We really have been at this for hours. Jude has already burst out of that teeny-tiny shirt I fashioned with all his angry Hulk impersonations.
“Take a break,” Lamar says curtly.
“This is our lives we’re discussing,” Jude growls. “Not yours. We’ll take a break when—”
“He’s right,” Ezekiel cuts in, lips thinning when he sees me quickly wipe away the next drop of blood.
“Pay a visit to Hell’s Black Heart. You need the power boost. The more time you spend there, the stronger you’ll grow. It’s how you were strong enough to harness the Horsemen powers, after all. It’s where evil goes to fester,” Lamar continues as he stands. “I’m going to take Paca to her favorite room in hell.”
“It’s not my bedroom?” I ask, perking up at the prospect of something else that’s all mine.
Jude crouches in front of me, where I’m back to sitting beside the bed, and I hear riiiiippp.
He glares at me when I make a strangled sound in my throat and fight really hard not to laugh.
But the other guys aren’t so generous.
“Been waiting on that for a while. It came a little late. I should have made those pants just a little tighter,” I tell him with a slow smile.
He stands while rolling his eyes, and I catch a flash of his ass when he turns around with the new large split right down the center of it.
Lamar pushes a section of the wall, and it begins backing up. Inch by inch, it reveals a large, hidden closet when the door starts moving to the side.
It’s full of men’s clothing.
“That’s been there all along?” I ask incredulously.
“Why are you just now showing us that?” Jude asks, looking even more frustrated than usual.
My nose finally stops bleeding, just because I’m so damn entertained.
“I thought it’d be obvious by now,” Lamar says with a careless shrug. “I’m evil too. Most people in hell’s royal circle are.”
As if he’s just schooled the Four Horsemen, he reaches down his hand for mine, and I take it, grinning like a little kid at Christmas when Jude simply exhales and starts actually counting to ten.
Lamar helps me up, and I strut toward the door.
“Spend time there. Manella will tell you how to find us when you’re done,” he says, not giving them time to argue before dragging me along quicker.
Gage grabs me at the waist, ripping me away from Lamar. I’m positive he’s going to object to me running off with my brother’s boyfriend that we barely know—but that I can surely kill—in case Lamar is secretly plotting against us.
Instead, he kisses me.
Hard.
It surprises me so much that I just lamely stand here for a moment with my eyes wide open. Then I quickly melt against him, kissing him back.
I almost forget that he can’t be my favorite. Then I remember the unresolved issue, but continue to kiss him anyway. He doesn’t have to be my favorite.
His hands tighten on my waist, pulling me closer as he kisses me stupid, and every bit of pain just fades into nothing. I really should have kissed one of them sooner, because nothing else is so good at distracting me.
Someone knocks at the door, the only thing that has Gage releasing me.
Lamar is quick to answer it.
The sound of shuffling feet precedes three men stepping in and standing off to the side like they’re awaiting orders.
“They’ll take you to the Black Heart,” Lamar says as though he’s somehow magically summoned them. “Sorry. They can wait until you’re finished.”
Gage clears his throat and releases me, walking off while scratching the back of his neck.
Totally weird reaction, but it’s been an intense day. The other three are coming out of the closet…literally. Jude is the only one wearing something different.
“I think we’re ready,” Ezekiel says, glancing over at Gage, who still has his back turned.
“Make sure Chloe knows I’m The Apocalypse so you can be my favorite, because I really want that right now,” I tell him.
I see him smirk from the side, but he doesn’t look over at me.
Weird.
Lamar motions for me to walk out first, meaning that chivalry is still alive even in hell. It makes me feel feminine and dainty, so I happily start out in front of him.
But the three men near the wall immediately drop to their knees and bow before me.
“Royal,” they all say in unison, as though they’re addressing me.
I arch an eyebrow at Lamar. “I’m called Royal?”
“You’re The Apocalypse,” Kai pops off with a smirk. “Did you think they’d call you Princess?”
When worded that way…
“I do have a crown,” I point out a little defensively. Looking around like it’s going to magically appear, I add in a mutter, “Somewhere.”
“Should we tell her?” Kai asks.
“Tell me what?” I chirp, hoping they know where it is. I barely even got to look at the damn thing.
“I think we should,” Gage says, finally facing me again, grinning like Kai.
“I think we should wait,” Jude says with his own smirk.
“Only because she made you look like an idiot,” Ezekiel says while patting Jude’s back. “I vote we tell her.”
“Tell me what?” I ask again.
Gage comes over, and I start to think he’s going to kiss me again, when he grips my hips and lifts me right off the ground like it’s no big deal. Jude could have sent me to my ass if he’d wanted to rip that shirt out from under me earlier.
