Chapter Twelve
Natia
Taurus philosophy: I’ll believe it when I see it.
The descent into Hell’s Hole is more ominous now that I understand I am breaching the dimensional barrier between Earth and Hell. The candlelit dusty tunnel spits out a gang of gods, goddesses, and magic wielders, so it’s not a surprise when the few occupants scamper to the corners then out. Frank the bartender arches an eyebrow at me as I perch on the stool where we’d previously met whilst Shinedown’s “Devil” plays in the background. How apt.
“The bar is closed until further notice,” Lucifer barks at Frank.
Emi swans past Frank with a wink and he nods at her as he polishes a wine glass. “Themis.”
He places the glass on the shelf behind him and spins to face me. “Thought you were dead,” he says.
I shrug. “Death didn’t stick. Black isn’t my color.”
He smirks. “Death would be a shame for a beauty such as you.”
Archan slides onto the stool next to me and glowers at Frank. I touch his arm. “Play nice, Frank is my friend.”
Zee parks his ass on my other side and eyeballs Frank, his gaze snagging on the scars on his neck. “Making friends with the creeps of the underworld, as usual,” Zee mutters.
“Not just any creep,” Archan says, rapping his knuckles on the wooden bar. Frank smiles and grabs a crystal cut glass and pours whiskey into it. “You made friends with the original manmade monster.”
Frank slides the glass towards Archan. I look between them. “What am I missing?”
Frank points to his scars on his neck. “Imagine bolts.”
My mouth drops open and I rear back. “No way, but that was the name of the doctor who created you. Not your name.” I snap my fingers. “Your name was Adam.”
He tilts his head. “Originally, but the public made the mistake of calling me Frankenstein so often the name stuck.”
Zee slams his hand on the bar and starts laughing. “Seriously, Natia, you walk into a demon bar and make friends with one of the most notorious monsters ever? Only you.”
“There are worse friends to make. I got you, don’t I?” I mutter.
Frank rolls his eyes as Archan’s lips twitch. A rumble wobbles my stool. My eyes widen as Archan grabs me around my waist, shoves me to the floor, and covers my body with his. A loud groan of protest rocks the building and dust falls from the ceiling. I wiggle underneath him as shouts of alarm reach my ears. “Stay down,” Archan grumbles as I peek over his arm. The chandeliers are rocking back and forth in a dangerous swing.
A blast of energy flashes through the club. The tables and chairs fly across the room and smash into the bar. Glass shatters, and the structure of the underground chamber rumbles in an inhuman cacophony, which raises the hair on my arms. A crack appears across the wooden slats of the floor, and it tears apart in a jarring motion. Random debris descends into the hole. My gaze darts around the room, hunting for the guys.
“They’re fine,” Archan says into my ear. “Jed and Lucifer have them behind the bar.”
“Why aren’t we teleporting out?” I wonder.
“Because we need to know what is coming, and we don’t run from a fight, you know this by now.”
The noise stops as suddenly as it started. Dust flows around the room in a gentle caress in opposition to the violence which put it there. I push on Archan’s shoulder and he looks down at me. “You okay?” he asks.
“Apart from being squashed by a big assed god with dominance issues.”
He quirks a brow, plants a quick kiss on my lips, then stands in a fluid motion. He offers me his hand, which I take and heave myself up. I spin to take in the carnage. Lucifer, Jed, Zac, Duncan and Aaden appear from behind the bar on the opposite side of the chasm that has formed between us. Zee, Frank, and Emi raise their heads from our side of the bar.
I suck in my first deep breath since the commotion started. Everyone is safe. “Everyone okay?” I say.
A chorus of affirmations makes my pulse settle.
Frank leaps over the bar. “Sir, if you will allow me?”
I gasp as Archan spins around, displaying a twelve inch piece of wood protruding from his back. Frank puts one hand on his back, the other on the wood, and yanks it out. I wince in sympathy. Archan looks over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Natia, you can kiss it better later.”
