King of Hell Read online

  King of Hell

  Melody Rose

  Contents

  1. Evelyn

  2. Evelyn

  3. Lucifer

  4. Evelyn

  5. Evelyn

  6. Lucifer

  7. Evelyn

  8. Evelyn

  9. Lucifer

  10. Lucifer

  11. Evelyn

  12. Evelyn

  13. Evelyn

  14. Lucifer

  15. Evelyn

  16. Lucifer

  17. Evelyn

  18. Evelyn

  19. Evelyn

  20. Lucifer

  21. Evelyn

  22. Lucifer

  23. Lucifer

  24. Evelyn

  25. Evelyn

  26. Lucifer

  27. Evelyn

  28. Lucifer

  29. Evelyn

  30. Lucifer

  31. Evelyn

  32. Lucifer

  33. Evelyn

  34. Lucifer

  35. Evelyn

  36. Lucifer

  37. Evelyn

  38. Lucifer

  A Note from the Author

  1

  Evelyn

  “This has to be the most ridiculous job I have ever taken,” I muttered as I stood outside the enormous house. I glanced over my shoulder and took in the peeling brown paint, boarded-up windows, and deteriorating front steps. The tall black metal gate surrounding the expansive property was rusted and peeling, and the latch had fallen apart years ago.

  The building was a legend in this town and belonged to the great grandparents of some college kid who stood to inherit way too much money once he took over his family business. Those legends said that the building was not only haunted but was in a prime location for communication with the other side. The other side of what? Well, that depended on the story and the beliefs of who was telling it.

  Whatever the exact nature of the stories, it meant that there were often late-night break-ins by kids looking to do seances and reach out to deceased family members and whatnot. The particular college kid that hired me, though, sounded very serious when I took his phone call. He was adamant that not only were the stories legitimate, but there was so much more to it. He told me he was going to summon a demon from Hell to do his bidding. I tried very hard not to laugh.

  I almost succeeded.

  I can clearly remember what he said. “Listen, Evelyn, things will get crazy. I need you to make sure that we don’t get interrupted. No matter what. If we do, it will break our concentration, and who knows what else may come up to the surface.”

  Okay, dude. Whatever. So, there I was, standing guard outside this creepy house on a chilly fall evening. It could be worse. It was incredibly well-paying for what was bound to be the easiest gig I ever worked. After years in the military, I was grateful to be stateside working private security gigs. I was using my GI Bill to get my degree, but I was unsure of what I was after. I was at a point in my life where I needed to steer myself in a new direction, but I could not for the life of me figure out what direction I wanted to go in.

  So, for now, it was the security gig while going to school and waiting for inspiration to strike. I started to daydream about the possibilities. Maybe I could open a gunsmithing shop, maybe with an indoor gun range as well. I grew up around firearms and became very proficient with them during my military years. I never left the house without a trusty gun on my hip now and loved training others on proper handling and shooting techniques. I could do a yarn shop, too. Crocheting had always been a go-to stress reliever.

  Imagine doing that for a living? Crochet and guns? It could be a thing.

  Still, even if the idea wasn’t ridiculous, opening my own business seemed daunting. I was mentally going through the logistics of it all when the ground shook beneath me.

  “What the hell?!” I yelled as I looked back at the house. The upstairs windows were glowing way too bright, and as I stared at them, trying to discern the cause, they went black. I blinked a few times to readjust my eyes. Did that just happen?

  Part of me wanted to go in there and ask my client about it, but the last thing I wanted to do was get yelled at for breaking his precious concentration. After waiting a few more moments to make sure I didn’t hear any screams, I assumed it was my imagination and resumed my post.

  It was then that I noticed a man walking up the street. I didn’t think anything of it until he turned and walked in through the front gate of the property.

  I took the time to take in his appearance fully. His eyes were so dark, I could swear they were black. It was more than his eyes, though. All of his features were dark, and his hair was incredibly full. He was tall, probably a bit over six feet tall, and he had on dark wash jeans and a fitted black t-shirt. He was incredibly attractive, but there was something about him that screamed trouble.

  He didn’t seem to even notice me as he walked up to the stairs, but as he came to the foot of them, he seemed to see me for the first time. He stopped there and looked up at me, meeting me eye-to-eye. It was eerie, like looking into the dark pit of his soul.

  “Move,” he stated simply.

  “Sir, you cannot enter this property.” I stepped out to the side and adjusted my stance to be more authoritative. Despite feeling drawn to him, I had a job to do.

  “I can do whatever I damn well please.” His eyes bored through me, and a familiar chill ran down my spine. This happened every time I came across someone with shady intentions, and my every instinct told me that this guy was bad news.

  “Not on my watch.” I placed my hand pointedly over my holster and stepped forward. “What is your business here?”

  He let out a sinister laugh. “I was summoned.” He proceeded to advance up the steps, directly at me. I could tell his intent was to intimidate me. I was not about to fall for it.

  “Sir, I was not informed of any visitors. I cannot let you in.” I stood my ground, even as he got uncomfortably close. I mentally made notes on how to distance myself if shit got real all of a sudden.

