Chapter Six
It took me taking off my awful, Middle Ages ruffled-nightmare tunic, and gently easing it under his head, but I was able to escape my new companion, and grab a muffin before hightailing it out the door.
And yes, I was shocked to see that hell had muffins, but maybe I shouldn’t have been?
Hell was such a terrible nightmare of awfulness, it was hard to believe there could be anything good here.
But then again, maybe that’s why baked deliciousness made it to the afterlife.
Because existing in this place was so awful, the denizens clung to anything small thing that could bring about happiness or pleasure—like good food. Either way, it was nice to see something normal amid a sea of strange.
I charged through the halls and up to my room, bursting through the door.
Sabrina poked her head up from the tangle of her coiled body—observing me from her comfortable spot before the fire. “Ah, you’re alive,” she breezed. “How unfortunate.”
“Sabrina, what the heck happened down there?” I stormed over to the suitcase and started riffling through the clothes, trying to find a shirt that was marginally less humiliating. “You took off like your tail was on fire.”
“I had no choice.” She was speaking so matter-of-factly. “There was a Belphe on your lap. The only option was to leave you to your fate.”
“What are you talking about?” I picked up a brown popcorn shirt, then tossed it away.
“All he did was sleep on me—for the second time,” I gritted out.
“Although, he did almost get me killed during our first meeting, so let me not pretend the guy isn’t dangerous.
But who is he? Why did he scare everyone? ”
“Scare?” She slithered over. “I don’t know a single demon who would admit to feeling fear.
What you saw wasn’t fear, it was common sense.
There wasn’t a soul in that room who could hope to best Ronin Belphe.
Not with magic or physical strength. Not with cunning or seduction,” she said.
“Only the suicidal provoke a fight they have no chance of winning.”
“Interesting,” I said—although it wasn’t really. After seeing Lucifer in his true form, and soiling myself, I’ve already met the fight I have no chance of winning. What’s one more? “Is he a fallen angel too? Is that why he’s so strong?”
“Angels—fallen or otherwise—cannot enroll in Abaddon,” she replied. “No, he is a demon. He’s the son of Lord Belphe and heir to House Belphe. And when I say son, I mean the true son. Lord Belphe is a lord of hell and the demon of sloth. You know the human lore of the seven deadly sins, yesss?”
I stopped my searching, focusing on her as I nodded.
“Well, the deadly sins are not traits or flaws, they are real beings who perfected a type of magic or skill so absolutely, they came to symbolize the very thing itself. Lord Belphe is sloth,” she stated.
“And he became that way because he is a being so beautiful, so charming, so enchanting, so messsmerizing that with one mere look upon him, your sole wish in this life and every other becomes nothing more than to serve him. To feed him, bathe him, brush his hair, and carry him from room to room so that he may never do something so undignified as rest his feet upon the ground.”
My eyes bulged with every word. “I’m sorry, are you saying that’s what goes on in this Belphe guy’s house? He just lies around all flipping day while everyone steps over each other to feed him grapes and wipe his backside?”
“Yes,” she replied without a trace of irony.
“For that is true sloth, human. It’s not the unwillingness to exert, it’s the sheer superfluity of acting.
It’s not laziness, but foolishness to refuse to hunt when your stomach growls.
True sloth is not even knowing what a hungry belly feels like because a full feast has always been prepared and waiting for you—along with a dozen eager hands clamoring to feed you. ”
“Wow.” I rocked back—taking that in. “And so that Ronin guy is his son.”
“His true son. Female demons are infertile,” she said.
“When a human dies and is sent to hell, their soul is stripped from their bodies as they step through the gates, and then they are returned to an infantile state. Adult demons then adopt these new demon babies as their own. But not Ronin,” she went on.
“Centuries ago, a fertility goddess saw Lord Belphe and fell in love with him.
She blessed him with a womb—which was unheard of then and now.
Gods and goddesses do not grant blessings to demons—ever.
But then, no other demon is as beautiful as Lord Belphe.
“She gifted him a womb and he gave birth to Ronin—a son who is said to be more beautiful and spellbinding than his father.”
