Hell High Read online

  I let him pull me down the path, half listening as he went on and on about how I was too delicate to go out by myself and a whole bunch of other stuff I didn’t listen to because it hurt me in my feminism.

  “…see what I’m saying?” he asked as we neared the door to the castle.

  I took a stab at the topic, hoping it was the same one he’d been ranting about. “Didn’t you see what Daddy Dearest did to Ms. Bing? No one will hurt me. They’re far too scared.”

  “I think it’s better to err on the cautious side, Princess.” He slipped his hand behind my neck, and every ounce of happiness I’d ever experienced in my life disappeared, replaced with infinite despair.

  I put my hand on the door handle and pushed inside the castle before he could finish whatever move he was planning.

  Apparently taking a hint wasn’t one of his many strengths, because he followed me inside.

  Dad appeared, and if I didn’t know him better, I would’ve thought he was actually worried about me. “Oh, thank wickedness. Abigor, go ahead and have a seat at the table. Baal’s already in there. Lily and I will come join you for dinner, and then we’ll have our meeting.”

  Abigor bowed and walked into the dining room. As soon as he was gone, I frowned at my father. “You sent him after me?”

  “I was concerned you’d do something stupid. Women often overreact when they find out the men they love don’t love them back. I’ve seen it again and again.”

  A sharp twinge wrenched my chest. “Well, at least you’re so considerate of my sensitive feelings right now.”

  “Not like you would have listened, regardless of what I said. And I can’t be seen chasing you through Hell, begging you to stop and listen.” His voice dropped low. “I was serious about not wanting to hurt you. I’ve seen how awful people can be, even to the people they claim to love, and I thought you deserved to know the truth about the guy you’ve been pining over.”

  “I wasn’t pining.”

  Dad’s eyebrows shot up, his skepticism clear.

  “Okay, maybe a little. I’m not thrilled that he chose to immediately sleep with every girl in sight, especially when one of them is my best friend. Mostly I needed something to cling to, to help me make it through being here. It was stupid to think he’d wait. I guess it was pretty stupid to think he cared about me, too.”

  “Not stupid,” Dad said. “He’s stupid for not realizing how incredible you truly are.”

  Wow. That was a total normal dad thing to say, and it actually made me feel better.

  Mischief danced through his onyx eyes. “You want me to send a demon to torture him for a bit? Have him lose that motorcycle he loves so much in a game of chance?”

  I was only the tiniest bit tempted to say yes. But now I had something else to cling to. Sitting with Tristan, the way his hand felt on my back, and the way he’d made me laugh when I thought I’d never be happy again. “No. Just let him screw up his life in his own time. He probably won’t even make it through high school.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Dad extended his arm, elbow crooked. “Come, join us for dinner.”

  I looked up the stairs, wanting to retreat to my room and think about Tristan. Plus, there was that whole avoiding-Abigor thing.

  “Please,” Dad added, and I nearly tipped over from shock—he never said please.

  Despite my best efforts to keep the hate going, a sliver of affection broke through. Okay, so he was the devil. But he was my dad, too, and he’d been nice enough to threaten my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend now. Was it so bad that I kind of, sort of…wanted to like him a little?

  I hooked my hand in his elbow and let him lead me into the dining room. The food smelled amazing, and my stomach growled.

  Dad pulled out the seat between Abigor and the head of the table.

  I sat, and Abigor scooted close to me and put his hand on my thigh. The heebie-jeebies it caused were almost enough to make me lose my appetite. I gripped my fork, fighting the urge to stab it into his hand so he’d never touch me again.

  And when he was bleeding and screaming and demanding to know why I’d stabbed him, I was so using the excuse that the devil made me do it.

  Sixteen

  For some reason I let myself think that Tristan and I were past the whole thing where he ignored me and pretended I didn’t exist.

  If I were being totally honest, I’d dreamed up one of those scenarios where our eyes met across the whatever space separated us, time stopped, and everyone else disappeared as we rushed toward one another and met in the middle for a hug. Then we’d hold hands. Maybe kiss a little.

