Page 20 of Hell-Bound (Pacts of the Infernal #1)

I wish I could tell her she doesn’t have to bear the weight of her past alone. The way I do.

Xarek ended his song, a smile pulling at the sides of his perfect mouth.

Ren screamed, but no sound came out. Her face remained indifferent, if a little pleased.

Azur turned to look at her, and she shouted, entreated, and begged for help, but her body didn’t move. He smiled at her expectantly, but Ren could not respond. She felt her lips move, and a voice belonging to her spoke.

“Lord Xarek, your playing delights me, as it did that first night. It is truly an inspiration to know that such a talented musician lives within The Hells. Perhaps you could teach me? Perhaps private lessons?”

She heard gasps from the throng and watched as Azur’s claws scraped the metal on his throne.

Xarek smiled politely.

“Any moment alone with you would be a privilege that would give me great pleasure, my lady.”

Xarek’s voice in her head spoke.

“Don’t fight, little Mortal. If you’re good, perhaps I can make you my consort.”

Rage thundered through what remained of herself—not body or soul, but something still somehow alive.

Azur shot to his feet, fangs bared, and smoke wafted off of him, billowing large and filling the room.

Xarek took a step back and placed a hand over his chest.

“My king, I do not wish to offend. I am but your loyal servant.”

He enunciated every word with disdain.

“I have had enough of your games, Xarek. It has been centuries of putting up with your pathetic plans to undermine my power.”

Azur flourished his hand, still black and clawed, dripping with inky fumes.

“You have conspired to overthrow your king. By doing so, you have surrendered your Immortality and will be brought to justice.”

“Oh my,”

Xarek responded, feigning boredom.

Ren wanted to tear the horns from his head.

“I have no idea what you are speaking of,”

he said with a performative bow.

“This revelation wouldn’t have anything to do with your little Mortal, would it? Perhaps she is trying to deceive you?”

Azur growled.

“She is not involved in this.”

Xarek clicked his tongue.

“I think she is Azur.”

A few more unbelieving gasps at Xarek’s lack of deference.

“I think she is very involved. But back to business. Seeing that I have nothing more to lose, I hope you would grant me a trial by contract.”

Azur’s eyes narrowed, and he bared his fangs.

“I’d rather rip your throat out and mount your head on a stake.”

There was rustling in the crowd, the Devils started chittering, excited by the idea of seeing a violent confrontation.

“You think you can challenge a god?”

his voice boomed.

“that any of you could oppose me? I made you. I allow you to live. It is by my mercy that you are not enslaved and toiling in the mines with my sleepers. Your misery would only serve to fill my need for wrath and power. Xarek, you are but a pest beneath my boot—one that I will delight in stamping out. I will make an example of you.”

Several Devils shrank back in fear. And despite Xarek’s previous bravado, Ren noticed the quiver in his lips.

“My request stands. Trial by contract,”

he said, voice strained.

Ren tried moving her muscles, trying to cry out, writhing—anything! This was most certainly a trick, and Xarek was pulling at Azur’s wrath and envy. If he had seen her, looked in her eyes, he might have noticed that she wasn’t herself. But his eyes glowed menacingly, unyieldingly focused.

Xarek flicked his wrist, and a contract appeared and a blue Lesser Devil promptly grabbed it out of the air and began to read.

“Lord Xarek Wyvryn does henceforth challenge King Azur Pelegros to a trial by contract to determine the innocence or guilt of Lord Wyvryn for allegedly conspiring against King Pelegros and his unholy throne.”

The Lesser looked up from the parchment, eyes as big as saucers.

“Lord Wyvryn, what are the terms of your contract?”

Xarek spread his wings wide.

“A duel in accordance with the king’s laws. I do, after all, respect the precedent set by His Highness.”

Ren watched as her hand involuntarily reached out to grab Azur’s wrist.

“No, my Lord, it is not worth the risk to your life,”

her voice said.

That doesn’t even sound like me.

This was the worst thing she could have said.

Xarek knew Azur—knew his pride. He knew how these words, from Ren’s Mortal mouth, would cut at it.

