Page 46

Chapter 45

Permanently in Purgatory

SJ

“N o.”

That one word, on repeat in my numb brain.

“No. No, no,” I muttered. “You lie.” My feet, my gaze, glued to the plush carpet that was slowly coming into focus. It was such a pale cream colour and soft and fluffy under my bare feet. The red of my skin looked completely out of place … dirty even, against that pure colour.

No! I refused to think of myself like that, in Her domain. She hid behind her machinations, pretending purity when She was eviller than anything to ever come out of Hell. She’d waged a war against my kingdom, one that had us on the brink of collapse while rewarding the vilest of humankind with eternal bliss.

Bliss … Jemma. I needed to make it through this … whatever She wanted with me, so She’d let me go before Hellen decided to take matters into her own hands.

I wrenched my gaze up. My eyes, almost accustomed to the blinding sunlight, took in the space, and further words failed me.

Floor-to-ceiling windows along one wall. They looked out upon a sky so cerulean blue it could not possibly be real. And clouds! Clouds below us!

The room itself was enormous. Paintings of cherubs blowing horns that looked more than passingly phallic adorned the white and gold walls. I sneered at their seemingly innocent little faces. Nothing about this place was innocent.

And finally, I let my eyes fall to the gilded desk at the far end of the room. And the woman sitting behind it, Her white patent leather stiletto heels resting on the desk.

I swallowed back my bellow of betrayal. Yes, She had my white-blonde hair, but so did Father. But it was Her eyes. That silvery grey that I saw every time I looked in the mirror. The silvery grey that no other demon possessed.

No! Nononononononono.

“Boss,” Beezle murmured, and my eyes fell away from Her. My Hounds looked up at me, eyes like saucers. “She looks a Home of a lot like you.”

I longed to shout the word NO! over and over and over again as if I could make my denial true by being noisy about it. But Bub rubbed his shoulder against my leg, and Beezle added, “May as well get to the bottom of this.”

Her lips curled in a smile that seemed genuine. But I could not trust a single thing this female did.

“Your Hounds are very smart pets.”

Beezle snorted angrily, and Bub stepped forwards. “We’re not pets! We’re companions!”

“Partners in crime!” Beezle barked.

“The B Team!”

She cocked an eyebrow at that, those all-too-familiar eyes sliding up towards me. “The B Team?” She smirked. That was my smirk.

Home’s bones. She wasn’t lying.

“Yeah!” Bub yipped. “Like, Beezle, Bub and Boss! We’re the B Team!”

She laughed, a genuinely amused, tinkling chuckle that I wanted to hate so badly, but it sort of reminded me of Jemma’s laugh.

“They’re adorable, Simeon! I am so very pleased to learn you’ve had companionship while growing up … there .” The distaste in Her voice was unmistakable, and I bristled.

“‘There’ is my home! The place my mother abandoned me, under my father’s guardianship, according to the rules of the Kingdom!” I snarled. But then my brain stuck on something else She’d said. “Wait. Did … did you just call me Simeon?”

She tilted her head to the side—like a predator—and regarded me. “It is the name I gave you, son. It’s not my fault your father decided on something as unimaginative as ‘Satan Junior’.” She shook her head. “His hubris knows no bounds.”

My brain was racing. I wanted to rage at Her for deriding Father’s hubris while She sat up here in her golden … office, or whatever She wanted to call it, and plotted the downfall of Hell for shits and giggles.

Instead, I turned to the Hounds. “Did you know Simeon was my name, when you whispered it to me that day at the hospital?”

Bub looked completely mystified. “I dunno, Boss. It just … popped into my head! I swear I had no idea that it was your actual, real-life name!”

But behind him, Beezle’s expression morphed from confused, to something lingering at the edges of horrified. “I … I have this weird memory, Boss. It’s real fuzzy, and I was only a pup, just opening my eyes for the first time. A voice whispering, ‘Look after my Simeon’ to me.” He blinked up at me, then turned to Bub his dark, liquid eyes full of worry. “To us.”

“But … how would anyone have gotten into the kennel, who would have known who I …” I looked up at Her, and She gave me an encouraging smile. A condescending smile, like I was a very slow student who had just worked out how to recite the alphabet.

