Cast In Blood: Revelations Series Book 1: (13 page)

Drew blinked, then she staggered when she saw they now stood in her tiny, run-down apartment. The familiar scent of musty walls and grimy carpeting filled her nose, only slightly obscuring the metallic smell of blood and the lingering essence of spite.

Sour apples
.

A single lamp filled the living room with a soft glow, plenty of light to see J. D. writhing on the floor, clutching his bloody chest.

He turned. "Drew!"

She stayed where she was, just as torn over helping him as she was shocked to see him in such a weakened state. Part of her wanted to see him die, the part that had—despite any claims he'd given her preferential treatment—brought her much pain when she'd tried to spread her wings a little too far. She had no other protection, though, and while she could defend herself against the average man, she was powerless against the advances of other, more malevolent beings.

Polly crossed to him and knelt to assess the damage. "Who did this?"

"I didn't recognize him. Some kind of lesser demon." He coughed, spraying blood.

Unfazed, Polly wiped away the spatter from her face and brushed what she could from her clothes. She turned to Drew. "Get a rag, will you?"

Drew hurried off to the bathroom to grab a spare towel from the cupboard. Instead of applying it herself, she handed it to Polly.

Polly moved to press on the wound, noticing the dagger, its handle broken off and the blade firmly embedded. "Shit."

"What did he want?" Drew asked, pacing nearby.

"He came for you, D." J. D. pointed with a burned, bloodied finger. "He'll be back."

Drew flinched at the pointed finger. The gesture in itself seemed to hit her in the chest, shooting a heavy jolt straight through the heart. "But you can stop him … right?"

He didn't seem to register the question, saying instead, "I need to get this dagger out of my chest before it kills me." He looked down at the wound then over at Polly, holding up his mangled hands.

Polly took another look beneath the bloody towel. "Maybe with a pair of pliers?"

"I don't have any," Drew chimed in, deciding she did indeed want him to survive.

"Polly!" He coughed again.

"The dagger's made of pure angelite—it's blocking my ability to conjure." Polly reached for the milky blue shard, using a layer of the towel for what Drew first guessed was for leverage. She made several attempts but couldn't get a decent hold on it. Smoke rose in sulfurous curls while Polly dug for the shard. Her hand slipped, slicing a finger through the material and causing her to pull away. The wound sizzled as though a drop of acid had been flicked across it. Her hands were red and raw.

"Damn!" Polly wiped down her hands using another section of the towel.

A sickening gurgling sound emanated from J. D.'s throat while every muscle in his body flexed. He convulsed, gasped and coughed again, then went limp.

Drew placed a hand over her mouth. "Is he…?"

"Yeah."

An unexpected pang of sadness hit Drew, and she sniffled. When she tried to make sense of her grief, she realized it wasn't so much the loss that upset her as it was the fear of being left alone again on the streets. He might have been crude and controlling, but he was also extremely protective. "I don't understand. I've seen him take a knife to the chest before."

"It wasn't just a knife. The person who did this knew our weakness." Polly held up her wounded hands for emphasis.

"What is it?"

"It's a material that is most prevalent in Heaven, which means the assailant likely came from Heaven or has a connection there. His appearance here is very likely connected to everything else that's going on … and, for whatever reason, whoever is behind it seems to think you're enough of a threat to put a hit out on." Polly moved to stand beside Drew. "I need to get you out of here."

"I don't have anywhere else to go."

"I can think of one place."

N
ever in her
wildest nightmares did Drew imagine she would ever find herself wandering through the deepest reaches of Hell. The sudden teleport there had been jarring, much more so than her trip to Limbo, and nothing could have prepared her for the onslaught of heat and sulfur that assaulted her the moment she entered. Sounds of torture and anguish surrounded her as an angry, chaotic din. She couldn't distinguish any one cry or device, nor did she see any activity in the immediate vicinity. Still, the sound rattled her profoundly, and it was all she could do not to cover her ears and scream at the top of her lungs to escape it.

She stood where she'd appeared there, too afraid to move. Flashes of fire came through cracks in the blackened rock, the only source of light. The long, dark shadows moved in a constant, ever-changing dance that corresponded with the flames, and the pungent yellow smoke that seeped out along with the fire made her feel dizzy and nauseated.

"This way," Polly said, the expression on her face telling Drew she was no happier about being there than she was.

The words didn't immediately register. Drew was too distracted. When she realized Polly had spoken to her, she turned, blinking hard. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear what you said."

"Come with me." Polly led the way, and Drew reluctantly followed.

