Page 27 of The Damned (Coven of Bones #3)

M A R G O T

The gardens on the other side of the portal opened.

An apple tree that mimicked the one from the desert sanctuary spread wide, forming a doorway, as we were thrown out through the gap.

The subtle fairy lights twinkled as Beelzebub wrapped me in his embrace when I stumbled off-balance and careened forward.

He steadied me, his broad chest pressed against my spine as his massive wings curled around me, caging me into a net of safety as he pulled us to a slow stop.

He held me suspended in his grip, my own toes dangling less than a foot off the ground until he eased me down and his wings spread wide to allow me my first unhindered glimpse of the Second Circle.

I swallowed, glancing at the stairs that ascended out of the garden area we’d emerged into.

They led to a huge balcony overlooking the cliff, the railings ornately carved from mahogany.

A few stragglers remained on that balcony, their attention drawn to us as the tree shifted behind us and closed the pathway back to Limbo, cutting me off from my escape as my stress climbed ever higher.

I knew this place, felt its call in the depths of my soul.

This was the circle that would claim me when I succumbed to my mortality, the place that would become my home for an eternity once I joined the damned. This was where my aunt’s soul had come to rest after the Coven tore her apart for her corruption.

Lust.

I swallowed as the bystanders turned away from us, seeming to find us uninteresting in comparison to whatever they were watching at the bottom of the cliffs below.

They leaned over the railing, their attention fixated in a way that made my skin crawl.

I didn’t even know what it was they watched yet, but something in the flush of their cheeks and the intimate positioning they took with their partners was confirmation enough that I did not want to be here.

Beelzebub gave me a moment to acclimate as he straightened and stepped up beside me, turning his head to stare down at me as I watched the bystanders on the patio.

“What are they looking at?” I asked, hating that I needed the answer.

I needed to prepare myself for what I was about to see, for the suffering I would witness that had somehow become entertainment.

The legends of what occurred in the Nine Circles constantly circulated in Hollow’s Grove; they were a message to enjoy our time and live to the fullest of our ability with little regard for piety.

What difference did it make when you were already damned simply for possessing magic from the Source in the first place?

“They’re watching the souls who are not currently in Asmodeus’s favor,” he explained, taking the first step forward.

It was slow, giving me time to ease into the motion and grasp the words before we reached the steps that would lead us up to what I had to assume was a viewing platform.

“They remain nude for an eternity, and they’re dragged over the cliffs so that their flesh that so defined their sins is torn and shredded on the rock.

The Second Circle strips them of their worldly beauty, turning them into nothing but meat and bone. ”

“And these people watching? Are they the demons native to the Second Circle?” I asked.

The horror that filled me knowing that this was like foreplay, that this sign of violence had somehow become twisted into something arousing in this house of horrors, came with a sudden gasp that I suppressed with a choked sound.

I couldn’t even be surprised, not when I’d personally witnessed what humanity was capable of.

We were the ones who were supposed to have a conscience, who were supposed to care what happened to our own kind.

Demons had always been known to be cruel, to enjoy and thrive on the suffering of others. Of course they would get off on the torment here, reveling in the tearing and rending of flesh.

“Some, but not most. Most of Asmodeus’s demons are too busy with the festivities inside to occupy their time out here,” he said, shocking me as I studied the collection of maybe ten pairs lingering along the boardwalk-type patio.

“These are souls condemned to Lust? Why are they not condemned to the same fate as the ones on the cliffs?” I asked, hesitantly taking the elbow he offered as we reached the bottom of the steps.

He guided me up them slowly, and I felt completely out of place as I took in the attire of those lingering on the patio.

The dresses and tuxedos were formal, but they were far more indecent than I would have expected of any event above the surface.

The men who wore tuxedos had long since lost their coats, their dress shirts unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up.

Some men wore their ties tied around their throat in a tight knot that was held in an iron grip by their partner; others had already unfastened their belts.

I clenched my teeth at the sight, shifting my attention to the woman closest to me.

