The Road To Hell Part 24

The Endless Caverns There were lots of things that I missed about being a demon. My hair (whenever I had hair) had always been perfect, I'd never needed a bra no matter how well endowed I was, and my body had moved in ways that would make contortionists scream for mercy. But at the moment, the one thing I missed most about not having my infernal powers was being able to see in the dark.

Scratch that. Dark was what happened at night. This wasn't dark. This was absolute blackness.

Ouch. Yow! f.u.c.k!

Absolute blackness with about a zillion sharp rocks.

Between my hooves and the thick pelt of hair swathing my lower limbs up to my pelvis, my feet and legs were well protected. But I was walking with my arms outstretched so that I wouldn't go face-first into anything nasty, so my hands and forearms wound up peppered with tiny lacerations from their accidental encounters with the rock-studded walls.

I had no idea how long I'd been wandering around, blind. Stepping into the maw of the Caverns felt like forever ago-with that single, decisive step, everything around me had disappeared. Including the entrance. Turning back was not an option. And so that meant moving forward.

Wherever that was.

I'd long since yelled myself hoa.r.s.e; obviously, no one was going to show up with a torch or a flashlight. Or the electric company. I'd even called Paul's name, knowing it was pointless, telling him that I was coming for him. Slowly. Blindly. Around me, the dank stench of the cave pressed into my flesh, weighed down my limbs. Whenever I opened my mouth, I tasted the humidity on my tongue. The only sounds I heard were my own hoof-falls and my curses whenever I sliced my hands against a jutting rock.

Trapped in the Endless Caverns, I realized just how helpless I was... and just how lost I was getting. I had no idea what I was doing. Other than stumbling around in the dark and bleeding, that is. That I had pretty well covered.

Mental note: Improve strategic planning skills.

After a short infinity of nothing but cave smell and cave rocks, I met the cave wall. As in, my path was completely blocked. Cursing a blue streak, I turned to retrace my steps, but I b.u.mped into a barrier that hadn't been there before. c.r.a.p. I pivoted to the left and walked four steps... and smacked into yet another wall. Grumbling as I rubbed my sore arm, I staggered three steps backward and came to a full stop, my back against another rocky wall face.

Well, s.h.i.+t.

Flummoxed, I sat on the floor. Time to brainstorm.

I waited for insight.

Come on, insight.

Peaches? Any wisdom?

Yeah. Don't go to h.e.l.l.

Double s.h.i.+t.

Blowing out a sigh, I closed my eyes. Which changed nothing, as I couldn't see worth a d.a.m.n anyway.

Sitting there, alone in the dark, I heard them: ghostly voices, whispers within the rocks, chittering like rats.

Another?

Another.

What's this one?

A lover.

Questing?

Indeed.

A demon?

Half-breed.

"Heya," I called out. "Can you hear me?"

She asks us?

She tasks us?

Gah. Rhymers. I hated Rhymers. Stupid little elves. They always made me feel like I was trapped in a greeting-card store. My nose plugged from the stink of festering orange juice. "I'm looking for a mortal named Paul Hamilton."

Take her?

Oh yes.

Take her.

Make her guess.

Where are we taking you?

Hands-all over me, grabbing my face, my shoulders, my waist, my legs.

"Hey!" I swatted at them, clawed them off, but still they came: small hands, vise-like, with tiny fingers that attached themselves to my flesh like suction cups. "Get off me!" Hands clamping over my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, my a.s.s, my hooves, my wrists; fingers squirming over me, prying between my lips. "Quit it, you dumb cookie elves! Let go!"

Hands plugging my mouth, wrapping around my throat.

She screeches and screams.

But she doesn't guess.

Let's examine her dreams.

Let's hear her confess.

Hands hoisting me up, arms out, flat on my back, carrying me like a crucifix. Hands and disembodied voices everywhere, giggling, whispering, riddling in the bowels of h.e.l.l.

When is a demon not really a demon?

When it is really a mortal.

What will she see, what will she hear- When she faces the flash and the portal?

I bucked, I kicked, I thrashed my head and snapped my fangs, but to no avail-the invisible hands of the Rhymers carried me away, deeper into the darkness.

