Princess of Hell

The familiar sensation of dimensional travel faded as we stepped onto solid concrete, our glamours already settling into place. I blinked in surprise at the alleyway around us—someone had clearly been busy with a pressure washer and industrial-strength cleaning supplies. The dingy, trash-strewn space I remembered had been transformed into something almost respectable, though the graffiti hiding the transport gate remained untouched.

"Well, that's different," Aria commented, looking around with mild interest.

Isabella wrinkled her nose slightly. "Still smells like London, though."

I didn't waste time dwelling on the cleanup. The VCD headquarters weren't far, and whatever they wanted to discuss about Faith had been weighing on my mind since Kyriakos's message. I pulled my phone from the spatial ring as we walked, powering it on for the first time in weeks.

The device came to life with a series of notification chimes. Most were automated messages I could ignore, but one caught my attention immediately—a text from Faith that simply read: "We need to talk as soon as you can."

I tried calling her number, but the automated voice informed me that my account needed topping up before I could make calls.

"Problem?" Isabella asked, noticing my frown.

"Phone's out of credit," I said, sliding the device back into the ring. "But we're heading to the VCD anyway, so it doesn't matter."

I could have easily convinced some passerby to hand over five pounds for a top-up—a few seconds of succubus innate charm would have done the trick—but it seemed pointless when we'd be there in half an hour anyway.

The walk through London's streets felt oddly nostalgic. Street vendors hawked their wares, office workers hurried past with takeaway coffee, and the familiar hum of traffic filled the air. It was all exactly as I remembered from my time as Liam, yet somehow felt like observing someone else's memories.

Aria kept getting distracted by shop windows, while Isabella maintained her usual composed observation of everything around us. Despite traveling to Earth before, their knowledge still remained largely superficial—enough to blend in, not enough to truly understand the culture.

"Almost there," I said, pointing ahead as we rounded the final corner.

The VCD headquarters stood before us, as unremarkable as ever. Glass and steel reaching toward grey clouds, with nothing to distinguish it from the dozens of similar buildings scattered throughout the city. The perfect camouflage for an organization that officially didn't exist.

We approached the main entrance, and I was mildly surprised when the receptionist—a different woman than during our last visit—looked up with immediate recognition. Her professional smile never wavered as she reached for her phone.

"Yes, they're here," she said into the receiver.

She hung up and gestured toward the elevator bank. "Please proceed to elevator three. Someone will meet you downstairs."

The efficiency was impressive, though I supposed our previous collaboration against Cain had earned us a certain level of trust. Or at least enough recognition that we weren't considered immediate threats.

As the elevator descended past the building's legitimate floors into the underground levels that housed the VCD's true operations, I found myself wondering what exactly had prompted their message. Faith's text had been frustratingly vague, and Kyriakos's communication had been cut short by that explosion.

"Any theories about what they want?" Aria asked, apparently picking up on my tension.

"Could be anything," I replied, though my mind kept circling back to Faith. "We'll find out soon enough."

The elevator chimed softly as we reached our destination, and the doors slid open to reveal the familiar underground corridors of the VCD headquarters.

* * *

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the familiar sterile corridors of the VCD's underground headquarters. What wasn't familiar was seeing Galahad himself waiting for us, his weathered long coat and golden eyes unmistakable even in the harsh fluorescent lighting.

My stomach tightened slightly. If the head of the UK's Vampire Control Division had personally come to collect us, whatever this was about had to be significant.

"Lily, Isabella, Aria," he greeted us with a professional nod, his expression giving nothing away. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course," I replied, though uncertainty crept into my voice. "Though I have to ask—why did you want to talk to us? Did something happen to Faith?"

Galahad's golden eyes studied me for a moment before he turned and began walking down the corridor. "I'll explain everything in my office. Please, follow me."

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

We fell into step behind him, our footsteps echoing off the polished floors. The silence stretched uncomfortably until I couldn't help but press the issue.

"Galahad, you're making me nervous here. Just tell me—is Faith alright?"

He glanced back at me, his expression still unreadable. "Yes and no."

That cryptic response did absolutely nothing to ease my concerns, but Galahad had already turned his attention forward again, leading us deeper into the facility. Isabella caught my eye and raised an eyebrow, while Aria looked between us with obvious curiosity.

The walk to his office felt longer than it probably was. When we finally arrived, Galahad held the door open for us, gesturing toward the chairs arranged in front of his desk. The office was exactly as I remembered it—functional, organized, with just enough personal touches to remind you that an actual person worked here.

"Please, take a seat," he said, moving around to settle into his own chair behind the desk.

I perched on the edge of my seat, unable to fully relax. Isabella and Aria flanked me, both maintaining their composed facades despite the obvious tension in the room.

"Alright," I said, finally losing patience with the careful politeness. "What is this about? What happened to Faith?"

