Mammon (Devilry #2)

39. Beelzebub

THIRTY-NINE

BEELZEBUB

“Do you like what I’m doing to you, Beelzebub?”

I keep my mouth shut, eyes pleading with Gore to look at me, watching the life drain out of them. He’s not being murdered, but some part of him is. And there’s nothing I can do about it.

“How does it feel? I know how deviant you are. Some part of you is enjoying this, right?”

I shake my head, focusing on the bobbing of Gore’s head, but my gut clenches.

I need it to stop. Everything. It’ll be over soon.

It’ll be over soon.

It’ll be over soon.

It’ll be ? —

I wake up screaming.

Drenched in sweat, my heart stops beating for a split second while I gather my bearings. It takes me a moment to remember that I’m home, in our bed, and not in that damp warehouse.

Gore’s sleeping peacefully beside me, completely knocked out, and I bet he doesn’t think I’ve noticed the sleeping pills he’s been taking every night to get to bed. I want to curl myself around him and hug him close to my chest, but I refrain. I never used to hesitate when touching him—it was my favorite thing to do—but I can’t bring myself to do it now. Not because I think he’s worth anything less than what he was, or because I think he’s carrying some contagious shame that’ll infect me, but because without hearing him agree to it, it just feels wrong.

And I hate that I feel that way because I need comfort right now, of all things.

Mammon’s side of the bed is empty. He likes to sleep closest to the door while keeping Gore and I pressed against the wall, but the sheets have been disturbed. I panic. Without knowing what I’m doing, I jump out of bed and race out the door. While I might not be speaking, that doesn’t mean I don’t want him near. Playing my games and ignoring the world has been helpful in keeping the memories away, but in the dead of night, I need him to fight off the demons for me.

Pathetic.

Racing through the house, I scour every inch, but I can’t find him. I start to develop a cold sweat, my hands twitching and trembling as I think of the worst. Was he taken too? What’s happening to him? Where the fuck is he?

I go to Leviathan's room first, hoping that he’ll maybe know, but it’s empty when I swing the door open. Next is Asmodeus, who doesn’t let us in but will always answer, and I’m greeted by silence.

I start to hyperventilate. Raw fear seizes my chest. The world blurs before my eyes. I?—

Movement from outside the window catches my attention. Just as I’m about to run and grab a knife, I see Mammon and Asi walk into the house next door. I don’t think, I just run. Practically naked and barefoot, I haul my ass outside and run towards that house, jumping over a bush in my haste to get there as quickly as possible. Once I reach the door, I yank it open, not caring if it closes behind me.

Mammon and Asi both turn in surprise. “Bel?”

“What are you doing up?” Mammon asks, coming toward me, but stopping short before he can touch me. “Go back to bed.”

“Y-You w-weren’t t-there,” I stutter out, shivering as I beg him with my eyes to make it all go away. “W-What’s going o-on?”

Eyes widening, his jaw drops just a tad, and before I know it, he swoops me into his arms. I don’t know where this prominent display of affection comes from, but the relief I feel pouring out of him is almost all-consuming. He buries his face in the top of my head and seems to inhale my scent. “Oh, kitten. Did you get scared without me?”

“Daddy,” I cry, wrapping my arms around his waist to keep him with me forever. “I want to go back home.”

“ Daddy’s got work to do,” Asi says, gentle even through his condescending tone.

Mammon pulls back to brush a lock of blue hair off my forehead. “In a little bit. I have some work to do.”

I wrinkle my nose and shake my head. “No. Now.”

“Beelzebub,” he says, more firmly this time. “We’re going to find Sage and when we do, I’ll kill him myself. To do that, we need to get some information first.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” My breath hitches at the reminder and at the news. “How?”

To this, Asi smirks, twirling his knife between his fingers. “We have a guest.”

A guest.

