Page 79 of Evil Hearts

“Got it. Thank you.” I gulp as I look back behind me, seeing more…demons. That’s what they are. The things that nightmares are made of. I don’t belong here, this must be some mistake.

It’s just a bad dream and any minute now I’m going to wake up at home in my bed.

And yet I walk in the direction of the black door at the end of the hall, ignoring the doors to the left and right of me. Sweat slicks my palms as I ball one into a fist, preparing to knock when the door opens inwardly.

“Please come in.”

My feet move of their own accord as my mind screams for me to run in the opposite direction from whatever is waiting for me behind this door. Smoke and shadows curl around my legs, pulling me into a boardroom.

What in the actual fuck is happening?

Standing with his back to me, a tall silhouette of a man wearing a suit faces a window that reveals nothing but a blue sky.

Confusion hangs heavily on my shoulders as I take in my surroundings. In the center of the room stands a large table with high back black leather chairs. If anyone is seated there, I can’t see them.

The man turns to greet me. He’s beautiful. Like he was created by God himself. Silken black hair trimmed neatly. Cheek bones sharp enough to cut glass. Intense blue eyes that are nearly electric. “Welcome, Daciana Meva.”

“Thank you. I think.”

He chuckles. “You’re cautious. That’s good. My son chose well.”

“Your son?”

“He’ll be along to collect you soon enough. Please take a seat. I’m sure you have questions.”

“What do you mean, collect me?”

“Sit,” his voice booms loud enough the large plate-glass window vibrates, and my hair blows back.

I shuffle into a chair and someone or something grumbles beneath me. “Hey. Watch it.”

I jump up and my gaze lands on a tiny orange man who’s missing half of his face. A maggot crawls out of the charred socket where his right eye once was. He jabs it with his black pointed nail and eats it.

Bile burns up the back of my throat.

“Apologies. Take mine.” The handsome man pulls out the lone chair at the head of the table.

Wordlessly, I take the offered chair, observing all the demons seated in the other chairs furiously writing on white legal pads.

“Who are you?”

“You know who I am.”

Chapter Four

“For the sakeof formalities. Some refer to me as the Prince of Darkness. Others call me Diablo. Satan. Lucifer. I have many names, Daciana.”

“Am I in Hell?”

“Yes.”

“Am I dead?”

“In a sense. Three mortal years ago, you signed a contract.”

“What are you talking about?”

He waves a hand errantly and my eyes roll back in my head as a memory flickers in my mind. Playing back like a movie. I watch myself through his eyes. I’m in the bathroom, standing at the sink with a bottle of pills. Dressed in a white bra and black running shorts, my dark hair is styled in a braid that rests on my left shoulder, much like it does now.

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