  “You don’t need to let me do anything.” He let out a dark chuckle. “I’ll do it, anyway.”

  With that, he swiftly moved forward, and before I had the chance to react, he grabbed me by the throat and pinned me against the wall. I panicked for a second. This was something I had, of course, trained for, but in the moment, no amount of training can prepare you for the adrenaline that immediately kicks in. I felt it course through my veins as I quickly took it all in. It all happened almost unbelievably fast, and I swore I saw his eyes flash orange for a second.

  I was not expecting the night to go in this direction, but as always, I was ready. I immediately snapped into action, as I swung my arm up, around, and down to break his hold on my neck. Despite all of my strength, I found I couldn’t break free. This guy was strong. Unusually strong. Stronger than should be humanly possible. What the hell?

  He laughed and stared right through me. Chills again. “Try again,” he challenged. His hand wrapped tighter around my neck, slowly choking me. The fear quickly crept in, and I started to panic again as I felt my throat close.

  Out of any other options, I reached for my last resort. I quickly unholstered my gun and aimed right into his stomach. Pulled the trigger and heard the bullet hit the target. It was a sickening noise. I knew it was the right decision, but I wished I hadn’t had to make it. The man immediately let go of my neck and stumbled back, hands clutching his stomach and looking down in surprise. Then he looked up at me incredulously.

  “I’m bleeding!” he exclaimed in disbelief.

  “Don’t move,” I ordered as I reached for my phone to dial 911.

  The man chuckled slowly before breaking out into a full-on laugh. And there was genuine amusement in his e
yes.

  Of all the reactions I was expecting, laughter wasn’t one of them.

  “You really shot me,” he said in amazement, almost in amusement, as he touched the blood oozing through his shirt. “I can’t believe it.”

  He straightened up, looking at me in fascination. His dark eyes once again seemed to penetrate right through me, then they flashed as if they were on fire.

  “Well, you are curious, aren't you?” he said, as he raised his right hand and snapped his fingers.

  Then before I could so much as say a word, the lights dimmed around me, my phone slipped out of my hand, and I felt myself start to fall as my world went black.

  2

  Evelyn

  A loud, painful, high-pitched scream jolted me awake. Something sharp and cold dug into my wrists as I came to. I blinked several times as I regained consciousness and adjusted to the dim lighting. I was sitting on a cold, dark concrete floor. Glancing around the small room, I noticed the walls were also dark, and they were coated in a shiny red substance that looked like it was running down from the floor above. I was afraid to find out what kind of substance that was. The room smelled like metal and sweat. I felt my hands start to tremble as I took in my surroundings.

  I’ve been in some pretty fucking scary scenarios, but never anything like this. I became nauseated and felt panic starting to set in. My breath quickened, and my heart was pounding inside my chest. I started to sweat.

  I stood up and looked around and found that I was shackled to the wall by a pair of long, heavy chains. They looked like they’d been used before. I was able to move around, but I could only reach the center of the room. I turned and grabbed onto the chains with both hands and pulled, but the wall anchor was very securely fastened to the wall at eye level. Where the hell was I, and who was this guy? I was petrified with fear and tense with anxiety, but mostly? I was angry. I allowed myself to land in this position.

  I thought back to those moments in front of that house, and I tried to figure out what I could have done differently. I remembered how fast he was. And strong. Incredibly strong. It was very strange. The more I thought about it, I didn’t see any way that encounter could have worked in my favor. Maybe if I just killed the guy, but I wasn’t in the military anymore, and I didn’t like the idea of killing an unarmed man. How did I pass out, anyway? It was almost as if he willed it…

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I mumbled as I got to my feet and assessed myself as best as I could while I was shackled.

  The good news was that I didn’t think I was injured. Even where my attacker had choked me felt completely fine. On top of that, I was relieved to find that I was still dressed in my work clothes, black canvas tactical pants tucked into my black steel-toe boots. Black cotton T-shirt under my black canvas blouse with way too many pockets and velcro patches on it. My dark, unruly curly hair was still slicked back into a no-nonsense bun. I could feel a few loose strands tickling my face, but for the most part, my intense hair gel was doing the job it needed to do. I untucked and unbuttoned my blouse and shook it free. It was way too hot down here.

  The creak of the door opening broke me out of my thoughts, and I looked up to see a figure standing in the open portal. It was the man from outside the house, the guy who attacked me. He just stood there, staring at me for a moment.

  This time, I took my time assessing him further. I could not take my eyes off him. He was mesmerizing. His intensely dark features contrasted nicely with his pale skin. His hair had a glossy sheen to it that made me jealous. The more I stared at it, the more I had the urge to run my fingers through it. He was still wearing the dark wash jeans and fitted black t-shirt from our first encounter. The entire outfit looked like it was tailored specifically to his body, enhancing his muscle tone perfectly. I’d be all over him, if only he hadn’t just kidnapped me.

  All I knew was that whatever he wanted, he sure as hell wasn’t getting it from me. My hand went to my hip, and I discovered my holster was empty. Shit.

