Kit #2
She shrugged, looking down at her wrist to check the time on a delicate gold watch. “I believe it only matters if the person writing the name knows who is being added. Or everyone with that exact name gets added to the list. Either way, whoever you just added is safe.”
The word safe made me raise an eyebrow, but I didn’t say anything. It seemed odd. Most demons wouldn’t bother to even consider the safety of a human.
I chewed on my lip, tapping the pen on the paper.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I wrote another name on the list: Margaret Christine Gordon.
Now Lacy’s sister was safe, too. And in a moment of preposterousness, I added one more name: Christopher Patrick Mitchell.
A dead man. I went to scratch the name out, but something stopped me.
I instead put the pen down. No harm in leaving it there.
I lifted my head to thank the woman, but she had disappeared from behind the desk.
I looked around the room and saw no sign of her. Odd.
With relief flooding through me, I turned around—only to find myself face to face with Balores. I flinched, stepping back and bumping into the desk behind me.
Balores, still occupying the body of the blond man I last saw him in, grinned with one side of his mouth. “Tonkitgrol. What a pleasant surprise.” Balores peered over my shoulder. “Hmm. I see you’ve added the meatsuit you stole from me to the list. What an…interesting choice.”
“Stole?” I asked, playing ignorant.
“Stole,” he snapped, the fury in his voice making me flinch again.
Balores pressed his fingers to my forehead. My gaze shifted up toward the fingers. Next thing I knew, I was inside a cell—and Balores was on the other side.
I looked around in a panic, hands grabbing at the bars. This was my cell. The same cell I resided in when I was just a human soul in Hell. “What are you doing?” I demanded lowly.
“Putting you in your place,” Balores spat. “I might take this as an opportunity to visit your former vessel. Finally try her out.”
I pulled at the bars on the cell, rattling them, but they stayed locked. “She’s safe. You can’t touch her,” I snarled at the other demon. “She’s on the damn list. No one can touch her.”
Balores shrugged, playing off indifference even though he was clearly pissed, flames burning in his eyes.
The list was not just a piece of paper. It was a magical insurance—a shield that could never be broken through.
“Eh, no matter. She was too small anyways. Would have gotten annoying after a while, being that weak.”
My eyes grew dangerously dark. “She’s stronger than you and I combined.” I pulled at the bars again, slamming my hand hard on the metal when nothing budged.
“Interesting,” Balores drawled, taking a step closer and leaning in conspiratorially. “I thought you stealing the human was a sore attempt at a power move. You care about her. Is that all? How trite,” he sneered and then disappeared, leaving me trapped.
Fuck. I backed up into the corner of the cell, retreating to the position I had been in during my stint here, curled into a ball, making myself as small as possible.
The one thing that kept my mind from spiraling was the knowledge that Lacy was safe.
She had her tattoo. She had her charm. She and her sister were both now on the list. She was safe.
However, I feared not safe enough. Not while Balores was still out there.
I pulled myself out of the ball, rocketing back to the bars of the cell.
I yelled and screamed for someone to get me out of the cage. I pulled and kicked on the bars, but they were designed to never open. My screams were drowned out by all the other souls screaming around me.
Nobody came. Not for days. Perhaps weeks. It was impossible to tell.
My head was leaned against the cell, eyes closed, when a familiar, annoyed voice surprised me.
“Tonkitgrol, what do you think you’re doing?”
I lifted my head to see Garficious on the other side of the cell. Thank Satan. My hands gripped the bars tightly. “Balores locked me in here. I’ve been here since…since I saw you last.” Quietly, I muttered, “You wonder why I never come down here.”
“You gamble with my patience.” Garficious pinched the bridge of his nose. “Balores needs to spend more time torturing human souls and less his fellow demons.” Garficious reached through the bars of the cage and yanked me out by the chest of my shirt.
“Thanks,” I said, stumbling to solid footing. “Where’s Balores?”
Garficious adjusted the cuffs of his shirt then brushed a bit of dirt off his suit. “I would assume Specialized Torture. Why?”
