“I don’t have the foggiest fucking clue,” Iceman whispers back, but he looks like he’s yelling.
I rub at my ears, hoping somehow it will help the ringing stop and restore my hearing. Jerif yells something else, but I don’t catch it, I can only feel his vibrations against my back as he speaks. I look up at him and watch his lips as he taps me on the shoulder and tries again.
“What?” I ask, like some elderly grandma who forgot to turn on her hearing aid. I squint my eyes like somehow it will make me hear better or suddenly read lips better. “Dew dropped or eye? What the fuck does that mean?” I shout. I turn to Crux like somehow his lips will be easier to read. But he just repeats “dew dropped or eye” more slowly and then looks at me with concern.
What in the hell can that possibly mean? I stare at him in confusion, trying to piece it all together when he looks toward the ground. I follow his gaze to find my scythe is lying on the ground. Shit. I dropped it. It’s still in walking stick mode, which I guess is good, but all the guys look like it will be a cold day in Hell before they pick it up, in case blades pop out of it.
I bend over so I can reach down and grab it, completely forgetting that I’m sandwiched in. Nobody moves, which means I accidentally shove my ass against Jerif’s crotch, while simultaneously headbutting Iceman’s dick.
Large hands grab my hips and keep me from toppling forward as Iceman hops back and cups himself. I freeze, my body ass-first against Jerif’s crotch. If you were looking at this situation from the outside, I look like I’m taking it from behind while the others are standing around patiently waiting their turn.
Perfect. Just the impression I was hoping to make on my first trip inside Hell.
I snatch up my scythe and quickly straighten up, giving the guys a sheepish look. “Whoops,” I say, trying to laugh it off.
Jerif stares daggers at me, and I quickly look away, not ready to dissect what we both know—he’s hard as a rock.
I’m not ready to divest or digest that information, so I grip my scythe and look down at it like it betrayed me. This thing was practically glued to my hand when we were fighting the Cousin It demons, but one scary sound in Hell and it makes a run for it. Not cool.
“At least my fucked up leather uniform had a holder for this thing,” I say, and the guys wince as if I’m still talking obnoxiously loud.
Iceman says something, but I shake my head, his lips moving way too fucking fast for me to get what he’s saying. He starts unbuckling his belt, and my mind immediately jumps to all the naughty reasons why he could be doing this. I watch him wrap his belt around the scythe, and then he presses in against me. He slips the leather into the loops on my jeans, and then gently buckles it. I stand frozen, too surprised to move, while my heart pounds in time with my pussy. His knuckles barely brush up against my pelvic bone, the touch completely innocent, but it lights a fuse inside of me. Fucking Hell. I need to get a grip.
“Good idea!” I talk-yell, forgetting again to lower my voice.
I wiggle my hips like Shakira taught me, and I’m happy to see the scythe stays secure at my side. Well, that should hopefully help to make things easier. I look up to find Iceman and Echo watching me, while Jerif and Crux scan everything around us.
“So what was that sound?” I ask, only for Echo’s hand to come over my mouth.
“You’re still shouting,” he says, and I’m relieved that I can hear him a little bit better.
“Sorry,” I say as soon as he drops his hand off my mouth. I stick my finger in my ear like I can dig out the rest of the sharp shrill that’s still bouncing around inside.
I shake my head a little, like I’ve been swimming and I’m trying to get the water out. Surprisingly, it works. “Whew, that’s better,” I say with relief, though I have remnants of a headache from the jarring noise. “So what did you guys say that was?”
“We don’t know,” Echo tells me.
“But she probably just alerted every Ring in Hell that something serious and worthy of investigating just walked through the front door,” Jerif says, his tone marred with irritation. “We need to keep moving. She can’t ward herself, and we’re like fucking sitting ducks.”
“I didn’t yell on purpose,” I snap. “And it’s not like anyone warned me about a fucking gong going off like I just entered the Triwizard Tournament. That shit wasn’t my fault.”
“No one is blaming you,” Iceman assures me, but he looks at Jerif as he says it.
“Lay off her, will you?” Crux grumbles to the lava demon before reaching down and grabbing my hand. I should probably pull away, but I let him thread his fingers through mine and start tugging me forward.
I look around as we make our way out the extra large version of the mausoleum. I figured Hell would be on the other side of the archway, but instead, there’s a long, wide corridor. At the end, there’s a set of doors that happen to be more imposing than anything I’ve ever seen.
“So...is there a secret knock?” I ask no one in particular. I’m going for a light and teasing tone, but my voice is too shaky to pull it off. “Why is this place so
