Chapter 31 Aurora
Aurora
Time drags. I haven’t heard from Ezra since the first night he left. I texted him when Louie woke up, just like he told me to, but he never responded.
I haven’t tried again.
Because if he could answer, he would.
Am I worried? A little.
Four days without a single word. I really thought he’d be back by now. But settling a spat between a shadow monster and a vampire probably takes time. And who knows how far he had to go.
The thread tugs mercilessly, like a hook buried deep, pulling me toward him no matter how far he goes.
If I can feel him—if that connection still yanks—I know he’s alive. Somewhere.
I haven’t returned to work yet, either. Eve told me to take the rest of the week off, and I’m glad I didn’t fight her on it. I really don’t want to answer questions from nosey customers about the bruises slowly fading on my neck.
Even in Lorewood, where weird is normal, bruises still get questions.
It’s not judgment. It’s protection. The town watches out for its own.
The morning after stabbing that sick fuck in the balls at The Cardinal, my phone pinged with a news alert. Turns out a violent predator, one who preyed on women and girls, left behind a confession letter.
A full list of names.
A detailed account of every sick, twisted thing he’d done.
Then, like it was the logical next step, he castrated himself and bled out in his bathtub.
The report said “stomach-churning.”
I didn’t flinch. That’s exactly what I was going for.
My snort of amusement as I read through the article didn’t go unnoticed by the hellhound. When I told her what happened, she puffed up her chest like a proud parent.
“Do you know how many lives you saved? That’s fucking incredible!”
“So, that doesn’t earn me a fast pass to Hell?”
“Anyone whose soul is black and tar-like is fair game. If taking a life saves another, it’s justifiable, and even considered heroic in Hell. You’ll be fine. I just wouldn’t make a habit of it. Though that motherfucker deserved everything he got. Fuck yeah!”
Well, at least my immortal soul is safe … for now.
Castrations and soul-judgment aside, I spend my morning on a much harder battle: convincing Louie that human bodies need fruits and vegetables.
“I don’t care, Aurora. They taste like a vegan’s armpit after hot yoga and a good rubdown with DIY deodorant made from bong water,” Louie growls.
That wasn’t just a vivid sentence. That was a sensory hate crime.
Jesus Christ, do all immortal beings talk in chaotic slam poetry?
I shoot her a tight-lipped smile and try again. “Well, your dog food had vegetables in it, so I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s just not in dried pellet form.”
“I’d rather eat kibble.”
Louie scowls, stomps into the living room, and flops onto the couch without another word.
I throw myself onto a kitchen chair and sigh. Chewing on my lip, I pick up my phone before I even realize what I’m doing.
My thumb hovers over Ezra’s name. I could text him again. Just something casual.
Or maybe I could ask if he’s safe. Ask him if he misses me as much as I miss him.
Fuck, no. I refuse to be that girl. I’ve never begged a man for his attention, and I’m not about to start now.
Besides, Ezra is clingy enough for the both of us.
The chaos kept me distracted for a while, but now? The silence is starting to itch.
After several days packed with assault and attempted murder, revelations, spell reversals, heated moments with Ezra, and almost killing a vampire, the last few days have been dull in comparison.
Louie refuses to wear pants and loses her shit over almost everything humans have to do every day, so I haven’t felt comfortable making plans with Eve and Thane. And I have no clue what I would come home to if I leave Lou alone for a few hours.
The only part of being human Louie enjoys? Using the bathroom.
So thank Lilith for small miracles.
Despite all her griping, hanging out with Louie has been kind of great—mostly because of her completely batshit stories about Hell. Her memories haven’t fully returned yet, but every day it feels like she’s a little more whole.
And the way she describes Hell? It sounds … safe. A place Lucifer carved out for the ones the world cast aside. Which makes no sense and somehow makes perfect sense.
“What about all the evil souls who live there?” I ask while I braid her long blonde-and-black hair one evening. “Isn’t that scary? Aren’t they tortured? Do you torture them?”
Ezra mentioned Hell wasn’t what humans thought, but I didn’t realize he meant this.
A home for the strange, the lost, and the ones the world gave up on.
A place that sounds more like a sanctuary than a punishment.
Not what I pictured, but I’m intrigued.
“Nah, see, you’ve got it all wrong, love.
” Louie shakes her head. “Hell’s not for evil souls.
The truly wicked? They get erased. Wiped clean in Purgatory until there’s nothing left.
The rest of us? We get to live. Hell’s like Heaven’s rebellious little sister.
