Page 12 of Discord and Cinder (Fire Witches of Salem #7)
CINDER
M y head pounded like someone was beating it with a heavy rubber mallet over and over and over. My stomach roiled, and I rolled to my side, dry heaving, which meant I had already expelled whatever food it had contained when I’d arrived in the Underworld. Lovely.
“What the actual eff?” I hoped to Hecate I didn’t get anything on my dress. From the way Discord had described Lucifer, I doubted he’d appreciate me wearing my lunch to dinner. Speaking of my demon…
“Discord?” I rasped, my throat dry and rough. I opened my eyes, and shadows encircled my field of vision. Floating pinpricks of light danced around it too, making it hard to focus.
A shadow moved in front of me, and the scraping sound of metal rings on a pole pierced my skull as he shoved the curtains aside.
A dust cloud billowed from the fabric, and reddish-orange light spilled into the room, making me squint and cough at the same time.
I sat up and clutched my aching head. “Ow.”
“Can you stand? Lucifer expected us ten minutes ago.” He stood in front of me and offered his hand. I didn’t accept it.
“What the hell just happened to me? Why do I feel so sick?” The haze in my vision dissipated, and I took in my surroundings. I sat on some kind of fainting couch made of black wood and midnight blue upholstery. Black slate covered the floor, and red runes and sigils covered the walls.
Discord gestured with his hand again, silently suggesting I take it. “I used demon magic to bend the space between the town and the palace to get us here faster. Apparently, your body can’t handle that kind of power.”
“Ya think?” I laughed dryly and let him tug me to my feet. My head spun, and I clutched both his arms to steady myself. “Where are we?”
“In my chambers. We were able to slip in undetected, but we mustn’t keep Lucifer waiting any longer. Can you manage?” He stepped out of my grasp, and thankfully, I didn’t topple.
“You live in Lucifer’s palace?” I swept my gaze across the room. A chest of drawers in the same black wood as the couch stood against one wall, and a massive floor-to-ceiling window provided a view of the gothic gardens below.
“I did. We’ll find out if I still do soon enough.”
“What’s the plan? You’re obviously not going to offer me up to the devil, since our souls are connected.
And I’m obviously not going to disconnect us since this bond is the only thing guaranteeing my safety.
” Not that I could undo it if I wanted to.
Hopefully I could find some directions in the grimoire I had in my…
“Where’s my backpack?”
“It’s hidden. As for our plan, you must follow my lead. I can’t predict Lucifer’s mood nor his thoughts about my return. I will test the waters and decide from there. You must go along with whatever I say.”
I crossed my arms. “The hell I must. Last time I followed your lead, I ended up bruised and burned inside a prison cell.”
“We’ve established that keeping your soul intact is as important to me as it is to you. I am the only thing standing between you and complete obliteration, so I suggest you do as I say.”
I pursed my lips, searching my mind for a witty comeback…or a better plan. I found neither. “Fine. We’ll do it your way, but once we’re out of this palace, you’re returning my supplies and my weapons.”
His lips twitched as if he were fighting a grin. “Done.”
I started to demand he help me find my parents, too, but that was a merry-go-round of conversation I didn’t care to have again.
If I made it out of the palace alive…unobliterated…
I might revisit it. For now, I’d glean as much information as I could about where bargained souls ended up in this goddess-forsaken realm, and then I’d find them myself.
“This way.” He strode toward the wall and waved his hand in front of it. The sigils on the paper glowed, and a doorway appeared, revealing a set of stone steps that led downward into darkness. “After you.”
I peered inside and shook my head. “Again, you’re asking me to blindly step through a doorway when I have no idea what’s on the other side. No way. After you .”
“Do all women of your day and age despise chivalry, or is the quality unique to you?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. The wall that once covered the opening began to shimmer back into place, so I rushed through, the sensation of claws ripping at my skin making me groan.
I stopped at the top of the stairwell to catch my breath. “You have got to stop expecting your magic not to affect me. I’m not going through any more magical wormholes.”
“If you had gone in when I asked, it wouldn’t have hurt.” He continued his descent. “Your stubbornness caused you to pass through a partially materialized wall. You’re lucky it didn’t reform completely while you were inside it.”
Against my better judgment, I followed him down.
