A Beautiful Evil (A Beautiful Book. 1) #Wattys2015

Chapter Eight - The Pit

I was vaguely aware of Charles shoulder pressed against my own, staring up at the painting next to me.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Half a millennia. But hey, who's counting?" I shrugged nonchalantly.

He shifted beside me. I could feel he was growing uncomfortable as he began to fidget. "Just spit it out," I sighed.

He let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. "What are you going to do when you see Avery? How are you going to handle that?"

My anger raged up with a roar. "Why do you care? Since when did you grow a sudden interest with my life, or just me in particular? Five-hundred years ago, you wouldn't even glance in my direction when I would ask you a question. You always had your nose stuck in one of your damned books."

"And you didn't?"

"I at least tried to make time for friends."

"Is that all I am?" he asked, his eyebrow rising.

That brought me up short, and my anger quickly turned into unease. Nervousness. My stomach flipped. I couldn't deny the little butterflies Charles stirred inside me, but I also knew that nothing could come out of it. Avery would have a fit, and I knew I would be the one paying the price for it. So I played it safe. "That's all you'll ever be."

The hurt in Charles eyes was undeniable, but even with his pride wounded, he kept his award winning smile fixed on his lips. "Ouch. Harsh."

"Sorry," I mumbled, eyeballing my clasped hands.

He shrugged his shoulders, bringing his hand up to touch my shoulder, but then putting it back down to his side. "Nah, it's nothing, luv. We should get going though. Time's up, and if I don't hand you over to your father soon, he's going to have my ass hanging above his fireplace."

Turning away from me, he strode down the hall, calling my name over his shoulder when I didn't follow. I quickly scampered after him, but as I walked to meet my father, Charles by my side, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling of regret.

He sat a on a throne made of bones. Human and animals alike. They were pieced together so tightly it looked as if they were melted to one another, one bone bleeding into the next. A giant skull of some unknown monster sat at the top, glaring down at me in a frozen snarl that I'd seen sense childhood.

But Daddy wasn't alone.

Merdodach was perched on his right, situated in a flimsy wooden chair at his desk, shuffling through a mountain of papers stacked on his desk. Keeping track of all the dammed souls in hell can be a hassle, I understand that, but the piles on his desk were ridiculous. I hadn't seen him in over five hundred years, and he didn't even glance up in my direction. Prick.

To his left sat Ranjeet and Huarwar. They were so involved in their own conversation they hadn't even heard me approach. Huawar looked as he always did, dark ringlets framing his sharp features; a small mole above his lip, and chilly, moss colored eyes. He wore a gray sweater with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and black jeans that were ripped out at the knee. God, why's he so gorgeous? My heart froze is mid-beat.

My father's face was shadowed by the candles hanging from long chains on the towering ceiling above, giving him a frightening demeanor. Power seemed to roll off him in waves; so thick I almost choked on it. His long, claw like fingers were laced around the arm's of his throne, his knuckles white.

My mind buzzed. What do I say to him?

"You summoned me, Father?" I called, my voice bouncing off the mighty walls and ringing in my ears. I sounded more confident than I felt.