I was not expecting to have the next chapter up so quickly. I actually had writer's block, and my friend, who is also the beta for this story, gave me a few suggestions. So...this happened. Anywho, I hope you all enjoy it. A special thanks goes to my beta for staying up late to read these and give me suggestions for improvement. I forgot to say that last time as well as this: I do not own Welcome to Hell. All characters and the like belong to Erica Wester, the creator. I do not claim any ownership to anything except my own ideas. Please be aware of delicate content and strong language. If any of that has any chance whatsoever of upsetting you, please don't keep reading.
Enjoy!
Sock reluctantly floated into Mephistopheles's office the next morning, looking decidedly angrier than he had the day before.
Mephistopheles was sitting cross-legged on his desk, smirking. "Good morning, Mr. Sowachowski. Are you ready for your new assignment?"
Sock nodded, looking down at his feet. Mephistopheles, still grinning, hopped off his desk and strolled over. "Perfect. Follow me, then." And with that, he walked out of his office. Sock, now slightly more interested in what was going to happen, followed.
Mephistopheles walked down the long hallway that served as the joining point of all the circles and layers of hell, heels clicking on the floor. Sock floated close behind, gazing around in confusion. He had never been this far down the hallway…Before he could continue along that line of thought, Mephistopheles stopped outside a cracked and burning door. Smoke issued from the bottom of the door in great black billows, and screams of agony pierced the air, causing Sock to flinch. Chains, rotten branches, and decrepit boards crisscrossed the door, forming a kind of barrier between the hallways and whatever horrors lived within. Mephistopheles turned; he had not stopped grinning this entire time.
"Here is where you will be working from now on."
Sock looked over the Devil's shoulder, worrying at his lower lip. "I, um…I'm working in the Ninth Circle?"
Mephistopheles nodded. "Yes. My last tormentor was not meeting my expectations, so he was, ah, terminated. I require a replacement."
Sock looked back at Mephistopheles, fear entering his green eyes. "The most powerful demons are the ones who work in the Ninth Circle! I'm only a spirit!"
Mephistopheles held up a finger, clucking his tongue in disapproval. "There will be no discussion concerning your new position, Mr. Sowachowski. We made a deal. I would terminate your assignment regarding the death of Jonathan Combs only if you agreed to an assignment of my choosing. I have decided that you will be one of my tormentors in the Ninth Circle. This should not be too much trouble for someone who committed homicide in their sleep, correct?" Though the Devil's tone was pleasant, Sock could sense the fallen angel's annoyance. Not wanting to invoke Mephistopheles's wrath yet again, the little ghost nodded and looked away in deference. Mephistopheles smirked; it would be a pleasant day in Hell when he didn't get his way. "Lovely. We've come to an agreement. Your work begins now. I expect you to have tortured twenty souls before the end of your shift. I'll come collect you when the work day is over." Again, Sock only nodded and watched out of the corner of his eye as Mephistopheles strolled back down the hallway.
Once Mephistopheles was gone, Sock looked up at the door, unable to help the shiver that ran up his spine. He had heard rumors of the Ninth Circle from some of the retired demons who hung out near the Devil's office. They hadn't seemed fond of their former position, and Sock wasn't eager to take up the mantle. However, he knew if he didn't get his ghostly ass into the Circle, Mephistopheles would return and punish him. With a heavy sigh, he turned the brass doorknob, hissing as the metal burnt his hand, and floated inside.
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Jonathan came home to an empty house. Again. It had been over a month since Sock had disappeared. Jon hadn't been able to get in touch with him through any means, including repeating the little spirit's name a certain amount of times and using a Ouija Board. Nothing had worked. He had thoroughly searched all the places Sock had frequented multiple times, hoping to find the little ghost hiding and sulking. He hadn't found a single sign or clue. He had even sat in the middle of his bedroom and talked to Sock, thinking that the little spirit might appear and accept his apology. This had accomplished nothing except making Jon feel like an idiot. He didn't know what to do. He had spent the last couple of weeks doing all sorts of research on ghosts and demons. Maybe Sock was classified as the latter? He hadn't learned anything, though, and was feeling more hopeless as the days went by.
Falling back on his bed, feeling a strong sense of déjà vu as he did so, Jon groaned. When was Sock going to come home? Surely Mephistopheles would've fired the little idiot by now for abandoning his post for so long. What else did he have going on in his afterlife? Suddenly, Jonathan sat up. Why did he care so much about his house no longer being haunted? Why was he so bothered by the fact that Sock no longer followed him to school or popped up spontaneously in the bathroom? Why was he so goddamn upset about finally being left in peace? There was no longer a little creep in his house whose sole purpose was convincing Jonathan to end his life. Logically, he should be over the moon. And yet here he was, trying to convince himself that he didn't miss Sock's antics. He sighed; there had to be a way to get Sock back. He just had to figure it out.
