CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The claws of Innis’ left hand dragged along the stone walls as he walked with a proud swagger towards Clarise’s chambers. Sparks leapt from the tips until the heat caused them to glow bright red. Today was going to be a good day.

Avis would have been notified sometime yesterday about his new sentence, which meant the window of opportunity to antagonise the son of a bitch was fast drawing to a close. As one of the younger sons of Belial, he had been at the end of the torture queue and Clarise’s intervention had circumvented what he felt was his due.

Clarise was a creature of habit, as were most of the Highborn Ladies. As such, she would have been up and gone about her day hours ago—leaving Avis virtually unprotected. Innis smiled to himself, having spent the entire night devising his revenge.

An unprovoked attack on Avis inside the privacy of Clarise’s quarters would be frowned upon, but not if Innis managed to say and do things to incite the slae-el’s wrath first. And that shouldn’t be hard. Like all Mystallians, Avis’ greatest weakness was his pride, and that could easily be exploited. After that, Innis could claim self-defence, and no one would blame him for retaliating at that point with extreme prejudice.

Innis sharpened his fangs in anticipation of sinking them into the Mystallian’s throat. One chance was all he was going to get, so it had to count. Without bothering to knock, Innis let himself into what was now a Mystallian-styled sitting room. He paused to look at each piece of the offending décor, allowing it to fuel his disgust.

Why? Why had Clarise chosen to stand by such a bipedal animal after everything he had done to her? Innis was convinced some manner of trickery was in play, though he was careful not to air his thoughts to anyone else. To imply Avis’ superiority in the matter would relegate the Highborn Hellions to an inferior position by default because they hadn’t been able to stop it. No way he was crossing that line.

The plump cushions of the two-seater leather couch were a tempting target, but Innis caught himself just as he was about to slash his heated claws through the hide. If the evidence of his rage before his confrontation with Avis became known, his theory of self-defence would disappear. Besides, why waste a good rage on inanimate furniture, when the real target was in the next room? Soon. Soon, that son of a scallye will pay.

“Milord,” both of Clarise’s female servants said in surprise, bowing as one from different corners of the room as he approached the master bedroom doors.

Innis sneered at the women and flicked a claw at the main door behind him in silent dismissal. Both females bowed and retreated at once, though Frash paused near the door and looked back at him suspiciously. To Innis—who was already on the knife’s edge of fury—that open act of defiance needed to be squashed.

He glared at the woman and activated every one of the two hundred thousand plus pain receptors scattered throughout her body. The terror he saw in her eyes right before he forced her to throw herself against the shut timber door was something he would enjoy for a long time, though he clamped down on her ability to scream in agony.

The last thing he wanted or needed was Avis getting any hint of what was coming for him. The woman whimpered as she fell to the ground and scurried from the room.

Innis snorted in satisfaction. Next time, she would run when told to and not look back.

With that minor inconvenience dealt with, Innis turned back to the closed bedroom doors. Your turn, Mystallian. Unwilling to dirty himself by touching the polished door handles, Innis tapped his shifting and had them swing them open of their own accord. Then he strode into the room.

The sight that greeted him caused him to fall back half a step.

Avis slept on his back with his lips parted in a half-smile of carnal satisfaction. One hand was lost beneath the pillow he lay on, but more offensively, the other rested in the middle of Clarise’s bare back. Her upper half was draped across Avis’ chest; her hair splayed loosely across them both and an equally satisfied smile was glued to her sleepy lips. Innis continued to stare in disbelief, assuming both were naked based on what he could see with the sheet covering their legs and buttocks.

Smoke poured from Innis’ nostrils as he continued to watch their peaceful slumber. This was supposed to be Avis’ punishment! He was supposed to be suffering! Yet for the second time in recent years the bastard had managed to seduce Clarise for his own vile purposes and had done so whilst convincing her to maintain the form of his choosing!

She was shaped like him—a useless, grounded bipedal! His anger grew with every passing second until at last he could stand it no more and with a screech of outrage, he took his sister by the hand and hauled her out of bed, thrusting her in behind him.

“Innis … brother … what …?” Clarise asked, dazed by the rude awakening. Avis also jerked awake but was taken completely unawares as Innis leapt onto the bed and raked his claws across Avis’ face with every intention of shredding him. “Innis, NO!” Clarise screamed, as Avis caught Innis’ slashing hand before it could strike him a second time.

Contrary to the fear he’d expected to see in Avis’ eyes at the sight of an enraged demon Lord; the Mystallian’s gaze narrowed fiercely and Innis suddenly felt his mind erupt in mental fire.

