Hell's Bells: Lucifer's Tale (Welcome to Hell Book 6) (5 page)

T
he journey seemed
to take forever, and given the time looping in Dante’s Inferno, that was a distinct possibility. The ride sat in a pocket outside reality, abiding by its own quantum rules about space and time. For all intents and purposes, not even a second passed in Hell or the mortal plane while they rode the wild train.

Yet, all things eventually came to an end, an immutable fact that seemed prevalent no matter what dimension they resided in.

With fewer minions than when they started, and a much shorter section of carts, at last they rattled to a stop outside the chamber that was their final destination.

A bedraggled crew of minions disembarked, worse for wear but grinning wildly because of it. The general vibe in the room was one of accomplishment and even fellowship. By working together, a feat almost unheard of in Hell, where it was every demon and creature for itself, they’d managed to make it through all the challenges.

Now, only one major test remained. Actually finding Lucifer’s heart.

Not that the flashing sign for this final destination advertised this fact. In bold neon letters, which dripped ectoplasmic blood on the floor, it announced

The choice, however, was anything but clear.

The room appeared cavernous, stretching at least one hundred feet overhead and twice that across. Chiseled from the deepest obsidian stone at the heart of the mountain, the room absorbed the torchlight that flickered from sconces. The burning oil hazed the room in a smoky shadow, as if the room needed more mystery. One only had to gaze upon the thousands of honeycombed holes peppering the wall to instantly wonder what was inside.

For some, inside some of those holes there existed a way out, a lever that, when pulled, would send them sweeping to the exit. It would expel them with fireworks and grand horns proclaiming them masters of Dante’s Inferno, supposing, of course, the lever actually worked. None had ever reached it before.

But only a small handful of holes had this escape mechanism. Inside the others…gruesome death or painful injury. Not the permanent kind. Apparently, killing off patrons was bad for business.

In this dimension, while riders could die, they always returned home intact, much to the irritation of the Amazons and Valkyrie. Apparently, they wanted to keep the scars.

Not interested in escape or one of the thousand ways to die, Gaia looked around for a clue as to the whereabouts of the item only she and Luc knew was hidden in this place. An item Luc didn’t want her to find.

Brushing his hands down his ready-for-the zombie-apocalypse outfit, Lucifer joined her. “Well, now that we’ve made it, how about we find the exit lever and get out? I could use a bubble bath.”

The disgusted look on her face brought a stain to his cheeks. Embarrassed? He should be. “A bath? After battle you usually want to fuck.” And fuck well, she might add.

Nothing like the adrenaline from a good fight to fuel the home fires. She’d never made it so long with her skirts down after such a good run.

“No need for vulgarity, my enchanting soon-to-be queen. A pretty mouth like yours is—”

She couldn’t let him finish. If she did, she might just punch him, so she spoke first, using words the real Lucifer would. “Good for sucking dick. Is this a hint to get on my knees?” She cocked a hip and licked her lips.

He huffed. Literally huffed and flounced off. She resisted the temptation to throw her shoe at him, especially when she noted her actions being recorded.

A certain reaper noticed too. “What the hell are you doing?” Mictain hissed in Marigold’s ear.

“Videotaping,” replied the witch most nonchalantly. “If the old Lord comes back, I’ll need leverage to get that temple I’ve had my eye on.”

His brow arched. “You’re planning blackmail?”

“Yes. If the Dark Lord returns, he and my dad will be so proud.”

Yes, Lucifer would beam with pride at being blackmailed, even as he scrambled to get rid of the embarrassing video clip. Murder and starting a war with Zeus, Marigold’s father, would also be possible scenarios, but scenarios that would happen only if the old Lucifer returned.

If they found his dark heart.

Not if. When.

“What are we doing here?” Niall asked, his kilt and combat boots having survived the trip but not his shirt. Aella had torn that from him after the first battle. She remarked, “He’s not bad to look at for an old guy.” To which Niall replied, “I’ll show you old.” Unfortunately, something had attacked before he could flip his kilt and prove his vigor.

“We’re here because this is our final destination.”

“Destination to where?” Now that Niall had made it through the death-defying gauntlet, he relaxed. Relaxation meant he’d flipped his sword so the point hovered an inch or so off the ground and made a few practice swings where he aimed at the holes in the wall.