  Commence the sighing and happiness.

  Unfortunately this was what actually happened: I waved, and he gave the smallest nod in the history of nods and walked on.

  Which left me standing in the hall, feeling like a complete moron.

  That’s it? I suffered through dinner with Abigor last night, thinking about how today with Tristan would be different, for that?

  For the rest of the day Tristan didn’t even glance my way, and the suckiness of my all-by-myself sitch covered me like a thick blanket.

  On Tuesday morning I came prepared for the ignoring. I told myself that it didn’t matter and gave myself an internal pep talk about being strong.

  But then Abigor walked into the gym for the physical part of persuasion training. Desperation grasped hold of me. I could only experience the cold blackness so many times before it suffocated me.

  A little quick maneuvering left me standing next to Tristan. I was a modern girl. Why wait for the guy to make the move? “Pair up with me for class.”

  Instead of the soft smile I’d hoped for, he frowned. “Why? Are you and your boyfriend having a fight?”

  “He’s not my boyfriend, and every time he touches me, I swear I lose a piece of my soul.” I looked into Tristan’s emotionless expression, and a lump formed in my throat. “Never mind. I should’ve known you wouldn’t understand.”

  Abigor wove through the crowd, his sights set on me, and I steeled myself the best I could for the hollow desolation that’d overtake me as soon as he touched me. His fingertips brushed down my bare arm, and I closed my eyes, unable to suppress a shudder.

  “Ready to help me demonstrate?” he asked.

  I should’ve stabbed his hand the other night when I had the chance.

  Fingers wrapped around my other wrist, and then I was towed out of Abigor’s reach. I glanced from Tristan to Abigor’s now-angry face.

  “Lily asked if I’d work with her today,” Tristan said. “She says she can’t help holding back with you, and she wants to throw someone around. Evidently she wants to take out her aggression on me.” He sighed as if it was his tragic lot in life, and I wasn’t exactly sure how much of it was for show.

  Abigor’s eyes met mine, and a pervy smile spread across his face. “You can go as hard as you want with me, baby. In fact, I’d encourage it.”

  My breakfast threatened to make a reappearance, but I at least managed to refrain from rolling my eyes. “I know you can take it, but it’s hard for me to focus whenever”—I reached down deep, wading through the disgust to find the bullshit words I was searching for—“your arms are around me.”

  The smile on Abigor’s face widened, and he bent to kiss my cheek. Cold spread from his lips, slithered across my skin, and seeped into my bones, and I felt as though I’d never be happy or warm again.

  “I knew I was getting to you.” Abigor brushed my hair from my face. “Go ahead and work on your defense moves with him, and after school you and I can pick up with the other form of persuasion.”

  Finally he walked toward the front of the gym, and I breathed a sigh of relief, the tension and revulsion slowly draining from my body. I reached up and fiddled with my angel-wing pendant as Tristan and I put space between ourselves and the other pairs. “Thanks. You totally saved me.”

  His eyes bored into mine as if he was looking for answers in their depths, and I accidentally looked at
his lips and wondered what it would’ve felt like if he’d kissed me instead of my demon suitor.

  “Okay, everyone,” Abigor said, jerking me back to the present. “Let’s practice our submission holds. Starting with o goshi.”

  One corner of Tristan’s mouth kicked up as he stepped closer, so close our bodies were almost touching. “You ready to submit to me then, Princess?”

  All the oxygen sucked out of the gym, and I had to focus on remembering to breathe. “You wish. It’s you who’ll be submitting to me.” I grabbed his arm and experienced that same sense of calm that settled over me whenever we made contact.

  “Better make it look good,” he said.

  I tightened my grip. “It sounds like you want me to throw you around.”

  Tristan wiggled his eyebrows, and my heart quickened. Funny how it didn’t bother me when he spoke in innuendos—damn him and that Southern charm.

