8

MAL

I t had been a week since the council members came to visit. Lucifer, Quelier, Desmond, and Bash had been working tirelessly to renovate Pit 13. It was all they talked about at meetings, meals, and even the few spare hours we had at night. The very thought of returning to that place made my stomach sour, so I spent my evenings in the compound’s library. The room was the size of the training facility, with two long rows of shelves toward the center. The decor was starkly different from the rest of the barrack-style compound. Dark woods, rich velvets, and a plush rug added an air of splendor that drew me in. The corners were lounge areas with couches, chairs, and poufs where people could relax while they read. It was smaller than the library I once had on my estate centuries ago, but it was a deserted fortress where I could take time to myself. Every time I left proved more difficult than the last.

Living with four other men in an underground compound filled to the max with soldiers could be overwhelming to say the least. I felt like I was never alone, like someone was always watching me. This hideaway was a place I could be myself and take a breather from everything.

And a place I can let my anxiety and fear spiral in private.

I shifted to my Hellbound form, then sat in the giant poofy bean bag thing all the way in the back, behind the rows of bookshelves. I hated this version of myself. My horns were crooked, lopsided on either side of my head. My face was covered in fur, and my eyes were large, yellow orbs that unnerved the few people I let see me this way. My teeth were sharp, snaggled, and horrendously ugly. Everything about my shifted form was disgusting. But that was the point, wasn’t it?

Being a Hellbound was the ultimate form of punishment. I was bound to Hell for eternity, doomed to feed off the fear and misery of others in repentance for my sins. The atrocity I caused because of the ugliness on the inside was now plain as day for others to see on the outside.

I may have been turned into a demon for all intents and purposes…but I was a hideous, parasitic monster.

It wasn’t enough that I was punished every day for my sins, but now I had to go back to Pit 13. Where I endured torture that I couldn’t even allow myself to think about, let alone speak to Diana about when she asked me. Both times she mentioned it, I changed the subject. It was bad enough she knew about my late wife, but I didn’t want her to know how Pit 13 tortured me with what I did to her.

Correction, I am a hideous, parasitic, coward-monster.

Even though Lucifer and Judas hadn’t picked an official date, I knew we were moving soon. Everyone had their things packed for days, just waiting for the orders. I saw them leave with Quelier, Ares, Michael, and Desmond to fortify Pit 13 from outside, where it bordered the rest of Hell. It was the only place we could isolate ourselves and staunch the flow of information from our rat. We had no other option. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to alter it or create an exit, but that was a pipe dream.

“Hiding in the library again?” a smooth, lightly accented voice said to me. I knew that voice, and cringed when I saw Azazel looking at me, in my hellbound form. I shifted back, and he shook his head at me, sitting in the giant pouf next to me. His streamlined, muscular body sank into it, and he let loose a contented sigh.

How can anyone be so relaxed around me after seeing me this way?

“You never have to hide from me. I’ve known what your hellbound form looked like since before I even met you,” he shared while he pulled his long, curly hair back into a top knot.

“Your Sight?” I asked. That explains why he didn’t look unsettled when we had completed the ritual to find Lucifer.

“Mhm. My shifted form is also a punishment of sorts. Being disgraced is the ultimate black mark an angel can have above getting their wings ripped off. Now whenever I shift, I get a goat head. It’s a baaaaaad image to have,” he said, making the word bad sound like a goat bleat.

I managed a small laugh, because despite how anxious I felt, that was the corny humor I secretly loved. Of course Azazel knew, because he was thoughtful like that. He shifted into his disgraced form, and it was very similar to how Lucifer appeared. I swallowed my fear and self loathing down, shifting back to my hellbound form.

We sat in a comfortable silence, until he brought up the subject I had been avoiding since we returned. “What did you experience in Pit 13 that makes you so scared to go back?”

My first instinct was to shut him down or lie, but something about Azazel made it hard to not confide in him. He was so nice . So good . I never told Diana this, but even though she had been furious at him for lying to her about Marilyn…I understood the lie. It was the kind of tough decision someone of his caliber made. The good of the many over his own conscience.

“I’m assuming between your Sight and sources, you know why I was made into a Hellbound?” I hedged. If I didn’t have to put myself through the emotional turmoil of explaining it again, I wouldn’t.

He nodded. “The broad strokes.”

“My personal Hell was experiencing what I did to her. Not the way I feel her fear whenever I feed to recharge my magic. I actually experienced it from her perspective. Whenever it ended, I would get some reprieve, but when I least expected it, it would happen again.”

He angled himself so he was facing me and ran his fingers through my hair, playing with the straight strands which differed so much from his own. “I can’t blame you for not wanting to go back. I’m nervous about it too.”

I knew what I did was unforgivable—and deserved to suffer everyday for eternity—but his words brought me comfort. I felt like less of a coward knowing that someone else was just as worried as me about returning to that place.

“What was your personal Hell?” I asked. His fingers paused as he mulled over his words. Maybe I had asked him something too personal?

