Alice Mizer

"I'm good with scythes, too, come to think of it-"

"What the bleeding heck. You're a monster."

"Fire's also in my repertoire-"

"You know what? Fine. Go get ready," I said, the cogs in my brain whirring.

His brows shot up. "Really?"

"Yes," I choked.

He smiled crookedly. "I'll return before you know it," Samael said, then disappeared. I shot off the bed, quick as my feet could take me. The room was monstrously tall, and I felt that it was as large as its creator desired. The "room" was merely a balcony jutting out of a wall, and a long, spiral staircase led down below. I raced down it, trying to escape.

"What was I thinking last night!" I panicked. "I might as well have signed my death certificate! Metatron's a fricking angel compared to him, rags and all."

Though I raced down the stairs with runner's legs, the distance did not seem to grow any shorter. I gasped for breath as the minutes raced by, pushing myself to the limit. Though the balcony receded above, I was no closer to the landing.

"Shannon?"

Crap.

"How do you feel about lava?"

I was ready to hurl myself over the railing, rather than face him. I arrived at another level, an ash door in an alcove in the wall. Creeping towards it, I tried the handle. It twisted, and I sent up a thanks to God, slipping in. The room was cool and dark. I closed the door behind me, sealing off the light.

"Pikes can also be pleasurable... Shannon, where are you?" his voice echoed through the door. I struggled to lock it, heart pounding.

"As far away from you as possible," I muttered. I felt around the wall, finding a light switch. "Score," I said, flipping it on. Torches flared into life along the walls, bright as light bulbs yet merrily fire-like. A long stone corridor stretched out before me, floor covered in a red velvet carpet. I shrugged, racing down it to the large iron door at its end. It was bolted shut, but a silver key hung beside it. I took it, twisting it into the lock. The lock clicked, and the door opened in a series of metallic moans, swinging out into the building beyond.

I stopped dead in my tracks. A Baroque castle flourished before me. The door opened onto a ridiculously tall landing, carved out of white marble that had been cut away, layer by layer, to form a monstrous staircase only a giant could climb. The steps were no wider than my foot yet taller than trees, apparently there for show alone. I guessed Hell's residents flew more than walked. Beyond it, a sprawling court room spread forth, filled with small, demonic figures going about their business far below.

I walked a few paces forwards. A throne loomed before me, carved of wood- was it yew?- varnished black and gold. Serpents twined round its edges like Celtic knotwork, and its legs were lion's feet. A winged hourglass was etched into its back, skull trapped inside the glass, swallowing a frozen stream of sand. It seemed to thrum with energy.

I wished desperately for my cell phone and its picture-taking capabilities. This place was Instagram gold. "Oh, you went to England for your summer vacation? Great place. Where did I go? Oh, just this little place called Hell..."

Yeah right.

But there was something strange. A small, faded throne was tucked behind it, carved of rose wood and inlaid with mother of pearl. It burst into life with floral designs and seemed to bloom like a forest in spring. Yet it was riddled with cracks, coated in cobwebs and dust. It was ancient. Unoccupied.

A hand squeezed my shoulder. I winced. Oh, peachy...

"Heh. You found me? That was the quickest game of hide and seek I've ever played-"

Samael dragged me inside, slamming the door shut furiously. "Manipulative brat!"

"Keep that thing away from me!"

"I have to discipline you," he said steely.

"Like Hell you do!" He released me, and I shot past him, racing down the corridor. His laughter followed me.

"Run all you want, maggot. You'll still get nowhere."

He was right. The hallway continued to lengthen as I shot down it, and I got no closer to the exit.

"This building shifts according to my will."

"Whoop de fricking doo, good for you!" I stopped, gasping for breath, exhausted. Samael was beside me instantly, robes roiling in shadow.

"I find it rather convenient. I do enjoy chasing you, though - it heats things up a bit."

"Why are you sharpening your scythe?" I demanded.

"What, you don't like it? Should I summon my whip?"

"I want to go home!" I moaned. "This is too much for one morning. I should be sitting in the kitchen eating dad's omelet right now, reading the comics and trying to ignore Mo's sonic snores. Instead, I'm trapped inside a living nightmare."

