Page 18 of Hell of a Thing

Everything the girl with the bad makeup and pink sweater had been, every word, every deed, bottled like it was nothing. She was left a husk, drained but rigid and not even able to slump forward. Her skin rapidly grayed. I couldn’t tear my horrified gaze from her stiff form, even as the big, puss-covered demon stepped forward to rip her from her prison. Only then did she flop like a rag doll in his monstrous arms. What did they do to her? Try as I might, I couldn’t recall the punishment The Devil had prescribed for her. The memories were muddled by terror and the agony that had followed.

That ripping I’d felt when The Devil tasted me, though, I remembered that well.

It had been my soul.

Confident I would die and that would be the end of it, I stared at the dead girl flung haphazardly over the demon’s shoulder, and I understood.

Death was just the beginning.

They were going to prepare Bad Makeup’s soul now, I realized, as the smaller creature took the crude cup back and moved to the side of the room. He poured the same shimmering liquid—the soul—into an oak barrel.

Prepare it for him. A shudder moved across my shoulders, cracking the crispy skin. I couldn’t let that happen to me.

Burnt and mutilated, the she-demon didn’t find me a threat at all. To be fair, I probably wasn’t to her, and I would use that to my advantage. Every movement hurt, from the jarring steps as they carried me to every maneuver of my own as I brought my hands together to rub the metal charm bracelet. At least with it on, I didn’t feel so alone. Mallory was with me in some way. Through the despair, tears wouldn’t come. There were none. No moisture left in my body after sweating and cooking on the hot plate.

A thick band made up half the diameter of the charm bracelet, with the other half being large chain links, every one with a charm. As I held it tighter, it slipped apart. Broken and fragile from the heat. I’d have cried if I’d been able to. Mallory’s bracelet breaking felt like a new slice to my broken heart.

But then I looked, and my heart stopped. Silver glinted in the light. Turning my wrist slightly, I realized the metal band held a small, curved knife.

The beach is where I feel safe.

Safe.

Of course.Mallory’s words echoed in my ears as I stared in wonder at the hidden blade.

She’d kept a weapon for self-defense. Only a couple of inches long, it would do very little to my demonic attackers, but if the edges were as sharp as they looked, it would be perfect for me.

I tightened my grip on the knife, comforted by the pain as the sharp edge cut into my skin.

Not yet.

Thankfully, the bracelet slid closed without a sound. I tightened my grip on it.

It wasn’t time yet.

But soon.

The clown threw me down roughly on a table slick with blood, and I felt my limbs snap into position, much as they had in the chairs. Even my head was locked straight. All I could move were my eyes, and, thankfully, my fingers.

I’d get my chance.

I just needed to be patient.

But I almost lost my nerve when the she-demon stood over me with a wicked-looking, black-handled blade and a smile that showed off her sharp teeth.

“Hey there. I know we haven’t officially met, but I’ve been watching you, and I want to thank you in person for being awesome.” She gave a shrug of one slender shoulder. The woman-thing would have been a stunner if I didn’t know she was the one in charge of this house of horrors. “I mean, I couldn’t have impressed him without you, really. So, thanks.”

If my mouth hadn’t been so dry, I would’ve spit in her face, but all I could manage was a feeble glare I was certain lacked any real heat.

Her blade flashed and sliced across my abdomen, cutting through the pleather that had melted to my skin, becoming one with my charred flesh. I ground my teeth against the pain. The Devil had said one thousand cuts.

This bitch was just getting started.

“Although,” she sighed. “I must admit, destroying your beautiful body hurts me far more than this all hurts you. I would have preferred to destroy you in a more fun way, although it would have been just as delicious in the end, I’m sure. For both of us.”

Flash, slice.

Flash, slice. She focused on my arm for a while, shallow cuts up and down it like she was making some kind of gruesome pattern. The she-demon certainly looked like she was creating art. There was a fervor in her movements and a frenetic energy in her eyes.

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