assumed I knew about hell I’d learned from Looney Tunes. That damned coyote never caught the roadrunner. Instead, he ended up falling off a cliff with a poof of dust signaling his impact with the earth. Sometimes, though, he’d fall through the earth and end up in hell. There, he’d bounce from one pitchfork wielding demon to the next, each taking a turn stabbing him in the butt, while a hulking red, horned devil laughed maniacally. At least that’s how I remembered it.
This was the actual hell. It was no cartoon. I’d have taken the Wile E. Coyote version over this place any day of the week.
I’d learned in church once that the Bible’s depictions of hell were mostly metaphor. Not literal fire. Not literal teeth gnashing. It’s impossible to depict a spiritual plane in literal terms. So, the writers of the Bible used tortuous language to drive home the point: you don’t want to go there.
Hell, they said, was the absence of God. Existence separated from the source of life. Not a place of torture so much as the inevitable destination that remained when you chose an eternity apart from God. It was less a punishment, and more what you got when you decided you didn’t want to be with God forever. As a gentleman, God gives you what you ask for. If you choose his absence, he’ll lament—but he’s not like your weird uncle. If you don’t want to endure his company, you have no obligation to do so. He will allow you to choose his absence if that’s what you want.
When I heard it, I thought the preacher was just trying to soften the old hellfire and brimstone tradition. The very idea of hell turns people off. Not the best kind of marketing. So, you know, it made sense to do a little rebranding. Absence doesn’t sound nearly as bad as burning in an eternal furnace.
The idea of hell being God’s absence, though, never made more sense to me than it did now. There was nothing redeemable about this damned place. To live there was to dwell without hope, without mercy. It was existence devoid of the breath of life. An existence you’d hope beyond hope to end—but never did.
That’s what made being in hell so difficult. I’m sure something there was burning. I’d yet to see a single flame. It was a pit of darkness—not in the literal sense, but in the sense that nothing there mattered, nothing had purpose. Even the demons there were miserable, I suppose. That’s probably why they meant to come to earth—and why the people of Wakan Hollow and the Lakota tribe before them had fought so hard to prevent it from happening.
Bottom line. Hell is a bitch.
Even if I had seen no one tortured yet, I heard their screams everywhere. The genuine horror of the place, though, was in the overwhelming sense of nothing at all. The absence of good. The absence of joy. The absence of God.
It doesn’t sound as bad as hellfire and brimstone at first. Until you’re there, and you realize how good you had it before—when the presence of God was always there, even when you took it for granted. Because here, every breath was a chore—it was like sucking down death itself. Here, there were no songbirds, no rain to water the land and provide for the growth that sustains life, no comforting warmth of the sun above, and no gentle breeze to provide solace when the sun’s heat is too much.
Wheatley, Donnie, and I did as Marilyn suggested—we spoke that awful name, Lucifer, and the surrounding world shifted like a sandstorm again—this time leaving us in front of what must’ve been Satan’s palace.
It was clear, though, that this wasn’t so much a place where he reigned as it was a prison. If Satan reigned anywhere, it was on earth—where whatever influence he exerted on our species from the pit invaded a world once declared “good” and infected it with pure, unadulterated, selfishness—which is a hell in its own right, the utter absence of God.
There are kingdoms of a sort in prison, too. The strongest, baddest, convict who no one dared to challenge. I learned all about how that worked when I was in the police academy. And from watching Orange is the New Black.
But even the hierarchy of prisoners was a hierarchy of prisoners. Lucifer might be the biggest, and baddest, of the damned. But he was still damned. That meant, in the final estimation of it all, he wasn’t as big and bad as he wanted everyone to think. He might have been a lion, but he was a lion on a leash—the length of which was restrained by this prison, and the Warden (you know, the Big Guy) who put him there.
Suppose the Bible is right when it says that God is love. That meant the one thing Lucifer didn’t know, that he couldn’t understand or overpower, was love itself.
And that’s what brought me there. It’s why I’d stormed through the Hellgate to rescue my wife—the woman I loved. She was the flesh of my flesh, the bone of my bone. She was the closest thing I knew to the love I suppose God has for us—I’d given myself to her, with no expectation or contingency, and she’d done the same. Our time together didn’t last long—but her absence didn’t change that truth. I loved her now just as much as I did the day we were married. I had to believe that if God’s love means anything at all—if it’s real—then our love for one another is how we come to understand what that means.
Because if fire and brimstone was a metaphor, because physical beings can’t totally visualize a spiritual hell…then the love of God must also attach itself to something real, something tangible, something I can touch and embrace.
Yes, Angi was my wife. She was my flesh. She was God’s love for me. And somehow, I carried that with me even through the gates of hell.
That meant I had the secret weapon—the one thing that the devil couldn’t counter. At least, that’s what I told myself. Because I was about to march right into his so-called castle and take my wife back.