I file that information away.
He drops me in front of a mirror, and I smooth down a stray red hair. I’m getting used to the red. Though I do miss my darker skin tone that’s slowly fading as well, as though the hair color and skin tone are linked.
Then he pulls up the back of my shirt and turns me around.
I’m confused, until I look back and see what he’s showing me.
All the bastards are grinning. I can see their reflections. Even Lamar is grinning.
The other three dudes are still bowing on the floor.
It takes me three-point-five seconds to understand what’s so amusing.
“That bitch!” I shout when my head ramble finally stops. “She turned my crown into a lower back tattoo?!” I ask in horror.
There’s no mistaking the fact there’s definitely a crown tattoo where a crown tattoo has never been before. And it’s my crown. My pretty crown that I didn’t get to fully examine before it became a lower back tattoo.
“She gifted you Hera’s favorite color of hair, simply because she knows you love driving Hera crazy. And she had to curse it somehow.”
“With my crown?” I ask incredulously.
“You love your crown as much as Hera loves having red hair. The question is, which is more important? Driving Hera crazy or getting back your crown?” Lamar says like he’s so insightful.
“Fucking balance,” Jude says with that fuck-you grin I should have trademarked.
I’m confused when I actually struggle to pick between the two. It should be obvious: Pick the crown! But the idea of torturing Hera just gives me an unnatural sense of pleasure.
“That diabolical bitch,” I say on a more appreciative breath, seeing the evil genius conundrum before me and hating Lilith for coming up with it.
“I say to stay ginger and forfeit the crown,” Ezekiel supplies.
My eyes flick to him. “Of course that’s what you’d say.”
He smiles unapologetically before waggling his eyebrows. I’m trying to be annoyed, but it’s like his stupid grin makes my grin stupid.
Lamar sighs before touching just my elbow and I feel the tug of a siphon. We land in a familiar hallway. This hall seems to move from place to place, depending on your destination.
Lucifer really is proud of his evil spawn if he’s constantly making you walk through the Hall of Sick Fame no matter where you’re going.
Instead of moving through the hallway, Lamar pushes on the wall, and just like in my bedroom, the wall begins to move.
Dramatic music starts playing as the wall slowly slides away, disappearing to the side, and my eyes go wide in my head as I step inside, lost to this amazing room.
There’s a big bom bom bom sound in the music just as an ethereal light seems to slowly illuminate the room.
“What is this?” I ask as I spin in a slow circle, taking in all the beautiful sights.
There’s a Rob Thomas poster on the wall. There’s also a huge TV that probably weighs a few tons. Definitely not a flat screen, but not classified as a tube TV either.
Nintendo’s Mario and Luigi are proudly slapping five on an entire wall mural. Suede leather furniture is on top of some sort of burgundy carpet. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles have their own poster on the wall as well. The carpet so far is my only complaint.
I would have gone with something more user friendly.
Lamar walks by a VCR player to a bookshelf that is filled with VHS tapes stacked nicely and labeled.
“This is your nineties room, though not everything is period accurate. Some things we saw was a bleed-over from the seventies or eighties—such as the lava lamp you coveted so much. It was a birthday present from Lucifer,” Lamar tells me just as I turn on the lava lamp in question.
“We can often recreate the futuristic material things we see, depending on their varying degrees of complexity. Some things may be slightly modified or custom designed to suit your own personal tastes,” he adds.
I take a seat on the hunter-green suede couch and glance over at the mauve hot tub in the corner that is built into the ground. Seems counterproductive to have a hot tub in hell.
There’s a Game Boy on the coffee table. A Sega Genesis is in one of the compartments on one of the twin entertainment-stand columns. A Super Nintendo is on the other.
Lamar starts unravelling a cord from around a controller that is hooked to the Super Nintendo.
“I’ll turn it on so you can play,” he says, causing me to groan.
“Okay, but only for a second, because I think I need to start training or something.”
He looks confused as he hands me the controller.
“You’re going to fight him?”
I shrug a shoulder as the TV fires up, and I smile when I see he’s already loaded the game. It’s just waiting for me to start.
“Of course,” I say distractedly, figuring out how to move this little plumber.
It’s hard to picture a day when people showed this much respect for plumbers—or any working-class men/women. Then I curse when a moving mushroom with eyes kills me.
I have no respect for freaking mushrooms with eyes.
“That was anticlimactic,” I mumble, starting over when it gives me the option.
“Paca, you’re not a champion,” Lamar quickly points out.
“If I’m feeling the need to argue with you, then you’ve chosen the wrong choice of words,” I state on autopilot, squashing that eyed-mushroom thingy like a boss this time.