The muscles in Azur’s jaw flexed.

“I accept,”

he said, blinded—unable to notice the changes in Ren’s face, her posture, the pitch of her voice. The two Devils cut their arms, sealing their terms.

Azur’s smile grew, and all the candles flickered in warning.

“I will not be choosing a champion, Lord Wyvryn. I will be the one to defend my throne and my honor against whoever or whatever you decide to condemn to death in an attempt to challenge me. I swear by the contract.”

Xarek did not blanch.

“Oh, how delicious. I was hoping you would say that. As you’ve probably guessed, I will be using a champion. I’m a musician, king, not a masochist.”

Azur snorted.

“Who would be foolish enough to agree to fight me?”

The rest of the room snickered at the ridiculous thought.

“Oh, I think you will be quite surprised,”

he said, his eyes finally flicking to Ren.

She understood now. This was worse than death—worse than forgetting. Worse than all the pain remembering could bring. She was powerless to stop what happened next.

“Renata, would you be my champion and fight for me against the god of the underworld?”

Internally, she fought with all her remaining energy—willed herself to throw her body in front of the two Devils, but none of her reached the surface.

“I, The Defender of The Planes, will fight for this innocent male!”

her voice boomed.

“I consent and swear by the contract.”

The only sound in the room was Ren’s own screams inside her mind. Every face was slack with disbelief.

Azur gazed at Ren, first treacherous and then in understanding.

“You fucking bastard!”

Azur roared, throwing himself at Xarek, wrapping one hand around his neck, and lifting him off of his feet.

“You’ve compelled her. She couldn’t properly consent!”

Xarek’s eyes were watering from pain, but he continued to smile, a strained laugh escaping from his throat.

“Compelled Mortals’ consent counts towards contracts. You wrote those rules.”

“It’s not true consent,”

Azur ground out.

“So it matters to you now? That’s sweet. You must really care for the—”

Azur tossed him aside, and he landed inelegantly, skidding across the floor.

The king hastened to Ren and grabbed her limp hands.

“Come back to me, Ren,”

he whispered, looking into her eyes.

But she couldn’t. She had to allow him to use his magic on her and Xarek had made sure that couldn’t happen. She was buried too deep for even her thoughts to reach him.

Her body reacted on its own, recoiling from his touch.

“I have been waiting for this moment,”

her voice said clearly.

“I will not allow you to victimize any more innocents, King Azur. Xarek is the rightful leader of The Hells, and even if I die, I will die knowing that my voice has been heard, the voice of the Mortals!”

“Oh, Ren,”

he said, almost inaudibly, his eyebrows tucked close together.

“I’m so sorry.”

“You have to fight, Azur,”

Xarek said, standing and flattening the wrinkles in his doublet in an attempt to salvage some dignity.

“If you do not fight, you surrender your throne to me and admit to making false accusations against a Lord of Hells. A crime punishable by death, or in your case, imprisonment for eternity. I wonder how it feels to starve and not be able to die?”

Ren, or the body of Ren, kicked off her shoes and marched to the center of the chamber.

“No more delaying, Pelegros. Fight me or surrender.”

Xarek approached and handed her a gilded dagger, almost identical to the one Azur had destroyed. Another symbol of how futile any combat would be against the god. Her avatar was unfazed by the metaphor, and she ripped the red dress’s fabric up to above her thighs, revealing the piccolo strapped there. She made two practice swipes with the dagger before taking an attack position, knees bent.

Azur did not take his eyes off Ren. He strode carefully towards her, and as he did—she lunged, stabbing towards the god’s torso. Azur didn’t even need to react as her dagger glanced off a purple shield that flickered in front of him. Her body was breathing hard, and she could feel her facial muscles flex with anger.

Azur clenched his jaw, his breathing ragged as wrath welled within.

“You’re weak, Azur.”

Her voice was low and gruff.

“Only a real male can lead this plane to its true potential. God or no, you have failed. It’s time to let go.”

Azur’s eyes darkened, infernal rage shining through.

