Discovering Hell [COMPLETED]

Chapter Three

Hell is horrific when you're down there for slaughtering the Jews or torturing the slaves. But it gets worse when the King sort of has it out for you.

Meg could already hear Allistair whistling as he made his way to where she hung from the chains and this alone made her stomach clench in fear. Crowley had given her back to him with a special note to "make it hurt like hell." So of course Allistair obliged.

She closed her eyes and saw his:  her angel's gorgeous, dark, blue eyes that fit him so perfectly it was obvious he was an angel. Her unicorn. The one person--or angel--that had ever made her want to change, want to not be the demon she was. 

She opened her eyes again only to see Allistair's blank white one's right in front of her, making her flinch.

"Good morning," he sneered, his hot breath stinking in her face. "I hope you slept well."

She didn't feel the need to respond to that in any spoken way so she resorted to spitting on his face.

He growled and wiped it off with the back of his hand. "So it's going to be that kind of day, is it?" He snapped and his silver cart of knives and holy water came into existence behind him. "Well, let's start out with a question."

"You already know my answer," Meg hissed through clenched teeth. The sight of the cart alone made her want to throw up all over Allistair's nice Italian leather shoes.

"I'm gonna ask anyway. Torture souls and I'll stop torturing you. What d'you say?" Meg just looked at him. Allistair's hands dropped to his sides and his bottom lip stuck out in a pout. "Come on, Meg. You were so great when you agreed last time. Don't you remember last time? We were a great team. What changed your mind?"

Meg wasn't going to give him the answer he wanted (just to give in) so she continued in silence. Although, Allistair was right. Last time she had jumped at the chance to get out of the fire and hurt somebody else for a change. But she didn't want that this time. She was going to wait and take whatever she deserved--and she deserved a lot--because she'd learned to love. That dorky, goody-two-shoes angel had taught her how to love.

Allistair saw that she wasn't going to respond and sighed. He made his way to his silver cart and sifted through the variety of knives on it, the metal clinking together making her flinch. Finally he decided on a small, silver dagger. "I really do hate to hurt you like this," he said. "But what can I say? It's my job."

He sliced along her rib cage and through her abdomen. Meg whimpered and a single tear escaped and slipped down her cheek.

Allistair made thick cuts down her thighs and short, deep cuts along her forearms. He threw his head back in a laugh when the blood trickled down her limbs. He was the only one enjoying this. Meg writhed in pain and clenched her jaw to avoid screaming because she knew it would only egg him on. It hurt even more when he dipped the blade in holy water or splashed her cuts with it.

Allistair dragged it down her jaw line and along her neck, just below her ear. He pressed the dagger into the skin just above her collar bone and Meg shuddered, a small whimper escaping her lips.

"All right, that's enough," Crowley's voice intervened.

Allistair froze and spun around in shock. The King was sitting on the cart with his legs crossed, examining his fingernails and looking bored as ever. "Crowley, sir, what are you doing here?"

"I," Crowley hopped off the cart and made his way across the room Allistair and Meg, "am here for her."

Meg would never, ever admit it, but Crowley being here in hell for her, almost made her want the knife back.

"May I ask why?" Allistair asked quietly.

"I am the King of Hell!" Crowley hollered. "I don't have to explain myself."

"Sorry, sir. She's my favorite though..." Allistair found a sudden intense interest in the knife in his hand.

"Well, you won't be seeing her for a long while," Crowley snapped. Allistair frowned in disapproval and Crowley sighed. "There's been a development upstairs."

Meg shook her head. "You don't need me." She was still shaking from the days torture. And that had just been the beginning...

"Sorry sweetheart, but I really do." He snapped his fingers and the chains holding her up disappeared, making her fall on her hands and knees at the King's feet. He grabbed her hair by the roots and yanked upwards, forcing her to look at him. "Our mutual angel is causing all kinds of problems upstairs."

Meg's breath caught in her throat. She could barely manage to choke out his name.

"Cas."