Chapter 4: in the inferno
Angelina felt dizzy being carried upside down. "Put me down; I'm feeling dizzy," she said, but he wasn't listening.
"I'm no use if I'm dead," she said, making him stop in his tracks. He carefully placed her on the ground beside a water source.
"Drink!" His magnetic voice filled her ears. She drank from the source under his burning gaze.
Where's he taking me? she wondered. He carried her in his arms this time.
"Hold on tight," he said. A blush crept onto her face as she encircled her arms around his strong neck, burying her head in his chest. She could inhale his scent; he smelled like spices.
Lothaire could feel her cool breath against his chest. He stopped walking as they arrived at a cliff.
"There used to be a bridge here," he frowned. Angelina rolled her eyes; she'd been in the palace all her life—how was she supposed to know?
He gently placed her down, opening a portal at the cliff's edge. She gasped; he had only made a portal with his mind, without saying a spell.
"Scared?" he asked, seeing her scared expression. The portal was at the cliff's edge!
Picking her up, he walked through the portal. Angelina looked around, gulping saliva; they'd been transported to a wood. The trees had no leaves; the air was desolate and eerie.
This made her remember her dream; she had dreamt of this place. But why?
After about ten minutes, they reached the city gates.
"We'll need to get you another dress first," he said, looking down. Angelina remembered she was still in her wedding dress; she and Lothaire looked like a bride and groom.
He carried her into a nearby clothing shop and swapped her wedding dress for a new one. He could see her reluctance to let the dress go. Was it really that important? Did she love the ogre?
Angelina emerged from the inner room, dressed in boy's clothes. He noticed her limping on one foot.
"We need to get you to a healer," he carried her again.
At the healer's place, skulls were hung on the wall as decoration. This made fear creep into her heart.
"It's okay," Lothaire whispered to her.
"What can I do for you?" a man came to attend to them. From his looks, Angelina could tell he was half demon, half human.
"She twisted her foot," he said, placing her down on a chair.
"Ooh dear, that's bad," he said.
Lothaire sat opposite as he watched the healer attend to her, with her injured leg on his lap. He gulped hard at the sight of her long, fair legs.
"That's good to go," the healer brought her leg down.
He stood up, facing Lothaire.
"I've helped with the swelling and pain, but she shouldn't walk for the next couple of hours."
Lothaire nodded, took off his brooch, and placed it in the healer's palm.
"I don't have money; keep this as payment," he said before carrying Angelina away.
The young healer was dumbfounded. Who was this man, using such an expensive brooch as payment?
"I'm rich!" He exclaimed.
After walking for another hour, he halted at the palace gates. The guards stopped him.
"Who are you?" one of them asked.
"Do you really not know?" Lothaire's voice was cold.
The guards frowned, unsheathing their swords; they were lesser demons.
"Are we in trouble?" Angelina whispered against his chest.
Lothaire frowned as one of the guards charged towards him, but he was quick enough to open a portal ahead, sending the soldier elsewhere.
The other guards shrank back in fear. Who was this man? They wondered, opening a portal without uttering a spell.
A brave one among them charged forward, but Lothaire lifted him up with his powers, sending his head crashing against the wall.
Angelina took in a sharp breath as she heard the fatal sound.
"Who's next?" he asked the scared soldiers, none of them daring to make the slightest movement.
"Lothaire!" a voice called out, one he hadn't heard in a long time. "Logan."
"It really is you," shock was evident on his face.
"What are you doing, huh?! Can't you even recognize him?" Logan faced the guards, who were already scared to the bone.
"We're sorry, master," they bowed, their figures trembling under Lothaire's gaze.
"You're all dismissed," said Logan before facing Lothaire.
"Who's this?" he asked, his eyes landing on Angelina, nestled in Lothaire's arms.
"Let's go in first," Lothaire said, entering the building.
The relationship he had with Angelina was hard to explain; he himself was confused. It seemed impossible that he would ever come back, but now, here he was, alive.
