Laurent took a few steps her way, shocked by how… large the woman seemed. She was likely taller than him once she stood straight.
Her hair was a wild color that in the faint light seemed almost as blue as his jacket. Could this be? Was she a succubus awaiting a man to lure into her arms and drain him of energy?
He would not be that man.
The buzzing that had been present in his ears since the creature touched him finally stopped, and he heard distant sounds, a low, rhythmical rumble trailing from the floor into his legs in a primitive, ritualistic song with no melody.
On the door behind the sofa, was another painting, this one with a crude image of a skull in a crown and crossbones underneath it. The picture was framed by words from top and bottom, and the writing—large enough for Laurent to discern— read ‘Kings of Hell Motorcycle Club’.
That did make sense. After all, if the creature had sent him to the Kings of Hell, should he not have expected debauched women and dark spaces filled with deathly paraphernalia? From one of the shelves on the wall, a green crystal skull grinned at him, a golden crown firmly placed on the side of its head.
Laurent approached the door with a deep breath. It was time to find the king.
The prospect of making noise in the presence of a woman who could be a demoness out for his flesh made his heart thump, but he managed to open the door without waking her.
The moment he slipped outside, the distant buzz he’d heard earlier became much more pronounced, drilling into his ears with a metallic sound that fluctuated continuously, and it struck Laurent that it might be the devil playing fiddle.
He stood in the vast corridor of a grand mansion, faced with a row of large drawings hung in between doors, each depicting a scene grizzlier than the one before. Skeletons forced themselves on barely-clad women, men ripped apart their own flesh, played instruments and did ungodly things Laurent did not want to witness despite having made a pact with the devil. And instead of aiding him, his eyes picked up bits of the paintings farther away from him, only to let the detail creep into blur as soon as Laurent stepped closer.
Happy to hear the odd music die, he was quick to run down the corridor, as if the monsters left the frames and chased him. He hesitated when he reached spiral stairs made of metal, but then took a careful step onto the skeletal structure. If the king of hell himself could walk down those stairs, it would surely hold Laurent’s weight as well.
The stairs squeaked unpleasantly when he descended, but they didn’t seem wobbly, so Laurent just focused on getting to the landing quickly. He was about to rush all the way down when a loud bang tore through the air like a legion of soldiers shooting all at once, and he half-expected the whiff of gunpowder to reach him as he stumbled, falling to the smooth, gray floor. It felt like no stone he’d ever touched, but his mind wouldn’t stay occupied with such trifles for long.
Loud cries erupted from the walkway ahead of him, and he fought off the pain in his knees, getting up, ready to find a way out. He could surely come back once the soldiers were gone, once the danger was not as pronounced as it seemed now. Whatever this world was—whether one of the circles of hell or another realm entirely, Laurent was determined to survive and do the devil’s bidding.
He scrambled against the wall in panic when two naked people, a man and a woman, ran down the corridor, screaming as if their limbs were being torn off. Maybe they were being tortured? Laurent curled up with his hands over his ears, ready for another shot to go off, but instead there was only more shouting and commotion.
He couldn’t simply wait until danger caught up with him, he forced his legs to move. As he passed yet another door, a vicious barking erupted behind him, making him yelp and fall against the opposite wall. He swallowed a sob and turned around, terrified of the beast hidden in the locked room. The dark house was full of hidden horrors and Laurent’s mind wasn’t clear anymore, swallowed up by the fear blooming inside of him.
The lights blinked above, and only then did he notice how odd the lamps were - not chandeliers with candles but long glass sticks that must have been filled by liquefied sun to emit an illumination so powerful. The walls around him and the floor seemed to perpetually pulse with the echo of sounds that were utterly foreign to Laurent’s ears. There were voices, but also an ever-present buzz in the background that Laurent could not name. He wasn’t ready to face the king of hell. He needed more time.