I don’t hear what they say, because the sound of my heart in my ears is too loud. The black spots around my vision aren’t the inky rage I’m used to, but an indication that I’m not getting enough oxygen in my lungs thanks to the panic attack I’m currently suffering from.
“They’re not there. It’s just a fuzzy backpack,” I tell myself, like it will convince my brain it’s true. “I’m just carrying stuff, that’s all. Just a backpack. A big purple one.” It’s not working.
Out of nowhere, my scythe warms in my hand, and in the blink of an eye, the blades pop out of each end. The action startles me, forcing me to stand up straighter. A lanky, wingless man jumps back from me with a shout like I just tried to burn him.
“How am I supposed to detain her, sir, when she has that?” he asks, an Irish lilt to his worried voice.
Detain me?
I shove thoughts of my wings to the back of my mind with a shiver and force myself to focus. I hold my scythe out threateningly and narrow my eyes at the blond winged man and his little friend.
“I need to get out of here now,” I bark, still not sure where here even is. The blond prick said something about his house though, so I’m hoping that means there’s a way in and out of it.
“You,” I snarl at the lanky guy, pointing at him with the scythe, since it seems to scare him the most. “Show me the way out.”
He looks over to Not-God, like he’s not sure which of us is scarier. The crazy bitch with the scythe, or his boss.
The winged blond eyes me with a hard look, his jaw tightening as he glances over the scythe. “Do as she says,” Not-God instructs, and relief floods me. “But, kitten, know that I will find out who sent you, and when I do, I will hunt you to the Outer Rings of Hell. You’ll learn very soon that you’ve messed with the wrong Abdicated.”
I brush off Not-God’s Liam Neeson-eque threat and focus on the lanky Irish guy. He doesn’t have wings, so I like him more. He’ll get me out of here, and then this douche can search Hell all he wants, because I’ll be back in my world, trying to not get killed in an Outer Ring demon attack or dissected by scientists because I now have wings. I’ll just buy a big trench coat like John Travolta in Michael. It worked for him.
Goosebumps rise up all over my arms at the thought that I have these things stuck to my back, and a chill licks up my spine like some kind of bad omen.
The Irish guy leads the way, and I follow him, moving my scythe in warning toward Not-God, just in case. The don’t you even think about trying anything is clear in my glare, and he sends his own haughty sneer right back at me. Only when I’m far enough away do I turn my back on him. The lanky man leads to what looks like a white endless wall, but he touches something I don’t see, making a door magically open.
I quickly follow him out of the white nothingness, beyond grateful to see there’s colors on this side of wherever I am. The moment I’m through the doorway, I immediately feel like I’m in some kind of tropical destination. I don’t spot any palm trees, but there’s a heavy humidity in the air, and I’m surrounded by lush greenery and flowers that are clearly thriving in the comfortable climate. I look behind me at the white nothingness of the room I was in and then back at this tropical paradise in confusion.
“This way,” Lanky urges, and I quickly hurry forward, my legs brushing against fauna as I stumble past the plants and into some kind of courtyard, but I falter slightly when the sounds of sex immediately fill the air.
There are tall white pillars lining both sides of the picturesque garden I find myself in, but instead of plain white colonial columns, each pillar looks to be a sculpture straight out of the Kama Sutra.
I’m completely befuddled by the sights and sounds all around me. I spin in awe, trying to take it all in, and that’s when I feel someone tackle me from behind.
I go down like the chick on her knees who’s carved into one of the columns in front of me. My attacker elicits a pained grunt from me as I slam onto the ground and feel my scythe go bouncing away.
Shit.
I knew that needy pussy was going to be my downfall.
2
Welp, I’m in a dungeon.
It’s a far, far cry from the sex pillars and multicolored hibiscus plants, I can tell you that much.
I guess when Not-God ordered do as she says, that was really code for befuddle her senses with a fake sex garden of paradise vision and then shove her into a dungeon.
I should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. While I was reeling from the tackle and my head’s subsequent meeting with the unforgiving ground, Lanky dragged me backward and shoved me into this cell. I heard the sound of metal bars slamming shut just as my vision was blinking back into focus.
The sight of my new prison overwhelms me with trepidation. I’m surrounded by spiked walls and ceiling, the jagged, uneven metal thorns looking like they’re trying to leap out at me. I guess I should be thankful that the floor isn’t covered in them too. Small mercies.
Lanky left me in here with nothing but a metal bed and bucket for company, and I’ve gone through four different stages of freak out since then. I’m not sure how many stages there actually are until I can get to the end, or even if I can come to terms with my reality right now.
I pace the room for a while, but my sore body puts a stop to that pretty quickly. I know for a fact that I was injured badly during the Vestibule battle, but all I’m suffering from are simple aches and pains. I feel sore all over, inside and out, and the weight at my back doesn’t help things at all, but I don’t feel like anything’s broken or damaged beyond repair.
“Hello?” I call out, my hands gripping the bars of the cell as I try to peer down the flame-lit hallway. “I didn’t do anything wrong!” I cry, wincing as my voice echoes back to me.
Echo.
I clamp my eyes shut, leaning my forehead against the metal bar as pain overtakes me again. It keeps coming in waves, crashing right over my head and sending me sprawling and choking.
“Let me out,” I call, but my heart isn’t even in it, and my voice is already scratchy from yelling the same things many times before. As far as I can tell, no one else is down here, and there’s no one to hear my pleas.
Dragging myself away from the bars, I settle on top of the metal frame that’s nothing but a hellish exam table posing as a bed. I really hope its presence in this place isn’t foreshadowing anything. Wiping my feet free of dirt and grit, I’m really regretting that whole angry shoe toss I did earlier, because I’m pretty sure I’m going to step on something and catch some form of hepatitis or tetanus or both. Plus, it’s kind of cold.
I lie down on my back, but when my wings touch the smooth metal, it sends a weird, unfamiliar sensation through me that I’ve never experienced before. I cringe away, turning onto my side, and hug my knees against my chest with a shudder.
So many questions swirl in my head. I have no idea where I am. I’m pretty sure I’m in Hell still, but am I dead? Did I end up in Nihil—the Center Ring of Hell? Or am I in some jail for demons who try to go places they’re not supposed to?
My chest aches for everything I’ve been through and lost in the last twenty-four hours. I’m not even sure how to process anything. With nothing else to distract me, the memories of the fight assault me. Jerif’s last plea is like a broken record beating on my eardrums.