Page 88 of The Little Shop of Curiosities, The Music Box Part 2

We turn in time to see two thick arms reaching up through the gap, followed by a bald head, then a torso, a pair of buttocks, and, finally, thick legs. The demon stands slowly, its back to us. Its skin looks painful, like it’s made up of lava and covered by a cracked layer of thick, crusty, black volcanic material.

But even as we stare in mute horror, it begins to cool and change. The charred black layer crumbles away and the raw, burning skin banks, changing to a smooth gold. Jet-black hair begins to sprout on his head, coiling into large waves and curls.

Then he turns around.

He looks to me very much like he did in the early nightmares when Cordelia first raised him. It was only later, when he grew in strength and she finally unleashed him on Dr Whyte, that he took his true form.

Thank god he doesn’t have his eight arms. Two are bad enough.

The demon closes his eyes and inhales deeply, the rounded muscles of his pecs rising as his lungs fill, but when he speaks, his voice is so heavy with power it’s almost painful to hear.

“This world smells different.”

My head is spinning and I just want to close my eyes. I try to concentrate on what’s going on around me, but it’s hard. The ghosts have disappeared and Tristan and Danny have been flung out of the way by the demon. I struggle to sit up, to try and help my friends, but my body feels like it’s made of lead and my side burns in pain.

Then a violent swirl of lavender smoke comes from nowhere, the air crackles with energy, and two figures appear, one of them familiar. My skin prickles, the hairs on my arms rise, and I feel another punch of magic, this one way more powerful than the demon’s, and it’s like a double shot of espresso to my system. It doesn’t ease the pain but it clears some of the fog.

The familiar figure is Lucien, the man who first showed us the demon trap. However, I don’t know his companion, a woman of average height, slim, and in her early thirties maybe. She’s pretty, with long, dark, wavy hair, smooth skin, and whiskey-coloured eyes, and dressed casually in jeans and trainers, a leather jacket over her hoodie.

“Well, looks like I showed up just in time.” Her accent is American, which surprises me for some reason.

“Who are you?” The demon growls. “I don’t know what you are. You smell human, yet you are something…other.”

“You demons, you’re all the same.” She huffs. “Smell this, sniff that. You’re like a pack of dogs.”

“Hey,” Lucien says indignantly.

She sends him a look and turns her attention back to the demon. “Okay, since you’ve been stuck in that trap for, what, a century and a half? I’m going to cut you a little slack because you may not be aware of certain current events. With that in mind, I’d like to officially inform you that the Hell dimensions are under new management. That would be me. I’m the new management...Olivia Beckett-West.”

“I will enjoy crushing your bones in my teeth.”

“Demon scum,” Lucien snarls, “kneel before your queen.”

“Lucien.” Olivia gives a sigh and pets him affectionately, almost as if he were a dog. “I thought I asked you to stop calling me that.”

He scowls in response. “But you are my queen.”

“Hell has no queen,” the demon sneers. “It’s Lucifer’s domain.”

“Ah, yes.” She nods. “Um, funny story, but Lucifer is no longer in charge of Hell. In fact, he’s no longer even in Hell. He escaped.” Her gaze hardens as she watches the demon. “Now, as for you. Do you really think I don’t know who you are…Ishaan?”

He glares at her.

“I also know Shiva cast you down into Naraka where you dwelled in eternal torment until you were raised up to Earth by a witch,” she says. “I’m sorry, but it’s time for you to return. You don’t belong on Earth.”

He bares his teeth and gives a feral hiss, his fingers curving into claws. “You are not sending me back. I will burn this world to ashes before I return to that torment.”

“See, I really don’t think you understand who you’re talking to,” Olivia says, and there’s no mistaking the authority in her voice. “I am the Guardian of Infernum.”

“Lies. Infernum is lost,” Ishaan rumbles, but he looks a little less sure of himself.

“No,” she replies evenly. “Not lost. Simply hidden for centuries.”

Olivia lifts her hands and they burst into flames, but the flames are bright green.

Sucking in a sharp breath, I feel Sam’s grip on me tighten in recognition.

It’s the same fire I accidentally conjured in the judge’s house.