Hell High Read online

  Hell High

  Cindi Madsen

  Copyright © 2020 by Cindi Madsen

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  About the Author

  Cindi Madsen is a USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance and young adult novels. She sits at her computer every chance she gets, plotting, revising, and falling in love with her characters. She loves music and dancing and wishes summer lasted all year long. She lives in Colorado (where summer is most definitely NOT all year long) with her husband and three children. She and her family also take their Marvel addiction very seriously, as their one-eyed cat, Agent Fury, and their kitty named Valkyrie can attest.

  To you, dear readers.

  I hope you find this book to be a fun escape from the real world.

  It’s certainly been that for me.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Epilogue

  Also by Cindi Madsen

  Acknowledgments

  One

  Being Satan’s daughter and all, my life’s always been a bit complicated, but the crap really hit the fan three days before my seventeenth birthday. I’d just said goodbye to my boyfriend, Dominic—the kind that involves lips and the perfect amount of tongue—and walked into my house, feeling that light-headed I’m-in-lust buzz.

  Sobs filled the air, and I followed them to the kitchen, a sense of trepidation harshing my vibe.

  Mom sat at the table, her olive complexion drained of color, eyes puffy and red. Dozens of wadded-up tissues surrounded her, and a legal document at least an inch thick rested on the cherrywood tabletop. At the bottom of the page was her signature. And next to her name…was that a drop of blood?

  I rushed toward her. “Mom, what’s going—” I froze when I saw Daddy Dearest leaning against the wall.

  “Hello, Lilith.”

  He’d picked the name, inspired by one of his favorite demons. Not creepy at all, right? Every girl dreams of being named after a demoness. I go by Lily. Still a little cutsie and not what I would’ve chosen, but anything’s better than Lilith.

  “I don’t have to visit your hellhole till summer vacation.” Joint custody could be such a bitch. What I needed to know, but was scared to ask, was why he was three months early.

  “Afraid I’ve got some business to settle,” Dad said, tugging at the lapels of his black suit coat that nearly blended into his silky button-down shirt and matching tie. Always with the head-to-toe black.

  He looked the exact same as he did when I was five and met him for the first time: hair dark as an oil slick and just as greasy—I inherited the color but not the greasiness, thank goodness, although with the Florida humidity, maybe I could’ve used some to combat the frizz—cleft chin, onyx eyes. He didn’t have the horns some people thought he did. In fact, he oozed more charm than evil, if you didn’t know any better.

  Unfortunately I did.

  Agitated such a perfectly nice day had been ruined, I crossed my arms and glared. “Don’t you get it? We don’t want you here, and it’s about time you get the hint and leave us alone already.” I pointed at the door. “Seriously. Leave. Now.”

  He stood there, calm and unruffled, the way he always did whenever I made it clear how much I despised him. It only pissed me off more.

  “If you’re quite finished…” He pointed at the legal document and snapped his fingers.

  The document slid across the table to me. Pages flipped, and then yellow lines bled onto one of the paragraphs.

  I read the highlighted portion:

  On the eve of her seventeenth birthday, Lilith Grace Master-of-Darkness—

  Yeah, I didn’t claim his last name either. Three guesses why. Mom had added the Grace in there to try to level the playing field.

  —will be summoned to join her father, Lucifer Abaddon Master-of-Darkness, at which time she will join him in Hell and complete the Tempter Training Program.

  “You’re-you’re-but-not-saying…” I swallowed past the lump in my throat and tried again. My voice came out croaky, but at least I got the stuttering under control. “That’s in two days! I’m not going to go live with you in two days. And I’m most certainly not going to complete Tempter Training, whatever that is.”

  “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.” Dad inspected his manicured fingernails. “Your mother signed the contract the day you were born.”

  “When I was drugged and had just had a baby,” Mom choked out through tears. Anger and a hint of pleading bled into the sorrow on her features. “You can’t do this.”

  “What are you going to do? Take me to court?” He pushed off the wall. “Good luck with that. Not only do I know the best lawyers in the world, most of them owe me favors.”

  His dark gaze moved to me, and cold spread throughout my body. “You’re lucky I gave you a few days to gather your things and say your goodbyes.”

  I clenched my jaw, determined not to cry in front of him. “And yet here I am, not feeling lucky at all.”

  He put his hand on my shoulder, and I jerked away. “See you in a few days, sweetheart.” He nodded at Mom. “Rachel.”

  “I won’t go! I’m not going anywhere with you!” It exploded out of me—so much for putting on a strong front.