Knocking things into the crevices wouldn’t help them find the treasure.

“Not where. Why,” Gaia corrected. “We are here to retrieve Lucifer’s heart. It’s in here. In one of those openings.”

“Fuck me, there’s like thousands,” Remy exclaimed. “How are we supposed to find the right hole?”

“That’s not usually a problem,” snickered Ysabel.

“You take the thousand to the left. I’ll take the thousand to the right.” Aella pointed at the group, delegating, but Gaia held up her hand and shook her head.

“No need for that. I can find it.”

“You know which one holds it?” Mictain asked.

“Not exactly.” Even Lucifer didn’t trust her that much. Actually, he trusted no one, so not only did he not let her, or anyone else, see which hole he hid it in, a powerful magic spell added another layer to keep the heart from those seeking it. “As part of its protection, Lucifer’s heart moves location from hour to hour, sometimes minute to minute.” There was no map or special sequence to its random reassignment.

“Then how will you find it?” Felipe asked with a sniff to the air. “There’s no scent in this place. Not even our own. No markings, no sound. At least so I assume. Do you hear anything?” he asked Jenny. Jenny, the daughter of Ursula, with a voice that could kill. Quite literally. Most of the time they kept it under control with an amulet meant to nullify its effects. Those who were utterly tone deaf, like Felipe, had no problems.

But those folks were rare, and having lost her protective amulet while singing some four-armed titans into clubbing each other in one of the caverns, Jenny just nodded her head. A good choice, lest she manage to get some of them to commit seppuku.

“Seems kind of impossible,” Felipe said. “And this from a curious cat.”

“There are other senses we can use to find it,” Gaia intoned in her best Mother Nature voice. Ominous words helped build the legend, or so Lucifer kept insisting.

How I miss you, Luc.

Not for long, though. She could get him back. She just had to find his heart.

Taking in a deep breath, she closed her eyes and let herself relax, head tilted back, only to tense as Lucifer said, in a voice soft with a hint of sadness, “You don’t want to do this. Leave it be. No good will come of it.”

“Which is why I have to do this,” she replied. Good had no place in her lover’s body.

Arms spread, eyes tightly shut, and senses reaching, she looked for the seed, the teeny-tiny seed she’d shoved in a corner of the box for Lucifer’s heart. A future precaution so she could locate it in the event there was a need.

That need was now.

Funny how she originally planted the seed because she’d feared she might have to one day stop a rampaging, out-of-control Dark Lord. But instead, here she was seeking his heart to return his wicked side to him.

Where are you, my little seedling?

Gaia didn’t react to the yelp as a curious kitty stuck his paw where he shouldn’t. She ignored the hollers of, “Holy shit, what’s that climbing out of the hole?” She let the noise of the minion crew as they battled the catacomb’s defenses fade as she sought out the spark of life she’d left behind.

Many people saw seeds as inert items. Dead until planted in soil and nurtured. Wrong. Seeds were life. And, as such, they could call to her.

Speak to me, my little one. Where do you hide?

Wink.

With eyes still shut, she pivoted toward the slight tremor.

Blink, blink.

The tiny beacon called to her, and she followed, her feet floating from the ground, the call of her seedling guiding her.

Opening her eyes, she noted she hovered in front of a section high off the floor. An array of holes faced her, but she knew which one she needed.

In plunged her hand, up to her elbow. Not far enough. She pushed deeper, the jagged rock tight around her flesh, unyielding. But she knew this was just another ploy, a trick to keep the unwary from finding its precious secret.

The very tips of her fingers touched cold metal. Shoving her arm into the hole as far as she could, she managed to curl her hand around the object and slowly pulled it free.

Although not eager to relinquish its prize, the rock yielded, letting her bring forth the treasure box.

It snagged only at the entrance, one last-ditch attempt to hold on. “Oh no you don’t,” she grumbled, giving it a firm yank.

The box tumbled loose. Clutching it to her chest, she let herself float to the ground, a falling petal amidst demons and witches and more, who formed a circle around her.

Lucifer didn’t join them. The man sulked with his back turned, a petulant move so redolent of his old self.

