Lust.
I swallowed as the bystanders turned away from us, seeming to find us uninteresting in comparison to whatever they were watching at the bottom of the cliffs below. They leaned over the railing, their attention fixated in a way that made my skin crawl. I didn’t even know what it was they watched yet, but something in the flush of their cheeks and the intimate positioning they took with their partners was confirmation enough that I did not want to be here.
Beelzebub gave me a moment to acclimate as he straightened and stepped up beside me, turning his head to stare down at me as I watched the bystanders on the patio. “What are they looking at?” I asked, hating that I needed the answer. I needed to prepare myself for what I was about to see, for the suffering I would witness that had somehow become entertainment. The legends of what occurred in the Nine Circles constantly circulated in Hollow’s Grove; they were a message to enjoy our time and live to the fullest of our ability with little regard for piety. What difference did it make when you were already damned simply for possessing magic from the Source in the first place?
“They’re watching the souls who are not currently in Asmodeus’s favor,” he explained, taking the first step forward. It was slow, giving me time to ease into the motion and grasp the words before we reached the steps that would lead us up to what I had to assume was a viewing platform. “They remain nude for an eternity, and they’re dragged over the cliffs so that their flesh that so defined their sins is torn and shredded on the rock. The Second Circle strips them of their worldly beauty, turning them into nothing but meat and bone.”
“And these people watching? Are they the demons native to the Second Circle?” I asked. The horror that filled me knowing that this was like foreplay, that this sign of violence had somehow become twisted into something arousing in this house of horrors, came with a sudden gasp that I suppressed with a choked sound. I couldn’t even be surprised, not when I’d personally witnessedwhat humanity was capable of. We were the ones who were supposed to have a conscience, who were supposed to care what happened to our own kind.
Demons had always been known to be cruel, to enjoy and thrive on the suffering of others. Of course they would get off on the torment here, reveling in the tearing and rending of flesh.
“Some, but not most. Most of Asmodeus’s demons are too busy with the festivities inside to occupy their time out here,” he said, shocking me as I studied the collection of maybe ten pairs lingering along the boardwalk-type patio.
“These are souls condemned to Lust? Why are they not condemned to the same fate as the ones on the cliffs?” I asked, hesitantly taking the elbow he offered as we reached the bottom of the steps. He guided me up them slowly, and I felt completely out of place as I took in the attire of those lingering on the patio. The dresses and tuxedos were formal, but they were far more indecent than I would have expected of any event above the surface. The men who wore tuxedos had long since lost their coats, their dress shirts unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up. Some men wore their ties tied around their throat in a tight knot that was held in an iron grip by their partner; others had already unfastened their belts.
I clenched my teeth at the sight, shifting my attention to the woman closest to me. Her deep ruby gown skimmed the floor, but the fabric was mostly sheer. A single panel that was not see-through hid her intimate places from view. The top was lace and dipped low in the front, the back bare in a way that seemed to be a cross between lingerie and an evening gown. In spite of the revealed flesh, she moved in a way that was all confidence, comfortable in her nudity in a way that I could never hope to achieve. So many of the Reds were similar above the surface, seeing their bodies as something to be embraced and wielding their sexuality like a weapon. There’d been days when I’d dreamt of feeling that way about my skin, days when I’d wondered what it would feel like not to wish I could hide every inch of myself, to disguise theevidence of my abuse that came in the scars that lingered both on my skin and in my mind.
She was beautiful, tossing her head back lightly with the quiet murmur of a chuckle as her painted red lips spread into a blinding smile, her dark hair cascading down over her bare back and brushing against the curve of her ass.
Asmodeus approached the couple, trailing the backs of his fingers over the woman’s cheek in a moment that felt like a betrayal of everything I knew about genuine affection. It was far more intimate than I’d have expected given her proximity to another man, hinting at a relationship that extended back further than this night.
“Amelia Erotes has been with Asmodeus since her death,” Beelzebub said, answering the unvoiced question.
Erotes.
Asmodeus glanced toward us, a sly smile spreading over his handsome face when he took in Beelzebub’s presence. That gaze dropped to me, the outer ring of his eye so black it was like a night without any light. The center of it was a deep red, bleeding out into the black circle and blending seamlessly. I wanted nothing more than to turn away from that knowing stare, feeling it sink inside me as he held out an arm for the woman at his side without looking away. She took it, following the direction of his attention.
Her brow rose, and I wondered if she knew what I was. If she had seen enough of her descendants end up in the Second Circle that she knew how to tell us apart from all the rest. From the humans who were guilty of the very sin that so defined our lives. I tore my gaze away, looking at Beelzebub where he stood beside me. The building towered behind him, extending seemingly into the stratosphere, but the ground level consisted of a wall of windows with no interruption to the sightlines of the cliffs where the rest of the souls confined here suffered.
Inside, the light was dim and red, making it difficult to see what was happening within.
The only thing I could make out was movement, writhing masses of motion that made me turn away as my chest and cheeks heated with embarrassment. I should have been expecting something of that nature, given where we were, but to be confronted with it so publicly was another thing entirely. Beelzebub covered my hand with his where it rested over his arm, the soft touch doing nothing to still the racing of my heart.
I felt the magic of the Second Circle dancing over my skin, tormenting me as it brought all the things back to the surface that I was determined to shove down into the well of power within me. But I could do this. I could witness the acts that had scarred me and walk out the other side.
So long as no one touched me, I would survive.
“Margot,” Asmodeus said with a familiarity he hadn’t earned. He and Amelia stopped in front of us, her head tilting to the side as if she could see exactly what I was. “I can’t imagine you’ve yet had the opportunity to meet your ancestor. This is Amelia, the original Erotes witch.”
Amelia took my hand in hers, cradling it gently as she touched her thumb to my wrist and waited. “Your heart still beats,” she said, her voice low and soft, more disbelief than anything. Her own thumb did not echo with the steady rhythm of a heartbeat. It couldn’t, I realized.
Because Amelia was long since dead.
I nodded, pulling my hand back. I forced it to happen slowly, escaping her touch as if it didn’t bother me horribly to feel her skin against mine.
“What is she doing here?” Amelia asked, rounding on Asmodeus. I expected the archdemon to reprimand her tone, to remind her of her place in the circle he ruled over. Instead he chuckled, the sound potent in the air. It touched me, raising the hair on my arms as it tried to sink inside, a seduction in itself and laced with the very magic Lucifer had given to the Red witches.
“Relax, pet,” Asmodeus said affectionately, running his fingersthrough Amelia’s hair. “She fell through the gates in the battle with Michael, just the same as the rest of us.”
Appeased, Amelia leaned in with a soft smile, pressing her mouth to my cheek demurely. I returned the favor even as my skin crawled with nerves at the very notion of being touched here, like tiny insects crawling over me in a warning of what was to come.
I’d have preferred the bugs.
“Why don’t you take her to change into something more appropriate for tonight’s festivities?” Asmodeus asked, his gaze narrowing sharply on the place where I gripped Beelzebub’s arm tightly.
“That’s not necessary. We’re just passing through,” Beelzebub answered, offering another pat of reassurance.
“Oh no, Iinsist,” Asmodeus returned, his teeth gleaming as he stressed the word. Something passed between him and Beelzebub, some kind of silent communication that felt far more political than brotherly. “Amelia has thrown me such a lovely party to celebrate my return, I would be remiss if Margot was not given ample opportunity to get to know Amelia and the future that awaits her.”
