Page 72 of Blood

If Vanessa looks amazing following her imprisonment, Cynthia Clit appears...well... At least she’s happy?

Long, lanky black hair cascades around an abnormally pale face, the skin tugged tight over the bones. Her white gown, embedded in jewels, is stained with both dirt and blood. When she twists to smile triumphantly at Memphis, I detect a yellow tint to her skin that makes her appear sickly.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that...” I can’t see Memphis’s expression with his back toward me, but his tone is decidedly devious. When he throws down his cards, Cynthia’s mouth pops open, unveiling her serrated yellow teeth.

“Four of a kind? What the fuck?” she squeals, quite literally ripping her lips off her face and turning them upside down, so they resemble a frown. “You cheated!”

“Did not,” Memphis scoffs as he grabs the handful of cookies they’ve been bartering with. “Suck my crab dick.”

Cynthia humphs and folds her arms over her rather generous bust—she must’ve put on her D boobs today.

The four of us are currently in a garden behind Lucifer’s apartment complex in Hell. Though, perhaps, garden is too kind a term...

The grass is black and decayed, rough to the touch and feels like sandpaper against my poor, abused body. The sky is dark as well, interspersed here and there with what appears to be rivulets of fire, providing some of the only illumination in the dreary landscape. In the distance, I can see huge, dark mountains erupting from the ground, lava spurting from the top. There used to be a river bisecting this particular stretch of land, but...errr...

Let’s just say, that river is no more.

And the souls inside the river?

Also no more.

Oops?

Vanessa heaves out a breath and finally pulls her attention off her cards. Her face is sympathetic as she watches me.

It’s been two weeks since we removed the magic in her rune. Two weeks since that horrible war council meeting, where everything went to shit. One week since Dimitri left to discover what he can about my missing parents. Two days since Frankie left with the hopes of sneaking into Prodigium Academy, stealing what he needs, and returning to Hell.

To say I’m a mess is the understatement of the century.

“Look, I know you’re worried about your mates, but they’re tough. Dimitri is the scariest motherfucker I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. And Frankie is the smartest monster alive. You don’t need to worry about them.”

“It’s not just them I’m worried about,” I confess, moving my head to stare at her. “It’s this whole battle. We still can’t agree with the Fomorians on an attack strategy. They’re being stubborn shits.”

Vanessa snorts. “So what? You’re Violet fucking Dracula. You don’t need their permission. Just tell them what to do, and I guarantee you they’ll do it.”

“It’s not that easy.” I drag my hand down my face. “I’m not even sure if we’re ready. I still haven’t gotten a grip on these so-called powers I’m supposed to have as Lucifer’s daughter. And I don’t even know what I can do as Hera’s child. Then there’s the fear that my parents will be killed and—” My words cut off abruptly as something whacks me across the face. I sit up, startled, to see a dismembered hand lying on the brittle black grass beside me.

Cynthia folds her arms across her chest, the right one now sans hand. “Don’t start with this damn pity party, Violet. You have a plethora of monsters who believe in you. You just need to start believing in yourself. I gave up my mating-moon to be here with you. If that doesn’t scream loyalty, then I don’t know what does. And your mates will walk through Heaven and Hell for you. Don’t let them down by being a little wuss baby.”

Her words strike a chord of determination in me.

Because she’s right.

I have a ton of monsters putting their faith in me; I just need to start putting faith in myself.

If Memphis is to be believed, I’m destined to become a motherfucking queen. And queens don’t wallow. They grip fate by the balls and make it their little bitch.

“Yeah, that’s my girl!” Vanessa hoots as I amble to my feet and hurl daggers with my eyes at the depleted river.

I need to keep training, keep trying, keep fighting. The second I give up, the world will be lost to us. Zeus will win. Mason’s death will be in vain.

“Let’s do this thing,” I growl.

And then I begin to train.

* * *

Hours later, my muscles ache, and pain permeates my entire body. Not even my hour-long shower is capable of quelling the tension riding my shoulders. I still don’t have full mastery of Hellfire, but I was able to hold it in the palm of my hand for a solid two seconds. I call that a win.

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