  Keeping my hold on his arm, I stepped in, wrapped my arm around his low back, twisted my hips and used them to lift him and throw him to the ground. His body hit the mat with a loud, satisfying smack, but the grin on his face made it clear I’d hardly hurt him.

  I reached out an arm to help him up, and he used the leverage to tug me up before kicking my leg out from underneath me and taking me down to the mat, his smug, adorable face hovering over mine.

  I took a moment to soak in how it felt to be so close to him and did my best not to think about the fact that he might very well go back to ignoring me as soon as class was over.

  I exited Hell High, and a hand clamped onto mine. “Come on,” Tristan said, rushing toward the back of the school.

  Electricity zinged up my arm, and I could hardly focus on putting one foot in front of the other because my mind was screaming, He’s holding my hand!

  We reached the wrought-iron fence that surrounded the building, and Tristan gripped the top and jumped it in one fluid motion. Since hurdling wasn’t one of my many talents, I climbed it the slow, finding-footholds way.

  When I reached the top, Tristan put his hands on the sides of my waist and helped me down.

  I stood there, beaming at him as my heart thumped out an irregular rhythm. Since he was staring back, I decided it was game on for ogling time.

  Then he seemed to remember we were in a hurry. “Come on,” he said, taking hold of my hand again, and we rushed toward an area I’d never been before. Twisted trees stuck up everywhere, getting thicker the farther into the forest we went.

  After five-ish minutes, I couldn’t even see the school anymore.

  Thank goodness Tristan slowed his pace, because I was about to admit that I wasn’t in nearly as good a shape as he was. I’d like to say it was the needing-to-breathe thing, but it was more like cardio was torture, and in spite of who I was, I was against torture on principle.

  That and laziness, but having principles sounded better.

  Tristan ducked under a low-hanging branch that I could walk under no problem. “So, how much trouble will you get into when you’re not there waiting for Abigor?”

  “I won’t get in trouble, per se, but I’m sure he’ll look for me. He’s getting clingier and more impatient by the day.”

  “And you don’t like him? All the girls are always talking about how good-looking he is.”

  “Oh, he’s extremely good-looking, in a you-almost-can’t-believe-your-eyes sorta way. He’s an amazing warrior, too, from what I hear, which is mostly from how much he brags about himself. And Dad certainly likes him.”

  I paused to suck in a breath, because oppressive heat plus running equaled unsexy panting. “But do you really think I want to be with someone whose goal is to drag as many souls as he can down to Hell?” I shot Tristan a sidelong glance. “No offense.”

  He came to an abrupt stop, and I barreled into the back of him. He spun to face me, his mouth hanging open. “I am offended if you think that’s my goal.”

  “Well, you are in Tempter Training.”

  “So are you,” he said, which was a fair point. He cocked his head. “What’s your goal?”

  “Survive my year here alive, then leave this wretched place behind and do whatever it takes to never come back.”

  Tristan looked away, and I worried I’d offended him. I bit my lip, trying to figure out how to apologize for never having died.

  “So if you didn’t die yet, why are you here?” Tristan asked.

  “Just one of the many perks of being the spawn of Satan. You know how some kids have to spend the weekend or a random holiday at their dad’s here and there? It’s kind of like that. I’ve spent a few weeks here every summer, but my father hid a clause in the joint custody agreement that said I had to spend my seventeenth year here completing Temptress Training. Then I get to choose whether to stay or go back home to Earth.”

  “Bet that’s going to be a real toughie.”

  “I plan on having my bags packed and ready to go the second I turn eighteen.” I reached up and fiddled with the hoop earrings I’d put on today. “Sorry. This probably isn’t something you want to talk about since you’re… you know.”

  “Stuck here forever? Nah, doesn’t bug me at all.” He tried to smile but didn’t quite pull it off. “So, seventeen, huh?”

  “Just barely. You?”

  “Sixteen. But I’ve been that for about three years now, so I’m not really sure which one to claim.”

  I placed my hand on his forearm. “Three years? Is it completely awful?”

  “It’s Hell.”

