This chapter is dedicated to evacharya whose ONC entry Stone 2 Stone is a very cool Medusa retelling set in futuristc Sydney. If you like crime mysteries with a twist, you will enjoy Eva's story.

What a douchebag!

Not only did he refuse to let me get dressed in something decent, but he also spoiled the ending of my perfect night with Anchor. Stumbling behind him through the oval door in the wall, I raise my arm to shield my eyes from the bright light showering me from above. He steers straight toward a motorcycle and ignores the stare from a man in an embroidered suit standing next to something that looks like an elevator.

"Hey!" the man shouts, shooting toward us.

"What?" Mr. Total Douche turns around with a condescending snarl. "You talking to me, punk?"

The man jumps back, almost slipping on the loose gravel. All color drains from his face. "I'm sorry, Lou, I didn't recognize you. I thought I had a couple of runners who were trying to circumvent their judgment day."

So, the dick's name is Lou. Good to know.

Lou grumbles "incompetent" under his breath; he is apparently too full of himself to bother with simple manners. I'm graced with one of his death glares.

My focus shifts to the motorcycle and I let out a whistle of approval. He might be a douchebag, but he travels with style. His wheels are fire.

"Is that your bike?"

He folds his arms. "Do you see anyone else around?"

I glance at the man in the embroidered suit who has returned to his spot by the elevator. "It's a Honda CR1100 Africa Twin, right?"

"You know your bikes. Did you have wheels yourself?"

"I used to save up all my money, trying to restore a 67 Triumph Bonneville." The last words almost don't leave my mouth as the elation of the last hours is sucked out of me like the air from a popped balloon. In its place, relentless pain cuts through my heart. "But that was before the accident. My uncle had to sell it to raise the bail money to get me out of jail."

"Yeah, shit happens up there on Earth." "He swings his leg across the seat and presses the ignition switch. The engine roars to life and his eyes drill into me. "Waiting for a special invitation, hun? Hop on."

I gaze back at the bar.

Where is Anchor?

Why isn't he out here to stop Lou from taking me?

Or he could at least tell me goodbye.

The last bit of hope is crushed when the oval door remains shut. What did I expect? I'm an awful person, and a one-night stand with no strings attached doesn't deserve more than the time he already wasted on me.

I fight with my tears.

Even though I should've known better, I latched on to him like a pathetic leech. He now only wants to forget about me.

"Cass?"

I meet Lou's gaze. One of his brows is arched and he revs the engine.

It's time to go.

When I slide behind him onto the seat, a few tears fall. Resting my face against his broad back, I wrap my arms around his midsection.

I'm not gonna risk falling off if he turns out to be one of those maniac drivers.

With his temper, I wouldn't put it past him.

He stiffens under my touch. Seconds stretch like molasses into what feels like minutes before he shifts gears and takes off. Engine roaring, we speed along a path that's smooth for the most part; only the occasional bump sends the motorcycle flying. The warm wind stroking my bare legs is like a caress, although I'm glad I slipped into one of Anchor's boxer shorts. Wearing only a thong on a bike like this would have left me with a sore butt.

My laugh is bitter.

What difference does it make?

By tonight, my whole body will be one big bruise. The torturers won't take it easy on a child killer. Tears of desperation pearl on Lou's leather jacket.

He stops abruptly and lowers the kickstand as he gets off the bike. "What's the matter? Why are you crying?"

I wipe my face dry on Anchor's shirt. "Why do you care?" Despite my best effort, a quiver sneaks into my voice.

He smirks. "Bua-bah. Aren't we full of self-pity today?"

"Oh, fuck off."

"Awe, what's the matter? Not ready to accept your punishment? Anchor claimed you were so remorseful, but I bet that was just a show for him."

"You know nothing about me. And if you want to know the truth, whatever you guys will do to me will never be enough. It will never change the outcome and make me whole again, so why don't you and your torture pals take your best shot? It's what I deserve."

Fucking douchebag.

He can go and screw himself.

His hand drops to my knee and he squeezes gently. "Why don't we take a break? You can have some water."

Okay, whatever.

I get off the bike, just to gasp at the sight in front of me. "This is—this is . . ."

"A nice view, I know."

Breathtaking is more like it. Rolling black hills as far as the eye can see that are streaked by red-golden streams originating from flickering fires at the top. Like candles with their flames fueled by the wind and their melted wax dripping off the edges. The dark sky above is peppered with little stars that sparkle brighter than any star I've seen on Earth.

Lou steps behind me. "All this is hell."

How can something of such beauty hold so much pain and agony?

I sit on the ground and get comfortable. The sand is warm and soft on my skin, almost like Anchor's silk sheets when they were heated from our passion.

"Here, have a drink?" Lou tosses me a bottle of water from his saddlebag. "Don't want you to get too dehydrated before I can drop you off at the base."

I unscrew the cap and take a few sips. "Do demons eat and drink the same food as we do?"

He chuckles. "We don't need such trivial things to sustain ourselves."

"Then how do you survive? How do you move around?"

"Pure energy, hun."

"So do you have to hook up to a power bank like a rechargeable battery?"

He snorts out a laugh. "Heavens, no. Everywhere around us is an abundance of energy that our skin absorbs and processes. There's nothing else we need, including sleep."

"Then why do you have beds?"

"For sex." His face is even. "Our outer shells might look alike, since we were all made in the creator's image, but on the inside, things are assembled a little differently."

He doesn't volunteer additional information but stares into the distance. It gives me time to study him. Douchebag aside, whoever created him did a fine job. Looks wise, Anchor was already up there, but Lou takes the crown. Symmetrical face ending in a strong jaw, heart shaped lips that benefit from a defined cupid's bow to give him a little pout, and the cutest dimple cheeks. The color of his irises is intriguing; I'd say they are hazel, but the different shades blend to a liquid gold. Together with the long, curved lashes, his eyes alone make him a heartthrob. Add the black hair that is wavy enough to make it messy, and he's a well-designed package with a shitty personality.

As if knowing that I'm thinking about him, he turns his head. "We should go."

I soak up the beauty of the dunes. "Can we stay five more minutes? It's so peaceful here."

"You're stalling."

"Wouldn't you stall if you were facing the devil's torture chambers?"

"Perhaps, but didn't you say you deserve what is coming to you?"

"Sure, but that doesn't mean that I'm not terrified, or that I wouldn't like to hold on to my freedom for a tiny while longer."

He sighs. "Okay, fine, I'll give you your five minutes."

"Thank you." I let my gaze drift. "I can't get over how amazing this place is." How could heaven top this? "But do you know what I miss?"

"What's that, hun?"

"Birds." They would make for an exquisite backdrop.

"Yes." His eyes hold an unexpected warmth. "Birds would be really nice."

Total WP word count: 7,169

I know that many of you wanted to know what hell in this fictional world is like, so I thought it might be unique if I diverted from the usual cliche of portraying it as a dingy place and turn it into something nicer. Hope that worked and the chapter didn't disappoint. (And of course, votes and comments would make my day :)

In the next chapter, Lou will turn into our narrator (he will be the last one), so stay tuned for tomorrow's chapter. Thanks for reading and giving Between a chance.