I take him instead?”
“I’ve got plans for him.” Plans Xaphan would absolutely hate. Lucifer couldn’t wait.
“I am so not voting for you when the contest for boss of the year comes around,” she threatened, pivoting and stomp-squishing her way back out.
“What? And here I had a speech prepared thanking myself for my greatness and the fact I did everything on my own.”
Ysabel flicked him a middle finger salute before she slammed his door shut.
He smiled. Saucy witch. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was one of my own children.
Then again, given how she drove him nuts, he was kind of glad she wasn’t. He had enough to handle with Muriel and his constantly disappearing son, Christopher. The latter he’d given up on. The former he secretly adored, especially since she’d given him a granddaughter who thought he could do no good. Which reminded him, he needed to find the pet dragon he’d bought the little tyke. It escaped its caretaker and the last thing the entire world needed was for the atomic bomb, also known as his darling granddaughter, to go off because he lost her favorite pet. Then again, the end of the world would definitely liven things up around Hell. But cut into my golf game. Fuck. He needed to find that dragon.
Chapter Five
Ysabel tried to prepare herself the following afternoon when the time of her death came around. She filled the tub with cold water and climbed in naked. The shocking temperature instantly had her teeth chattering. I can do this. Think of it as a hot day on the Hade’s Beach.
It didn’t work. The flames arrived right on time, licking up her legs, her body, until they reached her head. But by then, she was already screaming, the tub full of steam. People could boast of bravery and handling pain all they wanted. No one could withstand this kind of agony, even if it petered out when its two minutes were up. She lay for a moment afterward in the tub, its water evaporated from the inferno that raged a minute before. While not a mark remained of her ordeal, her mind and body still reacted as if she suffered. The pain lingered like a bad hangover and her psyche shrieked, rejecting all attempts at calm. It sucked. And this blast from my past is going to keep happening every day until I catch the other four souls. It made her want to cry, a weak indulgence she’d not allowed herself since death.
She still remembered with disgust her first day in Hell. Weak, sobbing and afraid. Despite the contract she’d signed with Lucifer and her second chance at life, albeit in the Pit, she’d shivered, miserable and fearful. The memory of the flames mocked her every time she closed her eyes.
Nefertiti, Lucifer’s sorceress, took one look at her and brought her home. Under her care, Ysabel learned to protect herself, her magic becoming strong enough to protect her from most of the predators in Hell. Confidence restored, she got her revenge on those who condemned her to burn, dragging five souls, the number she’d bargained for, straight to Hell, laughing as they screamed.
The hardest of the captures though, much as it shamed her, was Francisco’s.
She still recalled that day, all those years ago, when she rode a broom from the portal in the woods to the village she’d grown up in. The village that denounced her.
How benign it seemed. How quaint with its thatched cottages, and dirt paths lined with gardens. But she didn’t linger, even if her fingers itched to douse it in flames. She swooped with purpose to the big house on the hill, its windows dark as its occupants slept, the hour late. Landing on the sill of the window to her ex-lover’s room, she slipped inside and padded on bare feet to the large bed, a bed they’d never trysted in. No, all she merited were grassy fields, and her straw filled pallet. Sometimes she didn’t even get such softness, as he often liked to take her braced against a tree, her skirts flipped up so he could quickly take his pleasure. And
“I’ve got plans for him.” Plans Xaphan would absolutely hate. Lucifer couldn’t wait.
“I am so not voting for you when the contest for boss of the year comes around,” she threatened, pivoting and stomp-squishing her way back out.
“What? And here I had a speech prepared thanking myself for my greatness and the fact I did everything on my own.”
Ysabel flicked him a middle finger salute before she slammed his door shut.
He smiled. Saucy witch. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was one of my own children.
Then again, given how she drove him nuts, he was kind of glad she wasn’t. He had enough to handle with Muriel and his constantly disappearing son, Christopher. The latter he’d given up on. The former he secretly adored, especially since she’d given him a granddaughter who thought he could do no good. Which reminded him, he needed to find the pet dragon he’d bought the little tyke. It escaped its caretaker and the last thing the entire world needed was for the atomic bomb, also known as his darling granddaughter, to go off because he lost her favorite pet. Then again, the end of the world would definitely liven things up around Hell. But cut into my golf game. Fuck. He needed to find that dragon.
Chapter Five
Ysabel tried to prepare herself the following afternoon when the time of her death came around. She filled the tub with cold water and climbed in naked. The shocking temperature instantly had her teeth chattering. I can do this. Think of it as a hot day on the Hade’s Beach.
It didn’t work. The flames arrived right on time, licking up her legs, her body, until they reached her head. But by then, she was already screaming, the tub full of steam. People could boast of bravery and handling pain all they wanted. No one could withstand this kind of agony, even if it petered out when its two minutes were up. She lay for a moment afterward in the tub, its water evaporated from the inferno that raged a minute before. While not a mark remained of her ordeal, her mind and body still reacted as if she suffered. The pain lingered like a bad hangover and her psyche shrieked, rejecting all attempts at calm. It sucked. And this blast from my past is going to keep happening every day until I catch the other four souls. It made her want to cry, a weak indulgence she’d not allowed herself since death.
She still remembered with disgust her first day in Hell. Weak, sobbing and afraid. Despite the contract she’d signed with Lucifer and her second chance at life, albeit in the Pit, she’d shivered, miserable and fearful. The memory of the flames mocked her every time she closed her eyes.
Nefertiti, Lucifer’s sorceress, took one look at her and brought her home. Under her care, Ysabel learned to protect herself, her magic becoming strong enough to protect her from most of the predators in Hell. Confidence restored, she got her revenge on those who condemned her to burn, dragging five souls, the number she’d bargained for, straight to Hell, laughing as they screamed.
The hardest of the captures though, much as it shamed her, was Francisco’s.
She still recalled that day, all those years ago, when she rode a broom from the portal in the woods to the village she’d grown up in. The village that denounced her.
How benign it seemed. How quaint with its thatched cottages, and dirt paths lined with gardens. But she didn’t linger, even if her fingers itched to douse it in flames. She swooped with purpose to the big house on the hill, its windows dark as its occupants slept, the hour late. Landing on the sill of the window to her ex-lover’s room, she slipped inside and padded on bare feet to the large bed, a bed they’d never trysted in. No, all she merited were grassy fields, and her straw filled pallet. Sometimes she didn’t even get such softness, as he often liked to take her braced against a tree, her skirts flipped up so he could quickly take his pleasure. And
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