A Crown For Hell (Queen of Hell #3)

Chapter One

LILY

I used to think Hell was working as a coffee shop barista during the Monday morning rush. Or waiting on hold while unholy elevator music blasted through my ear, all because I needed to cancel an internet package.

Turns out I was wrong. On both counts.

Because this was Hell. Actual, literal, spelled with a capital “H” Hell. Complete with scorching heat, murderous terrain, and the constant threat of death. There was a reason people said “go to Hell” like it was the worst possible fate they could wish on someone.

This place was as wretched as a shot of cheap tequila without a wedge of lemon to suck on. As unpleasant as an appendectomy without any anaesthesia. As nasty as a diarrheic dog without a diaper. Okay, maybe that last one was a bit much.

The moral of the story was: this place sucked.

And the horribly unamusing part was that I’d come here willingly.

But seeing as how I was Lucifer’s daughter—don’t worry, I wanted him dead just as much as the next guy—the location was non-negotiable.

Killing him was the top item on my to-do list, or my BHAG, as I’d come to call it.

And I couldn’t strike that goal off my list while on Earth, no matter how much I wished otherwise.

The problem with Big, Hairy, Audacious Goals was that no one ever provided a step-by-step guide on how to accomplish them.

I wanted Lucifer dead, yes, but how? How did I find him?

How did I cut through his massive army to reach him?

And if by some miracle I managed these, how then did I actually kill him?

The last time I’d tried, I’d failed spectacularly.

I’d gathered an army, trained and fought with them, only for Lucifer to massacre every single one of them before ripping my wings straight off my back.

He’d wanted to kill me, and likely would have succeeded had Rathiel—my literal fallen angel with shiny black wings, and the love of my life—not saved me.

With my memories now restored, I knew I’d never forget that moment.

But if somehow I ever did, the scars etched into my flesh would remind me.

Two members of my camp had some thoughts on how I could succeed this time.

The first was my bestie Eliza. She believed we needed to kill all of Lucifer’s fallen angels—any who hadn’t sided with us, of course—because without them, my father couldn’t create more hellspawn.

I agreed, and according to Rathiel, only three remained.

A far more manageable number than the eight we’d faced not one week ago.

The second was the angelic Levi. He suggested I tap into my untouched magic, magic I might have inherited from my father, and resurrect my slaughtered army.

I wasn’t nearly as confident about that step.

For one, it involved me exploring a darkness I’d spent my whole life avoiding. A darkness I feared. Becoming my father was my worst nightmare. And if I resurrected my fallen soldiers just to reforge them back into hellspawn, then how was I any better than my old man?

I couldn’t ignore Levi’s suggestion, though. I absolutely needed an army. One that believed in my cause and had already fought and died for me. They fit the bill, provided I succeeded and didn’t lose myself in the process.

The way I saw it, I had two choices, and both were equally unpleasant.

Option A: Do as Levi suggested and raise my army from the dead by tapping into magic I hoped wouldn’t blacken my soul.

Option B: Just keep chilling here in the ruins of my former rebellion camp, staring at a bunch of rocks until I died of old age. And since I was an immortal celestial, that timeline was both depressingly long and wildly unrealistic.

Lucifer would surely find and kill me long before then.

Which meant I was stuck with Option A, as terrifying as that sounded.

Thankfully, no one was insisting I give it the ole college try right this second.

Mostly because they were thoroughly distracted by the sight of Mephisar grooming Purrgatory.

It was a sight that would haunt me until my undying day.

My monstrous, fork-tongued hellwyrm, delicately licking and grooming my comparatively minuscule ginger cat.

At least, I hoped he was grooming and not tenderizing.

The others had formed a half-circle around the two of them, watching as though waiting for a tragedy to unfold.

My gremlin-sized imp, with the attention span of a mayfly and the mouth of a sailor, seemed particularly interested.

He was narrating the situation like we were watching some Hellscape nature documentary and loving every minute of it.

“And here we have the majestic Mephisar,” Vol said, perched on Rathiel’s shoulder, “grooming this tiny feline in a rare act of domesticity. Observe the tongue. The finesse. The pure, unmatched horror.” He paused and cocked his head.

“What exactly are we watching? Hey, Meat Sack! Is this common hellwyrm behaviour?”

I didn’t answer, mostly because I was hardly an expert on such a topic. I was simply grateful Mephisar and Sable didn’t try to eat me. But Purrgy probably looked like a chicken nugget to them.