  That was all he needed to say, and I felt pretty ridiculous for even asking a question with such an obvious answer.

  “Wanna walk some more?” he asked.

  I nodded. We walked in companionable silence, our swinging arms occasionally brushing, and I wished he and I could walk forever.

  Careful, Lily. You’re dangerously close to falling for a boy you don’t know much about.

  Mom was a smart person, and she’d still been blinded by a charming man who ended up being the devil himself. Countless times I’d promised her and myself that I would enter relationships with my eyes wide open so I wouldn’t make the same type of mistake.

  And clearly I didn’t do a good enough job of that with Dominic.

  Regardless of my desire to believe that I’d somehow just know if Tristan was good, deep down, it was time to do some recon. “I know it’s totally rude of me to ask, but I can’t help it. You seem like a nice guy—at least most of the time—so why are you here?”

  His eyebrows drew together. “I thought you already knew.”

  “I don’t, I swear. I’d never lie. Liars go to Hell.” I shot him a sarcastic smile, followed by faux shock. “Oh. Right. But as you know, that’s not what got me here.” I lifted my chin, telling myself no matter how bad it was, I’d maintain my composure. “So what did you do? Lay it on me.”

  Keeping his gaze locked on mine, he stepped closer. “You want me to lay it on you, huh?”

  My throat went dry. I needed him to tell me so every nerve ending in my body could know whether to keep on celebrating or if they needed to shut the attraction vibes down. I needed to find out soon, too, because I was having a hard time distracting myself from how close his lips were and how much I wanted to close the miniscule gap and kiss them.

  Tristan placed one hand on my hip, his fingertips radiating five spots of heat. Then he lowered his lips near my ear. His breath hit my neck, and my brain went on hiatus. “I was framed.”

  He pulled back, an amused grin on his face.

  I smacked his chest with the back of my hand. “Now who’s the liar?”

  He laughed, but he didn’t say anything else, so I figured he wasn’t ready to tell me what had happened. I was doing my best to respect that, in spite of the protest coming from my common sense.

  Every ounce of humor suddenly drained from his expression. He tenderly brushed his thumb across my jaw. “I wasn’t just ignoring you to keep me safer. It’s safer for both of us that way.”

 
My pulse quickened, and my voice came out breathy. “Are you saying that no one can know we’re friends?”

  He nodded.

  “But we are friends?” I asked, testing the waters.

  A slow smile spread across his face, and he nodded again.

  Happiness warmed me from the inside out, and I knew I was grinning like a twitterpated idiot, but it felt so nice I didn’t even try to tone it down.

  Tristan pointed through the trees. “See the spires of the castle?”

  Through the scraggly forest of trees, there it was, home evil home. But for the first time ever, the thought of entering the castle didn’t make me want to burst into tears. Dad and I’d had a little bit of a breakthrough the other night.

  And Tristan had said we were friends.

  Maybe the next 348 days wouldn’t be so bad.

  Tristan ran his fingers down my arm, eliciting a torrent of pleasant shivers, and squeezed my hand. “Tomorrow, after school, meet me at the edge of the woods.”

  I squeezed, returning the gesture. “I’ll be there.”

  Seventeen

  “Abigor came looking for you,” Dad said the second I stepped into the living room.

  Way to ruin my happy buzz. I sighed. “Can’t you tell him to back off? He’s driving me crazy.”

  A victorious smile curved his lips, and I was ultimately confused until I realized he was staring at the file in his hands. He stamped it and then returned his attention to me. “I don’t want to get in the middle of it.”

  “Hello, you’re the one who gave your blessing for him to date me. It’s too late to not be involved.” I sat on the cushy love seat to his right and tucked my legs under me. “Surely you can pull off the scary, overly protective dad role. I’m going to go insane if he doesn’t give me some space.”

  Dad tossed the file he’d had in his hands onto the stack of other files that sat atop the coffee table. The image of an angelic-looking woman peered back at me, along with stats that included her name and weaknesses. I scooted closer and saw a big red damned stamped on the front.