Satan's Queen

9

Kaitlyn tried to forget. She tried to convince herself that it was nothing. That what she suspected was just her hopes and dreams and imagination.

It didn't work.

No matter how much she visited Lucifer's throne room, her anger wasn't enough. No matter how much she tried to drown away her fear and uncertainties with pleasure, it never lasted. And she was left feeling sick and daunted. It felt like she was shrivelling.

'I am his vessel. This was meant to be.' Trying to be rational didn't help either. Nothing about hell was rationale. And no matter what Lucifer thought otherwise, he was the most irrational of anyone she knew.

Finally, she couldn't take anymore. After three nights of restless sleep, she gave up on the fourth. At least Lucifer seemed not to suspect anything, she reminded herself, as she wandered down the hall. That had been her greatest fear. He was frightening when he was angry. But even more than that, it upset her to think she might disappoint him. Against all the odds, she had fallen in love with him. And if what she feared was true—it was going to hurt.

'It's not him,' she told herself as she descended into the darkness, her sandals clicking against the floor. At every turn, her shadow curved around the corridor like some great phantom out to catch her.

When she reached the door, she was surprised to see a familiar figure.

'You're back,' she said.

The demon stared back wordlessly with its bloodied eye. Strangely enough, she felt comforted to have some company, even if it was a demon.

She took the handle and twisted. She descended the stairs. It seemed quicker this time. She didn't feel dizzy or weak. Just numb, like her head was disconnected from her body.

She stepped into the room. It was the same as before: the towering fire; the figure writhing within.

'It's not him,' she whispered.

Kaitlyn looked over at the sound of a scuff. The demon had followed her in, looking like a grotesque ape against the flickering firelight.

'It's not him.' She squinted against the light. 'It looks nothing like him.'

The flames crackled, as though in agreement. With a roar, they reached towards the ceiling. Kaitlyn stepped back, arms raised against the force of its heat. What was she supposed to do? There was nothing she could do.

And it wasn't him.

Kaitlyn jerked in surprise as the demon shot ahead, leaping into the flames. Kaitlyn gasped at another loud crackle. The flames shot up so high that they licked the ceiling. Kaitlyn stumbled back at the blast of heat.

Then the flames shrank. The crackling stopped. The figure was gone. Heart in her throat, Kaitlyn stood frozen, uncertain, wary. Then she saw something move. Something on the other side of the flames. She squinted but it was hard to see anything against the bright light. Slowly, holding her breath, she circled the magical fire, making sure to keep her distance.

Two figures lay on the ground. One was the demon, sizzling and smoking. It wasn't moving. The other was obviously the creature rescued from the depths of the fire.

Kaitlyn gripped at her throat, her gaze pinned to the second stricken figure. She couldn't move. She couldn't think. Something sharp and dreadful turned her blood cold. It was lying on its side, facing away from her. It wasn't moving but it was alive. In the sense that something could be alive down here in hell. Its shoulder rose and fell as it breathed. She could hear the rattle of air in its lungs.

It looked like it had been dragged out of a grave, charred black with bits of bone sticking out all over the place. It stank. It looked sticky with whatever remnants of flesh and blood had survived the torments of the fire. Kaitlyn resisted the urge to turn and run.