Page 43 of The Damned (Coven of Bones #3)

M A R G O T

Having passed the simple test of not being tempted by the food that lined the walkway of Gluttony, Beelzebub gave me his permission to continue on our journey as the lord of Gluttony.

After an awkward night spent with Beelzebub vacating his own bed to sleep in one of the chairs, his broad body sprawled out with his feet propped up on the chair opposite him, we made our way out of the manor he called home.

The portal to the next circle was marked by two green hatches that led into the cellar outside, and Beelzebub twisted the key in the lock to pull the chain through and open them for me.

I took the first step down into the depths of the cellar, plunging myself into darkness.

Torches lit along the wall as I walked, illuminating the path so I could see my way through the tunnel I found at the bottom of the stairs.

Beelzebub moved behind me, his steps oddly quiet for a man of his size.

I could almost believe I was alone, plunging into the depths of Hell, but I was already there, and the monsters had no reason to hide in cellars in this place.

I reached back for Beelzebub as we moved through the tunnel, drawing him forward to my side so I could see his broad form out of the corner of my eye.

He had the grace not to look smug about it, instead just squeezing my hand in his as we moved toward the open doorway at the end of the hall.

The glimmer of gold shone in the dim lights within, making my steps quicken as I approached.

The pile of gold coins was taller than me, stretching toward the ceiling in the center of the room.

Gemstones and other wealth glittered at the edges, spread into corners amidst silver and jewelry.

If I hadn’t already known the order of the circles from my lessons at Hollow’s Grove, the presence of a literal dragon hoard of treasure would have been a dead giveaway as to what came next.

Greed.

“Pick a coin, songbird,” Beelzebub said, keeping his hand clasped in mine so we could travel through the portal together.

I bent forward, my fingers lingering just above the pile of coins. “Does it matter which one? Will it change anything?” I asked, my thoughts giving me pause. I didn’t want to make the wrong choice, especially because I hadn’t bothered to ask questions that might have given me the answers I needed.

“The coin determines where we end up in Greed. Each coin represents a room in the secure wing of Mammon’s manor. In those rooms will be staff members waiting to prepare you for your entry to life at Mammon’s court,” Beelzebub said, making it sound far too formal for my taste.

My lips twisted into a scowl, my nostrils flaring as I considered the words and the hidden implication behind them.

“Are you sure we can’t skip it?” I asked, pursing my lips as Beelzebub released my hand, leaving me to make my choice as he reached down to stroke a finger down the coin that seemed to call to him.

It didn’t seem like this would be a journey we would take together, and I tried not to let my apprehension of being separated show as I looked through the coins, searching for the one that might call to me personally.

Each had subtle differences behind the glaring face of Mammon that stared back at me.

Though the lord of Greed still remained in Crystal Hollow with Lucifer, it seemed there hadn’t been any great pains taken to remove his likeness from this aspect of his territory.

One coin had the image of weighted scales embedded in the space behind his head, the next a butterfly fluttering through the air, but the coin that caught my eye had the etching of burning wings swooping through the air.

The feathers of those wings were incredibly detailed, so much so that I wondered if they would be soft when I finally wrapped my fingers around the coin, or if I would instead feel the heat of the flames.

I caught Beelzebub’s eye as he nodded me on, and I plucked the coin out of the pile with delicate fingers.

My stomach twisted with the sensation of falling, of the floor giving out beneath us as the coins before me were suddenly airborne.

They plummeted toward the ground, a ground that I could no longer see; the space where it had been was now nothing but a deep, dark pit.

My hair billowed out at my temples, gravity forcing it upward as I fell amidst the torrent of coins.

I couldn’t see Beelzebub through the chaos, couldn’t find him through the gleaming gold that surrounded me.

Still, I held fast to the coin clenched in my hand, squeezing it so tightly I felt the phoenix where it transferred to my palm.

When I landed, it was with a bounce as I sprung up from a net sewn from golden thread.

I squealed as I landed again, my body thrashing about as my legs collided with each other as if I were a newborn calf.

Three women descended on me the moment I settled into the nets, reaching in to grab me by the ankles.

The two who’d gotten their hands on me tugged me over the net, uncaring for the way it rubbed at my skin.

I spun around, searching for Beelzebub in the netting only to find myself well and truly alone with the three strangers standing over me as they pulled me onto the tile floor.

They assessed me, heads tipped to the sides in thought.

Bright green eyes stared out of each face, a perfect match for one another.

Their faces were equally identical, and the green dresses draped over their forms were one and the same.

