Chapter 7: Demon

"Come," he said again and pulled her inside the mountain he'd parted with his unnatural powers. She blinked; everywhere around her, silver gleamed in the light that did not come from the sun or candles. No matter how hard she looked, she couldn't see where the light came from. She glanced back, and the opening leading to outside was gone. What sorcery was this? Where were the fires, the throne the devil sat on? What would become of her? She knew she should be concerned about her soul, but the well-being of her earthly flesh concerned her more at this terrible moment.

"S'il vous pla顃, let me go, demon," Melisende pleaded, pulling back, but that claw had her in the strong grip of a hand not of this Earth.

"You will not be harmed," he said, but she didn't find his words reassuring, at all. In her experience, people rarely told the truth when they meant to harm you. She'd learned that lesson when she was only three years old.

She clutched her book of equations and her cross. Shouldn't hell be red? With fires blazing and people screaming their repentance in a desperate plea to stop their torture?

Everywhere she looked, she saw silver. Silver walls, silver floor. She looked up. Even the ceiling shone silver. They were inside the mountain, but unlike a cave, there were no jagged rocky edges. It was like standing in a perfect shiny box.

"What is this place?" Even while she asked the question, she knew the answer. This was the entrance to hell. The place where you waited your turn to burn in the eternal flames of damnation. After this strange silver beauty, hell would appear even more hellish. Melisende shuddered at the thought. Surely an aptitude for equations did not merit her going to hell?

The demon gestured with the hand not holding her. "It is our dwelling."

"No, it is not. I will not dwell with a demon." She didn't even want to consider what he meant when he said dwelling.

"You will dwell with me. This place is also the headquarters for Zyrgin Europe when we reach the twenty-fifth century."

"I do not understand." She tried to think of a rational explanation for all this, but she had no reference. Surely, he didn't think he could live centuries into the future? Or maybe he'd hold her here for centuries while she awaited her turn to enter hell?

"In time, you will." He took her arm, carefully, as if she'd break. Where he touched her, her skin burned. Like the way it reacted to his voice, her body reacted to his touch, and she concentrate fiercely to hide her reaction from him.

"Come and look at the dwelling I made for you." His chest puffed out, and Melisende swallowed. He was proud of the room he'd made for her in the holding place to hell? Her legs threatened to give way beneath her. He'd called her 'breeder', and she knew exactly what that meant. Even marrying an ignorant oaf like Sir Robert was preferable to being a breeder in this silver hell. She shuddered at the thought.

Not knowing what else to do, she allowed him to lead her through the large room and down a long, narrow tunnel. He had to walk slightly in front of her. She calculated the dimensions of this tunnel. "Did you make it this small for defensive purposes? Against humans or other ungodly creatures?"

"It is standard procedure." The look he gave her was almost approving.

She had no idea what that meant. "Demons have standard procedures? Do you have a book of rules? Can I see it?" Maybe waiting to go to hell might not be so bad. "Do you know arithmetic?"

He looked down at her and cocked his head in a way that was so otherworldly, so animal-like, her stomach turned. "I am not a demon. Zyrgins have rules imprinted so we do not need rulebooks."

"I do not understand. What do you mean imprinted?"

He seemed to hesitate and then decided to explain. "We are born with knowledge already in our minds."

"I never knew that about demons." It was actually quite impressive. If humans were born with knowledge, imagine the knowledge they could have?

He glared down at her, and it took every ounce of willpower she had not to run, screaming. "I am not a demon. Stop calling me that."

They came to a small, silver room, as perfectly square as the previous one. Melisende stared around her, awed at the richly embroidered tapestries and furnishings. They could be in a great house instead of deep inside a mountain.

"I have made a superior dwelling for you." He motioned around the space that resembled the sumptuous hall of a castle. Only it was better than any hall she'd ever seen in a castle. And warmer, too. "It does not stink like the castle of that ugly yellow-haired human."

She frowned up at him. He was obsessed with smell and Sir Robert's hair. "Sir Robert's castle did not stink." Except that it had. Melisende had cleaned her own cell at the abbey with boiling water and fresh herbs every week. She'd been considered odd, and bathing every day had not helped her reputation.

"You are the only human in this century who takes regular baths." He pulled her close against his hard and very warm body. His head lowered as if he was about to kiss her, and Melisende didn't know what she'd do if he did. He might say he wasn't a demon, but wouldn't a demon be wily and try to convince a body that they weren't a demon? Except that this one's snake-like skin and ridged forehead proclaimed what it was. For the longest moment, that savage face hovered near hers.

"Kiss," he grated.