They negotiated a narrow, rocky path. On one side stood a wall reaching as high as Drew could see, and on the other was a lake of lava and fire. She tensed at the sight of feet sticking up through the thick, oozing lake. They kicked and squirmed, but somehow they didn't ignite. There had to be some kind of supernatural magic behind it, the same kind that kept her from sizzling away into jerky and melting into the ground. The heat was so intense Drew thought for sure it would smother her. Somehow, she kept moving.

They entered a cave, and the smell of sulfur became even more overwhelming. Drew raised a hand to steady herself against a wall, quickly pulling away with a yelp when it singed her skin.

Polly turned back. "Yeah … you probably shouldn't touch anything until we get to the break room."

Drew's clothes quickly saturated with sweat, and heavy beads trailed along her hairline. She wiped her face, and a few drops hit the ground with a hiss. "How hot is it in here?"

"Hot as Hell."

Drew noticed the rubber soles of her shoes were melting. If she didn't get to somewhere cooler soon, they were going to melt straight through to her feet. Interestingly, Polly's shoes appeared to be untouched. "Isn't this dangerous?"

"If you weren't half demon, you'd be dead by now."

"Half demon?"

Polly raised her nose, making her contempt visible. "Incubi and succubae are lesser demons. Like the djinn."

Drew decided not to dignify the comment with a response, instead following quietly despite fuming inside. Was all of Hell's upper crust so snobby? Maybe there was a reason the djinn were attempting to dethrone those in charge. If they felt the lesser demons were beneath them and treated them accordingly, they definitely had an understandable motive.

Would Drew be so easily dismissed once her services, however minimal, were no longer needed? She shuddered at the thought of ending up down there once she finally died. Did her demon lineage secure her fate, or was there a chance, after all was said and done, that her human side could land her in Heaven?

Would her father's final resting spot end up being somewhere among these rocky depths?

They passed a room on their right, and Drew caught a glance of a massive, red demon with black horns and hooves in place of feet turning a naked man skewered over a rotisserie. Flames seared the man's skin at every pass. If that wasn't bad enough, another demon whipped him with a cat-o'-nine-tails. As the barbed ends pulled away, they pulled off substantial chunks of flesh. The torn, bloody skin seemed to be in a constant state of repair, so that the torture might last indefinitely without reducing the man to nothing. He screamed as well as anyone might while gagging on a skewer, failing miserably in an attempt to plead for the demons to stop, but to no avail.

Drew wondered what a person might do to deserve such treatment, but she dared not ask. The demon at the rotisserie shifted its glance to meet her eyes, and she quickly turned away. She vowed not to look through any further cave openings.

None of my business … nothing there for my eyes.

After winding through far too many passages, they reached a closed metal door. Even though the doorknob was white hot, Polly turned it without so much as a flinch. She flung it open, revealing a white room.

While stuffy, the room wasn't searing hot, and it was furnished with a table, several chairs and—most surprising to Drew—a water cooler complete with paper cups. Cupboards lined two of the walls, and a few dishes sat in an otherwise pristine sink.

"I take it this is the break room."

Polly nodded. "An astute one, aren't you?" she said, her words heavy with sarcasm. "You can stay in here until I figure out what to do with you."

Drew sat, unsure whether to feel relieved or even more uneasy with Polly's prompt exit. With the door closed once again, she felt caged, knowing she would not share her guide's immunity to the doorknob's scorching heat. Had she felt adventurous, she would have explored the cupboards or gotten herself a cup of water.

Did demons eat? What did they do on their free time?

She jumped when the door opened and a demon—a massive beast that looked more animal than human—stepped in. He looked just as surprised to see her as she was to see him, and an amused smile crept across his pointy, red face as he walked over and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Hello there, beautiful." His voice was deep and gravelly.

She shrank in her seat. "Hi."

"New here?"

"Just stopping through … I think."
I hope
.

"Polly bring you?"

Drew nodded.

The demon sat in the next seat over, glaring at the cleavage showing through her low-cut shirt. "Here for business or pleasure, sweetie?"

She crossed an arm over her chest, obscuring his view. "Business."

He raised his eyebrows and licked his lips. "Maybe fit in a little pleasure with that? Mmm, you look like you'd be a yummy little morsel."

She cleared her dry throat. "I'm flattered."

He scooted a little closer, and she cringed. The door to the break room opened and she prayed it was Polly. Instead, a young girl walked in, taking little notice of them except to roll her eyes before taking a seat at the far table. The demon didn't even miss a beat.

"What's the matter? Am I making you uncomfortable? The way you're dressed, I'd say you're begging for it. Why else would Polly have dropped you off here? I mean … you're a working girl, aren't ya?"

She turned away, her face hot.

He reached to feel her hair, and she slapped his hand away. "Back off!"

"Chill out, girl. I'm not gonna hurt you … much."