  One of Dad’s eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch. “I’ve seen millions of teenage tantrums over the years. Often they lead to emotions I can manipulate and use, so go ahead and pout, shout, and cry. In the end you’ll still be coming to live with me.” He narrowed his gaze. “And I know what you’re thinking. There’s nowhere you can run, no place I won’t find you. You’re mine, and I’ll take you by force if I have to.”

  I’d always hated him, but my hatred grew by leaps and bounds, boiling my blood even as paralyzing fear roiled through my veins. I wanted to yell, but that never worked. Instead I took a deep breath, did my best to bury my loathing, and decided to appeal to the fatherly love I’d heard fathers were supposed to naturally have. “I have friends, a boyfriend.” I glanced at the amazing woman who’d raised me, her face blurred by my tears. “Don’t make me leave Mom.”

  I clasped my hands, praying to the devil. Later I’d reflect on the irony; right now I was desperate. “Please don’t make me leave. Please, Dad. I’ll come visit more. J
ust don’t make me move there.”

  Desperate times called for desperate measures, so I did something I’d never done before. I reached out and grabbed his hand. “Please, Daddy.”

  He cocked his head, almost as if hand-holding was a completely foreign concept, and maybe it was. Then his fingers curled around mine, and he gave me a light squeeze, making me think that maybe—just maybe—he actually had a heart.

  His eyes met mine, and there seemed to be genuine tenderness there, too. “You think you can manipulate me? You’re good, I’ll give you that.” A small smile touched his lips. “You are my daughter after all. But I need you with me. Someday you’ll understand, even though the stubbornness you also got from me will most likely prevent it for quite some time.”

  I ripped my hand from his and did the most cliché, stereotypical angry-teen thing ever. “I hate you,” I yelled, and then I ran down the hallway, into my bedroom, and slammed the door hard enough the room trembled from it.

  I didn’t hear Dad leave—he did this whole appearing and disappearing thing with a snap of his fingers—but when Mom poked her head into my bedroom, I knew he was gone.

  The bed dipped with her weight, and as soon as I sat up, she threw her arms around me and sobbed. “I’m so sorry, honey. If I thought there was a way out of it…”

  “Maybe there is,” I said, my throat achy and raw. “We’ve got two days to try to find a loophole. I’ll… I’ll go to priests, to every church in the city. Surely someone can help us.”

  Mom hugged me tighter and cried harder, which didn’t exactly boost morale. And I knew right then that no church could help. No doubt they wouldn’t be too keen on helping the spawn of Satan. They’d probably try to do an exorcism or something, and I really didn’t want to spend my last few days on Earth with my head spinning around while puking green.

  Numbness crept through my body. It was like a black hole of despair had sucked me in and I was never going to be able to claw my way out. Because, well, that was pretty much what had happened.

  I was going to Hell. And I didn’t know when—or even if—I was ever coming back.

  Two

  Ever since Daddy Dearest dropped the bomb yesterday, I’d been trying to convince myself it wasn’t the end of the world. And failing horribly.

  As Hailey went on and on about her drama as we exited our last class of the day, all I could think was, You think you have problems? Because I’m about to be deported to the underworld. But go on. Tell me all about the zit on your forehead that’s going to ruin your life.

  And yes, Christopher Harris flirting with Evil Ana instead of you is tragic, but from now on I’m going to be attending high school with…well, with whoever else hangs out in Hell.

  Being annoyed over something I would’ve gladly gossiped about yesterday made me feel like a bad friend. If Hailey weren’t so awesome, leaving her wouldn’t be so hard. I didn’t even know when I’d see her next.

  So I sucked it up and did what best friends were supposed to do. “You are way cuter than Evil Ana.” Evil Ana wasn’t actually, you know, evil. Just conceited and mean. “If he doesn’t see that, he’s a loser.”

  Hailey tucked her frizzy brown hair behind her ear and slumped. “That must mean all guys are losers, because I keep crushing on guy after guy who doesn’t even know I exist. I wasn’t the biggest fan of Dominic when you two first started going out, but in the three months you’ve been dating, you’ve turned the boy around and he totally adores you. I want someone like that.”

  My chest panged at the painful realization I was going to lose him. I fought back tears, refusing to be the girl who cried in the halls of the high school. Even if my life was basically over.

  An arm slipped around my waist. Dominic swept my hair over my shoulder and kissed my neck, sending a pleasant chill down my spine. “Hey, hot stuff.”

  “Speak of the devil,” Hailey mumbled.

  Yeah. Let’s not.

  I curled into Dominic, inhaling the scent of his leather jacket. Mom had pretty much freaked when I brought home a leather-clad, motorcycle-riding guy. She said he looked like trouble. Like she had room to talk—she’d fallen for the ultimate bad boy.

