Playing With Hellfire
The devils aren't in the details. They're in my bed...
When my warlock foster father trades me to demons for his outstanding debts, I find myself in Hell on Earth. I’m thrust into a supernatural underground crime ring I can’t get out of, eternally bound in a contract I never made.
Three hot-as-hell demons stand in between me and my freedom.
A tattooed, brutish Hellhound shifter. An incubus with the power to bend wills on command. And the heir to Lucifer’s throne—the original sin demon, Pride, himself. I have to find a way out of the deal before they devour me, body and soul.
But I’m no angel. There’s something inside me, something that craves the chaotic darkness these demons possess.
Escaping may mean giving in to Hell’s more sinful temptations. But playing with fire only hurts if you get burned...
Chapter One
Aria
“Hell is empty. All the devils are here.” William Shakespear.
My foster father once told me that everyone was born with the ability to be kind. I call bull.
Murray’s known to spew some random philosophical sayings, usually ones that go against his own actions. It’s kind of his thing, and for some reason, that one comes to mind now, while I'm dangling from a rope fifteen feet off the floor inside the town's most popular antique store. It's an ancient building, the oldest in all of Glenside and most likely haunted.
But right—back to my foster father's words of wisdom and the reason I know without a shadow of a doubt that he is wrong. The answer is simple—Sir Surchion. The old fart who owns this store is the most vile person I've ever met. When the man looks in your eyes, he peers into your soul. As cliché as it sounds, it’s damn true. In his presence, I feel unease in my bones, so I don’t harbor a thread of guilt as I break into his store. He’ll walk over anyone to add to his collection of dusty antiques. Plus, the prick just fired my best friend after he made a move on her and she kneed him in the balls. Did I mention he's three times her age?
Down below me, the warehouse is quiet, and darkness shrouds the large room. Only one door leads into the main store, and the place reeks of mildew, dust, and mothballs. Four rows of metal shelving are packed to the rafters with artifacts of all kinds. Vases, clocks, things dating from back in ancient times, and dozens upon dozens of wooden crates with God-knows-what stored inside. Magical pieces are his favorite, but if it holds value, Sir Surchion wants it.
Yesterday, Joseline told me about this new item Sir Surchion shipped in. He tried to keep it secret, but his infatuation got the better of him. He called it the ‘Orb of Chaos,’ and it supposedly contained the waters of Hell’s River Styx. Of course, like any good story, the facts are exaggerated, but I don’t care. It’s apparently worth six figures, and that’s what interests me more than anything else.
It’s going to bring in quite a bit of money when I sell it on the magic underground market. Even in the dingy little city of Glenside, there are enough supernaturals living among the humans that extra levels of precaution are put into place to keep us all secret. One being a secret and magically protected market in the city’s basement.
I lower myself in slow motion, scanning the warehouse below. If I were a dirty old man with a hoarding problem, where would I store a prized relic? I try to remember everything Joseline told me during our previous conversations. She’d mentioned it being stashed back here somewhere, but not much else. And since I was doing this without her knowing, it’s not like I could just ask her for more details without sounding suspicious. So, it looks like I am on my own from here.
Closing my eyes, I quiet my thoughts and try to picture the orb in my mind using Joseline's description. A circular glass sphere the size of my fist with silver liquid inside. Like a crystal ball the fortune tellers from the movies use.
Nothing happens at first, but then a flutter of tingles start at the base of my spine, telling me the object is definitely in the room. The sensation creeps down my left leg and ends in my pinkie toe. I flip open my eyes and look down to my foot, which is now pointing to the back right-hand corner of the room.
Perfect.
Don't judge... I may not know exactly what I am, but I like to think I'm special. In my own odd little way. I’m not Wonder Woman by any means, and I can’t conjure up fireballs or predict your future, but I’ve never met anyone else who can detect magic so easily. Spells, charms, hexes—anything touched by magic, I can feel out. Objects are my specialty, and the darker the magic, the better. The evil stuff just likes me I guess.
And right now, this Orb of Chaos is feeling pretty dark to me. The familiar sensation continues to rocket through my body, my Vans pointing in the direction I need to go like a compass’s arrow.
So far, so good. I just need to propel down, grab the thing, and sell it before tomorrow night when I hit eighteen and my foster dad loses legal guardianship over me. Will Murray actually kick me out? That’s a good question. He threatens to all the time, but all my other foster siblings left immediately on their eighteenth birthday, and now I’m the only one left. They figured braving the world on their own was better than living with empty cabinets, roaches, and no heat in the winters. And with the winter months fast approaching, taking a chance was sounding better and better to me too.
I pull at my harness and descend to get this over with, but a few feet from the floor, a faint shuffling sound comes from up ahead. I freeze and jerk my gaze as the door leading into the main store pushes ajar.
My breath wedges in my throat. Sir Surchoin isn't supposed to be here. He never lingers after closing. I've been watching this spot for days to work out his routine, and as Joseline said, he leaves at 6 p.m. on the dot and returns at seven in the morning. Locks and security make the front and rear entrance hard to enter, but the skylight window is always open for his pet crow to come in and out.
A dark form pushes through the door, walking on all fours. Black as the night with a long tail, I watch the animal trot into the warehouse. I squint for a better view, trying to make out the form in the light of the bright green exit sign. A dog. I had no idea Sir Surchion kept guard dogs. Well, that explains why he doesn’t have a security system. Joseline never mentioned any other pets besides the damn bird.
The door pushes wider, and a second animal enters.
Oh, hell!
I wait, dangling and not making a sound, biding my time. If I’m completely still, there’s a chance they’ll leave. Then I'll hop down and use something to block the door, giving me plenty of time to grab the orb and get the heck out of here.
Fifteen minutes later, and the harness’s straps are chafing between my thighs and digging into my legs, while my fingers are stiff from gripping the rope for so long. The mutts pace the front of the warehouse before making themselves comfortable on the floor. Right in the middle of the aisle where my built-in magic detector points to where I need to go.
Bastards.
Sick of hanging around, I curl my hands into fists and concentrate for my next parlor trick.
Come out, Sayah.
Seconds is all it takes for the familiar icy pinpricks to glide across my skin, like being caressed by a ghost. My shadow stretches out from me, elongating and changing shape on its own. Horrifying to witness from an outsider’s perspective, I’m sure, but I’ve grown used to it. Sayah is part of me and my dark little secret. I've even given her a cute name, meaning ‘shadow.’