“He’s here now?” I try to look over Mammon’s shoulder, as if the person they took is right behind him. “I…”

I don’t know what I want to say to that. A part of me just wants to go home, get back in bed with Gore, and ignore all of this. To let Mammon handle it the way he wants to and pretend it doesn’t exist, but the bigger part of me…

The bigger part of me wants to fucking play.

“Let me see him.”

Asi raises his eyebrow and gives Mammon a questioning look. Mammon shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s for the best?—”

“Let me fucking see him!”

Mammon sets his lips in a tight line, but he doesn’t refuse me. Instead, he nods, taking my hand as the three of us walk toward the basement. We make it down the stairs and through the double-bolted metal doors. Before we enter, Mammon takes my shoulders and leans down to be at eye level with me. “If it gets to be too much, you have to say something.”

I’ve never quite known my limits before and I don’t think that’s changing any time soon. He’s right, of course, but there’s a simmering and bubbling rage that tells me this is something I need to be a part of. When I don’t respond, he releases a deep breath, and we pass through the doors. Luc and Levi are already here, with Levi growling under his breath as Luc holds him back.

And imagine my surprise when I’m not greeted by an unknown man, but Cindy, our medical conduit.

“What the hell?” I mumble, shaking my head as I back into Mammon’s chest. “C-Cindy?”

Cindy thrashes in her seat, true fear in her eyes, probably at Mammon’s entrance. She already looks beaten up—more than likely Levi’s handiwork—and I think she knows what’s coming her way.

Luc cocks his head when he sees me. “Bel? What are you doing here?”

“He needs this,” is all Mammon says, placing a firm and supportive hand on my shoulder.

That’s true. I do need this, more than I probably believe.

“We’ve already questioned her,” Mammon tells me as he walks toward the medical tray with all the equipment. “We have enough to find Sage. Now, the question is, what do we do with her?”

I gulp, my gut stirring pleasantly—foreign after God knows how many days of being sour—and I take a step forward.

This woman isn’t the one who took Gore and me. She might not have raped Gore. She didn’t force me to come while I watched, but she’s still responsible for all of it. Because of her and the information she gave, Sage was able to find us, take us, and get into our heads.

For that, she deserves to pay.

Mammon removes the gag from her mouth, already sensing what I want, and smirks. “I know you like it when they scream.”

“I do,” I mumble, almost hypnotized as I head to the tray. “But I like it even more when they bleed.”

“Please, Bel, don’t do this!” Cindy pleads and fights against her restraints. “Please! I was only trying to do the right thing.”

Rage boils, bubbles, and then explodes. In a flash, I grab the knife from the tray and draw a deep slash down her cheek. “The right thing? The right fucking thing?”

She cries out in pain, dropping her head, but Mammon yanks it back up by her ponytail. “I think you need a reminder of how good and bad are simply constructs. Objective, we think. You’re going to sit here and take it while Bel demonstrates another right thing .”

“Forgive me!” she cries out, fresh lines of blood dripping down her face. “Bel, I was there for you all these years. I helped you. Find it in your heart to?—”

“He raped Gore!” I scream, slashing her other cheek. “He made me watch!” I stab her shoulder. “He broke us!”

She doesn’t deserve to say anything else. I stalk toward the table, rifling through all the contents, until I find a lighter. I go back to her and slap her across the face so her jaw drops. Reaching in for her tongue, I pinch it between my fingers as I yank it out. “Shut the fuck up.”

And the way she bellows as scorching heat sparks and the smell of fire permeates the air is euphoric.

So euphoric, so…healing, like the pieces of me that were missing are slowly coming back.

So, I continue.

I burn her tongue, then her lips next. I use the metal club we keep and shove it down her throat, the pain unbearable as she pisses herself. I go on and on and on, doing unspeakable things to her, all in the name of vengeance.

But the bitch dies.

Quite frankly, too soon.

Once the high wears off, I feel like shit again, albeit surprisingly lighter. Mammon approaches, having watched with nothing but awe and pride, and kisses my cheek. “I’m so proud of you, kitten.”

And I am too.

Because I might be broken…

But I’m not lost.