  Dominic wasn’t really a bad boy, though. Okay, so his grades were crap, this was his second attempt at junior year, and he smoked too much. But he was super fine, had these biceps that exploded out of his shirts, was the only guy in school who had a five-o’clock shadow at the end of the day, and I mentioned the riding-a-motorcycle thing, right?

  This was it. Time to tell him and Hailey the devastating news. I wouldn’t have spent my last precious hours at school, but being home was depressing, and as strange as it might sound, I wanted one more day to remember what normal life on Earth was all about.

  I wrapped my arm around my boyfriend and looked at the girl who’d been my best friend since second grade. Neither of them knew much about my dad. Only that I had to visit him in the summer and that I hated him.

  “So, my dad showed up yesterday, and I’m…” The words I couldn’t seem to spit out lodged in my throat for a moment before scraping their way out. “I’ve got to go live with him. I’m leaving tomorrow night.”

  “To Cuba?” Hailey shrieked. “You’re moving to Cuba?”

  During a heart-to-heart at a slumber party, she’d asked where Dad lived, and I’d replied “in a different country.” That answer hadn’t satisfied her, and since Cuba had just been in the news, I’d gone with that. I’d been “part Cuban” ever since. Hailey had even said that must be why I was so naturally tan.

  Dang, I was going to miss the way she blurted out whatever popped into her head.

  Hailey stuck out her lower lip. “But he can’t rip you out of school two months before the end of your junior year.”

  “Apparently he can. Mom and I tried, and I begged him to let me stay, but…” My voice cracked. “I’ll miss you both so much.”

  Hailey threw her arms around me and began to cry, her words indecipherable between the sobs and high-pitched squeaks.

  Dominic just stood there, a dazed expression on his face, like he had no clue what was going on.

  I only wished I was as clueless.

  As soon as Dominic had pulled his motorcycle up to my house, I removed my helmet and shook out my hair. He took off his and twisted sideways in the seat. As I studied his ridiculously handsome profile, I decided I wasn’t going to take being banished to Hell lying down.

  “If I asked you to run away with me—to just get out of here until this whole thing blows over—would you…?” I locked eyes with him. “Come with me.”

  Dominic’s eyebrows shot up, and heat crept up my neck and settled in my cheeks. My lips had always been on the red side, and I imagined the rest of my skin now matched, making me look like a giant strawberry.

  I opened my mouth to tell him to forget about it.

  “Yes” he said, the word slightly monotone but firm.

  Excitement tingled through my stomach, and I clung on to the glimmer of hope daring to rise. “Really?”

  “I’m always down for an adventure.” Dominic cupped my cheek. “Especially with you. You’re smokin’ hot for one…” His gaze dropped to my v-cut shirt, and I imagined his extra height gave him a good view of my cleavage. He also seemed to lose his train of thought.

  I guess I should be offended he didn’t mention my charming personality and witty repartee. But I was staring at the way his white T-shirt clung to his chest and thinking about how incredible his lips felt against mine, so that would be pretty hypocritical.

  With a squeal, I planted a kiss on the lips I’d been thinking about, enthusiastically enough I nearly toppled the motorcycle. Luckily Dom had fast reflexes and steadied the bike. I slid off the seat, my heart beating hard. “I’ll be right back.”

  I sprinted into my house, grabbed the duffel bag I’d packed last night, and dug out the wad of cash stashed in my dresser. I opened my jewelry box and took out one of my necklaces, careful to avoid the big go
thic cross dangling from the silver chain. Not that I liked to admit it—even to myself—but the cross part sorta burned my skin. Not in a searing, smoking way, but more of an uncomfortable, constant pain way. In order to have the extra protection of my clothes between it and me, I’d bought a longer chain.

  I slid the necklace on top of the one Mom had given me, an intricate pendant with two wings shaped like a heart. Heat radiated from the spot where the cross rested against my shirt. My hands ached to take it off, almost as if they had a mind of their own, but I fought the urge to follow through. I needed all the protection I could get. The bottle of holy water I’d picked up on a whim sat on my dresser. I shoved it into my bag, ripped a paper out of my notebook, and scribbled a quick note to Mom, explaining that I loved her and that I was going to go into hiding.

  After another quick stop to raid the kitchen, I was out the door and back on the motorcycle, arms wrapped around Dominic as we rode toward the blinding glare of the setting sun.

  Around three in the morning, we stopped at one of those motels you were kind of afraid to sit down in. I opened the holy water and sprinkled it around the doorway. A drop rolled down the bottle and sizzled against my skin. “Ouch. That burns like a mother.”