When is a choice never a choice?

When there is nothing to choose.

Free it may be to one such as she- But if its free then there's nothing to lose.

Please. Block my ears. If I had to listen to any more of the demonic nursery rhymes, I would lose my mind.

To ignore their taunts, I focused on Shakira lyrics in Spanish, then in English, then in Spanglish. Halfway through "Suerte," the hands threw me forward. I crashed to the floor, only slightly gratified that the stones beneath me were smooth; it still hurt like a b.i.t.c.h when I landed.

"A light, my delight," boomed a voice, "give us a light."

Torches sprang to life around me, their sudden illumination stabbing me. Wincing, I shut my eyes, orange motes swimming behind my lids.

"She dresses so pretty. Hides her true form, more's the pity."

Biting my lip, I slowly opened my eyes. Gray swam around me, focused into a pattern of stone. Okay, that would be the floor. Get up, Jesse. I planted my stinging palms on the ground and hoisted myself up to my elbows. When I raised my head, I looked up at a hairy elf pointing a black weapon at me. No, not a weapon. A... camera?

He said, "Smile."

Flas.h.!.+

A thousand suns burst before me. I jerked my head back, squeezed my eyes shut. Powder rained over me, settled onto my skin. In the wake of the dust, colors shot through my head-hot yellows blending with cool greens, swirling with bright oranges and haughty reds, a whirlpool of tinted light, dazzling me, drowning me.

"The portal, the portal," the elf chanted, his voice warped, tinny. "Let's make her immortal."

Hands lifted me, moved me as I swam through the colors, trying to break free from their weight. I shouted for them to stop-I needed to find Paul. My voice filled with pigment, colored my words.

"Need, indeed. Always about need. But let's see what she wants."

The hands set me down, held me upright, turned my head forward and pried open my eyelids. Through the haze of streaming color, I saw a mirror.

"Reflect, but circ.u.mspect. A want is not a need."

In the mirror I saw a gray room of cold stone.

"Choose and lose. Let's see which you heed."

And in that room was a door, and I knew that behind that door was everything I'd ever wanted, everything I'd ever dreamed of, in the deepest, blackest pit of my heart. All I had to do was open the door...

The hands released me, and I stepped through the mirror.

My hooves clack against the stone floor like high heels on linoleum, tapping out a beat as I approach the plain wooden door. The air is thick against my body, as if I'm cutting my way through a cloud. I stretch my arm out, ready to push open the door, and I notice the golden bracelet snug against my wrist. It winks at me, an old friend sharing a secret. It clicks in my mind what that secret is, and just before I touch the bare wood I command myself to find Paul.

Find Paul. Bring him home.

My fingers touch the door.

Find Paul. Bring him- The door swings open...

Find Paul- ... and the smell hits me, a combination of chocolate and s.e.x, and then the sounds of running water and eager laughter and the oohs of caresses and soft moans of pa.s.sionate touches stolen in the moonlight...

Find- ... and I walk through the door...

... and step into a pool of chocolate. It hugs me, forms a second skin around me as I wade into the liquid confection. Submerged up to my chin, I move my arms back and forth, kicking my feet until I'm floating in the blissful stickiness. Its rich scent seeps into my nose, delights my senses.

The bathing room, resplendent in obsidian and ruby, gleams from the heat of the chocolate pool, the walls slick with condensation. I walk the length of the pool, murmuring greetings to the creatures dotting its lip, all prostrating themselves as I pa.s.s them before continuing with their foreplay. Nymphs and satyrs, G.o.ds and demons dressed as humans, all tangled in intricate lover's knots, their bodies pulsing, their sounds of pleasure echoing in the large chamber-moans harmonizing with coos, sudden gasps a staccato in the air, their pants keeping time.

"Lady."

I smile up at Joey, who is bent over double, naked save for his black necktie, presenting me with a goblet of hot chocolate. I take the drink, my fingers lingering against his, enjoying the shudder that plays over his sweat-slick muscles. I thank him for the beverage, and he smiles his appreciation as he bows, his tuxedo tie hidden as he bobs his head in deference. One of the incubi grabs Joey's hand and leads him to the back of the room, already nibbling on his ear, stroking his shaft. Joey's groans blend with the music of s.e.x, bodies slapping a backbeat.

s.e.x and chocolate. All is right with the world.