P
olly stalked
to the chamber where Demas was being held. She passed numerous torture chambers along the way, and in each one a demon was hard at work torturing djinn and other lesser demons, trying to gather more information on the uprising. Polly was certain that Demas would give everything up. He was too selfish not to.

"That little rat bastard is going to tell me everything or I'll make him eat his own damn eyeball," she growled.

Her footsteps echoed off the cavernous walls of one of Hell's many corridors. When she reached the appropriate torture cell, she stopped outside and gave the silent order for the door to open. It closed behind her with a loud
clang
. Demas sat, strapped to a chair in human form, looking rather smug.

"You will tell me everything I want to know, djinn."

"Oh, Polly, you really believe that, don't you? Aw, you're adorable," the djinn said as he tried to spit in her face, or as close to her face as he could, given the chains that bound him.

"No, Demas, I am Hell itself closing down on you," Polly scowled as she conjured up a set of tools, grabbed a blade from the tray, and set to work. She decided to begin with the djinn's hands, and she brought her blade down through the center of his right palm, causing him to gasp out in shock and pain. It was almost as if he hadn't believed Polly would hurt him. A cruel smile played in Polly's eyes and a twinge of fear came into his. All too quickly, he squelched the fear and the sarcastic façade of a moment ago returned.

"Give me whatever you think you've got, bitch."

"Oh, see, now that's just music to my ears, filth." Polly smiled even broader and pulled the blade out of his hand slowly, twisting as she went. Once free of its fleshy prison, the blade gleamed, reflecting both the fire around them and the hellfire in Polly's eyes. She chuckled and began the long and intensive process of skinning Demas, beginning with his ugly beak-like nose.

As she worked, she played smooth jazz in the background. It was the same sort of music heard in doctors' offices and grocery stores worldwide. Demas seemed more annoyed by the music than the cutting, and Polly began to grow frustrated.

"Aw, is the First Knight of Hell unable to crack a filthy little djinn? How sad for you. I thought you were the greatest torturer Lucifer had. Boy, did she oversell your talents."

"Do you think you're the first moron who has tried to rile me, Demas?" She switched from sharp to blunt and picked up a mallet off the tray of weapons she had conjured earlier.

"No, I'm sure others have tried, probably succeeded, too. You're pretty easy to rile, and, truth be told, I think you're nothing more than hot air. All you have to offer me is pain. I can handle that easily." He grinned and blood ran from the gaping hole where his nose was starting to grow back. It poured down his chin and stained his teeth, yet he kept smiling.

For some reason, this insolence, this disrespect from a lower demon, really pissed Polly off. She held the hammer high as she broke each one of Demas' bones, enjoying the snap and subsequent scream. It went on like that for a while, her asking questions and Demas refusing to talk. She found herself starting to respect the djinn for keeping quiet.

"How did you and the others escape?" Polly hissed.

"Your little girlfriend, Lucy, let us go. She has a plan in place that you are not a part of."

At his lies, Polly kept hammering. She shattered his femur, causing a loud wailing scream to issue forth from the djinn and a smile to turn up the corners of her mouth. It was times like this when she realized how well suited she was for torture. She tried to be angelic, like the old days, but being demonic just fit her better.

"Tell me how you crossed the barrier without us finding out beforehand," she asked the djinn sweetly.

"Eat shit," Demas hissed back, and he spat at her.

She decided she was finished with the hammer and chose a pair of pliers next.

"You
will
tell me what I want to know."

"I will tell you what I
want
you to know." The djinn looked her in the eyes, and she could see the sparkle there. He knew something and the little bastard was having fun with her. She allowed her anger to fill her and she used it in her work.

As she tore Demas' nails off, she recalled her very first torture session. It wasn't long after The Fall, when Lucy was still new to the job. Polly had been called up to torture a demon suspected of being in league with Michael and the others in Heaven. Lucy requested that Polly find out which side the skunk was really loyal to.

Polly hadn't been as skilled in those days, and she accidentally killed the angel before she could ascertain which side he was on. Lucy had shrugged and congratulated her on executing an enemy of Hell. It was the start of her move from nobody to second in command.

When Hades passed and the reins fell to Lucy, she immediately made folks stop calling it the Underworld. Lucy felt it was meant to be a slur. She thought Underworld was a disgraceful name, and she didn't see Hell as a disgrace. She felt she was righteous in her anger toward God, and Polly agreed. All Lucy and the other angels wanted to say was that He had been spending far too much time with the humans and not enough with His other creations.

For daring to question Him, God had Michael toss Lucy and her supporters out of Heaven and made sure those He cast out would not be able to return. God felt this punishment would bring Lucy and her followers to heel. God had been wrong.