“I’m not of the Damned anymore, boy,” Avis snarled, laying waste to every thought Innis had had over the last decade instantly. His glare intensified. “And I don’t even need to touch you to destroy you.”

Innis shifted his hand free and covered his head with both hands as the pain level quadrupled. He fell away from the bed and hit the ground hard, rolling and sliding across the carpeted floor in a desperate bid to end the agony that seemed to follow him everywhere.

Through his peripheral vision, he saw a naked bipedal male pull himself into a sitting position. Three deep gouges were burnt into the stranger’s left cheek and Innis knew his own handiwork, even if he couldn’t remember why. The male was still glaring daggers at him.

“In your excitement, did you forget when it comes to a throw-down between the two of us that your ass was mine and not the other way around, you pathetic little bastard?” the male snarled, dabbing his knuckles against his cauterised wounds. He grimaced at the contact, then cursed, his eyes glittering with lethal fury. “Oh, I don’t give a fuck if you are my wife’s little brother now …”

His wife? Innis tried to make sense of the situation but the pain in his head soared until he was arching off the ground and screaming in agony. Flames tore through his mind, scorching everything it touched. He almost missed the sight of a naked Clarise leaping over him to land on the bed. Despite her strange form, he recognised his sister’s essence. A shudder of loathing added to his pain as she straddled the male’s legs and wrapped her arms around his neck, but he didn’t know why.

He watched as Clarise pushed her forehead against the strange male’s brow. “Let him go, beloved. Please!” she begged. “He cannot help the way he is, and you have made your point. Your mind can take his down at any time, while he can do nothing about your shape so long as my blood flows in your veins. Any further destruction on your part will not be perceived as self-defence. Please, my love. Let him be. For me.”

Muscles jumped along the male’s clenched jaw, but with Clarise holding him close, his eyes lost their lust for vengeance and his shoulders relaxed. His hands went around her waist possessively and he pressed his lips to hers in a light peck. “For you,” he said, then slid his gaze to Innis.

The fire that raged unchecked through Innis’ mind was extinguished as suddenly as it appeared and the demon Lord slumped to the ground in unmitigated relief. For the next few seconds, he lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling in an attempt to recreate what he had lost. The male with his sister was a bender—one Innis couldn’t remember but knew he hated.

Benders fought by destroying memories. So, they’d fought. His eyes went to his sister and the male on the bed. That explained the scars on his face. Innis wouldn’t have gone down without getting in a lick or two first, but who was he? He claimed to be Clarise’s husband and the intimacy they were showing right now certainly leaned towards that conclusion, but that didn’t explain who he was or why he invoked so much hatred in Innis.

The family must have sanctioned the marriage, but what was going on? He rolled to his stomach and pressed his head against the soft, fluffy floor covering. Why was it here? Why was any of it here? Why was he here? Nothing made sense.

“Avis,” he heard his sister whisper, and assumed that was the male’s name. Come to think of it, that name did mean something to him. Wasn’t he Mystal’s promiscuous Life God? But that made even less sense. The Highborn Hellions would never sanction the marriage of one of their own to a god like that. He watched with growing confusion as Clarise snuggled against this … Avis god. “He is my brother, my love, and he means well. Do not leave him injured, please …?”

The male called Avis shushed her with a thumb against her lips and kissed her nose. “Only if you promise never to beg anything of me or anyone else ever again,” he purred, rubbing his forehead lovingly against hers. “You’re my wife, sweetheart, now and forever, and I won’t have my queen taking any other stand than that of my ruling equal.”

“You will heal him?” The question lacked the appropriate manners, but at least it hadn’t quite come across as the command Avis had wanted. Innis cringed at the idea of his sister dictating terms to a superior male. It was always the risk they ran with the Highborn ladies. By raising them to be obedient in all matters, that was exactly what they became once they were married, even if those assuming that control rode roughshod all over their Highborn Hellion values.

Nevertheless, Avis smiled indulgently and kissed her forehead. “Better, baby.” As the male then cuddled her close, Innis felt his dark, probing eyes fall upon him and the ash that had been his mind slowly reverse. Innis closed his eyes as his memories reformed and with that recollection came the reason he’d been there.

“Avis!” Innis snarled, snapping his eyes open. Still sitting on the bed, Avis and Clarise were now fully dressed in the distinctive coal-black uniform of the Mystallian pantheon; their backs resting against the bedhead.

Both leaned marginally into the other. Avis’ left arm cupped Clarise’s left shoulder, and Clarise pressed the back of her head against Avis’ left platysma and pectoral muscles with her right arm draped across Avis’ mid-section. It was a position of shared power, but Innis couldn’t believe his sister could be so gullible a second time! The matrimonial bliss they exuded made the demon lord want to hurl.