I’d seen plenty of twins in my life, but this was different.

This was as if they were the same person split into three, their movements a perfect mirror of one another.

“Your coin,” the first said, shocking me that she’d been able to speak without the others doing the same.

I’d been so certain I was imagining the multiples, that they’d duplicate every act, but they split off in different directions as I fumbled to hand the first my coin.

She stared at it, quirking a brow as she tossed it to her sister who had moved to the armoire at the edge of the room.

The one who’d taken the coin from me held out a hand, tugging me to my feet with force that immediately lifted me to standing.

There was no awkward transition; I was simply lying down one moment and standing the next.

It was clearly an enormous dressing room, with little furniture outside the vanity and stool that was surrounded by makeup.

I winced, wishing we could skip the pomp and circumstance.

I’d been trussed up like an object only two circles ago and had no desire to have a repeat experience.

I spent a great deal of time trying to ignore beauty in general, to function through my life while putting in as little effort as I could possibly manage.

I’d cut my hair short originally because my mother had forbidden it, condemning it as something that would reduce my femininity.

I rejected those ridiculously old-fashioned standards, trimming it more often than I probably needed so that it never passed my shoulders.

I had nothing against the women who found absolute joy in perfecting their appearance, glad they’d found something that made them happy.

I was far happier clad in leggings and running the path around the edges of the woods surrounding Hollow’s Grove, working my body to the point of exhaustion so that I had a chance of quelling the rising tide of lust I had to subdue at all times.

I was happier finding a moment of seclusion to sing without witnesses, without anyone to hear the power in that song.

I didn’t do well in the spotlight, and as the first of the women shoved me onto the stool, I flinched back from her prodding fingers poking at my face before she grabbed a facial cloth and dipped it into the bowl of water on the vanity.

Scrubbing it over my face harshly, she used her other hand to keep my head still so she could stare down at me in irritation.

“No makeup?” she asked, pursing her lips in thought as she looked at the unblemished cloth.

“You don’t need to do this. I’m fine just like this,” I said, motioning to stand.

One of the other women came up behind me, and it was only in the reflection that I saw what lingered beneath her skin.

Her face was gaunt, her eyes dark and soulless.

Her mouth gaped open like a maw, her jaw unhinged as if she would devour me.

I flinched back, my fight-or-flight instinct kicking in as she leaned toward me.

“All women want to be beautiful,” she said, gathering my hair in her hands.

She pinned it to the top of my head with a long stick, twisting the hair around it expertly in that way I’d never been able to achieve on my own.

The updo left my neck visible, and the feeling struck me with vulnerability.

My throat looked so unprotected this way, with her razor-sharp teeth far too close for my comfort.

“Not this one. I don’t feel the need to make myself beautiful for myself, and I certainly don’t care what others think,” I snapped as I shook off her touch.

“Especially not when all men desire is a pretty possession to put on the shelf.” The words didn’t feel true to me anymore, not after seeing the way Beelzebub had treated me so differently from my would-be husband that the Covenant had tried to force on me for breeding.

One of the other women leaned in, a makeup brush in hand as she set to work applying it to my face.

I tried not to grimace, knowing too well the only thing that would achieve would be creases within the makeup.

“Beauty is a man’s greatest weakness and your greatest strength if you should choose to embrace it,” she said, leaning forward so that her reflection flashed in the mirror.

The other remained at the armoire, searching through the gowns held within and deep in thought.

“We know something of being a monster, but beauty allows us to sheathe our claws until we need them.”

“I’m not a monster,” I said, but the words came out weak.

They tasted like a lie, especially in light of what I’d done in Gluttony, the way I’d nearly eaten someone just for implying she’d slept with a man that wasn’t even fucking mine.

It only confirmed everything I’d already known about my magic and the way the Coven had used it.

“You cannot change the way they see you,” the woman touching my hair said as the other stepped away with her makeup brush, swapping it out for another as she applied a rosy blush to my cheeks.

The other lined my eyes as she worked, making me feel overwhelmed and surrounded as they worked on me.

“All you can do is change the way you feel about it. You can be ashamed of it and all of them to make their weakness your own, or you can craft it into your strength and make sure it is the sword that impales them in the end. Adorn yourself in pretty fabrics and soft smiles and sharpen your teeth in secret so they never see the bite coming.”

The last of them finally emerged from the wardrobe with a gown draped over her arm that took my breath away.

The delicacy of the fabric, the gem-tone color, all of it was a thing of beauty.

But it felt like armor all the same.