  “Why am I chained up? Where am I? Who the fuck are you, and what do you want?” I spat questions at him as quickly as I could.

  “How did you manage to hurt me?” he queried. His voice was deep and just a bit gravelly.

  I was not expecting that one. “You’ve never seen a gun before?” I scoffed. “They do that, you know. Hurt people when they’re aimed right, and the trigger is pulled.”

  He didn’t seem to appreciate my answer. “Yeah. That usually doesn’t work on me, so who are you?”

  That usually doesn’t work on him? He’s kidding, right? What planet does he live on?

  “Well, I’m glad you’re special,” I said in disbelief, “but I’m unaware of anyone who is so special they can avoid getting shot at that close of a range. I don’t know what to tell you.”

  “You don’t know who I am, do you?” He had an incredibly annoying smirk on his face now.

  “Other than a giant douchebag? No, I don’t,” I replied coolly.

  He laughed, and it sounded almost menacing. “Follow me,” he ordered as he turned his back to me and started walking away. He raised his right arm, snapped his fingers again, and my shackles fell away. I was at once both irritated at being given a command and astounded by what he had just done. I looked down at my free wrists and rubbed them reassuringly. How had he done that? Again, I wondered who this man was, and what I had gotten myself into.

  I hesitantly followed him, trying my best to swallow my fear. What good would staying behind do for me, anyway?

  We stepped out into a long, dimly lit hallway. It looked very much like something out of a horror movie. Dark concrete floor, cracked black wall tile, flickering fluorescent lights running the length of the ceiling. The ceiling wasn’t a ceiling, though. It looked more like the inside of a cave. I couldn’t figure out how they somehow were able to wire electricity through cave walls. I also wondered how some of the larger cracks in the walls had happened. It almost seemed as if something large and heavy had been thrown up against the walls. Looking down at the ground, I saw small shards of broken tile, along with dust, dirt, and broken glass. The main thought that broke through my scattered emotions was that this guy really needed an interior designer. Maybe he was going for the ‘make everyone shit themselves out of fear’ vibe. If so, then he nailed it.

  He walked purposely down the hall and turned a corner, with me several paces behind him. Old wooden doorways lined both sides of the hall, interjected with small wall sconces with red flickering lights, and most of the doors were open. There was a lot of noise echoing up and down the hall. Some of it sounded horrible, almost inhuman. But also...

  Was that Justin Bieber?

  I looked into the open doorway to my left. The room was dark, similar to the one I had just come from, including the wet blood-red walls, but without the shackles. There was a tall, slender bald man standing over a petrified young woman who cowered in her chair and looked like she was about to choke. He was leaning on the small metal folding table, towering over her.

  “Another!” he screamed as he slid a plated peanut butter sandwich in front of her. The plate had seemingly come out of nowhere, and I could see the thick layer of peanut butter on the sandwich, even from out in the hall. There was an enormous pile of broken multicolored plates coated in breadcrumbs and smeared with peanut butter on the floor beside her. There was nothing to drink anywhere in the room.

  I felt like choking, myself. That looked absolutely horrifying. I looked ahead to see my captor a few paces in front of me now, striding confidently, completely unfazed by it. He did not so much as glance sideways as he passed each door. I did notice his ass looked amazing in his jeans. I immediately chastised myself for thinking that in the midst of such abject horror.

  On the right, there was another small dark room, and all I could see was a living human head in a field of catnip surrounded by feral cats. His face was all scratched up. He was openly weeping. It was a horrible sight, and I cringed. I had so many questions about th
is one, not the least of which was, how does a head survive without a body attached?

  I was afraid to look into the next room, but it looked like the DMV. In and of itself, that would have been okay, but it smelled strongly of armpits and curry. I could feel the heat emanating from the room, and it was packed full of miserable people. The lines were insanely long. I saw someone holding a ticket with the number 3,956,709.

  “894!” the loudspeaker chirped. I immediately thought back to my last visit to the DMV. Whatever hell that was, this was worse. Where was I?

  We passed a fourth doorway. The Justin Bieber concert was blaring now, and inside, one young woman sat alone on a rusty folding chair in the dark. She looked utterly exhausted, and blood was running out from her ears. Directly in front of her was an empty dark stage, with music blaring from the oversized speakers. I was immediately confused.

  My dark, mysterious captor turned back to me with a disturbing smirk. “That song is on repeat. She’s been here for ten years. Her Twitter handle was @biebz4life. I told her I’d make her hate him. She challenged me on it. So here we are.” He shrugged, chuckled ominously, and kept walking. He seemed to have an incredibly twisted sense of humor.

  The fifth doorway exposed a gorgeous blonde woman in a fitted black dress and black Louboutins. She was standing on a dirt floor, across from a horrified-looking pale woman with purple hair and multiple piercings strapped tightly to a vertical wooden board. The board looked blood-stained as if it had been used multiple times before. The woman strapped to it had pieces of raw meat spread across her face. The blonde looked to be force-feeding her victim chopped meat from an adjacent table. The table was piled high with enough ground beef to feed my entire platoon. When the blonde saw us out in the hall, she grinned menacingly.