon princess?

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