No sooner had her feet touched the ground when she knelt, placing her precious burden on the ground, relief at finding it suffusing her—until she saw the broken lock.

The pieces of it hung in shattered metal chunks. With her othersight—a way to see things hidden to those without magic—she clearly discerned the zings of the spells once protecting it hanging in tendrils.

No. No. No. She didn’t want to think what it meant. A sob erupted from her as she lifted the lid and saw the black satin-lined interior was empty.

EMPTY!

Sob.
Maybe it’s the wrong box. Maybe I made a mistake.

Wink. The little nudge had her glancing again. Her shoulders rounded in defeat. She’d grabbed the right container. Her teeny-tiny seed remained tucked in a corner, along with a lingering hint of the cold dark sea and a grain of sand, a clue as to who had taken Luc’s heart.

“Ursula!” she growled. The sea hag had stolen Lucifer’s heart.

And I am going to get it back.

T
he Jack and Jill
, which doubled as a sly bid to return Lucifer to his old ways—
the best way!—
left the merry band bedraggled. And, in the case of his fiancée, dispirited.

Her hair didn’t have its usual sunshine highlights and green luster. Her eyes didn’t sparkle with mischief or emerald light. Tattered clothing clung to her grimy body in shreds, stained and beyond repair.

We really should strip those off her. You know, because we’re nice like that.

If it weren’t for the lascivious grin trying to tug at his lips, Lucifer might have believed the lie. He refrained from letting his hands tear the rags. Tucked them behind his back in case they, once again, became possessed of a mind of their own.

Wandering hands aren’t a bad thing, especially when they end up under our wench’s skirt.

Given he found it impossible to disagree, he sat on his hands abruptly. “That was quite the adventure,” he said, trying not to wince at his own false brightness.

That’s it, buddy boy. Fake it. Let the sin in. I dare you to meet it with a grin.

He did not fake it. Enthusiasm in the pursuit of not worrying Gaia with his rather impure thoughts seemed noble.

Justification. Cough.

“Why, Luc, is that smoke coming from your ears?”

Indeed his internal furnace seemed to burn a little hot with ire. He needed to calm down. Return to his even serenity. “Nothing’s wrong, dearest.” The easily spoken white lie served only to increase his inner turmoil, and the smoke thickened.

For some reason, this seemed to make Gaia happy. A little spark entered her smile, and her lips tilted just a bit. “So what do you want to do now?” she asked.

I want to do my wench. I say we tear those things off her, clean her, make her dirty and then clean her again. So we can dirty her again. See what I’m saying?

He did, in living, flesh-toned color. Gulp.

His hands dropped to his front to cover his inappropriate reaction. “I think I’ll just soak in a nice hot bath then maybe enjoy some tea before bed.”

Nooooooo!

“Tea and bed?” Her nose wrinkled. “I’m too wired for that. Aren’t you feeling a little”—her voice dropped an octave—“
frisky
?”

Wench, instead of talking, you should be stripping and getting to your knees. On second thought, we should get to our knees and thank her sweet apple pie for being so fucking hot on that ride. Our wench kicks some serious ass!

She did. “I should thank you for your valiant protection of myself and our crew.”

Don’t thank her with words, you idiot. Use your tongue!

“Thank me? I know a way you can thank me.” Her lashes fluttered, and her smile turned sensual.

I know that grin.

Yes, he did. Two days. He had to wait two more days. Be strong. Resist. “I’m really tired. I think I’m going to turn in now.” Before he did something he’d regret.

Oh, you wouldn’t regret it. Neither would she.

“Bed?” Gaia shook her head. “It’s way too early for that. But you go ahead. Relax in your bubble bath.” Said with a sneer. “I think I’m going to hang at Nefertiti’s place for a few hours.”

The witch’s tower? Tendrils of smoke curled from his nostrils. He didn’t understand his agitation.

I’ll tell you why we’re agitated. You’re worried because she’s horny, all on account you aren’t man enough to plow her. Now, this horny wench of ours is about to go spend time in a bloody harem full of partially clothed nubile men trained in the art of sexual pleasure.

Stop. Her.

Wait, that wasn’t the voice suggesting it, but him. And the following words were also his own. “Don’t you need to return to your place to refresh and rest yourself?”