We stood before Lucifer’s castle, a looming mass of obsidian towers that pierced the ashen sky fortress was encircled by a moat, but instead of water or lava, it roiled with the disembodied souls of the damned, their spectral wails rising in an unholy dirge. Their translucent forms swirled in an eternal current around the dark palace.
Wheatley, Donnie, and I slipped the enchanted crystals back around our necks. Our bodies shimmered and transformed, taking on the insignificant, hunched shapes of whelps—the lowliest demons of Hell’s hierarchy. In these disguises, we’d be seen as grunts, nonthreatening, and hardly worth a second glance from the more powerful fiends that haunted this realm. At least, that was the plan.
“How do we get in?” Donnie asked, his whelp-face scrunching.
Wheatley shrugged. “I don’t see a Prime at the gates. We go in through the front door.”
It was counterintuitive, brazenly waltzing up to the devil’s abode like we belonged. But Wheatley’s suggestion made sense. To avoid suspicion, we needed to act like demons, not cower like impostors. A whelp trying to sneak in would draw more attention than one simply doing its job. I just prayed to God none of Lucifer’s lackeys saw through our magical façade.
“Let’s move,” I growled. “The sooner we get Angi, the sooner we can get the Hell out of here.” Literally.
We trudged up to the front gates, keeping our heads down, trying to project an aura of subservience expected of bottom-feeding whelps. The towering obsidian doors swung open with a groan. I glanced at Wheatley. “Some kind of sensor, like at the supermarket?”
Wheatley smirked—an odd expression on her whelpish face. “Hell if I know.”
As we shuffled inside, I swept my gaze around the palatial interior. Lesser demons strutted through the halls, each intent on their own malevolent agendas. But I saw no sign of the dreaded Primes. And no sign of the Lord of Hell himself.
We found a stairwell spiraling up into the gloom. “Third floor,” I muttered. “That’s where Marilyn said Lucifer keeps his concubines.”
“Suppose we find Angi up there,” Donnie said, scratching at his scaly whelp-skin. “Marilyn mentioned there’d be other concubines with her. All loyal to Lucifer. How do we get her alone and convince her to come with us?”
I pursed my lips. “I have an idea,” I said. “Follow my lead.”
As we ascended the stairs, Wheatley glanced at me. “This all seems too easy. Way too easy.”
I shrugged off her concern, even as a trickle of unease wormed down my spine. “It’s not every day someone infiltrates Hell. There’s no need to guard something when no one in their right mind would dare assault the devil’s fortress.”
“Only crazies like us would try something this dumb,” Donnie added.
“Exactly.” I matched his smile, trying to project confidence I didn’t quite feel. “We have the element of surprise. But I’m not expecting it to stay easy. Remember what Silas said—that whelp we took down in the prison will eventually revert to its true form.”
“And when it does,” Wheatley continued, “the alarms will sound.”
“Which is why we need to be fast”. I quickened my pace up the steps. “Let’s just hope this works.”
We reached the third floor, where a set of ornate golden doors greeted us. This must’ve been what Marilyn meant when she’d said the concubines lived in relative luxury. I pressed my palms against the gilded surface, and with a deep breath, shoved them open.
The sight within stole my breath. It was like stepping into an ancient Roman bathhouse, opulent and decadent. Women lounged in steaming pools, some naked, others barely clothed in diaphanous gowns that left little to the imagination. Their eyes, dark and alluring, swiveled to us as we entered.
Beside me, Donnie shivered. “Think they’re looking at me? Yeah, they definitely are.” He puffed out his chest, preening.
I nudged him hard, a silent command to shut up. My eyes raked the room, searching for a glimpse of Angi among the sea of beautiful faces.
I didn’t see her—but there were a lot of bodies, a lot of places she might be hiding. I doubted whelps like us were welcome visitors. I stepped forward and cleared my throat. “The Dark Lord has chosen one of you as his escort for the evening,” I announced. “When I say your name, step forward.”
To my relief, none of the women seemed shocked by this pronouncement. Instead, they leaned forward eagerly, a fervent light in their eyes, as if each one desperately hoped to be chosen. The seductive sway of Lucifer’s thrall, just as Marilyn had warned.
I swallowed hard. “Angela,” I said, the name as familiar as my heartbeat. “Step forward.”
The other concubines erupted in a flurry of envious whispers and venomous glares, but my focus narrowed to a single point as a figure emerged from the crowd. Angi. My Angi.
She looked just as I remembered, breathtakingly beautiful, untouched by time’s passage. Her long, dark, hair was straight and sleek, cascading over her delicate shoulders. Ten years of longing and desperation crashed over me like a tidal wave, and it took every ounce of my self-control not to rush to her, to envelop her in my arms and never let go again.
