Page 7 of Trust the Fall

PRISONER

My body shivers at the indescribable cold seeping into my bones. Curled up into a ball on the floor of a gilded cage suspended over a dirt floor, I try and fail to warm myself. The room isn’t truly cold; it’s simply my body’s reaction to the evil permeating from every crevice of this place.

As I’m surrounded by brimstone walls painted a chilling red, it isn’t hard to deduce where I am.

I’m in Hell, literally and metaphorically.

I don’t need to have ever stepped foot here to know that I’m surrounded by evil that I can’t see. They lurk in the shadows. Watching. Waiting. But for what?

The better question is probably who.

“Cowards!” I yell out, but nobody answers.

They want me to feel alone, likely to drive myself crazy.

But instead, I’ve focused on trying to summon up my powers that have been stifled.

Rage boils within me and I focus on it, willing the emotion to bubble over. To unleash any scrap of angelic influence this cell hasn’t siphoned out, giving me a chance against this place.

It’s no use. My abilities have been stripped by whatever dark magic lingers in this dank cell.

The smell of sulfur infiltrates my nostrils and I nearly choke on it. Finally, one of them has shown up.

They clap from the corner, and I sit up, rocking the cage with the movement.

“Good deductive skills,Victoria.”

My name is spat like a curse. The voice slithers from a vile tongue, wrapping around my soul and squeezing with a death grip I can’t escape. I cry out.

Zeke’s voice.

I growl, teeth bared in anger. “Disabling my abilities? You must know that if I had them, you wouldn’t stand a damn chance.”

“Tsk, tsk, beautiful. Foul language? Is Hell already sinking its claws in you?” He chuckles, still remaining out of sight. “That’s good. Very good.”

Creeping from the shadowed corner, a carbon copy of Zeke stalks toward me. Dark brown—nearly black—hair curls at the nape, his piercing blue eyes boring into mine.

Anyone else would believe I’d been betrayed—well, I had—but not in this instance. This isn’t Zeke. How do I know? The sinister sneer is all wrong and the smell wafting through the room reeks of a demonic presence.

This demon isn’t trying to trick me but toy with me. He enjoys watching me squirm. The uncanny resemblance is off-putting, especially considering my current anger with Zeke and his betrayals. The demon knows.

Nolda.

“Once again, your intuition fascinates me. Even here”—he motions around—“you see through me.”

“It’s not hard; you’re an underling. Nothing fancy to your power, cretin.”

His lip curls, and a growl with enough force to shake the cage erupts from him. He doesn’t like his power to be challenged. Good—his ego will be his downfall.

“Why don’t you drop the glamour and show yourself?” I goad, wanting to push him.

He snaps his fingers and Zeke disappears. In his place is the same glamour he used in the street that night not long ago.

“Oh, come on. You and I both know you’re just trading one false disguise for another. Show yourself, demon.”

He creeps toward the cage with measured steps as slowly the glamour falls and his true form is revealed.

His grey skin is pulled taut across an overly large head, elongated canines falling over a full bottom lip.Vampire.

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