“Is he?” The face of the jerk who stole my room, badge, and lap flashed through my mind. “He’s gorgeous, no question, but the only thing I want to do when I look at that face is to draw a mustache and stink lines on it. He sucks.”
Sabrina made a choked noise. “Are—! Are you insane?! You are not to even think of doing such a thing to Ronin Belphe! He is wearing a glamour, you fool. He’s hidden his true face, otherwise there’d be no hope of his learning a thing here.
An instructor cannot teach you if they’re too busy serenading you in between kissssing your feet. ”
“I bet.” I whipped out a heavily bedazzled nightmare and tugged it over my head.
“Okay, I think I get what you’re saying.
Not only is this guy magically super powerful, but all he has to do is drop the glamour, and you’ll turn into a slack-jawed moron who’s begging and mewling at his feet.
You’ll either lose your life, or you’ll lose your interest in having a life outside of him. ”
I snapped my suitcase shut. “He’s dangerous, ridiculously entitled, and doesn’t know what boundaries are. All of which I don’t have time for, so you don’t need to worry about me and Belphe. I’m staying far away from him.”
“Good.”
Goooong!
I snapped up. “That’s got to be the bell for lessons, right?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Okay, let’s go.” I lifted my shirt—immediately all business. “I got a good look around while Belphe was using me as a pillow. None of the demons who took Dora were in there, but it’s not the only mess hall, is it?”
“No.” Sabrina slithered up and wrapped around me. “There are many eating areas scattered about this dwelling. For a host of reasons, it’s not a good idea for the species to be in the same room together when they’re hungry.”
“That’s okay.” I quickly gathered my stuff and headed out. “They can hide in different mess halls, but they can’t hide in the classrooms. I’m finding those bastards—today.”
My determination carried me all the way downstairs and into the main hall. Then, I halted.
“Wait,” I cried. “Where are the classrooms? Where am I supposed to go?”
“How should I know?” she snapped. “Your dementia is not my responsibility.”
“I am not elderly!”
IT TOOK A LOT OF ARGUING, cajoling, and back and forth, but I finally got Sabrina to sniff out where she sensed the highest collection of demons.
Hera forbid I give that jerk a compliment, but he really saved my butt sending Sabrina to be my guide.
If it were left to me to wander the halls alone without a clue, I would’ve been thrown out of Abaddon on my first day.
I slinked my way through the dark and haunted hallways, following the sounds of shouting and stomping.
Each corridor I passed through was darker, smaller, and more windowless than the last. It was strange.
Stranger still, the way it was constructed.
Nothing but walls dipped in red and black, thick heavy doors allowing not a sound in or out, and no light—barring the half-hearted flickering of skeletal hands sticking out of the walls with candles on their palms.
It was as if the whole layout of this place was made to keep you confused and feeling like you were trapped in a darkened maze.
If that’s the purpose, they’re succeeding. I propped the notebook against my chest—tracing and sketching as I went. But not for long. I’m going to have every inch of this place mapped out. The quickest way to Dora, and then the quickest way to get us both out.
I rounded the final corner and the noise hit me over the head like a ton of bricks, but this time, it wasn’t just the jeering of the demons.
All the doors in this hallway were open, and students streamed in and out of them—shouting out which lessons were being held in there, and demanding to know where the one they were looking for was.
All the other beings who disappeared when I fell in with the demons had all returned.
Tall, statuesque, impossibly beautiful people with large, feathered wings ranging from all white to pure ebony.
Their ears came to sharp points, and their skin glittered—truly glittered as if the sun defied hell’s unwillingness to let it shine, and chose to let its light live in the very essence of the fae.
The only thing that passed for a uniform in this place were the badges, which allowed me to see the styles and customs the different species adopted.
The fae dressed like kings and princes on their way to a gala in the palace ballroom. Long embroidered robes, train sleeves, and, resting on the long, silken locks of a few of them, laurel crowns.
The werewolves were easy to spot right away. They were the only ones moving through the hall as a group—or I guess I should say, a pack.
About a dozen scarred, bare-chested guys with rippling muscles, ripped jeans, and scruffy jaws moved through the hall as one snarling unit. Hatred like I’d never seen burned in their golden eyes as they passed the last group of creatures I had yet to understand.