But Angi didn’t share the other women’s excited anticipation. Her brow furrowed as she regarded us with suspicion. “Why has my lord sent whelps?” she asked. “This is not customary.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came. My mind raced for an explanation, but Wheatley stepped in smoothly. “Our Dark Lord has bigger plans for the night that require his greater legions.”
Another concubine spoke up, her voice breathy with excitement. “Is it finally time? Is today the day when he and his bride will establish his reign on earth?”
I gulped, an icy knot of dread twisting in my gut. Wheatley didn’t hesitate. “Yes. And he’s chosen Angela.”
Angi’s eyes fell to the ground. “I am his chosen.”
“That’s what I said.” Wheatley’s tone brooked no argument.
Wheatley responded to Angi as if she’d asked a question—but it wasn’t a question. Angi said it with resignation, like she knew it already. What did that even mean? She was his chosen. We were winging it here, spouting crap that we hoped would resonate well enough with the concubines so we could lure Angi away from the group. The way she’d said it, though. I am his chosen… It was unsettling, to put it mildly.
I found my voice. “Come with us.”
As we led Angi from the room, I caught a muttered comment from one of the other women. “Of course it would be her. We always knew it would be her.”
The words burned with curiosity, but I bit my tongue. Asking questions now was a risk we couldn’t afford. We had to get Angi out of here, fast.
The moment we were alone in the stairwell, I ripped off the crystal, allowing my true form to shimmer into view. Angi gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Sebastian?”
I couldn’t hold back my smile, even as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. “I’m here. It’s me.”
She threw herself into my arms, her body shaking with sobs. “You shouldn’t have come,” she whispered.
I held her tighter, burying my face in her hair. Her scent, her warmth, the feel of her in my arms—it was everything I’d dreamed of for ten long, lonely years. “I had to,” I murmured. “I’ve spent every minute trying to find you, Angi. Every single minute.”
She pulled back, her hands grasping my shoulders as she shook her head. “You don’t understand. What the others said before—I am his favorite. I am his chosen. He already told me...”
I reached for her hands, clasping them in my own. “That doesn’t matter. I’m here now.”
Angi stepped back, her eyes wild with fear. “Don’t you get it? If you take me, he’ll send more demons after me. He won’t rest until he gets me back.”
Wheatley removed her crystal, her familiar features solidifying as she gave Angi a fierce look. “Then we’ll fight them off, every last one of them.”
I nodded. “This is my friend, Wheatley.”
“And I’m Donnie,” Donnie chimed in, striking a pose as he shed his illusory form. “I’m a lot hotter when I’m not wearing this thing.”
I rolled my eyes heavenward. “Good lord, Donnie. Really?”
Angi stifled a chuckle, but her amusement quickly faded. She bit her lip, her gaze darting between us. “I don’t know, Sebastian. I still love you, believe me, but Lucifer—“
“Do you love him?” The question tore from my throat.
“God, no!” Angi shook her head vehemently. “I’m not like the others. From day one, he hasn’t been able to enthrall me like that. I think it’s because of you—somehow—because you never stopped searching for me…”
Relief surged through me. “It’s love,” I said, cupping her face in my hands. “It’s the one thing that the devil can’t overcome.”
Angi nodded, leaning into my touch. “Right. But in some kind of warped way, because I resisted, it made me more...attractive to him. The more I rejected him, the more he desired me. I became his obsession.” She shuddered. “Sebastian, the things he made me do...”
I pulled her into my embrace, my arms banding around her like steel. “I don’t care about that. It’s over, okay? He won’t hurt you again.”
And I meant it with every fiber of my being. I’d raze all of hell to ash before I let that bastard lay another finger on her. But as I held Angi close, breathing in the scent of her hair, I knew we weren’t in the clear, yet.
Getting her out of here was only the beginning. If what she said was true, if Lucifer really had claimed her as his chosen bride...
Then we were in for the fight of our lives.
Angi pulled back, wiping at her tears. “I’ll come with you, but this will not be easy. He won’t let me go without a fight.”
“We just have to get out of the castle,” Wheatley said. “Once we do, we can get back to the portal with a word.”
Angi’s brow furrowed. “How do you know that will work?”
“My Dad already rescued my mom. Just before we came here for you. He took her back to earth.”
Shock flashed across Angi’s face, followed by dawning comprehension. “Wait...your mom...if she left, that means she’s not dead...she’s one of us...”
Wheatley nodded. “Right. The same Prime that took you ten years ago. It took my mom a few days earlier.”
“Wait,” Angi said, stopping in her tracks. “Who is your mom?”
“Marilyn Sparks,” Wheatley replied.
The color drained from Angi’s face. “No, please tell me they aren’t already back on earth.”
“We sent them ahead of us,” I said, unease prickling down my spine at her reaction. “They’re home and safe.”
