Page 15 of Greed

I rounded the front of the car, buttoning up my tailor-made suit, and stopped in my tracks. I looked over my shoulder and then lifted my nose and sniffed the air trying to gauge the cause for the tingling sensation that was rapidly spreading all over my body. My eyes scanned the empty and darkened street. The only movement had been a random human walking into a pub, but that couldn’t be the cause. I turned in a circle and looked up to the sky.

This had to have something to do with Michael’s sudden and unexpected appearance. The archangel never bothered to come down off his fluffy white horse unless he was planning on trying to fuck some more shit up for the Fallen. Why he and Father couldn’t just leave us alone was beyond me. There had been a great many times over the years since my fall that I felt like a bug in a jar, always poised for their amusement. Like having to live down here wasn’t punishment enough. No, they had to poke at us with a stick, too.

Fuckers.

I was having none of it.

I marched to the message parlor’s front entrance and pulled open the door. The petite demon behind the counter bowed and then pressed a button to grant me access to the lower level where the real fun was. There was another demon waiting for me at the elevator. Once inside, the demon used the special key to activate the lift. The mind-numbingly instrumental music made me want to rip my ear drums out before they bled from boredom.

The antique lift rattled as it came to a halt, and the doors slid open. The pounding heavy metal music was a stark contrast to the tinkling elevator music, and the rush of greed floating in the air invaded my body. I could hear the cheering before I stepped out of the lift and the distinct sound of bones breaking, followed by more cheers. Demon Cheering 101, there is no ‘oohing and awing’ at a demon fight club. The bloodier and more horrific the fight and demise were, the happier the audience was.

This place was like an all-you-can-eat buffet for me, and my skin sang with the pulse of insatiable greediness wafting off everyone. I also knew this was partially why Dai, otherwise known as Wrath, had chosen fight clubs as an establishment to own. The greed was so thick in the air I could almost see the slithering golden strands wrapping their way around those that cheered and continued to bet their lives away. Each one of those down by the cage dreamed of a big payday. They all craved to have more, be the best, hold power, and be as worshipped as a Fallen. The only other place I could find this much energy was when I visited the stock exchange floor. You could never find more greedy people than those that worked there. I smiled at the memory of the last time I paid them a visit. I would’ve stayed in the middle of the floor forever if they hadn’t closed and gone home for the day. I had to be careful not to go there too often. It was easy to get caught up in the surge of the power like a drug.

The fight club was the place to be for demons that lived topside. There were a few establishments across the city that demons owned that served the community, but for the most part, if you were a demon, you came here every night. Dai had done an amazing job building the underground rings and an even better job at promoting them. I stood at the mouth of the entrance as the strobe lights flashed in time to the music. Those standing around lifted their hands in the air, waving demon money so that they could place their bets. Demon money was known as verok. It was made of black rectangular pieces of rock that could be used for many things, but the most popular use of the money was for favors.

To have favors owed by any demon, especially higher-level demons, was important in Hell. You either were the toughest motherfucker born, or you learned to surround yourself with those that could protect you. It was similar to a max security human prison on steroids. To not do so was certain death in the lower plains, survival of the fittest at its most crude. One thing you didn’t want to become was a demon’s fuck toy.

A loud roar ripped from the Gorgon demon in the cage. The large-scale covered demon was one of Dai's most popular demons. Long streams of saliva dripped from the double-headed beast as it held the smaller demon up against the bars of the cage.

“Kill him! Kill him! Kill him,” those that were standing around the cage chanted.

Another roar and the large tentacled arms gripped its opponent like a python. Luckily, I was standing far enough away that when the head popped off the lesser demon’s body, I didn’t get hit with any of the green tendrilled gore or black blood. Those that had gathered jumped up and down as the splatter rained down on them. Small fights broke out amongst the demons that had lost their verok while others cheered and hissed to keep others from stealing what they’d won.

I stared at the glob of green demon guts that had landed at my feet and stepped over the mess, making sure it didn’t touch my new shoes. The main bar and VIP area sat to the left of the hexagon arena. It was raised and gave the best view in the house. I wandered in that direction. Pausing at the bar, I leaned against one of the silver skulls that made up the long decorative piece and gave the waitress a wink. The leggy demon scampered over on her four legs, her long teal braids bouncing as she came.

“Well, hello handsome, what can I get for you this evening? Two pussies, perhaps,” the pretty Shexta demon asked. The Shexta were known for their wild multiple donor sex parties. The double clenching pussies allowed for a number of interesting positions and partner varieties. But, their pussies had a drugging effect that tended to keep the donors working for months at pumping their seed into a Shexta until she was pregnant. Many had awoken months later, their cocks raw and their memories nothing but a blur. With a Shexta, you always found yourself an unwitting baby daddy when the discarded babe was dropped at your door. For this reason alone, I made sure that I never fell into the trap of that temptation no matter how much others raved about how amazing the sex was. The last thing I wanted was offspring—demon, human, angel, or otherwise.

“I’ll take a martini, shaken, not stirred, and extra dirty.”

“Oh, I can make it as dirty as you like,” she smiled, a hint of fang showing.

“Back off, Gina, this one is mine for the night,” Skye appeared beside me, her hand not wasting any time before giving my ass a squeeze.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven for my lack of civility,” I drawled, my eyes openly roaming over her body.

“I don’t know. Are you planning on fucking me tonight?”

Skye looked good in her blood-red outfit. The dress was skin-tight and short enough to provide easy access for later. Her thigh-high boots matched and provided an extra four inches to her height. Her long black hair was knotted up in some high-Hell fashion that all the female demons were doing at the moment, while the black make-up made her grey eyes pop.

“Possibly. What do you have under that dress?” In typical Skye fashion, she simply sat one leather-clad foot up on the bar, the dress rising and giving me a perfectly unobstructed view of what lay beneath. She flicked the silver ring that was a new edition to the tip of her clit and let out a little moan. “Intriguing indeed.”

“Skye, for Hell’s sake, give the man enough time to get a drink in before you start with that shit.” Neven rolled his eyes as he wandered over to join us. I held out my fist for Neven to hit.

“Your sister has a one-track mind.”

“Trust me, she is not in need of servicing. She made me fuck her six times when I got home from work. I’m surprised I made it here at all after the extra fucking-workout,” Neven said and leaned against the bar like he was indeed worn out.

I laughed hard at the image of Neven hiding from his sister. “What was the special occasion?”

“She said it was to honor the gift of Asmodius or some shit. She is a sex addict. That’s all there is to it.” Neven crossed his arms to glare at his sister.

“I didn’t hear you complaining while you were stuffing your cock into my mouth.” Skye pulled her boot off the bar and smoothed down the leather until it was wrinkle-free once more.

“Here you go,” the bartender, Gina slid the obscenely large drink across the bar. It had extra olives, which made me smile. There was something stuck to the bottom of the glass, and when I pulled it off, it had Gina’s name and number. She gave me a wink and licked her lips before heading off to tend to another patron.

I held out the napkin to Neven. “In case you’re interested.”

“Hell to the fuck no,” Neven said, crumpling the napkin and tossing it away.