I look over at Graham. It’s not like we haven’t been together before, but something about this time felt like more.
“I’m not usually good at sharing, baby, but I’m happy to explore whatever this is between us. Especially if that means I get to keep having you.” I say, wrapping my tattoo up.
“I agree.” Graham says. “I don’t like to share, but I can’t deny I feel… pulled to you both.” He runs his hand through his hair. My heart stutters in my chest as he locks eyes with me.
“So, we agree.” Skye says her face beaming with happiness.
“Yeah baby, we agree.” She hugs us both and then winces.
“This thing really freaking hurts.” She says and I laugh.
“Are you guys hungry?” Graham asks, making Skye and I look at each other in amusement.
“Yeah, I’m starving. Lead the way.” Skye says.
I follow them out the door and feel a sense of happiness that I haven’t felt in a while. It makes me want to talk to Pierce more than anything. He would have fucking loved this for me.
ChapterFifty-Three
PIERCE
SONG: MY BODY IS A CAGE BY ARCADE FIRE
I’m being pulled out of my chains and thrust into shackles that I can walk in, flanked by two muscular guards that could snap me in half without a second thought. Their skin is gray with black horns on their heads. They wear matching uniforms made of black leather that shows off their abs and toned thighs.
As they jostle the shackles, I glance at the mirror and watch as Salem washes soot from her face. I frown, wondering what the hell happened to her. She looks shell shocked. I ache to go to her. To hold her in my arms and tell her it’s okay.
Fucking Emmet. He better not be going after her.
I know she can hold her own, but I have no qualms about ripping him apart for putting her through Hell. For deceiving us all. I’d love to get my hands on that piece of shit.
I take one more glance at Salem, wishing like hell that I could run to her, hold her in my arms just one more time.
The guards drag me out of the cell and down the damp corridor.
I take in the multitude of skulls that line the walls. A dark red glow comes from the end of the tunnel, making the shadows dance over the gaping eye sockets of the skulls, staring at us as we walk by. The tunnel curves upwards on a slight slope.
Several screams echo through the hallway followed closely by the sounds of whips. One of the guards yanks on my chains making me trip. He growls at me, the stench of his breath hits me square in the face, I grimace, but I’m aware mine is probably no better. Fuck, my dentist is going to have a field day with me if I ever make it back.
We come to the end of the hall and see a huge expanse full of thin paths made of stone that span over a bubbling red river of lava that snakes throughout the area. It feels like a million degrees down here, I’m sweating profusely as I follow the guards over the stone bridge. There are no rails to stop someone from falling straight into the molten lava. As we walk, I see another area that’s sectioned off with barbed wire, where a mass of bodies writhes together crying out in agony. The bodies seem to be snagging themselves against the wires. It hits them in their eyes, their stomachs, as they’re pushed against it, crowded together like a pack of sardines.
I falter in my steps, remembering the arms that pulled me down into this hellscape.
“Those are the lost.” A guard explains. “They’ve been locked down here by a coven of witches for hundreds of years.”
“For what?”
“For the evil they unleashed above. They’re stuck here, being tortured over and over again for their sins. Stuck in an endless loop of pain.”
I wonder if that’s who the headmaster had been trying to free.
We make it over the bridge and enter what looks like a throne room, complete with an ornate chair that’s laden with gold coated skulls that spans from the ground to the high ceiling. The throne’s cushions are blood red. On the wall behind the chair, a river of blood seems to be pouring down the ceiling onto the throne.
The guards lead me into a room that sits off to the side of the expansive room, complete with a large chamber. There are chairs which line the walls in layers, and most of the chairs are full. A dais is situated in the front with a chair set squarely in the middle. They strap me down to the chair, making sure my chains are pulled through an iron circle on the floor, locking me into place.
A large demon with a gray beard beats a gavel calling order to the room. The conversations halt, as they respectfully take their seats. Demons of all shapes and sizes lean in to see where I’m seated.
“Councilors, we’ve heard from the demon Pride. Now, let’s hear from his host. State your name for the record.”