“No, please say that’s not true.” Angi’s voice trembled, her eyes wide with a fear I’d never seen before.
“What’s got you so worried?” I asked, concerned.
“The Primes,” Angi whispered. “Lucifer took Marilyn recently. He said he had a plan. You see, a mortal came here not long ago. A Prime spotted him but did nothing—he reported the incursion to Lucifer. Lucifer knew the man would be back. If he knew how to get into hell, he’d come for her eventually. So, he gathered the Primes in his throne room, he merged them together, and called them Legion. He forced them into her body. All of them, together, are inside of Marilyn. All the Devil’s primes are combined and possess her as one and many.”
Ice flooded my veins. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that by sending Marilyn back to earth, you may have just unleashed Hell’s most powerful weapon.”
My mind reeled, trying to process the implications. If Angi was right, if Lucifer had somehow combined all the Primes into one vessel...
Then we hadn’t just rescued Marilyn. We’d played right into the devil’s hands.
Wheatley gasped, her eyes widening in horror. “If all the Primes came to earth in one human vessel...”
Angi shook her head, her expression grim. “The Hellgate would tear open forever. You’d never be able to stop him. Lucifer could march every last demon out of hell and onto earth.”
Wheatley stood speechless, the color draining from her face. “Are you saying, by saving my mom..we started the apocalypse?”
Angi nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Donnie scratched his head. “Fuck balls! That’s bad…”
Then a chilling laugh echoed through the stairwell, sending shivers down my spine. Angi’s eyes widened in terror. “No, it’s him...it’s...”
A figure appeared on the stairs, dressed in the finest robes, his face glowing with an otherworldly beauty. Golden hair framed his angelic features, a stark contrast to the sinister gleam in his eyes. This was no cartoon devil. Not the hideous monster I’d assumed. He was alluring, irresistibly attractive.
“What have we here?” Lucifer chuckled, his voice smooth as silk. “My soon-to-be bride’s former husband has come to rescue her. How sweet.”
Rage boiled within me. I raised my gauntlet, channeling all my fury into a blast of pure, blinding light. It hit Lucifer square in the chest, but he barely flinched. Instead, he giggled, as if I’d just told a mildly amusing joke.
“Oooo! That tickled,” he taunted, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Give me some more!”
I gritted my teeth, realizing the futility of my attack. We were in the heart of his domain, facing an enemy far beyond our power. But I refused to let him see my fear. I had to get Angi out of here, had to find a way to stop the apocalypse we’d unwittingly set in motion.
Even if it meant my life, I wouldn’t let Lucifer win. Not now, not ever.
I charged at Lucifer, my heart pounding in my chest. As I closed the distance, I squeezed my fist, feeling the familiar tingle of magic coursing through my gauntlet. The enchanted knife sprang forth, its blade shimmering with a brilliant, holy light. With all my strength, I plunged it deep into Lucifer’s gut.
For a moment, he just laughed, as if I’d merely poked him with a feather. Then his eyes widened, and he tilted his head. “Wait, that can’t be...”
Donnie seized the opportunity, hurling a volley of knives at the devil. They struck true, and Lucifer buckled at the knees. Despite that, he laughed, even as his flawless face contorted in pain.
“Nice trick,” he spat, his voice dripping with venom. “You know, that won’t stop me. All you’ve done is slow me down. It’s too late for you, for your world.”
I didn’t hesitate. With a swift kick, I sent Lucifer tumbling down the stairs. We ran past him, leaping over his sprawled form as he continued to laugh, a maniacal sound that echoed through the halls. Whatever enchantments Wheatley had woven into my weapons, they’d bought us precious seconds.
As we sprinted towards the exit, Lucifer’s voice rang out behind us. “All you’re doing is delaying the inevitable. Enjoy your time together, loves. I’ll be coming for my bride soon.”
I wanted to turn back, to silence his taunts forever. But Angi’s safety came first. And the one monster I would not test my luck against was goddamn Satan. We had to escape, had to stop whatever we had started, if we could.
We burst out of the castle, the screams of the damned souls in the moat fading behind us. I pulled Angi close, and the others gathered around us. With a deep breath, I uttered the word “thiyáta.”
The surrounding world churned in a sandstorm like before, coalescing into walls of glass. Then we were back in the tomb. The portal home remained open. I checked my phone. “With fifteen minutes to spare.”
Angi turned to me, her eyes wide with fear. “Sebastian, this isn’t good...we just...you don’t know what he’s capable of.”
I cupped her face in my hands, pouring all my love, all my determination, into a searing kiss. When we parted, I looked deep into her eyes. “If the devil wants to take the earth, he’ll have to go through me.”
Donnie wrapped his arms around both of us—totally ruining the moment. “Me too. Because there’s only room for one Big D on earth, and the devil ain’t him.”