Not that I really had a choice. The doorway behind me was now a solid wall, so it was either follow him down or stay put, and I wasn’t keen on testing whether the stairway would disappear after he descended it.
“I’m a rogue soul in a realm where I don’t belong. Excuse me for being cautious.”
He waved his hand at the bottom, and another opening appeared. This one led outside, into the weird red-orange sunlight, and I brushed past him to get the hell out of that staircase. No way was I walking through a half-formed wall again.
“I’m surprised that word exists in your vocabulary. This way.” He turned left and headed down a stone path running between the gardens and the palace.
If I’d had more time—and my soul wasn’t in mortal danger—I could’ve spent hours exploring the grounds.
Plants grew in Hell, believe it or not, their twisting, winding vines and deep purple flowers giving the place a gothic feel.
Sculptures made of basalt and obsidian depicted animals and beautiful women, and towers of rocks in varying sizes balanced atop each other, defying the laws of physics.
“Why are we skulking around the side of the palace?” Despite the nearly hip-high slit in my dress, I couldn’t take the strides of a woman on a mission. I had to scurry to keep up with him. I hated scurrying.
“Does your room not have a door on the inside?” I hiked up the dress as far as I dared, finally taking semi-normal steps.
He stopped at the split in the walk and held up a hand. “I have made nothing but mistakes since Isabel summoned me. I do not dare to waltz into a formal meeting as if I were never gone. Come.”
He clutched my hand, and we rushed down the right-hand path toward a small arch in a stone wall. Well, he rushed.
I scurried like a squirrel. “Alright, Prince Pain In My Ass, I need you to slow down. You can’t put me in a movement-restricting costume and expect me to keep up with your long-ass strides.”
“Would you prefer I bend space again and drop you at the front door?” He kept walking.
“No, thanks.”
“Then keep up.”
We walked in silence for another minute or two before we crossed a foot bridge over a moat of lava.
The viscous liquid bubbled and steamed beneath us, and I moved behind Discord so I could walk smack down the center.
You’d think a bridge over a friggin’ lava stream would have walls or handrails or something, but no.
Apparently, the kingdom of Hell didn’t give a flying flip about OSHA regulations.
Safely on the other side of the bridge, we hung a left and made our way toward the main entrance. The palace was massive. Looking up at the spiraling turrets, I nearly lost my balance, stumbling before steadying myself with Discord’s shoulder.
“Release your dress. You look like a harlot when you walk like that.” He plucked my hand from his shoulder and adjusted his sleeves before smoothing the front of his jacket. “You are about to be in the presence of a god. Our situation demands reverence and class.”
“First of all, no one says harlot anymore.” I hiked the dress even higher.
He looked down his nose at me. “And second?”
I was about to launch into a speech about how sex workers deserved the same respect as any other person, but a rumbly blast that sounded like a foghorn emanated from the palace. The obsidian bridge glowed with red sigils, and Discord took off, crossing it without another word.
I scurried—once again—and followed him to the entrance. A set of polished wooden doors soared fifteen feet high, and the thunk of a lock disengaging sounded before two harpy-hounds pushed them open.
My heart tried to creep into my throat, so I swallowed hard. “Are those the same guys who threw me into your jail?”
“They are not.” He touched the small of my back and ushered me inside, completely ignoring the dogs who’d opened the doors.
I turned my head, watching one as we passed. “They all look the same.”
“It’s a tendency of lower-level beasts.”
“Whoa.” I stopped short in the massive foyer, finally dropping my dress and spinning in a circle. A grand staircase rose in front of us before splitting three ways at the second floor, and a chandelier made of red glass and glowing—were those human bones?—hung in the center of the vaulted ceiling.
Seven arched doorways led to who knew where, and Discord gestured to the third on the right. “Follow my lead.”
“Will do.” I started to call him Captain of Crazy, but I deserved the title more than him, seeing as how I’d just waltzed into Lucifer’s lair wearing a prom dress and combat boots.
The hallway twisted and turned for what felt like miles, and an ornate gilded arch stood at the end, opening into a ginormous throne room. Gold and red sigils glowed on the slate floor and walls, and people—demons in human form—milled about in formal attire.
I felt like I’d just stepped into a vampire ball in New Orleans…and I was to be their main course.