Chapter 8
Steve
HELL AT NIGHT - BIGXTHAPLUG, ELLA LANGLEY ?
She leans against me, the fountain bubbling behind us as we stare at one of the many Hell churches within the city.
“The faces are the souls the Gate takes. The ones carved in the door, you will never see them move, but if you were to look away and then look back, the faces have changed. An ever revolving current of all the souls that roam behind its door,” I explain.
Sitting up, she looks between me and the church, moving to get off my lap before stating, “I want to go and see.”
Holding her tight against me, “Only the real Gate moves. The ones here in the city are more like temples or shrines to its power. Those who are truly devout will make the pilgrimage to pay their respects.”
“Oh.”
“Tell me about the men, your family,” I encourage. I want to know about them to understand the level of curse we will bestow.
“My father, he was… he was focused. He wanted the best and made sure he had it. My mother was meant to provide a son, and instead, he got me,” she sighs, shielding her eyes, looking up to the sky.
“I had everything I could ever want growing up. Except affection, love… touch. I was to be seen and not heard, and when the time was right, married off to whoever made the most business sense.”
“Your father wanted to sell you,” I growl.
“When you put it like that, yeah, it kind of sounds that way,” she sighs. “The night I, you know, I was meeting my future husband.”
I curl my hand around her waist, tightening my hold as my anger brews.
“After the meeting, I asked to walk home, get a little air, you know. Bart, my fiancé, was such a dick. I hated his arrogance, demanding things of me that no woman wants to speak of with men in the room, let alone her bloody father.”
She looks cute when she's angry. This is definitely the wrong time to be thinking of such things, my cock straining against my pants while I watch her nose scrunch as she talks. Wait a minute, what did he demand of her?
“Come, we must punish them.” I lift her, and she squeals, wrapping her arms around my neck as I stand.
Walking with purpose, her body is half draped over my shoulder, and while it is disappointing to not see her beautiful face, I am thrilled my hand is firmly plastered to her ass.
Reluctantly putting her down when I find the store I'm looking for.
“Steve, we're meant to be waiting for word on your brother?” she says, leaning close to my ear, reminding me of the whole reason we are in this situation.
For a brief few moments while she talked, I was lost in her words and her beauty. The ache in my chest being soothed and growing desperate all at the same time. Until I know for sure, though, I need to not get my hopes up.
“My brother will understand why this is important. If he heard you talk about what happened… he would not be happy.”
Much like the rest of the city, the stone walls that surround the store are dirty, the flower pots long since dried out, and the glass windows streaked with dust. Not enough to cover the crudely drawn laughing jester poster on display, but enough to dull the colours so it appears just as lifeless as everything else.
A joke shop. Every town has one, and despite it being years since I last cursed someone, it's important we get some sort of vengeance.
Walking to the counter, an older imp sits nearby, nodding his head as I pick up the menu.
“Read this over and pick what you would like for your father and this Bart man. If they are not sufficient, I'm sure we can arrange for extra.”
She takes the menu from me, stealing glances at the imp nearby. They are humanoid in their appearance, which may be comforting. At least she hasn't seen some of the more exotic creatures of Hell.
“Stubbed toe. Broken leg. Hit by car. Fall from height. Loss of mind for one year, five years. Steve, what is this? I don't want to kill anyone!” she panics.
“Forgive me,” I say, taking my finger and lifting her chin to look at me. “We can not travel back for vengeance for how you were treated, but we can curse them. It's more of a fun pastime in all the Realms, but you can choose a human to send a bit of bad luck to.”
“Loss of mind doesn't sound like a bit of bad luck, Steve,” she says, pursing her lips.
“It is simply a matter of perspective.” Placing her down, I gather the other menus, spreading them out before her.
“Choose whatever you like. We can always come back for more later if you want to pick something else. Personally, I would feel content for your father to receive the Multistep Haunting Package, but you might be more comfortable with the Starter Pack. Random objects moving at least once a week for a year can still have a great impact.”
“So I pick something from this list, and it happens to them? Vengeance. Perspective,” she purrs, embracing the power she wields for those who have done her wrong. She devours the options for several minutes, her brow furrowing as she concentrates on the many options on offer.
“I think I'm ready,” she says, not looking up.
Gesturing for the shopkeeper, he slowly stands and walks over to the counter.
A rustle to the side of us gains my attention, and a curtain draped across the wall near where he sat, moves to the side, an impi, youngling, peaking its head out.