He looked puzzled. "But scythes are fun, Shannon."

"No, they're not! And lava? Are you bat crap insane?"

"You said you'd be willing to experiment!"

"Not with instruments of death!"

He dissolved into a cloud of black smoke that smelled like a camp fire.

I AM DEATH!

I flipped him the bird: "So that makes you a sadist?"

OBVIOUSLY.

I had nothing to say to that. There was absolutely no way I could respond.

"I thought you were adventurous," he sneered, regaining control of himself. He fumed in anger, grinding his scythe into the ground.

I shook my head, dazed. "I can't do this. I absolutely cannot stay here. Not with you. Especially when you are all like this. Horny Death with rapist Lucifer tucked inside your foreskin. Metatron's a lesser evil."

He gave me a withering look. "Why are you so infuriatingly difficult?" he fumed. He dropped his scythe, cornering me against the wall. "I'm going to have you, Shannon O'Connor, any way I want you - SON OF A GORGON!" he roared as I kneed him down below where the sun don't shine. Quickly, I dived for Samael's scythe, proceeded to grab it, and he tackled me like a linebacker.

"Ouch Sam, you're crushing me, you drunken idiot!"

"Give me Alice Mizer back!"

"You named your scythe after a visual kei band???"

"She's more important to me than Pallor and you, for that matter! Stop being a bitch, O'Connor!"

"Well FUCK YOU! Fine, have Alice Mizer BACK, why don't you print out a waifu pillow of her as a cat girl and just masturbate to a scythe in a pink wig with tits as I clearly am NOT getting back together with you, assbutt!"

"We were never together, whore. Kissing Michael behind my back!"

"Hey, I didn't ASK for that kiss! Your goddamn maniacal twin pinned me to the ground."

"CHEATER."

"MANPIG."

"WORM. MAGGOT. SLUG. MAYFLY."

"DRUNKEN TOMMY WISEAU."

"I LOOK LIKE PETE STEELE."

"THEN I'M GINNY WEASLEY!"

We tussled until he had pinned me, wresting it from my grip. I cursed.

"You can't have that! Not if you're going to act out your twisted fantasies on me!"

"I won't, you boring, bitchy worm. You're as exciting as mold."

"Then get off me, Corpseboy! Fuck Alice Mizer instead!"

"I won't do that either," he said cuttingly, pressing me into the carpet. He tore open the dress, grinning. "There. Beautiful flesh liberated from its prison."

"I can't believe you just did that. After calling me a bitch and whore and SLUG."

"I need to claim the ground overgrown seagull Mikeypussy stole. Mmm..." he murmured, gazing upon my wound. He traced it lightly, sending shudders through my being. It grew cold at his touch. "It seems to be adapting."

"What's adapting? Do you have a dissection fetish???"

"Yes."

"WHAT?"

"Somebody had to sew you back together after Metatron's attack. Such pretty innards, Magdalena." His tepid gaze grew distant. "Your new heart."

I winced. "What kind of heart is it? How the heck did you find a human heart? Is it even a human's, is it a pig's???"

"Shh. It was easier than you'd think, yet more difficult than you'll ever know." He kissed the flesh above my chest, almost contemplatively. "If I'd lost you..." he whispered. "But I didn't. So there's no use dwelling on it."

"Can I please get off the floor???"

"Shut it, maggot."

"My back's starting to hurt- oh god, stop! Not now! I haven't even had breakfast yet," I protested. "I told you last night was a mistake!"

"I'll stop when you quit moaning."

I opened my mouth to respond but words definitely did not come out. He grinned deviously.

"I like it when you are quiet, O'Connor. Now I know how to shut you up properly."

More sounds that were barely words squeaked from my mouth. I cursed inwardly. "Not... fair- my god?"

"Worship me, maggot."

"No- don't! You'll- ah!"

He closed his eyes, breath heavy. "Too late," he whispered, nuzzling my ear. The world melted away. All I could feel was him- my universe a stark palette of pleasure and fear. "Now imagine this... with lava..."