Gaia peeked down at her disheveled ensemble. “You’re right. Totally inappropriate for a visit. But I don’t have the patience to hit the garden.” She snapped her slender fingers and, in a blink, stood in a new outfit.

A much more revealing outfit than the torn one of before.

“I think you forgot some parts,” he observed. “Like maybe a shawl.” A great big woolly one that draped from head to toe.

The delicate sound of her laughter tinkled like bells, and her eyes lit with amusement. “It’s much too hot at Neffie’s place for that. I get so sweaty when I’m there.” She winked as she turned around, her short skirt barely covering the curve of her plump ass. “Don’t wait up.” Another throaty giggle as she peeked over her bared shoulder, the halter-top exposing more than it hid. “Actually, I guess since you don’t want us sleeping together until the wedding, you won’t have any idea when I get back. Or what bed I’m sleeping in. If I can sleep. I’ve got so much energy.”

With those words and a saucy bounce to her step, she left.

Go and drag that luscious ass back here and put her over your knee.

Why? She hadn’t earned any punishment. Gaia had the right to visit whom she chose. He trusted her.

Never said we couldn’t trust her. Woman is faithful, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t look for an excuse to slap that precious ass.

If only he couldn’t remember the sound as his hand cracked a cheek, the pink color that infused it, and the way she moaned when he followed the tap with a lick of her flesh.

Good times.
The evil voice sighed.
Pity we’ll never get to enjoy being that close to her again.

What did his sly subconscious imply? In less than two days, they’d become man and wife. Demon and Goddess. In two days, as part of his husbandly duty, he’d pleasure his wife.

Aren’t you just the most naïve dreamer?

What was that supposed to mean?

Anyone can see the woman is going to bail on you. Can you blame her? She signed on to marry the biggest badass in the universe, and instead, she’s getting you.
Uttered with such disgust.

And wrong. Gaia was going to marry him because she loved him.

Your optimism is a lie. She will run. I’ve whispered in the ear of more than my fair share of skittish brides and nervous grooms to know the look.

What to do then?

Drag her back and give it to her good. Make her scream our name a few times and she’ll forget all about running away.

More disrespect wouldn’t help matters. He needed a proper way of handling this. He needed help.

Real men don’t ask for help,
snarled his inner duckie with eyes that glowed red and horns that curled over the forehead.

Ignoring the inner muttering, he mulled whom to call for advice, and it was immediately obvious. Who better to discuss his problems with about his wench, er, he meant his lady, than his daughters?

Laughter inside his head.
Oh this should be good.

And then the voice he heard went quiet, but Lucifer could feel it watching, anticipation clear.

While Lucifer waited for his daughters to arrive, he took a fast shower. No bath yet, not with company arriving. He dressed in casual gray slacks, with a firm crease in the front, and an orange shirt with an imp embroidered over the place where his heart beat. It wasn’t his first choice, but his Hawaiian selection seemed to have gone missing.

For some reason, he chose cowboy boots to complete his ensemble. Big, pointy-toed black ones with spurs that jingled when he walked. Also not exactly the most comfortable footwear.

But they look kickass.

They did. He tried to stomp the vanity that kept tempting him to peek at himself in the mirror. He still caught his reflection and admired it. He’d have to punish himself later.

The room Lucifer chose to meet his daughters in had a certain comfort to it, and yet it wasn’t his style at all. Huge, to the point of obscene, the red rock walls were smoothed at least twelve feet from the floor and painted a metallic gray, and yet done in such a way that streaks of the red stone still peeked through.

A massive hearth took pride of place against a wall, the clear glass blocks lining it requiring its own team of imp polishers. But the ostentatious fireplace proved its worth with the mound of ice chunks heaped within that radiated a lovely chill to the room. A lavish expense in a place like Hell.

Set in a lopsided semicircle from the hearth, several pieces of furniture. A glass block table, which served as a scrying mirror for the times someone wanted to watch live television. There was a pair of couches also in the space, covered in a silky black and gray fur. Plus a table with two straight-backed chairs. A good place to play games.

And sturdy enough to toss the wench atop for a good plowing when she catches me cheating at the Game of Unlife and demands restitution.

