Page 73 of Trust the Fall
“What?” That news snaps me out of the fright brought on by the walking dead behind me.
“This place is perpetually night, but yes... you’ve slept for more than twenty human hours.” She blinks, but otherwise remains still. “I was tasked with getting you dressed and escorting you downstairs.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know. Lilith requested it,” she says, and the mention of Lilith sours my mood further. “Hurry up. He isn’t to be kept waiting.”
I want to fight her, but the need to get to Luke and apologize for everything is greater than my need to be disagreeable.
“There are clothes in the wardrobe,” she says, turning her back on me.
“What’s wrong? I thought you were all about equal opportunity down here. You don’t want to see my goods?” I taunt, because remaining silent in the presence of this ghostly figure is more disturbing.
“I have plenty of opportunities waiting for me that don’t carry blades that’ll end my existence.”
“Too bad. Luke would say you’re missing out.”
I quickly dress in the first thing I find. A red velvet belly shirt and matching skirt.
“Let’s go,” she says, walking into the hall at a snail’s pace, her back leg dragging behind as though broken.
We don’t speak the entire ten-minute-ish walk. There’s not much to see, as the place is nothing but rock walls and dirt floors. The demon walks us down a dark hall, and if it weren’t for the sudden thumping under my feet, I’d refuse to go any farther with her.
The passage ahead looks ominous.
“Just this way. Master is waiting.”
I really hope bymastershe means Luke.
She takes a sharp right, and a giant arch opens to a vast room bedecked in red and black leather as far as the eye can see.
“What’s going on?” I ask the demon, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.
Half-dressed demon women circle around Luke. Their hands run all over his arms and chest while buck-naked women dance in cages suspended from the ceiling.
An erotic bass thrums through the room and despite myself, my body itches to move with the beat.
This erotic atmosphere makes me feel like I’m in some sex club in the middle of New York City, not in the bowels of Hell. Then again, magic reigns supreme here. Second only to all things sin.
All seven of them are fully present. Tables line one side of the room, full of every type of craveable food imaginable.Gluttonyis written in bold black letters on the blood-red walls.
Demons masked in glamours enjoy all the trappings Hell provides. Their monstrous skins are tucked away for the evening while they bask in what they envy most, human beauty. Jewels dangle from around their necks, while diamonds and rubies drip from the females’ ears and bodies. There’s not an unattractive person in sight.
On another side of the open space are rooms that look more like cabanas. Heavy red and black suede curtains hang down, creating the appearance of privacy, but they’re not meant to be effective. No, here the unseemly act of voyeurism is encouraged. While couples fornicate, swapping their partners or joining in on one of the many orgies, a group of onlookers lean back in their comfy chairs, pleasuring themselves while they watch.
Bile pushes its way up my throat.
This is Hell.
No demons are being tortured at this moment. Instead, they’re all granted a front-row seat to the debauchery, with Lucifer right in the middle, perched atop his golden throne.
One woman sits between his legs, massaging his thighs, while another runs her hands through the same hair I did only hours ago.
Can I handle this for an eternity?
“What the hell is going on?” I nearly scream.
The effects of it burn my throat.