“Innis,” that disgusting excuse for a god called in a superlative tone, as if he were the one in charge here. “You are whole only because my beloved wife wished it but choose your next words very carefully. I won’t have you upsetting her.”

It took a moment for Innis to realise what he’d said. “Me upsetting her?” he spat, leaping to his feet in outrage. He managed a single, aggressive step towards the bed before Avis commandeered his mind and knocked him back down to his knees. “You are the one who is using her to make your own miserable sentence that much easier to live with!” he shouted, determined to get the words out while he still could. Shifting his focus to Clarise, he added, “And you are too naive to see it!”

“What?” Clarise asked, lifting her head off Avis.

Innis felt his mouth being snapped shut and a different, deeply pressurised wave of pain tear through his mind; not unlike someone grabbing his thoughts in both hands and wringing them together. But it was too late to stop his outburst and he all but chortled in victory.

Burn with me, you bastard! he wanted to shout, and would have, had he not been so busy trying not to fall backwards in pain. This wasn’t the same as the fire that destroyed his mind, though it still hurt. In fact, it hurt a lot, but it was doable.

He knew the only reason Avis hadn’t gone all out again was because the son of a scallye was in damage control with his wife and he was splitting his attention between the two. Hah! With luck, Clarise’s eyes had finally been opened enough to question Avis’ motives and there was nothing the Mystallian could do to change it.

“What sentence is he talking about?” Clarise asked; a question that she should have asked before climbing into the slae-el’s bed as far as Innis was concerned. She turned to that scallye she called husband for an explanation.

Avis at least had the humility to appear uncomfortable with the question, though he never once looked away from her. “Do you remember I asked you last night what a blood rage was?”

Clarise stilled, and slowly bobbed her head.

Avis licked his lips nervously. “Sweetheart, there’s no easy way to say this except to just say it. Apparently yesterday, Cora … our daughter …” He paused and swallowed, his expression full of regret and torment. Innis almost bought his fake sincerity. “Sweetheart, she went into one.”

Clarise gasped and went to jerk away, but Avis’s arms tightened around her and he pulled her struggling form against his chest, emitting soft animal noises of comfort along with words like, “It’s okay. It’s okay, baby. She’s fine. I swear, she’s fine.”

Innis fought to free himself and assist her, but he couldn’t move from his knees! He couldn’t defend her or correct any lie Avis was going to say. He was a silent observer at best, and he hated Avis even more for it. The married couple continued to struggle on the bed until Clarise stilled in his arms. Innis could hear her muffled sobs from the floor.

“She’s fine, sweetheart,” the Mystallian scallye went on to say, loosening his hold and rubbing her back and head and kissing her hair every few words to convince her of his honesty. “I swear, no one’s going to kill her for it. No one’s even going to touch her. It’s all been taken care of.”

“H-How?”

Avis pressed his lips against her hair and held them there for a few seconds. “I’m taking her with me when I leave. In fact, I’m being made to … but that part doesn’t matter. The kid’s a Mystallian at heart anyway and doesn’t belong here with all the rules that govern the Highborn ladies. Chance anointed her and you’ve met my sister, Armina. Cora’s just a younger version of her.”

He raised one shoulder in a half-shrug and slid his hand under her chin, then lifted her away from his throat so he could look her in the eyes. “To be honest, I’m surprised she hasn’t gone off at someone sooner than this, sweetheart. Five years of this stifling environment and never once blowing up is more control than anyone else in my family would have had, I promise you.”

Through red-rimmed and puffy eyes, Clarise looked at Innis, who was still unable to move anything below the neck. “Innis said it was a sentence.”

Innis bobbed his head most affirmatively despite the pain. He’d hoped Clarise had caught that part and now that she had, all the sweet words in the realm wouldn’t stop Avis’ actions from being perceived as forced instead of his own generous doing.

But Innis couldn’t believe it when the conniving slae-el merely sighed and smiled at Clarise with a look of absolute fake adoration plastered all over his face. “They called it a sentence,” the bastard said softly, flicking his eyes at Innis to include him in that number. “I call it taking her home where she belongs. But this was never just about Cora. I was always going to ask you to come with me, sweetheart.”

It was a blatant lie, yet Innis could see his gullible sister was hanging off every word. He wanted to scream! Avis even went as far as to stroke her face with the back of his fingers as he spoke and Clarise purred like a damned scallye in heat! “I love you,” he went on. “But if you want the whole story, let me send Innis out and I’ll tell you everything that’s happened since yesterday morning.”

“You will not need to send Innis out, Avis,” Clarise said, giving Innis hope that she had finally seen through the lies. But then she turned that gaze to him and the demon lord saw something … unladylike in her eyes. An ice that matched their father. “Because he is no longer welcome here.”

