I grunted. At least he wouldn’t be bored.
We pulled into the gas station and I filled up five of their largest gas jugs and loaded them into the back of Cole’s truck. Then he drove me to the portal and helped me set the jugs in the grass beside the fountain.
“How are you going to get all those through with you?” Cole wondered.
“I’ll take what I can through now and then come back for the rest. I have a couple Marbles in my backpack.”
“What’s it like being down there all the time?”
My thoughts went to Ana. I pictured her light wheat-colored hair and her vibrant green eyes. I remembered the way she licked the white cream of the snack cake off her finger and smiled in delight. I cleared my throat when I realized he was waiting for an answer. “Hot.”
He didn’t ask any more questions, so I said, “Thanks for the ride, man.”
“I wasn’t doing anything anyway,” Cole replied.
“Hey, Cole?” I asked and he looked back. “I’ve known Gemma a long time. I think she blames herself for Callum’s death,” I said, thinking about the grandfather I never knew. “Getting through her walls isn’t going to be easy, but I think you can do it.”
Cole seemed surprised I would say something like that, that I would offer something more than a sarcastic comeback. “Thanks,” he said after a minute.
I grinned. “Sure. But if I were you I’d keep her away from crazy.”
He didn’t even ask me who crazy was because he knew exactly who I was talking about. I was still laughing when he drove away.
* * *
Hell was hot. It hadn’t been a lie when I said it to Cole. It was the sneaky kind of heat, a dry heat, the kind you didn’t really notice until you were so dehydrated you were dizzy and your clothes were wet with sweat.
I managed to get all the gas jugs into hell in two trips. Then I went to where I left the Jeep and filled up the gas tank. I wasn’t surprised it was still where I left it and also intact because everyone on Beelzebub’s land knew it was mine and they knew I’d kill them if they messed with it. I wasn’t sure how many “people” I had to kill to instill the correct amount of fear of me, but I stopped counting a long time ago. Killing wasn’t that hard for me. I wasn’t like Sam; I didn’t feel bad about the life I drained away. I didn’t think about the people that were left behind. I always thought it was the curse that made me that way.
But maybe it was just me.
In my opinion, if I didn’t kill them, it would only give them the opportunity to kill me later. It was good time management.
With the gas tank full, I threw the almost empty jug into the back and got in. I left the rag top up because it was so dusty here and drove to where I left the other cans. When I pulled up there were three hulking demon’s fighting over the jugs sitting out in the open.
I ran them all down with the Jeep.
When I jumped out to get what was mine, one of them peeled themselves off the granite and lunged at me. I flung the can at him, keeping hold of the handle but letting loose some of the liquid. He was doused in seconds and then I pulled a lighter out of my pocket, struck a flame, and lit him on fire. He ran off through the empty landscape of hell, his screams echoing through the ashy air.
I ran over a few more demons on my way back to the castle (What? That’s what Jeeps are for.) and parked by the drawbridge, which was up. I laid on the horn until it slowly began to lower.
I stormed into the castle where Jeeves was waiting in the entry hall. “Why was the bridge up?” I barked.
“We… uh…” he stuttered, glancing at me. I grabbed a lit torch off the wall and held it to the side of his face I hadn’t yet burned and he seemed to find his vocabulary. “We didn’t think you were coming back.”
“Why?” I growled.
“Because our real master got out.”
I cocked an eyebrow and slowly lowered the raging torch to his skin. It began to melt and drip down toward his chin. He screamed. It didn’t bother me. “Who’s the master here?” I said dangerously soft.
“You are,” he wailed and some of his face dripped on my shoe.
I dropped the torch onto the floor and walked through the hallway, through the “sitting” room and threw open the door to the dungeon. I stomped down the stone stairs and into the dark hole below.
The cell where we trapped Beelzebub and Hecate was at the end and I went there, stopping where the wall of fire should be.
It wasn’t.
I looked into the cell, turning so I was sideways and my back was toward the wall. I wasn’t about to have Jeeves come up behind me and push me in because he was upset about his face. I didn’t know if this cell was still spelled or not, but I wasn’t about to find out.
The cell was empty. There was no shriveled old witch. There was no twisted soul without a body. So it was true.
They were out.
I started back down the hallway, skidding to a stop when I saw Jeeves standing at the bottom of the stone stairs. “Where is he?” I snapped, preparing myself for a battle when Beelzebub appeared wanting to take back his address.
“I haven’t seen him,” Jeeves cowered. I noted the skin on his face was no longer dripping and had settled into a mass of scars.
“Are you lying?” I growled.
“No! I swear. I knew he was out… I heard him… but he never came upstairs.”
“You heard him get out and you didn’t come to tell me!” I demanded. It didn’t matter if I was here or not when it happened; the entire staff in this house knew they were to come find me and keep me informed of everything that went on here.
“You don’t understand,” Jeeves said, following along behind me as I stomped back upstairs. “He was here.”
“Did that heat scramble your brain?” I asked. “You already said Beelzebub was here and he got out.”
“No,” Jeeves explained, glancing around and lowering his voice to hushed tones. “We didn’t come for you because he was here.”
Was he still talking about Beelzebub? There was a new kind of fear on his face. The kind of fear I knew for a fact I hadn’t inspired. I was mean, but I didn’t make the demons here shake.
“Who?”
“He let them out. It wasn’t us,” Jeeves said, still looking around the room like the boogeyman was going to pop out and yell, “Boo!”
“Tell me who!” I roared, my patience breaking.