Page 12 of Raising Hell

I could do both of those things in Hell on any given Tuesday. Twice on Sunday.

Frustrated and unable to hide my disappointment, I defiantly conjure a tiny burst of magic. The knob twists and I walk in to find Rory sprawled out on his bed, with a strange silver electronic book in front of him.

“How you doin’?” I use the accent other demons like to fake after a visit to the human realm, saying they learn it from their friends, and I want to be Rory’s friend.

“What… how’d you get in? Did you pick my lock?”

My brows furrow, not understanding the phrase, but I don’t want to expose my magic just yet because that would mean wearing clothes. “Yes… I picked it,” I agree with a nod.

He narrows his eyes and glares at me, sweeping his hand in a gesture up and down my body. “And where exactly did you hide a bobby pin?”

A peculiar sensation twists in my stomach at his question. “Who is this Bobby, and why is he hiding from me?” I demand, walking closer.

“What?”

“Bobby Pen! Who is he? I command you to tell me!” Not waiting for his response, I crouch in front of him, the curling in my gut getting stronger. “Is he your lover? Is this why you made me take care of my own erection earlier?”

“N-no…”

“But…” Anger flares in my core as I remember his words. “You said you were lonely. Has this Bobby Pen been an inadequate lover? Has he left you to be alone?” My voice gets louder, more indignant with every unanswered question.

His eyes are wide and mouth sags as he stares, and his lack of response infuriates me further. I rush to my feet, and another of those strange squawk-honks leaves his throat. “Come out, come out, Robert Pen!” I bellow, forcing power into the order. “Casimir demands to have words with you!”

“Cas—”

I whirl to face him, a snarl on my lips and body poised, ready for a brawl. “Do not attempt to stop me! I will have vengeance on this Robert and crush his puny human body—”

“Cas!” he shouts, breaking through my rampage. “There isn’t anyone here. I swear, it’s just the two of us.”

Riled up and bursting with restless energy, I pull my cheek into my teeth and tap my foot. “Then who…”

“A bobby pin is a small metal clip to keep your hair pushed out of your face. You know, to style it? Some people use them to pick locks… well, in movies they do. I’ve never actually seen it done.”

Slowly, I nod, allowing myself to absorb his explanation. “So, not your lover, then?”

“No.”

“Right. Got it.” Adrenaline runs rampant in my veins now, my body wanting to fight or fuck but not having an outlet for either. I flop onto the bed with him, and he squeaks again, scuttling to the other side of the bed. “Why have you locked yourself in here, away from me?”

Rory sighs, pushing his hands over his face and shaking his head. “Honestly, I’m just feeling sorry for myself. Nothing is going right for me these days.”

The strange sinking in my gut intensifies as I recognize my role in his sadness. “I am… sor… sor…sorry… that I was not what you wanted,” I offer, somewhat clumsily. Apologies are not part of a demon’s usual arsenal. We’re stubborn creatures on our best day, and even when we’re wrong, most will never admit it.

“Oh, Cas,” he murmurs, and meets my eyes again. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. Granny was my best friend, and when she died, I thought her house and belongings might make her feel like she’s still here… still an active part of my life. Then I stumbled onto this magic stuff, and it hurts that she never shared it with me. It makes me wonder how well I really knew her.”

“And then,” he continues, not giving me a chance to respond, “I make the mistake of looking up my ex to see he’s engaged now. We spent six years together, and he left me because I was ‘dull.’”

“Rory, you’re not dull,” I argue, but I question the truth of that statement as I stare at his pants covered with what appears to be drawings of noodles in white boxes.

He gestures around us with a wave. “The sun is still out and I’m in my pajamas, locked in my bedroom, doomscrolling through social media to see that Johnny is engaged.”

My mind spins, only understanding half of what he said, but I’m determined to make it better. “This Johnny was your lover?”

He huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes. “If you could call it that. We were together for years until he left me for someone hotter.” The silver device in his hand turns, revealing a picture of two good-looking men who both exude an air of superiority.

“Heishot,” I announce, and then add in a rush, “but so are you, Rory.”

He snorts, and a smile tugs at my lips. “You might be blind to it, but you are gorgeous,” I say with gentle sincerity. “You have that lovely red hair, and those deep green eyes that shine all the way into your soul. I see a lot of dark souls in Hell, Rory—sick and twisted. Yours is nothing like that, it’s bright and calming like a warm summer day.” I scoot closer as he sucks in a breath, dragging my fingertips along his arm and watchingas it pebbles. “That soft, creamy skin and those sweet little freckles. And your body…” I trail off, a magnetic pull in my core surprising me as I realize I am, in fact, deeply attracted to him.

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