Ren then bellowed furiously as her body darted, swinging around to try to stab at his ribcage. Azur did not move his body to face her, and her dagger veered off his impermeable shield. This time, her body froze as a current of energy from the shield blasted through her. Ren’s true self could not feel the pain, but her body convulsed, and she saw as her hands lost grip on the dagger before she was thrown back, crashing to the floor.

Azur’s face winced.

He took one step forward, but Ren’s body scrambled towards the dagger, swiftly retrieved it, and sprang up to standing.

“Hmm,”

Xarek’s voice came.

“I didn’t realize she was so feisty. This might be more entertaining than I thought.”

Azur ignored Xarek and the uncomfortable laughter of his citizens, red eyes burrowing into Ren’s as if his piercing gaze could break the spell.

Ren began to circle Azur. Her breathing was rapid, but her hands were steady. But the Ren within was whimpering with terror.

“Please stop,”

she pleaded with herself.

“You’ll kill us.”

Azur reached out a hand, approaching her as if she were a rabid animal. Xarek allowed her to wait in an attack stance, curious to see Azur’s next move.

He leaned close and seized the side of her face, holding her in place.

“Ren. I have to do this.”

His strong grip tilted her head to the side, examining her.

“It would be so easy to end you now. But I need you to know that I did believe in you,”

Azur said, his lips only a whisper away.

“I hoped that you would find redemption—find peace. I can’t tell you why you did it. But that’s why I agreed. I wanted you to carve your own path—to be free from guilt and the burden of grief. To live to be the person you always wanted to be and should have been. I still believe you can find it, Ren. You are worthy of redemption. Even if it’s just in the eyes of the irredeemable.”

Ren had no soul. The part of her that existed wailed in pain. Heartbroken and mind in pieces. She pushed against the Xarek’s bind, lashing every ounce of strength in a desperate attempt to signal to Azur that she had heard. It was in this chaos of internal strife that she saw her arm shoot out as she buried her dagger, to the hilt, into Azur’s stomach.

He gave a small start of surprise before looking down. Black blood seeped through the wound. Azur lowered his hands and wrapped them around hers, which were still clutching the dagger, and gently caressed the pad of his thumb across her fingers.

“I would let you kill me, Ren. If it would even matter, if it would make a difference. But it doesn’t.”

His hands moved up to her shoulders, and before Xarek could command her again, Azur lifted her and hurled her at the wall.

She knew the speed of the collision would break her body on impact. Her one hope, as she hurtled towards the stone, was that someone would remember her as Ren. That Jester would tell people that one female, woman, Half-Elf, had existed for a time as herself. Free from the constraints and expectations of others and made her own choices, no matter how misguided they might have been.

The last thing Ren heard before a portal sucked her out of the palace was Azur’s voice.

“I concede. I will not fight.”

Ren careened off the carpet and tumbled towards her vanity, slamming into it with a crack! Fortunately, it was furniture, not bone, that had broken. She jumped up, having regained control of herself, and dashed to the hall.

“Jester! Jester, help!!”

Her mind spun as she tried to figure out a plan.

She ran to Azur’s office and wrenched open the door.

Nothing.

She crashed through every room screaming her friend’s name, voice shaking.

“Where are you?!”

She saw Zelaia’s form run up the stairs.

“What in hell’s name?”

“Zelaia! Thank gods!”

Ren grabbed the Devil by the shoulders.

“You have to help me find Jester! Azur is in trouble!”

“What are you prattling about? Azur is a god, Ren. He is fine! If he’s tussling with that dragon again, I promise that he will come out without as much as a scratch.”

“No! He surrendered his throne to Xarek!”

“He—what!?”

Zelaia’s face vacillated between panicked and confused.

“I have to find Jester!”

Ren, repeated near hysterics.

Ren moved to run down the stairs when Zelaia caught her arm roughly.

“Ren. He isn’t here.”

“Where is he? We need to get him. Can you portal because—”

“Don’t you get it yet, you thick Mortal? Azur is Jester!”