Her deep ruby gown skimmed the floor, but the fabric was mostly sheer.

A single panel that was not see-through hid her intimate places from view.

The top was lace and dipped low in the front, the back bare in a way that seemed to be a cross between lingerie and an evening gown.

In spite of the revealed flesh, she moved in a way that was all confidence, comfortable in her nudity in a way that I could never hope to achieve.

So many of the Reds were similar above the surface, seeing their bodies as something to be embraced and wielding their sexuality like a weapon.

There’d been days when I’d dreamt of feeling that way about my skin, days when I’d wondered what it would feel like not to wish I could hide every inch of myself, to disguise the evidence of my abuse that came in the scars that lingered both on my skin and in my mind.

She was beautiful, tossing her head back lightly with the quiet murmur of a chuckle as her painted red lips spread into a blinding smile, her dark hair cascading down over her bare back and brushing against the curve of her ass.

Asmodeus approached the couple, trailing the backs of his fingers over the woman’s cheek in a moment that felt like a betrayal of everything I knew about genuine affection.

It was far more intimate than I’d have expected given her proximity to another man, hinting at a relationship that extended back further than this night.

“Amelia Erotes has been with Asmodeus since her death,” Beelzebub said, answering the unvoiced question.

Erotes.

Asmodeus glanced toward us, a sly smile spreading over his handsome face when he took in Beelzebub’s presence.

That gaze dropped to me, the outer ring of his eye so black it was like a night without any light.

The center of it was a deep red, bleeding out into the black circle and blending seamlessly.

I wanted nothing more than to turn away from that knowing stare, feeling it sink inside me as he held out an arm for the woman at his side without looking away.

She took it, following the direction of his attention.

Her brow rose, and I wondered if she knew what I was.

If she had seen enough of her descendants end up in the Second Circle that she knew how to tell us apart from all the rest. From the humans who were guilty of the very sin that so defined our lives.

I tore my gaze away, looking at Beelzebub where he stood beside me.

The building towered behind him, extending seemingly into the stratosphere, but the ground level consisted of a wall of windows with no interruption to the sightlines of the cliffs where the rest of the souls confined here suffered.

Inside, the light was dim and red, making it difficult to see what was happening within.

The only thing I could make out was movement, writhing masses of motion that made me turn away as my chest and cheeks heated with embarrassment.

I should have been expecting something of that nature, given where we were, but to be confronted with it so publicly was another thing entirely.

Beelzebub covered my hand with his where it rested over his arm, the soft touch doing nothing to still the racing of my heart.

I felt the magic of the Second Circle dancing over my skin, tormenting me as it brought all the things back to the surface that I was determined to shove down into the well of power within me. But I could do this. I could witness the acts that had scarred me and walk out the other side.

So long as no one touched me, I would survive.

“Margot,” Asmodeus said with a familiarity he hadn’t earned. He and Amelia stopped in front of us, her head tilting to the side as if she could see exactly what I was. “I can’t imagine you’ve yet had the opportunity to meet your ancestor. This is Amelia, the original Erotes witch.”

Amelia took my hand in hers, cradling it gently as she touched her thumb to my wrist and waited. “Your heart still beats,” she said, her voice low and soft, more disbelief than anything. Her own thumb did not echo with the steady rhythm of a heartbeat. It couldn’t, I realized.

Because Amelia was long since dead.

I nodded, pulling my hand back. I forced it to happen slowly, escaping her touch as if it didn’t bother me horribly to feel her skin against mine.

“What is she doing here?” Amelia asked, rounding on Asmodeus.

I expected the archdemon to reprimand her tone, to remind her of her place in the circle he ruled over.

Instead he chuckled, the sound potent in the air.

It touched me, raising the hair on my arms as it tried to sink inside, a seduction in itself and laced with the very magic Lucifer had given to the Red witches.

“Relax, pet,” Asmodeus said affectionately, running his fingers through Amelia’s hair. “She fell through the gates in the battle with Michael, just the same as the rest of us.”