Galahad leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him. For a long moment, he simply studied me with those unsettling golden eyes. When he finally spoke, his words caught me completely off guard.

"Why don't you tell us?"

I blinked, confusion washing over me. "What do you mean, why don't I tell you? I don't know what—"

The office door opened behind us, cutting off my protest. I turned in my chair, expecting to see another VCD agent, and felt my breath catch.

Faith stood in the doorway, but something was fundamentally wrong with the picture. Her familiar brown skin and black hair were unchanged, but her left eye had transformed into something distinctly non-human. The iris blazed crimson red, and the pupil had narrowed into a vertical slit that reminded me uncomfortably of a serpent's gaze. Even more striking was the small horn protruding from her forehead just above that transformed eye—barely an inch or two long, but unmistakably demonic in nature.

She stepped into the office with her usual confident stride, though I caught the slight hesitation as her gaze met mine. The contrast between her human right eye and demonic left created an unsettling asymmetry that made my chest tighten with something I couldn't quite identify.

"Hello, Li—Lily," she said, her voice carrying the same professional tone I remembered, though there was an underlying tension that hadn't been there before.

I stared at her, my mind struggling to process what I was seeing. The horn, the eye, the implications of what these changes meant—it all swirled together in a confusing mess that left me momentarily speechless.

"Faith," I managed finally, though it came out more as a question than a greeting.

Galahad's voice cut through the moment. "Perhaps now you understand why we needed to speak with you."

* * *

"—and that's when the vampire managed to get past my guard," Faith was saying, her voice steady despite the gravity of what she was describing. "Caught me right through the heart with a dagger. Clean strike—should have been instant death."

My blood ran cold. "Impossible!" The word escaped me before I could stop it. "Then how are you still—"

I cut myself off, the obvious answer staring me in the face. The horn, the transformed eye, the subtle shift in her presence that I'd been trying to ignore. But the timeline didn't make sense.

Faith's lips curved into a bitter smile. "Yeah, I thought It was over for me. Right up until I woke up two hours later as they were already putting me into a body bag."

She gestured toward her face, her fingers briefly touching the small horn. "The wound closed completely—you can't even see a scar. But the moment I opened my eyes, this happened." Her demonic eye seemed to glow slightly brighter as she spoke. "One second I was dying, the next I was… whatever this is."

I heard Isabella's sharp intake of breath beside me, while Aria leaned forward in her chair with obvious fascination.

"That's…" Isabella paused, her analytical mind clearly working through the implications. "I've heard of succubi turning mortals into demons to save them from death, but I've never heard of it happening with a delay, and certainly not only partially."

Aria nodded enthusiastically, though her expression was troubled. "It's weird, right? It feels like she's one of us, but also still mortal at the same time." She tilted her head, studying Faith with the same intensity she usually reserved for particularly challenging alchemical formulas. "I wonder how that's even possible."

All eyes turned to me, and I felt the weight of their expectations settle on my shoulders like a lead blanket. I shook my head slowly, frustration building in my chest.

"I don't know," I admitted, hating how helpless the words sounded. "I can't even access the power I used when I saved Faith the first time. It just… happened. I don't understand how any of this works."

Galahad's voice carried a note of disappointment that made me wince. "I was hoping you could at least reverse the transformation."

"I'd gladly help if I could," I said, looking between Faith and Galahad. "But I'm just as confused about what's happening as you are. This is completely outside my experience."

I paused, considering our options. "Kyriakos would be more likely to help you understand this. He's spent centuries studying magical transformations. If anyone could figure out what's happening to Faith, it would be him."

"We've already contacted him," Galahad replied matter-of-factly.

I blinked in surprise. "What? Why did you contact him first?" The question came out sharper than I'd intended, but I couldn't help the slight sting of being overlooked. "He's a lich. You don't exactly trust the undead."

Galahad's golden eyes fixed on me with something that might have been amusement. "You don't exactly trust demons either."

I felt my cheeks warm slightly. "Touché."

Faith shifted in her position near the door, drawing my attention back to her. The asymmetry of her face was still jarring, but I was beginning to adjust to it. When she spoke, her voice carried a note of regret.

"I wanted to tell you about this myself, Lily. I really did. But I didn't exactly have a method of contacting you directly." She gestured vaguely toward the ceiling, presumably indicating Hell in general. "It's not like I could just call."

The simple honesty in her words hit me harder than I'd expected. Of course she couldn't contact me—I'd made that choice when I decided to fully embrace my life in Hell.

"I understand," I said quietly, though part of me wondered if I really did. "I just… I wish there had been another way."

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken complications. Faith's transformation raised questions I wasn't sure any of us were prepared to answer, and the fact that it had apparently been triggered by my intervention made it feel like my responsibility—even if I had no idea how to fix it.