Page 26 of Immortal Throne

CHAPTEREIGHT

Chupey was right.

I really didn’t have anything to lose at this point, and the thought of traveling to the Underworld didn’t turn my blood to ice. Instead, a sense of wonder gripped me. What would the Underworld look like? Smell like? Would I burst into flame?

No amount of alcohol was going to help me feel calmer or more grounded. I put the beer down and ran through my options. Either I head to the unfamiliar demonic world I didn’t know existed until today, or I waste away in the mortal realm and count down the hours until I died. And if I did die, would I end up in Hell anyway? Was this entire thing just unavoidable?

I heaved a sigh and said, “I have more questions.”

“Of course, you do,” Chupey replied with a short nod. “It’s expected after…everything.”

“If I say no—for real—I’ll definitely die?”

“Definitely. Your demon side can’t coexist with your mortal one on this plane. It will destroy you.”

Well, shit. “And if I do die…won’t I just go to Hell anyway? My soul or whatever? Isn’t that how it works?”

Chupey’s thin lips lift to expose his fangs. “No. The idea of humans dying and going to Heaven or Hell is a religious-based one, but those places, angels and demons, they’re just other supernatural creatures, ones that live in different realms.”

“So, dying means…I’m just dead?”

“The dead serve to fuel magic. That is all. It doesn’t matter what kind of being—mortal, demon, or otherwise. We all become fuel before we’re reborn.”

In other words, dead still meant dead. Being part demon wasn’t going to change that. My only hope was this Immortal Throne and becoming a full demon.

But trials? In Hell?

My mother might’ve been afraid of my father and what he was, but if she knew I was dying, she’d tell me to fight. Fight like she did and never give up. She fought for her life until the very end.

And that was just what I was going to do too.

Mama didn’t raise no bitch.

I slapped my hands down on my thighs, making up my mind. “Okay, I’m in. What do I need to do? How do we do this?”

“I’ll help you,” Chupey answered. “But you have to be absolutely sure this is what you want.”

“Yeah. Sure. I don’t want to die, right? And since this is the only way to save me, I’ll do it.” Not because of my father and any unresolved daddy issues I undoubtedly had, and not because of Ryker. I was doing this forme.Me. And that was it. “What do we need to do?”

And would I actually be able to do it? My father had put me in some sort of magical stasis. Had I become magically stunted as well as oblivious? Would things have been different if he’d let me develop naturally, with my demon side out in full view instead of stuffed down somewhere inside of me?

Thinking about the unknowns wouldn’t help me right now, but this definitely seemed like the sort of thing to cause an existential crisis later.

“You’re going to have to use your blood,” Chupey interrupted my thoughts. “You’ll draw a sacred symbol and whisper an incantation to open up the portal to Hell and your blood acts as the key to open it. Once we’ve done that, we’ll step through and boom. Done.”

Somehow, I just knew things weren’t quite that simple.

My stomach swirled at the thought of what I was about to do, but I managed to nod. “Let me grab a knife from the kitchen. I’m guessing it doesn’t have to be something fancy?” I asked. “Any sharp object will do as long as I bleed for it?”

He woofed instead of saying anything else.

“Are you sure you’re not actually a dog?”

“I’m a Chupacabra.” He sounded indignant.

I took my jelly legs and shaky hands into the kitchen and grabbed the sharpest knife from the holder on the countertop. Old, with a rusted handle, the knife could slice a fingertip with enough pressure.

Standing between Chupey and the couch, I thrust out a hand with the knife poised above my skin. “Well?”

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