Page 18 of Realm of the Wicked

‘This isn’t Hell. But he is the Devil. We are still on Earth. Today, I’ll meet Agatha. Grace is safe,’ I whispered to myself, squeezing my eyes shut, wrapping my arms around my chest as tightly as I could. If I could just remember those five things, I’d be okay. I hoped.

Maybe I’d add a sixth one for good measure. ‘Damien won’t hurt me.’

If he could help it. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what that meant. Besides, hadn’t he already, by taking me away from my life, and Grace? Maybe I liked it better when I thought he was just a criminal.

A small part of me wondered how far he’d go to keep me here. Giving in to the curiosity for a moment, I imagined him tying me up… and me liking it.

Although from what he was saying yesterday, he seemed to think I was here by choice.

Some choice.

My stomach growled angrily, and I realized I had no idea where to find food.

Agatha. I was supposed to find Agatha. Damien told me if I needed anything, I should find her. But knowing I was supposed to find her and actually finding her were two different scenarios entirely.

I sighed, rolling out of bed, and almost crushing a perturbed Archie in the process. He gave me a resentful squawk and settled back into a ball.

I gave his fluffy, white fur a pet. ‘Guess it’s just you and me now, bud.’

Archie blinked up at me before closing his eyes. Hopefully, he’d forgive me for bringing him with me into forever. With any luck, Agatha would have food for him, too. Damien told me she’d be able to get me whatever I needed, but I wasn’t sure that sentiment extended to my cat he seemed to be downright terrified of. Did Hell have a pet store?

‘Right. Clothes first.’ Somehow, talking to myself made me feel less alone in my room, in this mansion. Maybe if I just treated this situation the way I’d treated the months of Grace’s treatment, I could get through this just fine.

Or maybe that was just all wishful thinking.

I pushed my hair out of my face with a sigh. ‘Clothes, Stella. Clothes. Not moping.’

True to his word, the wardrobe held a range of clothes, anything from sweatpants to dresses. Running my hand along the edges, I frowned, realizing how similar a lot of these clothes were to what hung in my closet at home minus my ratty band shirts. But… how would Damien know what I wore?

Unless he’d been watching me for a lot longer than he’d been letting on. The chill that raced through my body wasn’t necessarily out of fear from being watched. It’d been a long time since anyone had paid attention to me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I really didn’t mind it when it came from him.

Another sigh as I pulled out a pair of pants and a T-shirt from the wardrobe, tugging them onto myself. ‘Really, Stella, you’re not helping the whole damsel in distress ideology here.’

I tripped over my foot trying to pull the jeans up and over my hips, and just as I righted myself, a knock at my door had me stumbling all over again. Archie sat up, giving me a concerned glare.

‘Good morning, Stella!’ A warm, feminine voice came from the other side of the door.

My eyes widened. Damien hadn’t said anything about someone coming to my room. ‘Uh, just a second!’

‘There’s no rush. Really. Take your time.’ She sounded way too kind considering who she worked for.

I finished pulling my clothes into place and swung open the door, only a touch out of breath. On the other side of the door stood an older woman, smile lines framing her mouth and eyes, gray hair pulled into a loose bun, holding a plate of what looked to be breakfast.

‘Hi?’ I hated the tremble in my voice, the nerves over the unknown thrumming. ‘Are you…?’

‘Agatha. Glad D at least mentioned that much.’ She rolled her eyes, giving me a conspiratorial grin. ‘I went ahead and assumed that was all he told you, though. Figured you wouldn’t know how to get to the kitchen, so thought I’d save us both the effort and bring breakfast to you. You’re probably starving. Traveling outside of the dimension we’re used to really takes it out of you.’

I blinked, attempting to process the overload of information practically bubbling out of the woman in front of me who I was sure had not an evil bone in her body.

‘Anyway, I made you some toast to fill your belly, and then I thought we could do a tour of the house so you know how to get to the kitchen and down for dinner and the like.’ She ran an appraising glance over me. ‘Glad the clothes fit. I only had so much information to work with, so I did the best I could. Although he was quite precise on style…’

Agatha looked down at the plate and then back up at me, and I realized she was waiting for me to take the food. My bones were frozen, and I couldn’t decide if my fear or curiosity would win. My stomach protested once more, and my decision was made.

I grabbed the toast off the plate, stuffing a quick bite into my mouth. ‘Lead the way.’

Agatha turned out to be perfect company. She knew all sorts of weird stories about the house. She pointed out one room, where I could’ve sworn someone was screaming behind the door. ‘That room is cursed. Damien spent decades trying to reverse it with zero luck, so now we just do our best to ignore it.’

She nodded her head toward a row of small blades hanging on the wall, rusted with age. ‘Those were the swords that killed Julius Caesar. A downright shame if you ask me. But according to Damien, it was a necessity, otherwise Pompeii would’ve caused a second Ice Age.’