Page 28 of Evil Hearts

Chapter Four

“ F or the sake of formalities. Some refer to me as the Prince of Darkness. Others call me Diablo. Satan. Lucifer. I have many names, Daciana.”

“Am I in Hell?”

“Yes.”

“Am I dead?”

“In a sense. Three mortal years ago, you signed a contract.”

“What are you talking about?”

He waves a hand errantly and my eyes roll back in my head as a memory flickers in my mind. Playing back like a movie. I watch myself through his eyes. I’m in the bathroom, standing at the sink with a bottle of pills. Dressed in a white bra and black running shorts, my dark hair is styled in a braid that rests on my left shoulder, much like it does now.

When did I braid my hair? I touch the feathery tips at the end of the braid and now it’s as though I’m reliving the moment in my own skin and no longer spectating.

I don’t want to remember, but the vision won’t stop.

I can’t escape. The doorknob won’t turn.

“Cameron. Jacalyn. Help,” I cry.

“You can’t change what’s been done,” his husky voice coaxes in my ear, but now I pick up on the tinge of evil behind the smooth facade.

Helpless to stop myself, I dump several pills into my cupped palm and force them down my throat, swallowing them down with tap water from the faucet. Then I walk over to the tub and twist the faucet, adjusting the temperature. My stomach burns and churns from the dissolving of the pills that threaten to come back up.

I fight back the urge to vomit and remove my shorts. I know my brother or Jacalyn will be the ones who find me, so I leave my bra and underwear on. They’ll know this was no accident, but I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t carry this guilt from the deaths of my parents any longer. They were murdered because of me.

I climb into the bathtub waiting for the pills to kick in and the water to claim me. When it doesn’t work as fast as I expected, I take a razor from the side of the tub and pop the blades out.

“God forgive me.”

Black shadows seep under the door and a man appears. He’s handsome, favoring the man in the suit except he has red hair and is dressed in denim and leather. Black horns protrude from either side of his head.

“God’s not here,” he whispers, taking a seat on the lid of the toilet, his tone somber.

In my mind I can see him, but in the memory, I don’t sense his presence.

He watches silent and melancholy as I drag the razor across my wrist making a cross. Blood seeps into the water, coloring it pink and staining the side of the tub.

“What have I done?” I mutter as my eyes flutter, the medication having taken effect.

I try to staunch the bleeding with a washcloth but I’m too weak. Too tired.

“God help me. I don’t want to die.” Regret pours out of me as I cry, unable to save myself.

“I told you. God isn’t coming.” The redheaded man leans over the tub, looming over me like death himself. He wipes a tear from my cheek. “I can save you, but at a price.”

“Please,” I whimper, thinking I’m hallucinating, but not lucid enough to know the difference.

“At a time of my choosing I’ll collect your soul, and you’ll belong to me for eternity.”

My vision turns white and when I open my eyes, I’m back in the boardroom.

“You see. It’s as I told you. My son went against his orders to collect your soul. Now your soul is bonded to his.”

“No.” I shake my head and pinch my wrist. “Wake up.”

“This is no dream, Daciana. You made a deal now. You must honor it.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you’ll burn with the rest of the wretched souls. Out there.”

The surrounding room disappears, and smoke fills my lungs as heat claws its way up my body, holding me in place. No longer disguised as a handsome businessman, his red leathery wings extend from his back. Horns protrude from his head as he stands before me, a naked beast ready to strike me down.

My feet dissolve into roots and my legs begin to twist like the trees I saw earlier. I’m going to burn in the pits of Hell for eternity.

No, the word dies on my tongue before I can speak it.

The devil watches me writhe in pain as flames lick across my skin. I scream in agony as the flesh of my legs chars layer by layer.

“Okay. Okay. I get it. Soul bonded. Whatever that means. Please stop. Please.”

The roar of a flaming motorcycle barrels toward us, gliding over the boned road.

“Father, stop,” a familiar voice commands. The one from my dreams. My nightmares.

The redhead from the vision.

He’s even more handsome than my memory served.

“Just making sure she understands the terms of her contract.”

“You’ve made your point.” He snaps his fingers, and my feet return to their normal shape.

Relief floods me and the sensation of being burned alive dissipates.

“Are you okay?” The most beautiful bow-shaped lips question before I pass out from the shock of this never-ending nightmare.

I awaken straddling the thighs of the redhead clad in leather and denim. My head on his shoulder, my chest smashed to his, my arms wrapped around him, holding on for dear life. I breathe in his scent. Smoke and a hint of spice.

“Hi.” I chance a glance up at his face, seeing the hint of a smirk.

“We’ll talk when we aren’t moving,” his voice comes out harsh and focused.

I peer over his shoulder at the burning soul trees wishing I hadn’t, but needing to accept nightmare or not, this is my current reality. I watch the scenery in reverse, experiencing a tinge of nausea from being seated in the wrong direction.