As quickly as his mind veered into the dirty gutter, he steered back out. Easy to do by focusing on his daughters, who arrived and made themselves at home.

Bambi sprawled on a fur-covered couch with a leg flopped over the back. Thankfully, she wore leggings for once and didn’t flash him any bits, so he decided not to reprimand her for the form-fitting shape of her leggings and the strip of skin exposed by her cropped midriff top.

“So glad you could both come,” he said, clapping his hands together.

“Did we have a choice?” Muriel asked.

“Of course you had a choice. But I just knew my precious daughters wouldn’t let me down.”

Poor Bambi coughed behind him, and he wondered if she was coming down with something. Probably on account she didn’t wear enough clothes.

“So why did you need us here?” Muriel asked.

“I think Gaia might not want to marry me.”

“What makes you think that? Has she said something to you?” Bambi asked, not looking at him while her long, lacquered nails tapped at her hellphone.

“Just a feeling.” He had so many of those lately. Was that the problem? Had Gaia caught onto his emotional mess? Did she think he doubted their love? Or was that other voice right? Did she not like who he was? “Has your mother said anything to you?”

“Nope.” Not a very loquacious reply from Muriel. His youngest daughter sat at the table, her hellacious version of a laptop open, the horned duckie emblem on the lid glowing red. A house brand, and very limited too.

Electronics didn’t run well in the pit unless you had access to excellent magic. Lucifer had the best.

“Cold feet are normal,” Bambi said. “She’ll be fine.”

“Or not,” Muriel added in an ominous tone. “You know I think this joining of yours is unholy. Why can’t you just continue the way you are?”

“Isn’t it time you overcame your issues with your mother for the sake of the family?”

“You want me to forgive her? You?” Muriel gaped at him then glanced at her sister, who shrugged.

A second later, they both burst out into giggles. “Never,” Muriel snickered.

“Little lamb is right. Forgiveness is for the weak. If they’ve betrayed you once, they might again.”

“Sometimes people make mistakes. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t love them.”

Muriel peered at him over the top of her screen. “Never said I didn’t love or care. But that doesn’t give anyone who betrays me a free pass. Vigilance is part of our family motto.”

As was deceit, vengeance, and destruction.

“I trust her,” he said.

“Apparently not, because you called us to talk about your fears instead of talking to her.”

“I don’t want to bother her if you think they’re unfounded.”

“Actually, I think you are right. And if she does ditch you, then she’s got good reason.” Slamming the lid shut on her laptop, Muriel stood. “If you can’t figure out why she’s unhappy and fix it, then maybe she should run. Then again, why would she run when she can dance away her frustration using Nefertiti’s new stripper pole?”

“Stripper pole?” The faint words emerged with a surprised lilt from Lucifer.

“Yeah, she just posted an image on her profile of her licking a chrome pole.”

“Let me see,” Lucifer growled.

Bambi kept the phone out of reach. “I don’t think so. Stalking your woman online is for men who don’t trust. Or are you implying you don’t trust Gaia?”

“I trust her.” How sour those words tasted in his mouth.

“Then there’s nothing to talk about.” Flipping off the couch, Bambi approached and pecked him on the cheek—
Eew! Wipe it off!

Muriel tucked her laptop under her arm. “I gotta go. Chaos is brewing at my house. Auric and the boys are bugging Tristan again.”

“What did they do to your merman this time?” Bambi asked as she linked her arm through Muriel’s.

“Flavored and colored crystals in the swimming pool out back.”

“What did Tristan do to retaliate?”

Muriel chuckled “Oh he got them good. He…”

Since his daughters left through a portal, Lucifer didn’t hear what Tristan had done for revenge, but he really wanted to know.

Why? I thought pranks were a no-no, along with eating artificial sugar.

Thanks for the reminder. He didn’t need to know what Tristan had done. What he did need, though, was an answer as to what was wrong with Gaia. His daughters hadn’t provided one, which meant he still had his dilemma. How to know if Gaia planned to leave him?

Who could he turn to for help?

How about someone she’d dated and dumped in the past?

Don’t you dare call that smug goody-two-shoes.

Family was always welcome in his castle.

Even family that lusts after our wench?