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Sock wouldn't have been able to come back, even if he wanted to. Being one of the Devil's lead tormentors had become the sole focus of his life. While Jon had been researching ways to summon ghosts and demons, Sock had been torturing those unfortunate souls who found themselves in the Ninth Circle.
On the day Jonathan realized he missed Sock, the little ghost was busy wrapping white hot chains around Luis Garavito, a man who had tortured, sexually assaulted, and murdered at least 172 street children. Otherwise known as "La Bestia", or "The Beast", the Columbian man had been sent to the Ninth Circle for his crimes. As the head (and only) tormentor in that Circle, it was Sock's duty to introduce Garavito to the hellish delights of eternal suffering. So, this was how Sock found himself cutting gashes into Garavito's body and wrapping hot chains around the writhing man. Ignoring the pained shrieks, Sock continued about his work. He had learned to tune out the screams and sobbing, spending most of his workday lost in thought.
For the first couple of weeks, he had spent most of his time thinking about his life with Jonathan. He missed the living boy terribly and began to believe that he had overreacted during their argument. After all, it wasn't like Jon had intended to be malicious. Mistakes had been made on both sides. It was too late to rectify his mistake, though. He couldn't ask for another position change, especially if it meant breaking a deal. Mephistopheles would give him his worst punishment yet. Thoughts like these always upset Sock and almost always ensured his punishments would be more sadistic than usual.
As time passed, Sock began to forget about Jonathan and the life they shared. Instead, his focus turned to what he had decided were, in fact, "flashbacks". During his downtime, he questioned other ghosts and spirits, hoping to find similar stories. However, nobody else seemed to share Sock's experiences. He had even asked Mephistopheles for advice, thinking that if anyone understood what was happening, it would be the Devil himself. Mephistopheles had not appreciated his questions and had threatened punishment if Sock kept seeking answers. The little spirit had left the office, sulking. Why wouldn't anyone help him? äääääääääääääääääääääääääääääääääääääääääää
Exactly thirteen weeks after Sock's departure, Jonathan woke up to creaking in the rafters. Unable to help the small smile that graced his features, Jonathan got out of bed and hurried up the stairs that led to the attic. The corners of the attic had been one of Sock's favorite hiding places. It had been eerily silent since Sock had left; the creaking must mean he had come back! Jonathan could finally apologize!
The spirit that greeted Jon in the attic wasn't Sock, though. A small demon with copper-colored hair and scarlet eyes grinned as he hovered over a box, flicking his black, pointed tail. Silver wings with black, gold, orange, and red flecks twitched as the demon tilted his head. "Hello, Jonathan Combs."
"Who are you?" Jon demanded, crossing his arms.
The demon chuckled. "Well, you're not very polite to house guests, are you, Jonathan Combs?"
Jon rolled his eyes and leaned against one of the attic walls. "Not when they appear in my attic in the middle of the night. Who are you? Did I summon you with the Ouija Board? Do I have to pay a priest to exorcise my house?"
The demon hissed at the mention of a priest performing an exorcism, unable to help himself. Quickly collecting himself, he smiled. "So many questions. I suppose I shall have to answer them all lest you continue with this pathetic interrogation?" Jonathan gritted his teeth and nodded, clearly irritated. Smiling more widely, the demon continued. "I shall start with the first question. My name is Caius, son of Cato. I am of the demon gentry from the Eleventh Circle."
"Eleventh Circle?" Jonathan interrupted. "I thought there were only Nine. That's what it says in Dante's Inferno."
Caius sighed. "You are so terribly rude, Jonathan Combs. I shall address this question before I continue answering your prior questions so you shall no longer interrupt. As far as you mortals know, there are only Nine Circles. However, there are two circles below those levels that are reserved entirely for demons that Mephistopheles favors above the rest. Specifically, the Eleventh Circle is reserved for demon royalty and gentry. Now, are you ready to sit quietly while I answer your other questions?" Jonathan nodded, frowning. He didn't enjoy being treated like a child, but he needed answers. Caius smiled before reclining in the air, wings fluttering gently. "Regarding your other questions, the answers to both are no. Ouija Boards do not function as they do in your silly films. To the residents of Hell, they are the equivalent to telemarketers. They are a mere nuisance. Such a silly game could not summon a demon; rather, a demon can choose to appear and torment the silly mortals who thought they had power over Hell's denizens."
"And if I google priests?" Jonathan asked, slowly taking this all in. He wasn't an idiot; he had realized that this Caius was Sock's replacement. The little ghost wasn't coming back.
"Though that would certainly send me back to Hell, I do not believe you will go through with your threat." Caius replied with a smirk. Jonathan frowned, noticing that Caius hadn't reacted negatively this time.
"Why's that? I just met you, so I have no reason to be afraid of you. Besides, I can just banish you myself, can't I? I mean, I do know your name."