All it did was cement in the minds of the Fallen that Lucy wasn't the bad guy the folks upstairs wanted to portray her as. Lucy believed Hell was necessary; Polly agreed with her on that point. While she reminisced, Polly worked on Demas.

"Tell me what I want to know, and I'll stop," she said as she ran the flaying knife between his skin and muscle.

Sometimes she went deeper and cut into the muscle itself, and Demas would cry out with every slice. Before long, she was tossing another large strip of skin, this one about the size of a hand towel, onto the floor with the others. There was a pile of bloody skin to the right of the djinn and, for the first time, Polly felt stymied. He may have been crying out, but it wasn't in pain or fear. The pain and fear were there, but they were nothing compared to the amusement that lit up Demas' skinless visage with a lipless smile.

"Oh, don't stop! Don't ever stop; it feels so good," wheezed the djinn.

"It can always feel better. Just tell me how you escaped."

"Polly, darling, fuck off. I am not telling you a damned thing."

"You'll tell me everything. I will find a way. Surely you've heard that about me."

"I've heard you're stupid and have to do things more than once before you realize they won't work. But I never believed it until now. I figured the second in command of Hell would have to be one smart cookie. I guess I was wrong. By all means, keep cutting me."

"Don't mind if I do," Polly said as she removed Demas' newly reforming nose.

He chuckled at her. "Feels
so
good," he mocked.

"You are one fucked up dude. You actually have been enjoying this, haven't you?"

"Oh, baby, you've given me the best damn flaying alive I've had in centuries." His bloody grin made her blood boil.

"You think you can take anything I dish out, huh?" Polly seethed, her white hot anger evident in the snarl on her face.

"All you give me is candy, little bitch. You keep dishing it, I'll keep licking it." He smiled even broader, but with all the torture, it looked more like he was dealing with bad dentures.

"Wow, you've been waiting this whole time to say that, haven't you?"

"Well, when you get a good line…."

"One of these days, you'll know what that feels like," Polly broke in.

"Oh, Apollyon, don't you understand just how fucked you lot are? I'll
never
tell you what is going on. What I will tell you is
get to packing your shit, you demonic cunt
. We will have our situations reversed one of these days and I won't be as nice to you as you've been to me."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that insulting and annoying the woman torturing you is really idiotic?"

"Well, I suppose if you were to ever start torturing me, I'd really be in trouble. Wait, is you babbling on about making me talk the torture? It's the most painful thing that's happened all day."

"Oh, Demas, you're so funny." Polly walked over to the wall closest where the door was and changed the song playing. It went from the Muzak version of "Addicted to Love" to Toni Basil singing "Mickey."

"Oh, come on, Polly. Even you have to admit this song is catchy." Demas bobbed his head, gobbets of flesh falling from his ruined face, but the grin remained.

She went to work removing the skin that had grown back after she'd changed the station. Before long, Demas had fallen into unconsciousness, more from the blood loss than terror.

After what felt like hours of torture, Polly realized it would take too long to break Demas this way. He was a lot stronger than she'd given him credit for. She'd skinned and disemboweled him twice. She was covered head to toe in his blood, and small bits of his flesh clung to her hair and skin. When she looked at him to take stock, she saw that his flesh and entrails hung off of him in tattered strips, his eyes were starting to grow back, and his bones were knitting and reforming. He was way past using pain as a motivator, and Polly realized that he was never going to talk.

Pissed at her failure to gain information, she was ready to put her fist through a wall when an idea hit her, and she realized she might not have to talk to, or torture, him anymore at all. This torture session hadn't been for naught, though. It made her feel a helluva lot better than she had before, and it left him weakened. Vulnerable. She laughed out loud, silently chastising herself for not thinking of it earlier, and she walked out of the room, leaving Demas tightly strapped to the chair at six points. He wasn't fully conscious, and there was no need to worry about escape as he was steadily oozing blood and other bodily fluids.

After what had happened to the other djinn prisoner she brought back, she called a fellow Knight to come stand by the inside door and make sure this prisoner didn't get help in the suicide department like his friend had. Nobody was going to mercy kill Demas on her watch. Nope, she'd make sure that bastard got what was coming to him.

As the door disappeared behind Polly, leaving Demas trapped inside his cell, she strutted back down the hall to implement her new plan. She might not be able to get information out of him with torture, but there was someone who could get access to that info by far easier means.

All she needed was Drew.

If she could get the succubus to help, she might just get the information she needed off Demas quickly, efficiently, and in a far less messy fashion.

She snapped her fingers as she walked, and the blood that had been coating her disappeared and she was in clean, dry clothes. She smiled as she went over her plan, taking solace in the fact it would really screw with the djinn's mind and possibly ruin him mentally. Out of sheer excitement at the thought of breaking Demas, her pace quickened as she continued her half-jog to the break room.