“Should we intervene?” Calyx asked. Once an angel, he was now something far darker—a nightmare demon with a knack for tormenting people.

He claimed he fought beside me for a chance to win back his freedom.

Personally, I thought he just enjoyed causing chaos.

“Or are you content letting your wyrm snack on this…creature you dragged into Hell?”

Sighing, I joined the group and eyed Mephisar and Purrgy. One lick encompassed all of Purrgy’s chubby little body. But it didn’t seem as though Mephisar meant him any harm. A thought Purrgy proved true when he sprawled on his back and gave Mephisar his belly to clean.

“Oh, I’ve seen this,” Rathiel stated. “Back on Earth. The feline presents its soft under-flesh as a token of trust.”

“There aren’t enough diamond-studded loincloths in the world to convince me to let a hellwyrm groom me,” Vol muttered. Then he shook his head and finished with, “Purrgy’s lost his damn mind.”

Hadn’t we all?

Purrgy gave a small, blissful chirrup, then gently swatted at Mephisar’s snout. Everyone sucked in a collectively anxious breath, but thankfully, the gigantic hellwyrm just booped him back and continued licking.

I was the first to release the breath. If Mephisar could handle Purrgy swatting him, then it seemed safe to say we were in the clear.

“Well, as exciting—and disturbing—as this is to watch, perhaps we should discuss the ellafump squatting in our midst,” Levi began.

One by one, everyone turned to stare at him. Until I shot Eliza a questioning glance. She clapped a hand over her mouth and started laughing, shoulders shaking as all eyes turned to her.

“The elephant in the room, Levi,” she said.

“You’ve been teaching him Earth phrases?” I asked.

She shrugged. “A girl has to find some way to amuse herself in her downtime. It’s not like we have any form of entertainment here.”

I gestured broadly to our surroundings. “Are hellwyrms bathing cats, a literal civil war, and murderous fallen angels not enough to occupy your time?”

Calyx snorted a laugh. “Only you would consider any of that ‘entertainment.’”

“What is an elephant?” Levi asked.

“It’s a mammal—” I paused, realizing that was another word he wouldn’t know. Right. “Picture a tharnox.”

“Dreadful creatures,” Calyx intoned. Everyone native to Hell nodded along.

“Now remove the venom sacs and bone-saw tail and replace its mouth full of barbed tongues with a long, singular trunk framed by two massive teeth called tusks.”

“That sounds…,” Levi said.

“Horrifying,” Rathiel added.

He hadn’t spent much time on Earth, and we’d been too busy fighting for our lives for me to show him all the finer points of life there.

So far, the only animal—domesticated or otherwise—that he’d encountered was Purrgy.

Unless we included Vol in that list. And I wasn’t quite sure my imp qualified as domesticated.

I shared a chuckle with Eliza. “They’re actually quite cute.

They enjoy playing in mud and splashing each other with water.

Tharnoxes, on the other hand, take their playtime to a devastating degree.

Their idea of fun is stomping their enemies into a puddle of goo and masticating whatever remains with their sharp fangs and barbed tongues. Yes, plural.”

Eliza blanched. “Remind me to run if we ever come across one of those tharnox thingies.”

“Don’t worry, they’re only native to one part of Hell, and I have no intention of taking us there.”

Because we’d never come back. I’d gone once, a long time ago, back when my life had been simpler and my biggest concern had been escaping my father’s abuse. I’d barely survived, and the only reason I had was because Rathiel had followed me and swooped in to save the day. As he always did.

“So…back to the ellafump?” I said.

Levi grinned, clearly proud his phrase had caught on.

“We’ve taken a few days to let everyone acclimate to each other and to give you time, Lily, since recovering your memories.

But we cannot remain idle any longer. Raelia and Gremory are now dead.

Out of the original nine fallen angels, your father is down to three.

I must imagine he’s livid. And the longer we wait, the greater the risk of Lucifer striking first before we’re ready. ”

When my father fell from Heaven, he hadn’t done so alone.

Nine angels had chosen to fall alongside him.

And how had Lucifer shown his gratitude?

By corrupting them. He’d merged each of them with demons, twisting them into unholy caricatures of their angelic selves.

They’d become his strongest soldiers. His generals.

But their power had come with a price, one they hadn’t realized they’d agreed to.

He’d stolen their free will—a fact I’d only recently learned.