We used to work as one, and still did—unless it came to her. If she entered the room or my mind even for a split second, they pushed and begged to be released. The last time I struggled this hard to keep them contained was when the council first created me—back when I was just learning about my semi-sentient power. Sometimes they had a mind of their own, did things without my command. But that was years ago. I thought we were past that petulant stage—until last week.
A soul groaned off to my left as I passed. A blood-banded warrior beat in his face, splitting his cheek. My lips pressed together, still unnerved by the fact the dead didn’t bleed.
I gave the almost-empty arena a once-over before I left. Tomorrow, it’d be filled with new souls and blood-banded. Tomorrow, they’d realize exactly what horror they brought upon themselves.
Back in my room, I shucked off my sweaty clothes and hopped into the shower.
“For fuck’s sake,” I hissed, cringing as the icy water hit my back.
Someone must’ve pissed off Lucifer today. Hell was fortunate to have running water—unlike Elora—but unfortunately, Lucifer’s moods controlled the temperature.
Stepping out, I paused on my only colored tattoo, like I did every day. The band of red circled my left bicep, a glaring reminder of my precarious situation.
As a living soul in Hell, to stay without consequences, I needed Lucifer’s blood tattooed into my arm. He decided who among theliving could reside in Hell before their time. But it came at a steep price.
I questioned the deal I made with Lucifer every day.
Having two alpha males with equal power in one domain amounted to a volatile atmosphere. But once we figured out our odd dynamic and he gave me a semblance of my control back, we came to a fragile truce. Then, when Saraqael left him, he no longer cared about changing leadership—and my guilt slid away.
The blood-band seemed like a saving grace for the last twenty years, even with Hell imploding. But after all these new developments with Saraqael and her daughter, the guilt snuck back in, sinking heavy in my gut.
I believed in truth—and yet, I never told him that if I ever found the items for the Unmaking Ceremony and replaced him as king, there was a chance he’d die.
I didn’t think that made me a bad male—only a desperate one.
Because if I’d told him the truth, I wouldn’t be a general. I wouldn’t have free rein in the Redemption Circle. No—I’d be his slave. And I swore to myself, I’d never,neverlet that happen again.
I slipped on my uniform and strapped my dual blades to my back.After combing through my short hair, I glanced at Tsal-mawet secured to my weapons wall, then headed to the Hall of Judgment on the other side of the castle.
On my way, I tuned into Rune and felt a calm happiness from my Soulhound. The ease with which I connected to her mind gave me a sense of peace I hadn’t had for the last ten years. I realized I had needed her back, and our connection restored.
I nudged awareness at her, forcing her awake so I could see the female. I groaned. No wonder Rune fell asleep. The female did too.
Wake her up, Rune. She needs to get ready.
Rune sent me a feeling of confirmation and licked the female’s cheek. She smiled in her sleep, doing horrible things to my nerves. Rune, seeing the lack of opening eyes, slobbered all over her face.
I smirked, and the female laughed. I separated the visual connection the moment she opened her captivating, starry eyes and sent Rune a feeling of gratitude.
Hopefully, the female would be ready when I came to fetch her.
I really had to stop thinking about her asthe female,or I’d start calling her that. But I needed something else besides Lucille.
My shadows sank their claws into the seductive syllables and darkened my vision. I shivered. This loss of control drove me insane. I didn’t have the luxury to be anything but composed and unshakeable.
But the instant my shadows connected with her mind, the manipulative, revolting bond woke up. Immediately, I blocked her side of the connection—and my own. I wanted nothing from her, and I’d give her nothing in return. I’d have her trained and keep her alive, but it ended there. She was a job—only orders. I was lucky I didn’t have to personally train her.
Now, if only my shadows would listen and quit challenging my restraint.
The tall doors of the Hall of Judgment came into view. Each one depicted a story. One door, blood red, illustrated souls begging for mercy in each of the Seven Circles of Hell on their journey toredemption. The other, pure white, illustrated joyful souls on their way to Heaven after paying the price for their sins.
Hell gained an influx of souls when the gates opened last week—so many souls that had been waiting in limbo to descend to Hell for their judgment. Now, Lucifer and I had to work overtime to send them to their respective circle.
Fortunately for them, Hell wasn’t necessarily their last stop. They received the chance to redeem themselves—unless they were too corrupted and weak to ascend. Then they were stuck in Hell forever, suffering in the lower circles.
A Damned Soul.
A type of soul that shouldn’t even be able to breach the Redemption Circle. Yet here I was, entering the hall to help Lucifer interrogate one.