“You. You … planned for them to become my companions? Why? How … how did you even get into Hell in the first place?” I shook my head. “No, let’s go back even further than that. If I’m to believe you, I’m the son of … of Satan, and of God? What did you do, to get Father to … he hates you! Loathes you in fact!”

Had Her smile slipped slightly?

“Your father and I have a very long history. We … we used to be, well, not friends, but … allies, I suppose.” She picked up a glittery gold pen from Her desk, twirling it between Her fingers.

“You … allied with my father?” I snorted. “This tale gets more and more preposterous!”

She shrugged, the smile disappearing entirely. She glanced out her enormous window, Her eyes reflecting the sunlight. “We worked together, to keep a balance. The irredeemable went straight to him, the truly good came to me. The … difficult cases, they went to a … waiting room, I suppose you could call it. The humans call it Purgatory. They waited while we debated and negotiated over them. It was fair, that way.”

“And then you started manipulating the system,” I growled, stepping towards the desk. “Using human religious beliefs about repenting to allow the worst sorts to bypass Hell entirely. And our people slowly began to starve, for lack of sustenance.”

She shook Her head, Her lips curling downwards. “I kept my side of the bargain until I realised that your father was sneaking cookies from the jar, so to speak. For centuries he roamed the human realm, posing as one of them. Exacting his little bargains with desperate folks, who otherwise had led good, kind lives. He has prayed on the souls owed to Heaven for far longer than I have retaliated.”

“No.” I shook my head emphatically. “He said … he told me that he reaped souls in an attempt to slow the soul famine!”

“He lied,” She said simply.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Could it be that Father had caused all of Hell’s woes through his own greed? Knowing what I did of my father, it wasn’t entirely inconceivable. But could I trust anything She said?

“So,” I began carefully, “suppose I were to believe everything you’ve just told me. Where do I fit into all of this?” I asked. “My entire life, the Kingdom of Hell has been at war with Heaven. You cannot possibly tell me that you and my father set aside your enmity for a night of passion?” I chuckled without a scrap of humour. “Or am I an immaculate conception? Isn’t that a tale your little groupie humans believe?”

Her jaw twitched. “I called a … ceasefire, for want of a better word.” She stood from the desk, and I let myself look properly at this female who claimed motherhood over me. She was tall and slender, delicately proportioned even with Her height. Her face would, in the human world, be seen as conventionally beautiful—Her eyes were large, Her nose petite, Her cheekbones high and defined. Her lips, even thinned in a frown, were full.

She had nothing on Jemma, with her cheeky grin, and twinkling, mischievous eyes, and curtains of pink hair. Jemma, who might be in danger, despite my best efforts, because this deity had decided to detain me.

“Can you please get to the point?” I grated. “I have urgent business in the Human Realm.”

She faced me, coming around the desk and leaning against it, Her eyes gleaming with understanding that had my chest knotting up painfully.

“Your little pink-haired human?” She asked. “Oh, she plays an important role in all of this, Simeon.”

“That is not my name,” I grated. “I am Satan Junior. I have been my entire life, and some smarmy God waltzing in and claiming to be my mother will not change that.” My fists clenched and unclenched by my sides, and that thrumming sensation in my chest rampaged. “And you will leave Jemma out of this! She’s already been traumatised enough, thanks to me!”

I tried to bite back the next words, but my morbid, terrified curiosity got the better of me. “How is she involved?”

God smirked, but Her eyes froze over. “She was the test … and you passed.”

I shook my head, rage rising, mingling with those tight, uncomfortable thumps in my chest. “Whatever test she was, I failed it miserably!” Heat prickled behind my eyes.

Devils do not cry … not in front of God, anyway.

“I told your father, during our ceasefire, that the only way for us to restore balance between Heaven and Hell was to unite both kingdoms, under one ruler.” Her eyes pierced me. “He refused to allow that ruler to be me. I refused to allow it to be him. The compromise?” She leaned back on Her hands, eyeing me calculatingly. “You.”

I blanched, choking on my own saliva. Coughing wildly, staggering backwards, I gasped, “You … you and my father … procreated … actually did the deed, the old-fashioned way … with the sole intention that I would take over … from both of you?”

