Page 119 of The Devil's Trials

She sighs, the sound intentionally dramatic. “Yes, well, we’re not all like you, Blake. That’s not as easy for some of us.”

“I can’t tell if that’s meant to be a compliment or an insult.”

“Best not to analyze it too closely,” I chime in, drumming my fingers against my leg.

By some small miracle, the rest of the drive is smooth and goes by quickly. Once we arrive, Blake parks in the public lot, and we start the trek into the forest. It’s an overcast afternoon and there’s a bite of coldness in the air that makes me grateful for the jacket I grabbed on the way out the door.

Francesca is dressed impeccably, as always, in a black pea coat, leather pants, and boots with an almost ridiculous heel. Blake and I are dressed in similar black dress pants and shirts, but while my jacket is black, Blake opted for a sandy brown leather zip-up. Paired with his blue hair, some might view his appearance as strange, but Blake’s confidence helps him pull off frankly any look, and he knows it.

Jude and Roman are in jeans, hiking boots, and black rain jackets. Roman’s hair is combed back neatly, while his sister’s is twisted into an intricate braid down her back, as dark as the forest floor beneath our feet.

The leaves crunch under my hikers as we follow the trail into the thick cover of trees, and I swallow past the unease clogging my throat. This portal, at the crossing of Seattle’s ley lines, is the same one I came through a decade ago when Lucia decided I needed to be socialized with humans. So I could ‘fit in and learn to manipulate them.’ Needless to say, it’s not the fondest of memories. I was an adolescent already struggling with his humanity versus his demon side. I was never given a chance to discover who I was on my own. My future—my fate—was sealed even before I was born.

Blake leads us off the trail, between the dense trees, until the silence of the forest falls on us. We trudge through the brush, the air damp and earthy. Each breath I take is a plume of fog in front of me as the temperature seems to drop and the air fills with a light mist.

Jude and Roman walk behind, while Francesca stays next to me, the only sound coming from her the steady beat of her heart. My stomach dips, my pulse spiking as we approach two noticeably larger trees that stick out from the others. They’re older, their trunks thicker, with massive roots crawling along the forest floor.

Blake stops, propping his hands on his hips, and glances between the trees before turning to regard me. His expression is focused, serious. “Are you ready?” he asks in a level tone, his gaze flicking toward Francesca before returning to me.

I nod before I can hesitate, and Francesca pulls out an obsidian dagger that makes the monster clawing at my chest growl low.

“Relax,” she mutters, seemingly unperturbed. “We need your blood to open the portal.”

I pluck the dagger from her hand, gripping it tightly until my hand stops shaking. Inhaling slowly, I stand between the two larger trees and open my palm, slicing deeply into my skin as I exhale through my teeth. Fire licks across my skin at the contact of the obsidian, and my jaw works as I fight not to snarl in pain. I turn my palm over, letting the black blood pour from the wound to the forest floor.

Nothing happens at first.

I glance around at the members of my council, who are watching me.

Waiting.

And then, the ground starts shaking.

“Do you know what comes next?” Blake asks from my right, while Francesca steps up on my left.

Before I can remind him I haven’t been back to hell since I left over a decade ago, the ground opens beneath our feet, and we’re falling.

The air rushes from my lungs.

Darkness clouds my vision.

Blood pounds in my ears.

I can’t tell which way is up. My senses escape me for what feels like a short eternity. I squeeze my eyes shut as the nausea rolls through me in violent waves. Darkness consumes me, and I have no choice but to let it.

At some point, though, the ground becomes solid under me. Slowly, the darkness recedes and my senses return. Everything rushes into focus, so sharp and fast, it’s disarming. The air is thick, smoky, and reeks of sulfur. The trees surrounding us are black as charcoal, and the cloudless sky red like blood.

“I nearly forgot how fucking bleak this place is,” Blake comments, brushing dust from the sleeves of his jacket.

I glance around at the desolate wasteland where I grew up. The underworld—or hell—is a mirror of the human world, but…darker.Sinister. Everything appears mostly normal at first glance, but look too long and it’ll quickly become twisted into your worst nightmare. With demons lurking anywhere and everywhere, the smoky atmosphere is heavy with torment and despair.

Time ceases to exist here, which is to blame for the distant echo of endless screams. Hope is nowhere to be found, and yet, my veins sing with power, as if I’ve fed on a human buffet of fear.

“How are you doing, mate?”

I turn to look at him and force a blasé smile. “Home sweet home.”

He snorts, and we make the trek through the forest, but the parking lot we left in the human world has morphed into a wooden-plank bridge over a wide chasm. Below is a rapidly flowing river of blood, its sharp copper scent burning my nostrils and making my stomach roil.

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