“Avus, the soup is almost ready. Mamma says it's cabbage again.
I told her I don't like it, but she said we've got to be grateful for what we have—”
“Hush, I will be up shortly. We have customers.”
The impi stops in her tracks as she aimlessly wanders toward her grandfather. Looking in awe at Rosie, who gives her a small wave hello, her gaze moves higher and higher until we lock eyes, her jaw dropping as she loudly whispers, “Commander.”
“Hush, child.” The shopkeeper hisses, darting his eyes nervously, looking toward the door.
It's as if he is expecting someone to come charging in for the youngling, mistaking me for my brother.
“Go, go back to Mamma, I will be there soon,” he says, pushing her back through the curtain.
“Forgive her, she doesn't know what she talks of.”
“She is fine; however, she mistakes me for my brother.”
“Your bro… forgive me, Sir, I did not know,” he says, dipping his head slightly, “It's an honour. Whatever I can provide is of no cost today.”
Rosie looks between us, and I give her a nod to continue.
“Um, this is for Bart Wobbleton. He lives in Horizon City.”
“Yes, I have him here,” the shopkeeper says. Dragging his finger down a list of names in some sort of registry book.
“Can I choose the Non-contact Special?”
“Duration?”
“Lifetime,” Rosie whispers. My princess is not as gentle as she lets on.
This is a new development. “You don't think that's too mean, do you?” She says, doubting her punishment.
“It's just the way he was talking that night, like he owned me, and not in a good way. I hated it. I hated the thought of him touching me. So now, no one will touch him.”
I step into her, pressing my front against her back as she relaxes against me.
“We will take the Non-contact Special for Bart,” I say to the shopkeeper.
“His father will have the Sporadic Toe Stub for ten years plus a fortnightly Hypochondria Special for one year, no, make it five years,” she says, nodding to herself, as she reviews the list. “My father, Richard Carrington, will have the Gastro Gut for a lifetime, and the Belittling Services with extra sass. That one sounds fun. He will think all service people are talking down to him, and if he challenges it, anyone around him, even strangers, will correct him. It guarantees no one will lose their job if he throws a big enough tantrum.” She giggles.
“I hated the way he used to snap his fingers at wait staff, so this serves him right.”
“Three down, what about the men on the night you came through the Gate?” I question.
“I don't know their names?”
“Can you check the names of people earthside of the Gate when it opened yesterday, please?” The shopkeeper flicks to another part of the large book, dragging his finger across the pages until he finds what he's looking for.
“There was a Carter Hadlow, Aaron Sonson, and a Lloyd Bryan. They are between twenty-seven and twenty-nine. There were no other humans in the area.”
“That has to be them,” she breathes, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I would like for each of them to have the Loss of Mind Package, lifetime.”
I smile down at her, happy in her vengeance for the men who chased her.
“What?” she says, shrugging her shoulders at me. “It's like you said, all about perspective.”
“I'm happy you are happy, princess,” I say, leaning forward, pressing my mouth to her exposed shoulder. The sudden intake of breath from her has my hand wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer into me.
“Steve,” she whispers, her voice so gentle she could have moaned it.
“Avus, are you finished yet. I want my yucky cabbage, but Mamma says we have to wait for you before we can start—”
“Hush, you child of God, I've told you I'll be there shortly,” the shopkeep scolds, the impi stomping back through the curtain, huffing loudly.
Looking at Rosie and me, exacerbated by the youngling's lack of patience.
“Everything has been arranged. Thank you for your visit today. It has been an honour to serve the brother of… thank you,” he says, bowing his head.
“Thank you for your assistance.” Taking a fistful of coins from my purse. The shopkeeper gasps at the amount of coins piled on the counter. Nodding my goodbyes as I usher Rosie toward the exit, seeing a single tear roll down the shopkeeper's face as I close the door behind us.
“Do you feel better?” I say to Rosie, taking her hand as we head back toward our lodgings.
“That was amazing. I keep thinking it serves them all right by treating me the way they did. I won't feel bad for them. It's not like they considered my feelings, ever. Also, why did the imp call the child a child of God? I don’t know why, but I just assumed we didn't say his name.”
Laughing, I love the innocence she brings to everything. “You can say God, princess. He will not come down and smite you for it. He meant it as the youngling is testing his patience,” I try to explain.
“So, like Devil child, we would say Devil child on earth.”
“And what a blessed child that would be, to be of the Devil.”