God gave a sheepish smile. “Well, that was step one in the plan. For my part, I had to be sure that you possessed enough strength of character to be worthy. Hence, I promised that once you were born, you would be raised in Hell, the same as any other Lucifer offspring, na?ve to the true purpose of your life. I needed to see how your conscience would develop outside of my influence.”

She reached out, booping me on the nose. “And you, my clever, compassionate son, even under pressure to save Hell, the only home you’d ever known, could not follow through with your plan for Jemma Bliss, because you knew it to be wrong. You found your father’s soul reaping trickery distasteful, unethical … evil …”

“I’ve reaped a soul,” I confessed angrily, sucking on my teeth because I wanted to snap them at Her. “I reaped him without a second thought.”

With a chuckle that sent Her silvery blonde hair swishing around Her face as if She were in some human haircare commercial, She interjected, “And you could not keep down the contents of your stomach afterwards, despite the little wretch in question being more than deserving of his fate.” She sobered, taking a deep breath. “And that is your compassion, Sim—Satan Junior. The thing that sets you apart from other demons. The thing that proves you are ideal to unite our two kingdoms and restore balance.”

“And I suppose my ‘compassion’ comes from you?” I sneered, storming over to the windows and staring out at the fluffy white clouds carpeting the endless blue. “Where was your compassion when you deliberately and premeditatively starved my people?” I pressed a hand to the glass. If I broke it, would I fall to the Human Realm? Would I survive? “Where was your compassion when you abandoned your own offspring to be raised there?”

I resented the tightness in my chest as the words ripped from me, but I refused to leave them unsaid. “I always felt like I didn’t belong. And I never understood why. I was left to constantly strive to be … to be like my father and my sister, and I always feel like I could never live up to them, no matter how much I forced myself—until I felt sick with my deeds—to be what they expected of me.”

“And I am sorry for that, son.” Was that a hint of true regret in Her tone? No, that couldn’t be possible. No one who had played the long and cunning game She had would feel remorse. But She continued, “It was the only way to ensure that your … goodness was nature, rather than nurture.”

I rounded on Her, horns flaring with my rage. “You think that you would nurture goodness in anyone?” I guffawed. “Nothing about this gives me any confidence that you have a single skerrick of virtue in you!”

“Sometimes, good beings must do things that in isolation seem wicked in order to serve the greater purpose.” She sighed, and Her eyes dimmed. For a split second, I saw the exhaustion in her that I saw so frequently in Father. “But you, my son, you found the capacity for love, for kindness, for selflessness, all on your own, and you proved that you are exactly who both Heaven and Hell need.”

“And what if I don’t want that?” I demanded, tail flicking. “What if I wish to abdicate both those crowns and leave both kingdoms to anarchy?”

What if I want to permanently abandon this devil’s body and live a human existence with the only woman who has ever made me feel like I was worthy?

“You won’t.” She said it with such conviction that the thudding in my chest silenced.

“Won’t I?”

She shook her head. “You will not, because you care for the Human Realm too much to let it be the battleground of that war. And you know that is what it would come to.”

“I care nought for the Human Realm, besides it being Jemma’s home,” I muttered.

A flash of triumph lit Her face. I wanted to cringe away from Her. “Ah yes, and we return to Jemma Bliss. Such a sweet, good, kind soul. Volunteering with sick children, making all those critter owners feel welcome at her little market stalls.” She sighed dramatically. “It truly would be such a terrible shame … if her world turned into an arena of chaos and violence, all because the male who claimed to love her refused to protect her and her kind.”

A growl rumbled up my throat, and my tail lashed around me. “Are you threatening me?” I demanded.

She shrugged, completely nonchalant. “Merely pointing out the likely outcome of you not fulfilling the destiny you were raised for.” A hint of that smirk tickled at Her lips.

“You know nothing of my feelings for Jemma!”

“Do I not?” She asked snidely. “Do you think I haven’t been keeping a very close eye on you these past weeks, son? Your ‘mission’ with Jemma was your final test, the proof that you are ready, have the right … temperament … for me to set into motion the next phase of this plan.”