She waited a moment or two for the gravity of her words to be understood, at which point she reached across her body and squeezed the Mystallian hand that cupped her shoulder. “Let him go, Avis, and observe how we of Hell deal with inappropriate behaviour.”

What? I am only here to save you! How was that inappropriate? The pressure inside Innis’ mind disappeared, and he once again launched himself to his feet. “How can you accuse me of inappropriate behaviour?” he demanded, dumbfounded by the allegation.

Clarise stared him down. “You came into our marital chambers uninvited and unannounced and attacked my husband for copulating with me when that is his marital right. Even now, he bears the scars of your shameful act where everyone can see them. How is that anything but inappropriate behaviour?”

For the first time since he’d entered the room, Innis realised the totality of this disaster. His well thought out plans had collapsed right alongside his self-control when he’d seen them together and realised Avis had seduced his way back into her life.

But from Clarise’s point of view, he was the transgressor. He had crossed the line by striking first. Worse, she’d been present to witness it. This was the exact opposite of what he’d hoped to achieve. He swallowed heavily and shook his head, even as he backed away from them.

“He does not love you, Clarise,” he said, as his only means of defence. He looked at her pleadingly. “I have never lied to you,” -his hand came up and he pointed accusingly at Avis, “… and he has done nothing but lie. You know this to be true.”

Clarise rose from the bed and walked around to stand between himself and Avis. There was nothing contrite about her demeanour. Nothing submissive. He didn’t even recognise her anymore; figuratively or literally.

“That remains to be proven,” she said, as if he were a lowly servant who had dared to speak out of turn. “However, your recent conduct speaks for itself and as such, you are no longer a welcome sight to me. Take your leave and stay gone or be escorted to Father by force to explain yourself to him. Given your outrageous behaviour, I may yet choose the latter, so leave my sight before your presence offends me any more than it already has and I declare you persona-non-gratae.”

Innis’ eyes widened and he stumbled away from his sister. He had no desire to explain his actions to their father. With so much family dishonour stacked against him, he’d be lucky to survive.

“As you wish,” he said, dipping his head towards Clarise. His next step bumped him against the closed door and his hand fumbled behind his back for the handle. His eyes left Clarise and found Avis, who sat casually against the bedhead with his forearm resting comfortably on his raised knee.

What Innis wouldn’t give to be able to wipe that smug look of superiority off his stupid face. “But after that thing has had his chance to explain, you need to ask one of the Highborn Lords what really happened, because our version of events will be very different, and you really need to hear both sides.”

“GUARDS!” Clarise roared.

Innis turned and fled the apartment before they arrived. He was barely at the main doors when he spotted them already rushing down the passage to answer Clarise’s uncharacteristic bellow and knew he only had seconds to escape.

The wider caverns gave him the advantage of flight and fighting to contain his rising panic, he leapt into the air and pumped his wings furiously to get as far away from Clarise’s rooms as possible. That distance went on to include all the family levels which more than likely contained Highborn Hellion Lords who would detain him if they knew. The status of persona-non-gratae was not thrown around lightly in Hell and one of the few recourses the ladies had at their disposal.

On the rare occasion when a Lady was permitted in the High Court, it was to explain her reasons for the declaration and leave the fate of the accused to the assembled Lords. Any punishment that may have been handed down was doubled or tripled at least if a persona-non-gratae status was involved. The Ladies needed to feel safe and vindicated.

The thought of being caught added to his desperation until he was tearing past both Belial’s quarters and the High Court on the next level. He burst free of the Well and landed a short distance from the rim, allowing the cold bite of Hell’s frozen ninth level to try and chill his growing panic. Think … he commanded of himself, stalking across the frozen wasteland. Think! Now is a great time to visit … anyone else away from Hell.

That was a good plan. Get out, while he still could. Forgiveness had no place in Hell, and it was only a matter of time before he was found and dragged before his father, possibly in chains. Avis deserved everything he received and Innis felt no sympathy towards him, but with Clarise declaring him persona-non-gratae he knew he’d soon be sharing Avis’ former fate in the nine levels for a few years.

But they had to catch him first, and this crime hardly warranted the full might of Hell. Besides, it sounded like Clarise would be leaving Hell soon anyway, and without her testimony to condemn him, the High Court would dismiss the status and he’d be free to go his own way. He just needed to lay low for a few millennia.

With that, he flared his mighty wings and launched himself towards the gateway that linked Antenora to the Eighth Level. Fortunately, the fundamental rule of No One Escaping Hell did not apply to the Hellion Highborn.

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

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