Angelina gulped hard as they walked through the dark hallway. How were Logan and Lothaire even seeing?!
"You're really back, Ronan would be so happy, we should also inform Lilith, she was so sad you were gone," Logan said.
Lilith? Who's Lilith? Angelina wondered.
Lothaire stopped in his tracks, as if remembering something, but it was only for a moment. He kicked open a door as they entered into his bedroom.
He laid the injured Angelina on the bed while looking around his room.
"Spotless, right?" Logan asked, the room was neat and had not even a speck of dust.
"Lilith cleans this place herself," said Logan.
Who's Lilith?! Angelina was so confused and uncomfortable with the constant refrain.
"Stay here," Lothaire said to Angelina before walking out with Logan.
His eyes were fierce now, a little glow of red in each iris.
"Where's Helen?" He asked through clenched teeth and closed fist.
Helen, that woman, he would make sure he personally tormented her in the inferno and Acherons of hell.
"She's in the inferno," said Logan, sensing Lothaire's anger.
The inferno was a fiery and torturous realm where the devil personally tortured souls.
"And Ronan?" He asked.
"He's in the Dis, the demon lords have been causing problems in Cinderfall lately," said Logan.
Ronan and Logan were Lothaire's closest men.
"Is Lilith in Cinderfall?" He asked, indifferently.
"She said she needed some alone time to refresh her mind and would be back in a few days," Logan said.
As they walked down the stairs leading underground, they could already hear the screams of tortured souls.
Lothaire walked over to the last compartment, staring intently at the figure crouched on the floor, facing the wall.
Her back was scarred and wounded, and her breathing was loud.
"Helen," he called out to her.
Helen's eyes widened, that voice. No! No! He wasn't back, right?!
She turned her head with a horrified expression on her scarred face.
"Miss me?" He asked, an evil smile evident on his thin lips, making him look devilishly handsome; he was the devil, after all.
"N-no!" Helen struggled to say.
Lothaire's return meant intense suffering for her. He was here to punish her for what she'd done.
Twenty-two years ago, five wizards and an archangel approached Helen, saying she was the key to mankind's survival.
Helen was shocked at first; she was an ordinary human with no supernatural powers, she was poor and had to fend off hunger by begging. Why her?
But it all got to her head, making her feel important and special.
All she had to do was seduce the devil so they could bind his soul.
Gaining Lothaire's trust was easy; she was a real beauty back then, with green eyes, black, long hair, and full lips. No man could resist such beauty.
Lothaire looked down at her battered and haggard figure. Her long, black hair was gone, replaced with a bald head. Her lips were dry, and the once-smooth skin he loved was broken.
"You will wish you were never born, Helen. This is only the beginning," Lothaire said, snapping his fingers as flames engulfed Helen's naked body.
"Argh!" She let out ear-piercing screams.
The flames didn't burn her, but they would make her wish she were burned.
Meanwhile, Angelina sat in the bathtub, gulping saliva at intervals. The room was dimly lit; the maids attending to her looked soulless, their faces pale, and their eyes void of any expression.
She shuddered as their cold fingers traveled down the calloused skin on her back.
"I'm all clean now!" she shouted, ushering them to leave.
The maids looked at her for some seconds before leaving. Angelina sighed in relief. She quickly washed up and put on a dress they had earlier provided.
Emerging from the bathroom, she was met with a maid. Unlike the others, she had purple eyes full of life; she had a smile on her face.
"You're not dead?" Unlike those maids, she asked.
"Not everyone in Cinderfall is soulless," the maid said, she was about forty years of age.
"I was cursed to live here," she stated. Angelina's face turned sour; who would curse someone to live in this bloody place?
Her eyes fell on the cup in the maid's hand. "Master said you might be thirsty," she said, stretching her hand.
Angelina was really thirsty; he had been journeying in the sun all morning.
"Thank you," she took the cup, scrutinizing its contents before drinking.
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I'm sorry I had to change chapter four
I hope you enjoy this new chapter
Reviews and gifts would be appreciated.