Sunny: Mona Lisa Darkening

"What the fuck? Your hair, eyes… your entire face and body… how the fuck did you change it like that?"

"I can do many things," I said, anger — rage — emanating from me. "Did you think Hell was going to be so easy?" My body shook as I forced myself to stand. Stand and not fall over as I spat my next words at him. "Unending pain awaits you for the crimes you have committed in life and would have continued in this afterlife. You will not find pleasure here, only pain. An eternity of suffering."

Terror filled his eyes, and ugly guilt twisted his face. Without a word, he turned and ran from me as if the demons of Hell chased after him. If only that were true. Two particular demons I would have welcomed gladly at the moment.

"Is that true? Are we dead? Are we… damned?"

I turned and saw a man lying a dozen yards away on the ground, turned toward me on his side. He wore a business suit and tie. A human, somewhere in his fifties or sixties. A second guy, young like me in his early twenties, Hispanic, with jet-black hair slicked back in a ponytail, lay a short distance behind him. He had made further progress, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees. The sleeveless T-shirt he wore revealed muscular, tattooed arms. Everything about him screamed gang member.

Two men from diverse backgrounds, about as far apart on the social and economic scale as possible, and both looking to me for answers. But I had none to give them.

"I don't know," I said.

"Last thing I knew, I was in a car accident. A head-on collision," said the guy in the suit. "I think I died."

"I was shot three times in the chest," Mr. Tattoo said. He pushed up his shirt, rang a hand over his smooth brown chest. No blood, no bullet holes.

My knees wanted to buckle but I stiffened them. Stayed standing by sheer dint of will.

Can't afford to appear weak, Mona Louisa thought inside me. I agreed with her.

"What about you?" asked the older man.

"A black light came down from the moon and brought me here."

"We told you the truth," the young guy said, scowling.

"So did I," I returned evenly. Then I said flatly, "I don't have a pulse or a heartbeat."

Both men took a moment to assess themselves.

"Nothing here." Tattoo guy.

"Me, either," said Mr. Corporate Type. "Are we in Hell?"

Tattoo guy looked around at the bleak landscape, his disdain not quite masking the fear underneath. "Sure don't look like heaven, does it?"

I was as confused as they were. Maybe even more so, and even more shaken up inside. Am I dead? Really dead? If so, then why am I here? As a Damanten, a living demon, I was not supposed to have an afterlife. And humans rarely had enough psychic energy to transition to Hell. And yet here I was with three humans, two of them having obviously lived and died violently. And none of them seemed terribly upset or surprised to find themselves dead. To find themselves here.

"What did you do?" I asked the guy in the suit.

He took a moment to push himself onto his knees. "What do you mean, what did I do?"

"We have a death-row inmate and a gang member who died in a shoot-out, if I'm not mistaken."

Tattoo guy nodded confirmation.

"You don't seem particularly surprised to find yourself in this human version of Hell," I noted.

"Human version?" the older man said with lifted brows.

"Just answer the question. You didn't, by any chance, happen to steal millions of dollars from your stockholders or something like that, did you?"

He stared at me with eyes that were suddenly hard and shrewd. "Something like that."

His answer made my heart sink.

Sinners. We were all sinners here.

Like an eerie reflection of my thoughts, Mr. Corporate Fraud asked, "And you? What was your sin?"

"Me?" I reflected over my life, the violence of it. "I killed three men."

"And your ability to change your body and appearance like that? Become two different women?"

"I tried to murder another woman. Ended up possessing her inside of me instead."

Making the sign of the cross, the young gang member muttered in Spanish, "La Madre de Dios nos ayuda" Mother of God help us.

Unfortunately, it looked like it was too late for that.

My hand lifted to the necklace given to me by my demon mate.

Halcyon, where are you? And where in heaven or Hell am I?

As the last burgundy rays of Rubera, Hell's third moon, disappeared over the horizon and utter and complete darkness blanketed the realm, loud poppers and brilliant sparklers whistled across the sky, lighting it up brilliantly with noise and festivity. It was the demons' way of celebrating Aequus Nox, equal night, which had a far more sinister meaning here. The display of light and noise was to scare away the cursed inhabitants of NetherHell during the time when the walls between the realms dangerously thinned. The custom was first started, no doubt, as a way to make the people feel better, safer. And as an excuse for merriment in a realm that was not often very merry.

As a device for preventing the unclean dead and their twisted creatures from crossing into Hell, it was as effective as throwing a handful of water at a raging fire and hoping to put it out. In other words, not very effective. Thankfully other means ensured their safety. But as a reason to gather and make happy, it served that purpose quite well, though you wouldn't know it from the two dour demons standing next to him. One was among the oldest of their kind — Blaec, his father, the High Lord of Hell whose name meant darkness. His father's face was almost a mirror reflection of Halcyon's own but for the silver streaking his temples, and the darker hue of his skin, bronze instead of gold. Others would have thought that Blaec personified his name quite well from the somber, morose expression on his face, but they would have been wrong. Just the fact that his father was standing there instead of sleeping the days and nights away indicated that he was actually quite chipper.

On Halcyon's other side stood one of their newest demons, Gryphon, whose expression of grimness matched that of his father's. It was strange knowing someone when they had been alive, and then knowing them as a demon dead inhabitant, subject now to his rule in this realm — though you would never have guessed that to be the case with this newest citizen of Hell.

Halcyon turned to face the new demon whose milky white skin was only just beginning to take on a light tan in the hotter clime of Hell, marking his newly transitioned demon state. "Aren't you glad that I insisted you come? Almost like the Fourth of July, isn't it?"

"Bugger off," Gryphon said with no change of expression, making the demon guards attending them scowl, a frightening sight to most. Gryphon hardly took note of it.

Halcyon smiled. "Shouldn't that be — 'Bugger off, my lord'?"

"Bugger off, my lord."

Halcyon's smile slipped away. "You've had a month to brood and come to terms with your loss." And what a loss it had been. Not just of life, but of newfound love and the woman he had loved and served — Mona Lisa, his Queen.

Different realms weren't the only things that separated them. Two other things kept them apart: Gryphon's precarious control of his new demon bloodlust, and his ability to cross the portal back into the living realm. Only the older, more powerful demons risked stepping into the portals. Demons who were too weak — and you could not tell until after you had stepped inside the damn portal — were simply incinerated, extinguished, never seen again.

The latter was a barrier only in Gryphon's mind. It could have been easily overcome by simply allowing Mona Lisa to venture down into Hell. But Gryphon did not want his lady love stepping one dainty foot into Hell — even though that dainty foot had indeed done just that, twice already. The first time, Mona Lisa had been dragged down against her will by a rogue demon. The second time had been by her own choice, bringing Halcyon back after he was severely injured and weakened in the living realm. That Mona Lisa was not now in Hell was only because Halcyon and his father had thought it best to give Gryphon time to adjust to his new existence as a demon, and to allow him time to gain control of his new and dangerous hunger before allowing Mona Lisa to see him again.