"Yes, I suppose you could also "banish" me as you so barbarically put it." Caius replied, nodding thoughtfully "However, I do not believe you will do that either."
"Oh, yeah? What's stopping me?"
Caius chuckled. "I see someone hasn't done as much research on demons as they thought. I am Caius, mind-reader, thought-thief, and dream-eater. I know what you were thinking when you rushed up here, behaving like an ox in a china ship. You thought I was that pathetic little spirit "Sock." Caius smirked as he continued. "You thought he had returned and that you two could finally make amends. Whether you admit to yourself or not, you care deeply for that waste of a hell sprite. You were overjoyed when you believed he had returned to you. I am here to make matters clear to you. He will never come back. You broke his heart and his soul; you chased him away. You drove him back to Hell where he now lives in chains and fire. Mephistopheles sent me as his replacement. It is my duty to remind you of your ill judgement and all the cruel, idiotic moments of your life. I will not leave until I lead you down the path of hellfire."
Jonathan flinched, backing away from Caius and clumsily making his way toward the attic stairs. The little shit had to be lying! Demons were known to lie in order to get their way, so what Caius had just said couldn't be true. Right? Disbelief set in as the demon followed, smirking.
"You think I am lying, yes? You insult me childishly and hope that I speak falsehoods. However, you know that what I say is true. Sock ran away and has been punished severely for leaving his post. And it is all your fault."
Jon collapsed against the railing, trembling. Caius was telling the truth. Sock had told him stories of Mephistopheles's punishments. The Lord only knew what torment Sock was being put through for abandoning his post. As Caius settled next to him, snuggling into his side and causing a shudder to run down his spine, Jonathan let out a low sob. He had royally fucked up, and he had no idea if he could fix his mistakes. However, before he could properly focus on his grief, he noticed something that made the weird situation even weirder. He sniffled and wiped his eyes, looking up at the small demon. "Hey, how come you can touch me? Sock always had to ask permission to do that."
Caius looked over, raising an eyebrow. He had not been expecting this question. "In answer to your question, I have a story. Are you prepared to listen?" Jonathan nodded, eager to focus on anything but his pain. Caius settled against Jon again, ignoring the mortal's shudders as his voice took on a hushed tone. "Once, many centuries ago, the demon queen Auriol, the demon of lust and brutal affection, journeyed to the mortal world to seek a mate. Every century, Auriol journeyed to the realm of humans to find a new mate, finding that the mortals she blessed with her kindness died all too quickly. However, this trip would prove to be different. After residing in the mortal realm for a day, she spotted a man who stood out from the rest of the meandering humans. Auriol could not quite decide why this human stood out amongst the rest, but she knew she had to have him. Used to getting her way, Auriol sauntered over, smirking. It usually only took a moment or two to coerce a mortal man or woman to follow her into the depths of Hell, so she expected the same result on this occasion. However, before she could even touch the man, he turned and Auriol realized her mistake. This man was no man at all; he was the angel Decimus, lord of light and shadows. The angel gazed upon her sadly, for he loved her as much as she loved him. By ancient accord, however, they could never be together, and both knew this. So, Auriol, deciding that others who made this error should suffer as much as she would, placed a curse on herself and her descendants: anyone who fell for a being of light would place the mark of Hell upon that being forevermore."
Jonathan had been enraptured by the story, so it took him a moment to realize Caius had stopped speaking. Once he had collected himself, he arched a brow. "That's an interesting story, but I don't see what it has to do with me."
Caius chuckled. "Silly, silly mortal man. Sock is descended from Auriol and has given his heart to you, a being of light, in its entirety. Before you ask, all humans who have yet to physically harm another being are naturally of the light." Jonathan groaned, finding it hard to take this all in. So, in short, this disgusting demon could touch him because Sock had given him some sort of "Hell touch" and now any old demon could lay their hands on Jon. Sock had given Jon a parting present, after all: a curse. This along with everything else that had happened in the short time he had known Caius caused Jonathan to curl in on himself and shudder with grief. How was he ever going to fix this mess?
Caius sighed happily, cuddling closer as he absorbed the silly mortal's pain. He had, of course, been lying about Sock's fate, but what reason had he to tell the truth? His job was to make Jonathan suffer, not report to him on Sock's condition. Besides, he despised that sprite. After ensuring that Jonathan was not paying attention to him, he allowed his anger to show on his face. That awful little sprite had taken his job and pushed him aside as Mephistopheles's future mate. Caius bared his teeth, unable to help the low growl that crept up his throat. Luckily, Jon was too caught up in his grief to notice. Caius took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Sock would pay in time. After all, his father had promised him wretched retribution. What reason did he, the father of twenty demons, have to lie to his favorite son?
I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Again, I don't have a schedule for updates, so I can't guarantee chapters will continue to be up so quickly. As always, love and constructive criticism are always appreciated. I love you all!
XOXOXO