Only way more fun, and without the bullshit entry requirements. ”
Add that to the growing list of things the church got hilariously wrong.
“Why? It can’t be that hard to get into Heaven, can it?”
“You ever hear those fire-and-brimstone preachers say Hell is full of sinners? Bullshit. If you so much as sneeze the wrong way, Heaven won’t take you.
Maybe you loved the wrong person—at least by their standards.
Maybe you made a choice no one should have to make.
Maybe you survived the only way you knew how, and that didn’t fit their rules.
Doesn’t matter. You don’t meet their standards? You’re out. But Hell opens its arms.”
Louie flicks a stray hair from her face.
“That’s why Lucifer fell. Not because he was ‘evil,’ but because he saw how rigged the system was.
Heaven slammed the gates on anyone who wasn’t perfect, so he made a place for them instead.
The souls in Hell aren’t ‘damned.’ They’re the ones who deserved peace but got denied it.
And trust me, once people see what Heaven’s really like, plenty of them pick Hell instead. ”
Louie doesn’t even look at me. Just picks her nails like she didn’t just rewrite religion.
“Those Bible-thumping Christians say all sorts of stuff is sinful, but honestly, as long as you’re not intentionally hurting an innocent human, or animal, you’re entitled to a peaceful afterlife. Yeah, Hell can be a little debaucherous at times, but the entertainment? Top-notch.
“Lucifer’s light, I fucking miss Kink n’ Brunch. Where else can you get head and eggs Benedict at the same damn time? Technically, there are others, but Kink n’ Brunch has better hollandaise and hotter staff.”
She chuckles, then shoots me a knowing look.
“And before you ask, no, there aren’t any kids in Hell. I could feel you loading that question. Those who die young … well … they go somewhere special.”
That’s … actually reassuring.
Also, ‘Kink n’ Brunch’? What, do they have some indie smut author naming the restaurants in Hell?
“‘Course, if you ever get bored …” Louie waves a hand, like this is common knowledge. “You can always request reincarnation. Most folks don’t want to go back to Earth. It’s beautiful there. I hope you get to see it someday.”
“Goddamn. Billy Joel was right.”
“Eh, it’s not that impressive. Billy Joel’s a fallen demon. Ran away from Hell to live a human life. Absolute coward. He knows damn well the souls in Hell aren’t sinners,” Louie says in a bored tone.
Wait. Billy Joel is a fucking demon?
No. Focus, Aurora.
Questions first, existential crisis later.
“Setting aside the Billy Joel bombshell, what about angels and demons? And what about the whole good versus evil thing? And what souls do you call back as a hellhound if Hell is for people who’ve lived a good life?”
I have so many more questions, but I stop here and wait for Louie’s response.
“Angels and demons? They’re the same thing.
Erevald—that’s what they call anyone born in Heaven or Hell.
Angels get feathers, and demons get horns and leathery wings, but that’s just geography.
Neither side is all good or all bad. And neither is as powerful as they want you to think.
Most of them are just self-entitled twats who think they’re better than you. Best advice? If you see one, walk away.
“And hellhounds, like me, hunt down and return lost souls. Since Heaven showed no interest in rounding them up, Lucifer created hellhounds to complete the task. Those who commit suicide or those who die violently and refuse to leave Earth may become lost souls. If left to their own devices, they roam the Earth, causing all kinds of problems. The sheer anguish of a lost soul created the last hurricane that hit Puerto Rico. They don’t just linger, Aurora.
They rot. It’s not a fun assignment, but it’s a necessary one. ”
Louie hangs her head and sniffles.
I wrap my arms around her shoulders and pull her back for a hug. I’ll be struggling with what she just told me for a long fucking time, but right now, my little hellhound seems really sad.
“Well, if I’ve already got a seat at the table, I’m ordering mimosas and finding the orgy.”
Apparently, this is my life now, braiding my hellhound’s hair while stressing over what to wear to an afterlife sex club.
“Didn’t know one shadow-slut with pretty eyes and boundary issues could turn you into a heat-seeking missile for dick,” Louie says with a growl.
She’s so unintentionally funny, it makes me chuckle. I give Lou a quick kiss on the cheek, then return to braiding her wild hair.
On the fifth day Ezra’s gone, Louie’s starting to embrace her humanity. Well, sort of. I don’t have to “teach” her as much, and she’s decided she’ll tolerate blueberries and strawberries.
I heard from Eve yesterday. She filled me in on all the town gossip, regaled me with her sexscapades with Thane, and threatened my life until I agreed to maybe hang out with them.