“And you think I passed ? I broke her!” I rasped. “I put her through … Hell … but worse, somehow, in the midst of all the humiliation I manufactured for her, I made her fall in love with me. And all that did was put her in more danger—do you know what my sister is like? Do you know what she’s capable of? Because I fear I have barely scratched the surface of the depths of her depravity.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “And the only option left to me, in the face of my sister’s threats, was to hurt Jemma again. I did not pass your test. I failed. Miserably.”

“When you love someone, sometimes the best option is to set them free. You showed compassion. You returned her soul shard to her, and you protected her from the truth about your half-sister. And yes, I am very well versed in all things Hellen Lucifer. She may prove a … hurdle, to you taking complete control of Hell … but we will cross that bridge when we come to it.”

I was going to vomit. I pressed a hand to my stomach, frantically searching for somewhere that wasn’t Her pristine carpet to empty my stomach. A basin appeared under my chin, just in time for me to regurgitate a thin trickle of bile.

“You cannot be serious,” I rasped, wiping my chin. “Hurdle? Cross that bridge? If Hellen gets even the slightest inkling of what you and Father have planned for both kingdoms, she will eviscerate us all!” And Jemma. What might Hellen do to Jemma to punish me for this stupid scheme that I didn’t have any choice about in the first place?

God snapped Her fingers. I looked up, distracted from my panic when one of the ugly cherub paintings swung open, and two hideously fat, naked little winged things flitted out, chittering like chimps. I watched in morbid fascination as She gestured to the basin, and they giggled wildly, zooming down to snatch up before soaring back into the tunnel behind their painting, which closed behind them.

“That was creepy !” Bub remarked.

“Indeed,” I muttered.

God threw us a withering glare. “Do you find your father’s ‘imps’ creepy?”

“Yes!” Beezle, Bub and I chorused.

“Good grief,” She muttered, massaging Her temples. “I did not realise how difficult you would be about all of this. I’m offering you two kingdoms, and all you have to do is become the sole being in charge of placing human souls in their eternal homes.”

“I do not wish for this responsibility! I did not ask for any of this!”

Her face was stern, Her voice firm. “But you will take it on because you know it to be the right thing to do. And if you don’t, it’s only a matter of time before your demons rise up and overthrow you, and then they will set their sights on all the delicious misery they can harvest up in the Human Realm. All that tasty … strawberry-scented misery. Ooh, maybe she tastes like those cinnamon donuts she loves so much!”

“You are threatening me,” I snarled.

She grinned, rapacious and unapologetic. “Is it working? I know you’re so very protective of the small human. I need you to find more of that, and apply it to all of humanity.”

“You want to blackmail me into taking this on,” I clarified, horns straightening, readying for a fight. “You are no better than Hellen.”

“Ah, but remember the big difference,” she said in a singsong voice, oblivious to my rising anger. “When it’s for the greater good, sometimes a wicked deed must be excused.”

She snapped Her fingers at another of the cherub paintings, which swung open. “Now, I know you must be in a hurry, given you and Hellen had an agreement on a number of Soul Tokens that I believe is about … oh, six days late.”

“Six days !” My chest constricted. “I’ve been a prisoner here for six days?”

“Time flows differently here, compared to the Human Realm, and Hell. But yes. And I’m guessing that now you quite urgently want to ensure your sister hasn’t been meddling with your sweet little Mouse.”

I ground my teeth together, but nothing, not even the utter fury I felt towards Her, using Jemma’s pet name to rile me, could stop my stomach from spinning with worry.

Six days. Hellen had agreed to stay away from Jemma on the proviso that I manufactured Soul Tokens for her. But I’d been missing almost a week. Hellen was impatient at the best of times. There was no way she wasn’t at the very least plotting some form of retaliation. And Jemma was stuck in the crosshairs, completely oblivious to the danger she was in.

I’d been such a fool to think keeping her ignorant would protect her.

“What do you want from me?” I rumbled.

“All I need is your scribble on the dotted line. Your father always intended you to inherit Hell, but I’m giving up a lot here, relinquishing Heaven to you. I need a written agreement on your part that you will do the right thing by my queendom. You sign, and I promise you’ll be free to go and check on your little human.”

