Chapter 3 The palace

The palace’s interior wasn’t what I had imagined based on how it looked on the outside. For starters, the hallway looked like a picture I’d once seen of Versailles. Sunlight—I have no idea where it came from—streamed in through twelve-foot-tall windows and hit a row of crystal chandeliers that took up the twenty-foot-wide space. Opulence didn’t begin to describe the life-sized gold statues of people twisted in agonizing positions, their faces forever frozen with terror. Each of them held candelabras that provided unnecessary illumination. “Wow,” said the imp. “I thought a bitch as ugly as you would gobble down my cock like it was the last salami on a smorgasbord.” The insult stung as it usually did, but it was nothing compared to a lash made of barbed flames. Nor was it as bad as what Griff had said the day he’d died. They’d called me everything when I had been alive: moose, beast, behemoth, monster. I’d heard it all. When Mum told me I took after my Dad, it was no lie. I was six-two and broad-shouldered with strong features. The

only thing I liked about my appearance was my long, blonde hair, which I always styled like that pretty one from Charlie’s Angels—the one played by Farrah Fawcett. I glanced down at the lack of bulge in the imp’s leather pants and scoffed. “Salami? I’d rather be chewed up, digested, and shat by a rock troll than go anywhere near your meager chipolata.” “One of these days, I’ll remind you of this when I’ve got you on my spit,” he hissed through clenched teeth. My stomach dropped, weighed down by a boulder of fear. This was no empty threat, but that was the nature of Hell. I gave him a non-committal hum and folded my arms behind my back like we were going for a stroll. Seriously, the air here was pristine, and the view was spectacular. There was a blue sky outside of the window. Fields of green fields, green forests, and green lakes stretched out toward a range of snow-peaked mountains. Even if I was walking besides Hell’s most irritating demon, this place was a touch of Heaven. He leaned down and whispered, “This is your last chance before you face His Majesty.” “Take me to him,” I hissed. “Fine.” He stalked ahead to a door at the end of the hallway, where I swore that one of the golden statues shifted a few inches and whispered for help. I jogged after the imp and waited for him to make three sharp raps on the door. “Enter,” said a deep voice on the other side. The imp opened the door, leaned down, and whispered in my ear, “Good luck. And when you screw this up and return

to the Punishment Pits, I’ll be waiting for you with a pitchfork in one hand and a barbed cock in the other.” “Make sure to bring a magnifying glass. I’ve always wanted to see a red caterpillar,” I said as I walked through the door. His serpentine tail cracked across my back, sending a lash of pain that made me clench my teeth and hiss. Fuck him and his scrawny dick. I got here with my pride and dignity intact, didn’t I? Pulling back my shoulders, I raised my chin and strode into what appeared to be the o ce of an old-fashioned gentleman. There was no sign of Hades, so I had a few moments to take in my surroundings. The walls that weren’t filled with shelves of leather-bound books were covered in mahogany panels. Beyond a large desk on the left side of the room and plush leather sofas on the right stood a huge fireplace that snapped and cracked and popped with golden flames. Above its mantle and within the largest picture frame I’d ever seen was an oil painting of a bearded and shirtless Hades. He sat on a golden throne, his legs akimbo. In his left hand, he held a bident, and in his right, a chain that attached to a three-headed dog. Its body was so large that it curled around the throne and couldn’t even fit on the canvas. “Is something to your liking, Miss Aibek?” asked a deep voice. I whirled around, my gaze meeting that of a dark-haired man with high cheekbones and crystal-blue eyes that burned like flames. I stepped back and placed one hand over my boobs and the other over my crotch. It had been so long since

I’d seen someone other than a condemned soul or a pit demon that I’d forgotten the importance of clothes. He grinned with the confidence of a man who knew every woman found him attractive, which made my skin tighten. Whoever he was, he looked just like Griff. A filthy, low-down charmer, womanizer, and scoundrel. “It’s wonderful to see you after so much time.” He gestured at the nearest armchair. “Would you care to sit?” “I thought I was here to see Hades.” His blue eyes sparkled, and he swept his hands down the black silk lapels of Hugh Hefner smoking jacket. “King Hades, at your service.” “No,” I said, trying not to sound condescending. “Hades is older, and you’re—” “Unfeasibly handsome?” he drawled. “I get that all the time. After a while, the compliments become tiresome. Now, sit before my patience wears thin and I have you returned to the Pits.” I hurried to the armchair and sat. Its leather felt smoother and softer than anything I’d felt in a long time, and every muscle in my transparent body relaxed with a sigh. The man sat on the arm of the sofa, leaving an eight- foot-long distance between us. Strangely, this was the first time I’d felt so relaxed in Hell, even though I had no idea who he was or what Hades wanted. He was probably an assistant or his arrogant, young son. Either way, I enjoyed being out of my cell and free from pain. “How is the rehabilitation going?” he asked. “Any regrets?” My brows drew together. “Rehabili-what?”