Fear, regret, and rage burn my eyes with waiting tears.
“Don’t make me, don’t make me.” The words echo off my lips like a whispered prayer that goes unanswered. I’ve asked this many times now, and nothing can stop my Prod from devouring me whole.
Why is this happening? What am I doing here? There was something I had to do, somewhere I had to go, but past the haze of my own torturous agony, I can’t fucking remember…
“The sixth circle of hell is unpleasant, don’t you think?”
That,thatis new. My head snaps up and where Professor Shade once stood, someone else has taken his place.
It’s the face of darkness and nightmares. Of terror and pain. A shadow given form that I can’t quite make out, but know.
Because he’s the bastard that brought me to hell.
Everything comes back to me like a jolt. I remember prom, the Messenger, the portal. Except, instead of going back to the Academy I landed here.
The sixth circle of hell?
He sits on the chair that Professor Shade used, one shadowy leg crossed arrogantly over the other as those bottomless pits of eyes regard me with piteous amusement.
“Gets rather boring after a while, though.” He heaves a sigh and throws one smoking arm across the back of the chair. “The start of the torture is fun, but such repetitiveness… eventually the victims end up slobbering on the floor, traumatized.”
“It was an… illusion…?”
“Do try to keep up, dearest. For being a spawn of hell you’re rather slow. Can’t blame you, though. Your father’s fault. Never really liked children. Just wanted to wreak chaos across the world...”
“Tell my father he can go to hell. I’ll never sit at his side.”
The shadow looks bored with my pronouncement. “‘Go to hell’? Really? Sweet human child, he alreadyisin hell. It’s not as bad as many think. We have our amusements…” His gaze slides to the floor and my eyes followed to where the bodies of Malek, Saint, Syko, and Phoenix are piled on top of each other. He steps carelessly over them like they’re just another stain on the tile.
I quickly look away.
Just an illusion, just an illusion.
“Who the fuck are you?” I snap, braver than I actually feel.
In a blink, his smoking form is gone. In another, he’s before me. Shadows swirl over his head to form the image of a top hat he takes off and bows. “Forgive my manners, princess. I am Osmodeus, ruler of the sixth circle of hell. Welcome to my domain.”
My brain racks through all the information I got from Mr. Toad’s class on Prodigiums. We studied all types. Banshees and bullhorns and shifters.
And then I remember.
Osmodeus, a higher demon of hell, one of Lucian Morningstar’s loyal followers and my father’s as well, apparently.
The bastard.
“What do you want from me?” My voice shakes, but I search inside myself for the power of my Prod.
I’ve spent too much time here already.
“A little torture of your human mind for starters. Maybe submission.” He plops back onto the chair and the smoke rolling off of him disappears into little wisps. “Answers to a couple of questions.”
“Questions?”
“I want to know why you are trying to escape hell when all you could ever desire is down here?”
I look around with a raised eyebrow. “You think I desire some two-cent academy ripoff?”
A trickle of laughter flitters from his throat. “My, but you are amusing. Is the decor not to your liking? Thisiswhere you were trying to escape to is it not?” When I don’t answer, his fingers wave me off. “Doesn’t matter where you go. You cannot escape, and I plan on keeping you here until your father comes for you.”
