Page 19 of Hell of a Thing

Occasionally, she paused to rub her clit through her skirt with one bloodied hand, clearly enjoying herself.

Flash, slice.

At some point, the pain all blended into one agonizing cacophony of torture. No longer did each individual affliction matter. Only constant torment existed between us. I was properly bloodied now, maybe evenwell-bloodied. I thought of the Devil sipping at my soul and of it disappearing into the depths of his hideous body.

No.

I wouldn’t allow it.

The she-demon was desperate to craft me into the perfect beverage. She needed this. Needed me alive to put me in that machine.

When the she-demon turned her attention to my legs, I waited for a heartbeat. The chain would clang against the table when I pulled the knife open. The she-demon cut my calf, admiring the way the blackened skin cracked under pressure. I let out a guttural scream, my parched esophagus burning from the effort. The pain and strong-willed determination gave me the strength to fight the magic holding me in place. I opened the knife and let out a garbled sound to mask the noise. Thankfully, the she-demon remained focused on her incisions. My whimpers were commonplace, and the self-inflicted ones went unnoticed as I fought against the restraint and dug my tiny blade vertically along one wrist, pressing as deeply as I could and slicing through the veins. I only hoped that between the burning and blood loss, one wrist would be enough to kill me.

It hurt, but the maniacal laughter of the she-demon as she continued to slice up my body was distraction enough. Before long, my hand went numb and I could feel the warmth of my blood pooling around the deep wound, adding to the crimson blanket which encompassed me.

The pain the she-demon inflicted started to fade, and I barely reacted as the clown finally lifted my body and brought me over to the soul-sucking chair. With the last of my strength, I held the bracelet in the palm of my hand, desperate to join Mallory and hoping it would bring me nearer to her in the end, so I could apologize for being such a shitty protector and thank her for the gift of her knife.

My body was heavy, and I gave a weak smile as the demon magic locked me in place, and I felt the metaphorical invisible hand pull open my jaw.

Fuck you,I thought as I felt myself lift away from my body before the chalice could be placed against my mouth. I floated above, watching as the she-demon took the chalice and pressed it to the lips of my corpse. I may have had to leave my body behind, but my soul was safe.

Only, as I started to rise slowly upward, the chalice deepened to the same purple color which highlighted The Devil’s skin. It tugged at me, a suction I couldn’t quite escape from. Much to my horror, I began moving back down, the power too strong for the force drawing me gently upward.

Tears I shouldn’t be able to feel streamed down my face as I reached upwards, clawing at the air as though I could grip it and use it to pull me away from the terrible fate awaiting me below.

Screaming, I watched helplessly as my feet became transparent, drifting towards the chalice and the black hole within.

Sobbing, I began to disappear into the abyss, that horrible tearing, searing pain taking over as despair squeezed my heart.

No, no, no.How could this happen now? I was so close. I’d done it. I’d tricked them all and killed myself before they could take me. Only, I’d taken my life too late, and now I would soon be packed into an oak barrel and prepared for The Devil.

Crying, I gave into the despair, resigned to my fate, when a strong hand wrapped around my wrist and pulled me upwards, easily breaking the suction that had been dragging me downward. Incredulous, I looked up, but light consumed my vision. Then I was drawn into a warm, comforting embrace. Grateful, I sank intomy savior’s arms.

“Welcome home, Lisa.” The voice was pure sweetness and joy, happiness and truth, like this being had been waiting for me.

It was almostheavenly.

No.

No, no, no no no. I stared in shock as the talisman failed to extract a soul from my kitten.

Every pierce of my blade had been shallow, artful. I was a master of the craft. I’d taught fucking lessons on ensuring not to kill the victim. Death was seldom the goal, and now?

I stepped forward to examine my kitten, feeling for a pulse in her neck and taking a stumbling step back when I couldn’t find one.

But what happened?Howdid this happen? Blood pooled around Kitten’s hand, and I angrily snatched it up, examining the deep, jagged cut on her wrist. I hadn’t done that, which meant—her fingers relaxed, and a charm bracelet clattered to the floor. No, not just a charm bracelet. A tiny, concealed weapon.

“You stupid, selfish, girl!” I roared, kicking at the corpse in front of me.

Screaming, I pulled her free of the chair and shook her.

Screwed. I was screwed. The Devil had tasted her. He wanted her, and now…I stared at her peaceful face, hating it.

What the fuck was I going to serve him tonight?

Chapter 9

The soul I’d prepared in place of my kitten’s was pure, but sweet and lacking her fire. This one was no brave human ready to stick to her morals and place herself in harm’s way for others, but none of them had been. I could only hope the extra time I’d given this one on the hot plate would add enough smokiness to disguise the taste.

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