Appeased, Amelia leaned in with a soft smile, pressing her mouth to my cheek demurely. I returned the favor even as my skin crawled with nerves at the very notion of being touched here, like tiny insects crawling over me in a warning of what was to come.

I’d have preferred the bugs.

“Why don’t you take her to change into something more appropriate for tonight’s festivities?” Asmodeus asked, his gaze narrowing sharply on the place where I gripped Beelzebub’s arm tightly.

“That’s not necessary. We’re just passing through,” Beelzebub answered, offering another pat of reassurance.

“Oh no, I insist, ” Asmodeus returned, his teeth gleaming as he stressed the word.

Something passed between him and Beelzebub, some kind of silent communication that felt far more political than brotherly.

“Amelia has thrown me such a lovely party to celebrate my return, I would be remiss if Margot was not given ample opportunity to get to know Amelia and the future that awaits her.”

Something in Amelia seemed to settle, and she dropped her hands to her side as she studied me curiously.

“Yes, you simply must stay for the festivities now. Come with me and I’ll help you get ready,” she said, forcing me to look toward Beelzebub.

I’d been so desperate for him to leave me in Purgatory, wanting to avoid this entirely in favor of the limbo that would not harm me, but now that we were here, I was terrified to leave his side.

He was the only constant I had, the only person whom I felt remotely confident wouldn’t take from me.

“You’ll be safe with Amelia, songbird,” Beelzebub said, leaning toward me to stare into my eyes as I willed my bottom lip not to shake.

“She will see that you are taken care of, and she won’t leave you until she has returned you to my side.

” He turned all that attention to Amelia, to the woman’s face that was far softer than I could comprehend.

“You should go and spend some time with your ancestor away from all of this, and I’ll speak to Asmodeus on your behalf. ”

I forced myself to separate from Beelzebub, taking the arm Amelia held out for me and letting her intertwine us together as she led me to the doors leading into the building.

“Amelia?” Beelzebub called out as she pulled the door open. “If any harm comes to her against her will, not even Asmodeus will be able to protect you. Am I understood?” The warning raised the hair on my arms, the threat of violence on my behalf warming my chest.

Men had been violent to me, but none had ever been violent for me.

That distinction pleased me more than I cared to admit.

Amelia giggled in a low tone, but nodded her agreement. “She is safe with me, Lord of Flies,” she said, patting my arm gently and guiding me through the now open doors.

I immediately wished we hadn’t gone inside.

The writhing I’d seen was so much worse without the glass to separate us, my eyes adjusting as Amelia made her way through the path at the center of the room.

She headed for the stairwell at the rear of the building, completely unbothered by the sexual acts occurring all around us.

To the left, someone moaned: a woman laid out on her side at the edge of an ottoman while a man fucked her.

Just beyond that pairing, a man knelt before another man with his throat spread wide.

People everywhere had split into pairs or sometimes groups, seeming to find enjoyment in the acts they committed if the pleasure and sounds in the room were any indication.

Pleasure I’d never even begun to feel.

I swallowed as we rounded the bottom corner of the staircase, making our way up the first few steps and putting some distance between us and the sex below.

I looked back toward the doorway, feeling the weight of eyes on me.

Asmodeus stood, talking to Beelzebub animatedly, but Beelzebub’s eyes were locked on me, his head tipped in thought as he watched me for my reaction to all that surrounded us.

He didn’t so much as glance at any of the men or women lingering in various stages of undress, nor spare a thought for any of those who walked by him like they might entice him to join them in such things.

His eyes were only for me, his gaze tracking me until we rounded the top of the stairs and moved out of his sight. It shocked me to realize how much of my comfort had slipped away, fading into anxiety the moment I lost sight of him.

Hiding beneath his concern for my well-being, his red eyes burned with a hint of restrained lust that sparked something low in my belly, that stoked the flames I hated to feel building within me.

It was just the magic, I reminded myself.