I didn’t want to explain Lacy to him. Garficious was far too busy to care about things he would consider as petty as this, but I still didn’t trust him. “If I were to lock him in a cell, would you promise to keep him in there? At least for the next hundred Earth years?”
Garficious looked at me like he would rather be anywhere else. “No.” He turned away. “Now, I must be going.” He got a few steps away before angling back slightly, adding, “No one ever visits the cells in section R, 300 to 700. Far too drafty.” He was gone in a blink.
That was…helpful. Was Garficious to be trusted? Generally, I’d wager no, but I would assume locking away Balores would mean less demons in his way while he worked on whatever plot he was leading for the Queen.
I’d wasted too much time in that cell, allowing Balores too much time to hurt Lacy.
I jumped to Specialized Torture, my host’s heart beating loudly in my ears, as if he could sense my panic in his unconscious state.
I was in a long hallway, so dark it was nearly a void.
From what I could remember, the offices were at the end of this hall.
As I moved forward, forcing myself to keep a steady pace to not draw too much attention my way, I passed by closed doors that led to rooms outfitted to be each soul’s specialized nightmare.
I heard distant screams and groans of pain, but I tuned them out.
I was too focused on Balores to pay attention to anything else.
I marched down the hall until I reached the office, finding the door cracked and his back to me.
Okay, he was here. A quick glance around the office proved that Lacy wasn’t tied up with an apple in her mouth—not that I was actually expecting that—but that didn’t guarantee she was okay.
I needed to check on her and ensure she wasn’t hurt.
But I needed to lock Balores away first.
As if sensing me, Balores swiveled around, lip curled in a snarl. “Tonkitgrol,” he drawled. “You escaped much faster than I intended. Here for a chat?”
I stiffened. “Uh, yeah. I just, you know, wanted to learn how to torture people…and stuff. Finally take you on as my mentor.” I inwardly cringed. That was so not convincing.
His face was flat. “I advise you to work on improving your skills of deception.” He set down the stack of papers in his hands. “I was hoping to catch up on some paperwork before I got to your human pet. But no matter. I suppose this means you can watch me kill her.”
He blinked away without another word.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
I closed my eyes. Lacy, Lacy, Lacy. I jumped and found myself back on the surface level. I looked around. I was in the Black Market? Was Lacy here? Why the hell would she be here? Looking for me, maybe? Shit.
I swung my head around in a panic as I searched for her.
There she was! On the other side of the Market, I spotted her blonde, curly hair.
And her fist as it swung, connecting with Balores’s face. My head was thrown back in a cackle at her boldness. “That’s my girl!” I booked it in her direction.
As I ran, I jumped again, landing behind her and Matthias, whom I hadn’t noticed from afar. Right in time to see him throw blue fire in Balores’s face. Nice. As much as I hated to admit it, that was clever.
They escaped as Balores screamed in agony, hands slapping against his melting face in an attempt to calm the flames.
Now or never.
I hurtled myself forward, throwing my arms around the other demon and jumping us to section R317 of Hell.
March seventeenth was Lacy’s birthday. Balores struggled in my arms, thrashing and cursing.
The flames sizzled out as we traveled. His elbow got me in the ribs, but I managed to land on solid ground and shove Balores through the bars of his very own cage.
The skin of his face was, well, no longer there.
At that moment, I was glad his host was long dead.
“See how you like it,” I spat, chest heaving.
Balores slammed his body against the bars, throwing his arms out like he was going to throttle me. I hopped backward, gave my former torturer a two-finger salute, then closed my eyes. I pictured the outside of Lacy’s apartment and was there seconds later.
Her car was not in the lot. In a dark corner, I stood still with my arms crossed as I waited for her. Eventually, her silver sedan pulled in, taking its normal parking spot.
She got out of her car and headed toward her building. When her apartment door closed, I released a joyous laugh as I fell to my knees on the concrete, nearly kissing the ground. I did it. She was safe.
Matthias was no longer with her, so I considered knocking on her door. To see if she was okay. To hold ice to her knuckles, because I’m sure that punch hurt like hell. But I stayed where I was. She was home and safe.
She had requested I stay away. So, I did.