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When Diana’s fingers meet mine, I look into her green eyes. For a second, I see a flicker of hesitation and… sympathy? It's gone as quickly as it appeared, making me think I imagined it.
I sigh, walk into the bathroom, and close my eyes as I lean against the counter. This is the only time I have any privacy. Even when I'm asleep, guards are positioned close by. Occasionally, I sneak away from one for a half hour or so, but not very often. When I'm in the bathroom, I'm finally, truly alone.
Sliding the white, silk nightgown from my body, I turn on the shower and step under the flow of hot water. I'm the only person who's touched the intimate places on my body since I was old enough to bathe myself. I’ve explored some of those places a few times, but even in the sanctity of the bathroom, privacy is short-lived and timed. I have twenty minutes to do what I need before Diana follows orders and brings me out of the bathroom. The only time that rule is broken is if I'm sick, and then the guards are meant to check on me every ten minutes.
I sigh, wondering where this itch to break the rules is coming from. I feel this new need to rebel, to run away. I'd never do it, but still, I want to live, not hide behind walls and women my entire life. Maybe tonight, during the ball, I'll ask my father about meeting some eligible men. Maybe.
My father’s moods can be erratic. He's always happy in my presence, but I've heard him yelling at my mother and the staff. I've always worked hard to please him and prevent that kind of behavior from being aimed at me. Once, I was certain I heard him slap my mother after she called him a perverted monster. I didn't understand that remark, but I knew it was something about me and how my father loved me.
With a deep sigh, I rinse off the soap I've slathered all over my body before stepping out and wrapping a towel around myself. I open the door slightly to let Diana know I'm finished washing. My gaze lingers on the other woman for a moment. What if I invite Diana inside? Invite her to… explore?
Nope.
I shake my head. I may have zero experience, but I know I’m not attracted to women that way. It's more… curiosity. Wanting a deeper connection with someone. Keep a girl locked up her entire life, and she's bound to speculate about the nature of sexuality and all that comes with it.
I glance down at my ring. I promised to keep myself pure, a promise my father holds me to every day. And I adore my father, so no matter how much I may ache and itch and fantasize, I'll ignore these new sensations, ignore this need that seems to be taking control of my body.
I'd walk through fire for my father because he’d do the same for me.
Chapter Two
Mammon
“And why do you think you deserve all this wealth and fame, Leon?” I ask the man with a pasty complexion. His hard blue eyes are chips of glacial ice, his hair so pale that it's almost silver.
“I’m tired of living like a dirtbag, man. People treat me like I’m stupid all the time, but I know how to make money. They just won’t listen to me.” Leon shakes his silvery head, his mouth a hateful red slash. “That’s why I came to you. Word on the street is that you trade stuff to make dreams come true.”
I smile, tapping my long, black talons against my equally black beard as I lean forward on my throne. “Right. Stuff. You do understand what that stuff is, right?”
“Yeah, something I don’t need, man. I am who I am. What am I gonna do with a soul if it keeps me tied down in poverty and obscurity? I got sick beats, man, tracks people need to hear, and ideas that could make millions if I can get someone to listen.” Leon licks his lips in a way that makes my mouth curl in disgust. But this is my endless duty—to trade and collect souls for Lucifer. In return, the newly soulless will have all of their dreams fulfilled. Even if that means killing, stealing, and anything else along the way to get what they desire.
“Fine, fine, whatever you want.” I wave my hand, and a pre-filled parchment, a silvery sharp scalpel, and a quill appear from thin air. “Fill this in, sign it, and all your dreams will come true.”
Leon doesn't even blink as he takes the items to a table. He cuts a slit in his palm, uses his blood to write his name, and signs the document with the quill.
I sigh as I take the document. With a flick of my wrist, I send Leon back to The Above to live out his dream. Little does he know the nightmare that awaits him when he returns here in twenty-two years, dead from an overdose. Seeing the future of those who pledge their souls is one of the dubious "perks" of this job.
Another eager soul steps forward from the darkness, rubbing his hands together and licking his lips in a similar way to Leon.
I cringe inwardly, wondering why young men think this is the thing to do. They all look as though they're in dire need of lip balm and some water to wash their hands.
Like Leon, the young man starts talking about his sick beats and plans to conquer the world through his music. I tune the kid out. I'd rather stick a fork up my ass than listen to his drivel.
Greedy.
These humans are so fucking greedy.
And as I'm the demon of greed, it's my role to satisfy their avarice and facilitate the trade of their eternal souls for the devil. I'm not greedy myself. I'm more weary than anything. Restless. Bored with this job, bored with my task of torturing souls for eons, and just bored in general. Maybe I'll spend my next break in The Above with the humans and monsters. Maybe find a lover.
The guy continues as I stare on, not listening. After a few moments, I summon the same materials I gave to Leon before calling for the next in line.
Instead, a familiar form appears in front of me, stopping what little semblance of time there is down here.
As a creature of Hell myself, Lucifer shouldn’t frighten or shake me in any way. But when he pops up like this, I always brace for bad news. His presence is a reminder that he’s my eternal boss and can do awful things to me if he chooses, despite my power.
He stands before me with a grin like a chasm on his licorice-black face. Razor-sharp teeth peek out along with a tongue as red as the fiery pits of hell. His muscles gleam darker than night, a shade that doesn't even exist in The Above.
At least he hasn't appeared as a hellhound. He’s done that before. Bastard thought it was amusing to curl one down next to my throne. Took two days to get rid of the stench.