I take a small sip of my drink, humming my glee as the taste dances over my tongue, slides down my throat. Sinful without sin. Yum.

A demon in red approaches, knuckling his forehead in the manner of the truly old ones. "Is the temperature high enough, Lady?"

"It's fine, Zepar," I say, motioning with my free hand. "Go, have fun."

"d.a.m.nations, Lady." The Seducer bows, his red armor resplendent in the candlelight. "Until the Gathering." Touching his fist to his forehead, he backs out of the bathing room.

Mmmm. I'd nearly forgotten about the Gathering-a small appearance to the hordes of h.e.l.l before the Great Orgy. The thought brings a smile to my lips. Nothing like a lot of f.u.c.king to lack off the festivities.

"Lady," says Caitlin, her voice a caress, "you should come out and dry off. The Gathering begins in a half hour."

I pout, splas.h.i.+ng the liquid chocolate. "You're too young to be my mother."

She smiles, used to the old jibe. "Old enough to keep you on schedule."

"You're right, you're right." I quaff the rest of my drink, then hand her the empty cup.

Caitlin inclines her head as she takes the goblet. "You should eat something. More than chocolate, I mean. You need the four food groups. Especially beef."

"I'm fine."

She frowns at me, as only a sister can, but all she says is, "A half hour, Lady." She bows as she exits the room. I don't try to stop her. Even after all this time in my entourage, she remains uncomfortable with nudity. I shake my head. Poor Caitlin.

Time to get dry. I swim across the pool, slowly ascend the stairs and step onto the tile floor. Three women approach, carrying huge white plumes st.i.tched into elaborate fans. Dripping chocolate, I extend my arms. Candy, Circe, and Faith wave their fans, catching the air and directing it onto my wet body. The chocolate slowly dries, encasing my form in thick sweetness. When the chocolate is completely solid, I nod. The three dancers step back, melting into the other attendees writhing around the edge of the pool.

I stand, head thrown back, hands raised in supplication: a chocolate sacrifice. Daun approaches from the left and Angel from the right, each taking one of my candy-coated arms. They begin with soft nibbles, their saliva s.h.i.+ning on my flesh, their teeth gently working through the sh.e.l.l until my fingers waggle free.

Slowly they work their way up my arms, eating me, releasing me, polis.h.i.+ng my body with their lips and tongue. Daun sucks chocolate from my nipples, his growls of pleasure echoing my own. Angel kisses chocolate off my back, consuming it with love and adoration, and I quiver from her soft touches. They work their way down my form, Daun laving my front and Angel buffing my rear. My groin tightens with every feather kiss of Angel's, her delicate lips trailing down my b.u.t.tocks, the backs of my thighs, sluicing the chocolate from my skin. Daun is more aggressive, slurping the candy from my flesh, my purrs goading him on. As Angel sucks my toes, Daun tongues my c.l.i.t until my wetness fills his mouth, replacing sweetness with sweetness as an o.r.g.a.s.m pulses through me.

Yes, my dears. Polish me with your reverence. Rain your adoration over me.

Love me.

Daun kisses my nub one last time, then stands back as the dancers move forward. Faith stands ready with my outfit. I step into the ruby garment, and she pulls it up, wraps it around me and cinches it tight-gauzy genie pants with a broad sash around the crotch and over my chest, with more of the diaphanous material swathing my arms and coming to a point over the backs of my hands. Beneath the opaque strip covering my genitals and b.r.e.a.s.t.s, my skin peeks out, sh.e.l.l pink against the crimson fabric. Clothing still feels odd to me, but I recognize its importance. Especially here, in my seat of power, I understand that flaunting something all the time is the quickest way for everyone to grow used to it, complacent. In h.e.l.l, complacent malefic ent.i.ties meant bored malefic ent.i.ties. And that meant a constant migraine for me. Power should be hinted at, displayed only when necessary.

And s.e.x is one of the strongest lands of power. Thus, I wear clothing when I'm not f.u.c.king.