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CHAPTER 1

DAVE

Demons were real.

It was either that or Dave was completely losing his mind—for real this time—and he didn’t think he was.

It made no sense.

One second, he was at the stupid seance the friends of his best friend’s boyfriend had organized. Dave had thought it was stupid, but seances were in now, and Jordan had insisted. He wanted to merge their friends groups and be a happy family or something, and Dave had never been good at telling him no.

Things got a bit fuzzy after that. He swore he’d just blinked, something had happened that had involved flames swirling beneath his eyelids, and he’d landed here.

It looked like a prison cell, only it smelled so strongly of sulfur that it was burning his nostrils, the bars in the one wall that wasn’t just volcanic stones burned his hands when he touched them… oh, and he now had voices in his head.

Demonic voices.

How long do you think it’s gonna take him to process?

Humans are stupid.

Do you think Melchom is going to accept him?

He’s not really his type.

But he’s a David. Melchom likes those.

Dave’s eyes watered, hands clutching at the strands of wavy honey locks he’d spent way too long styling just hours before.

The voices hadn’t stopped since he’d opened his eyes to… whatever this was.

He would’ve thought someone had spiked his drink or given him an edible without him noticing, but then he’d seen the shadows and the lanky red-skinned demon that reminded him of the cartoons he used to watch when his parents weren’t home. His hallucinations were never so visual. Not to mention his hands still hurt from clutching the bars, and he thought he was going to pass out if the sulfur didn’t burn his nose off first.

Was that even possible?

He’s one of the dramatic ones.

Was that sass in the voice? And why did it have to be so high-pitched?

Dave would show them dramatic if he could except, apparently, demons didn’t like to show themselves or something, instead preferring to play mind tricks from a safe distance.

Instead, he gritted his teeth and sat down on the volcanic stones that made up the floor. He figured it didn’t matter if his clothes got ruined by the jagged stones, or if his skin was scratched or even torn by them. A, his hands were already useless. B, if he really was in Hell, as the voices had oh-so-kindly explained when he’d first showed up there, the damage the stones could inflict would be the least of his problems, right?

Arms wrapped around his legs, head buried between his knees, Dave let out a faint whimper. After all, what was the point of keeping a strong facade? They could get inside his fucking head.

He’d never been known for acting tough, anyway. No one looked at him and thought he’d be a threat or someone to take seriously. Only Jordan believed he was the most likely to stab someone if left unleashed.

Dave sniffled. What would Jordan be doing now?

Was he also in a cell like him? Was everyone from the seance now trapped here? Or were they still at the warehouse, chanting words they probably didn’t even understand? They would’ve realized he was gone, but… How? Had he just disappeared in a puff of smoke? What if they thought he was pulling some stupid prank, so they weren’t even searching for him?

He shook his head. Thinking like that was not going to help.

How much longer was he expected to wait still, anyway?

Melchom is busy. Melchom will come fetch you when he finishes his duties.

He had a meeting with the Princes of Hell today, remember?