“I shared with Diana at first, watching mean girls from school bully her. I wasn’t able to help her, and it brought me back to my guardian angel days, when I had to sit on the sidelines and watch my charges make awful decisions. But then he changed it to how I almost lost myself after I was disgraced…let’s just say I had a really rough, dark time.” He laughed dryly, then ran his tongue over his bottom lip in thought. “I made peace with my disgracing centuries ago, though. Most of my torture was feeling my heart break after I hurt Diana. That was the worst pain I ever experienced, including when Red shot my wing. When I thought I lost her, my whole world came crashing down.”

A few tears rolled down his face, and I wrapped him in my arms. I used my shirt sleeve to wipe them away. Azazel’s ability to be so vulnerable astounded me. I knew Ares, Bash, and Desmond didn’t do it on purpose, but sometimes they acted so…strong. They had their own crosses to bear, but they shoved their pain so deep sometimes that it was easy to forget they had it. Having Diana in our lives made all four of us more open to our feelings, but we still had a long way to go.

“I felt the same way after I stabbed her…” I hated thinking about how I hurt another woman I loved. “I deluded myself into thinking I hated her so much and didn't care about her one bit. But I fell in love with her. Then I got brainwashed into stabbing her.”

“If it makes you feel any better, you stabbing her was the catalyst that brought us all together. It brought both her fathers into her life.” He smiled at me. His beauty in this moment was so striking, I leaned over to kiss his cheek.

“Awww, did we interrupt a cuddle session?” Bash teased us. He and Ares made their way back to us, smiles on their faces.

How many people know about my hiding place, for fuck’s sake.

“You cuddled without me! Why do you hate me so much?!” Ares whined as he jumped on top of us, deflating our bean bag and smushing us into the floor. “All I ever wanted was to be the center of a cuddle orgy and no one ever invites me!”

“Wow, A-Bomb. I wonder why?” Bash deadpanned.

Ares’ tattooed arm rested over my face as the weight of his enormous body crushed me. I caught a sniff of his armpit, and it was zesty. Manly. As much as I enjoyed the scent, I was super uncomfortable with his weight on me, so I bit him to make him move. He only snuggled us harder, burying his face in Azazel’s hair like a complete creep.

“Pack your things, gentlemen. We’re moving to Pit 13 tomorrow,” Bash announced.

Are you going to be okay? Azazel linked me. Despite our ability to mindlink, we rarely directly linked each other outside of group conversations. I almost forgot we could.

I think so… I answered him honestly. If I wasn’t, I knew he’d be there for me.

“So everything is done?” Azazel shifted, taking more of Ares’ weight, thank the moon.

“Yes, the key was for Lucifer and Quelier, the people who created it in the first place, to use their magic in tandem to fix it. You should have seen him needle your beloved F-I-L over the exit placement, and the protection wards. I’ve never seen Michael laugh so hard in my life.” Bash rolled his sleeves up before dragging Ares off us, much to his dislike. “I guess he doesn’t have a boring-stick up his ass, afterall.”

“Y’all may not realize it, but Michael is actually crazy on the inside. I’ve seen him do some out of control shit before I got disgraced. Anyone who’s voluntarily with someone like Lucifer can’t be mentally sound,” Azazel commented.

“Excuse you,” I cut in. “Marilyn Rossi is an absolute saint. The mother we all want and deserve, and if you dare ever say anything ill about my favorite in-law again, I will bar you from joining the Marilyn Rossi Fan Club.”

“Trust me, my sister is an absolute lunatic. She hides it better than Michael,” Angela laughed.

“How did none of us hear you coming?” Bash gave her a weird look.

She sat next to me on the gigantic bean bag, putting her book in her lap. “I am a witch, you know. I may not have the same level of magic you all do, but I can cast a halfway decent silencing spell. You’ll never hear me coming. Anywho, y’all are so loud, I heard you all the way from my side of the library. How long do we have to pack?”

“We leave at 0700 sharp,” Ares complained.

“Oh, wow. It sucks that I have to pack my stuff all by myself! Packing is so hard, and I feel so overwhelmed!” Angela dramatically said in a louder tone than usual. Apollo appeared with a loud pop and a huge smile on his face.

“ Omorfiá mou , you are never alone, for I am your shadow,” he practically purred in his thick Greek accent. No wonder he was considered the god of poetry. He had some game.

“Can you take me back to my room and help me pack?” She fluttered her eyelashes, and Apollo drooled, his heart eyes comically large.

“Anything for you,” he cooed before taking her hand and fading her out.

“We aren’t that bad with Diana, right?” Was Bash seriously inquiring? It was cute he didn’t know he was way worse.

“No,” Azazel said with a straight face. “We’re all so much worse. Besotted, obsessed, however you want to say it. Seems you have a contender for your Best Stalker Ever award…”

“You little shit,” he pulled Azazel off the beanbag, then faded him out of the room.

Ares and I followed them out, choosing to walk instead. I wasn’t excited to go to Pit 13, even if Quelier and Lucifer renovated it to be the perfect paranormal military compound. But I’d suck it up.

Our safety depended on it.