She snapped Her fingers again, impatiently peering up at the open painting. A snort erupted from the darkness beyond, and finally a hideous old cherub appeared out of the open painting. It had the proportions of a baby and the weathered, leathery skin of an octogenarian. Its yellowing wings dropped feathers as it flew down, a scroll clutched in its knobbly, liver-spotted fingers.

“Ick,” Bub muttered. I silently agreed. Even Father retired his imps when they got too old to rub his horns without their arthritis playing up.

The thing flopped onto the desk and handed a scroll to God. She swatted the ancient cherub away. It fell to the floor with a wet thump. Ignoring Her minion’s obvious incapacitation, God unrolled the scroll on the desk, beckoning me over, picking up that sparkly pen and clicking it in a way that set my teeth on edge.

“I don’t know about this, Boss,” Beezle hissed. “Are you rushing into things? Maybe you should go talk to Daddy about it first. Get his side of the story?”

“Yeah,” Bub added. “This bird might be pulling a fast one on you.”

“I am out of time, and out of options,” I whispered. “Jemma is in danger, Hellen will be on a rampage, and I need to get out of here.”

“We get it, Boss,” Bub mumbled. “Just …”

“Has the B Team quite finished their little brainstorming session?” God interrupted archly. I scowled at Her.

“I do not want this,” I muttered to the Hounds. “But what choice do I have?”

“There’s always a choice,” Beezle reminded me wisely. “Remember when you told Jemma Bliss to read a contract before she agreed to anything?”

I nodded.

“Well, just … take your own advice, Boss.”

“Noted.” I marched forward and snatched the pen from God’s hand. “Where do I sign?”

Her grin turned to a leer as She pointed to the end of the scroll. I leaned closer, the pen almost touching the paper. But the Hounds were right. I shouldn’t blindly sign anything, not when I mistrusted Her so much. I set the pen down and lifted the scroll, scanning the flowery cursive.

“You expect to maintain figurehead status over Heaven?” I asked, frowning at Her. “Elaborate.”

God giggled. “Oh, that’s just for formal occasions, you know … parades, jubilees, feasts. You’ll be in charge of all the decisions, but I’ll be the … the face, I suppose. Think of it the way some human cultures have their little royal families. I get trotted out for the show of it, nothing more. You know, to show that you have my utmost support and all that nonsense.”

She tittered again, but there was something nervous about it. “Do you really think you need to read the whole thing? It’s so long and boring.”

“Oh, I absolutely need to read it,” I replied. Even more now that She seemed worried about me doing so.

I stifled a sigh as my eyes flew over the words. It was indeed long and boring, and most of it was fairly self-explanatory. Maintaining the balance of souls entering each realm. Providing fair judgements. Managing the needs of both angels and demons alike. Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

But then, tucked somewhere in the middle, no doubt because She thought that was the best place to hide it, was the catch. My eyes widened, then narrowed.

The ruler agrees to remain permanently in Purgatory, where all souls will henceforth be funnelled to receive their eternal judgement …

I straightened, placing the scroll down on Her desk, right next to the pen that I would absolutely not ever be using on this farce of a contract. A contract to ensure I became nothing more than a slave, working tirelessly to maintain their all-important balance so they didn’t have to.

“Ready to sign?” She asked, picking up the pen and holding it out expectantly.

I sucked in one deep breath. Two. Three.

“I will not become your pawn.” I spoke calmly. Rationally. With finality.

Her eyes widened, too earnest to be anything but deceitful.

“You misunderstand, son. If you just?—”

Without another word, I scooped up a gawping Beezle and Bub and turned to the wall of windows. I raised one foot, and as She shrieked, I slammed my heel into the glass. It shattered, pain searing up my leg as the glass rippled and exploded all the way along the wall.

Air rushed in with a howl, and I bent into it, pushing myself to the very edge. I’d had more than enough practice at battling winds that wanted to attack me. And those clouds down there … they looked almost like pillows …

“Do it, Boss!” Bub urged.

Behind me, God screamed, “Mike, send reinforcements! He’s?—”

I didn’t hear the rest.

I’d already jumped.