Hell's Rayne (Book 1)

Chapter 9

 We walked our way along the gently curving corridor, passing many arched doorways lined with heavy black curtains at regular intervals. I counted down the numbers on the rooms until my own quarters loomed ahead.

 At my last words Lucas had begun to chuckle softly, a murmuring sound that floated gently behind us. But by the time I had thrown open the curtains and caught sight of my own bed – the ache in my body reaching bone deep and a groan of desperation escaping my lips – his laughter had grown loud and full throated until it rang up and down the tunnel, surrounding us with the noise.

 “What's so funny?” I asked with annoyance as I stomped to my cupboard to fetch some towels. I really wanted nothing more than to sink into my bed and sleep, but I had to wash first; my encounter with Shane still crawled on my skin.

 “Oh, nothing...” Lucas forced out between guffaws.

 Finally I managed to drag a large bath sheet from the depths of the dark mahogany cupboard that was set flush into the stone wall of my living quarters – it was enchanted, a useful little trick that saved on packing, but I had to admit mine was a mess.

 “Yeah right, you don't laugh like that for nothing Lucas. Come on, spill; I could do with a good laugh.” Though I had the sinking feeling that the laughter was at my expense.

 “Okay, it's just...some time off? Lucifer is just going to love that idea.” Lucas made a show of composing himself, squashing the laughter so he could speak to me without his shoulders vibrating.

 “You know what he's like Rayne. If we can't work then there is no point in our existence, we become superfluous to the grand design. You know as well as I do how expendable we are. We're tools in the machine of Hell, Rayne, not employee's; we don't get all the nice cosy benefits that humans get with their jobs. That's just the way it works.”

 An edge of bitterness had crept into his voice as Lucas took a seat on the edge of my bed. He spoke the truth and, because we got to see and experience the other side of that coin, it appeared all the more unfair.

 “Yes I know, he is the ultimate of all slave drivers,” I said with a roll of my eyes, though I still had to have some hope. “But there can't really be an overload of free cases at the moment, can there?”

 “How do you figure that out?” Lucas asked with a frown.

 “Well, you,” I said, as if it were an obvious answer. “You told me you brought your mark in three days ago, shouldn't you have been sent back out by now, at least yesterday or earlier today at the latest? There can't be a whole lot going on if you're still kicking your heels around here. Surely he can afford me a week of R&R.”

 A pink blush crept to his cheeks as Lucas purposefully dropped his gaze to stare at the floor. Perhaps he had thought, with all of his earlier boasting, that I would have overlooked the fact that he had yet to be given another case – what with all the envy at his victory clouding my perception or something. But it hadn't gone unnoticed. In fact I had found it quite a welcoming little snippet of information; though Lucas and his blushing had me feeling that there was more to his story than I first believed; and I grew more certain that I probably wouldn't like it.

 “Yes, well...” Lucas cleared his throat before he continued, still making a show of avoiding my eyes. “That, I suppose, is mostly my own fault. Played a little too fast and loose with the free will concept on that job.” A sudden smirk crept to his lips as he looked back up at me, a wicked glint in his purple eyes.

 “Guess I was just a little too eager to beat you this time. And then you go and take forever getting your guy that I needn't have bothered, “he added, flippantly, “so really, Rayne, it's part your fault too.”