Page 6 of Give a Devil his Due
“There is no one here.” Stating the obvious is becoming my specialty. “Why is there no one here?”
A single dirt road stretches ahead of us, boarded on each side with the low huts who gape ominously and silently like sentinels guarding an empty tomb. Instead of doors, gray fabric drapes the entrances, reminding me of the gray sack I wore in Purgatory while I had to face dozens of creatures wearing my face and suffer the torment of being shoved through the same memory over and over again. I fist my hands hard enough for my nails to break skin just to keep myself from running, so I shift my focus to my feet where my boots are puffing out small clouds of dust with each step.
“Satanael.” At Beelzebub’s shout, I nearly jump out of my skin. “Show your ugly mug. We don’t have time to check every hut for your ass.”
“Can you stop screaming?” I hiss at him through clenched teeth. “We don’t know what’s waiting for us here.”
“It’s Hell, she-devil.” Colt shoulders his way ahead of all of us, stomping like a bull on the packed dirt. “Whatever is here will answer to us.”
“Right, like that worked well for you when Lucifer’s home was attacked.” My molars crack while I glare at his back. “Especially when they nearly killed all of us. Remember that little nugget of wisdom?”
“My daughter speaks the truth.” We are almost to the middle of the settlement when Satanael’s voice comes from between two huts. “You never know what waits for you around each corner.”
The air is stuck in my lungs when he steps out, and a genuine smile pulls his lips wide. My hands tremble as I dart my gaze from the horns on his head to his wide chest and down to the triangular tip of his tail, which is twitching near his feet. My own tail and horns are the same color as my father’s, and it takes everything in me not to walk up to him so I can touch his. The pure happiness he clearly displays keeps me frozen in place because it’s unnerving.
“We need your help,” I blurt out.
“We defeated the jinn.” The smile slips from his face, and his features scrunch with anger. “The scum are back?”
“Can we speak somewhere that is not open for everyone to hear?” Eric’s hand warms my lower back when he presses his palm there. As is the norm these days, my body leans into his touch without a conscious thought on my part.
“There is no one but us here.” Just to make sure I’m not talking out of my ass, I glance to Raphael for confirmation. “Not even insects if you didn’t notice.”
“This way.” Like I haven’t said a word, Satanael turns on his heel and disappears between the two crudely made huts.
We all rush after him so we don’t lose sight of his hulking form single file to be able to fit between the structures. Beelzebub takes the front, with Raphael and Eric placing me in the middle, and Colt saunters last. Alert and wary, we follow my father through the narrow man-made path at the back of the huts until he opens a trapdoor near the end of it. With one look around to make sure no one is lurking nearby, he drops inside, leaving us to choose for ourselves how much we trust him.
It proves some have faith in Satan more than others because Beelzebub is gone next, and Raphael, out of everyone here who should doubt the decision, jumps in the hole with no pause in his step. Eric’s hand is comforting when he stops me, peering down at me before offering me a nod to tell me it’s safe. With a deep breath, I close my eyes and make the jump.
One second is all I have to move aside before Eric is beside me, his head swiveling so he can assess our surroundings. Colt is less graceful, especially when, judging by the smirk on his face he not so accidentally bumps into me.
“Have a seat.” Satanael waves his arm with flourish like we are some mid-century upper-class gathering for a tea party.
I look up at the trapdoor when Eric pulls the rope to close it, cutting off whatever natural light coming from it. It takes a moment to adjust to the candlelight bathing everything in a warm yellow glow, and I blink at the large space. There are candles everywhere, from the floor to the walls. Velvet sofas and loveseats are placed in a circle around a fireplace large enough to fit the twins inside it without them having to bend their heads. Shelves are dug into the dirt walls, each lined with leather-bound books and bottles of booze. Some of the alcohol is on the low wooden table, and I watch like an idiot as Satanael places glasses on it as if this is a social call and he is not the Devil everyone fears.
“Bachelor pad?” Shuffling closer, I can’t stop staring. It’s actually quite nice for a hole in the ground.
“Even I need to escape sometimes.” My father’s lips twitch at the corners, no doubt because of my dumbfounded expression. “Let me hear of this help you need, Helena.”
“My mother is alive.”
I didn’t mean to say it. I wasn’t even thinking it, for fuck’s sake.
You could hear a pin drop after my idiotic statement.
Helena
Istartle when all five of them start yelling at once. The noise is so sudden that my feet lift about a foot off the floor, and my heart gives a solid attempt to punch out of my ribcage. One thing I have going for me is the fact that they are arguing among each other, while I’m left alone to numbly see the situation unfold like a car crash nobody can look away from.
My reprieve doesn’t last long.
“It’s another trick from the jinn, this time so they can trap Helena.” Satanael’s upper lip is curled over his teeth in a snarl. I didn’t know his skin could get redder than it already is. “They used it once on me, so it will not work again. It’s a ploy to imprison my daughter so I can willingly place the collar around my own neck to do their bidding.”
“Zadkiel has not been seen for over twenty years. It can’t be … she cannot be alive after all that time.” Raphael is on his feet, pacing back and forth like a caged lion. My skin prickles from the power he is blasting us with, and if I have to guess, I’ll say he is not aware of what he is doing.
“For someone that was useless to open a portal, you sure pack a punch,” Colt, never one to mince words, drawls at the display of power from the Archangel. “I don’t know why we are wasting time on this nonsense. We all know it’s bullshit.”
All my energy goes into breathing in and out, their anger fueling my anxiety to the point I might just have a panic attack. My attention is pulled away from hyperventilating to where I’m gripping the dagger when Eric’s fingers curl around mine. Shocked, I watch him lower my weapon the same way he might treat a snake ready to strike. When did I go for the dagger? And why in all the world would I do it among friends?
