Closing my eyes, I allowed the sensation of falling to grip my body as we plummeted downwards, miles and miles below the surface of the Earth; though not to its core, through the magical field of the Void and into a whole new realm. Deep into the darkness of Hell, the place I'd always called home. I'd like to say that I did it – closed my eyes – because it heightened the rush that came with the falling, but, truth be told, after years of travelling the Void I'd learned that the rushing darkness made me feel sick. Arriving in Hell in a pool of your own vomit was hardly a classy homecoming.

 Still, I seemed to have weathered the journey rather better than Shane – no substitute for experience I supposed – and as for him it would be a one way trip he'd never have an opportunity to learn. I felt the thud of solid ground beneath my boots and cautiously cracked open my eyes; giving myself a moment to allow my internal organs to catch up with the rest of me. It always felt as it I'd left my stomach behind. Once I felt whole again, I took a glance down at Shane who had landed in a heap on the dusty stone floor. He looked significantly green around the gills and was taking in great gasping lungfuls of warm air. It was easy to tell he was in the grips of a full blown panic attack.

 It wasn't really an unusual sight, many of the damned souls we brought to Hell would become rather overwhelmed by the whole experience, even before they'd learned anything of their coming fate. Normally I liked to hurry them along, get the whole show over with, but even as keen as I was to get the job with Shane finished I gave myself a few moments to soak up my surroundings. I'd wait for Shane to regain his composure and enjoy being back home – yes I'd been feeling homesick, and I wasn't ashamed to admit it, at least not to myself.

 I savoured deep breaths of the warm, acrid air and it soothed me like a balm. Everywhere in Hell the air smelled the same, warmed by the eternally burning fires from deep in the pits, and it rose through the rusty red rock – from which our home was carved – bringing with it the smell of charcoal smoke, hiding hints of burned flesh and scorched hair. It was like a complex perfume with deep spicy notes which made it pleasant to the nostrils despite the rancidness of it components, and the stench of torture and eternal damnation enlivened the demonic blood in my veins.

 Down in Hell my human side was stuffed away, far out of thought and sight, and the demon in me was empowered; so much stronger than I was on Earth. I looked down on Shane, his naked form quivering as he tried to catch his ragged breath, and I sneered. I felt about ten foot tall and he was but a bug to be crushed underfoot.

 We'd arrived in the Receiving Chamber. The highest point in Hell where the Void opened and welcomed its travellers back into the underground realm. It was perfectly circular, a high ceiling stretched up far out of sight into pitch blackness, though an occasional silvery streak of lightening would flash before your eyes should you stare up into the dark for too long. One single arched doorway was set into the stone wall, a dark gaping hole against the rough, unpolished red granite. The floor was of the same stone, though covered in a thin layer of dust from a millennia of use and erosion. The room was only used for this one purpose so no one cared to sweep the floor – unless of course someone was unfortunate enough to spill their guts upon arrival.

 “What the hell is this place? Where the fuck have you taken me?”

 So it seemed I wouldn't get that much time to bask in my return to Hell, not once Shane had finally regained the use of his tongue. I sighed and turned back to face the man, my prisoner I supposed I could call him. He'd regained some composure more quickly than I'd expected, though he was still knelt on the floor as if not fully trusting his legs to support the bulk of his weight yet.

 “Your first exclaim was far more accurate than you realise, Shane,” I responded, airily, as I scraped my dull red hair up away from my neck with one hand and relished in the warm air as it caressed my skin. The heat was glorious; that was the biggest problem with the surface, always so bloody cold.

 “Huh?” Was all Shane mustered in response.

 “As articulate as ever I see.” I rolled my eyes at Shane. It was time to get down to business, there would be time to appreciate Hell for all of its glories later. I cleared my throat and held out a hand to summon forth the Scroll of Sentencing – yes they really were that imaginative in the naming of this sacred document. I'd read from it so many times over the decades I could remember its spiel by heart, but as a matter of tradition I had to read direct from the scroll.

 There was a puff of red smoke and the scroll materialised in my open palm, in Hell I needed no magic words or incantations to perform these simple tricks, just the thought was strong enough. Shane's eyes widened in shock at what he'd seen and the first thrill of fun rolled through me. Back at home I had much more power at my fingertips, not all of it was particularly useful or spectacular but it was showy, all flashes and bangs and puffs of smoke. Good enough to impress the mortals usually and it did make the whole sentencing process feel somewhat more ceremonial.

 The ancient roll of parchment felt rough and delicate under my fingers as I unrolled it.

 “Shane Bromhurst.” I began, thankful I had managed to remember his surname without having to rifle through my own paperwork in search of it. “For deeds that harm your fellow man, for corruption of the soul. For disturbing the natural order and dangerously tipping the balance of life on Earth, you are hereby sentenced to eternal damnation and punishments as such befit your crimes.”

 My eyes had skimmed over the ancient script as I spoke, it was far easier to recite from memory than to translate the old tongue, but tradition was everything in Hell. Once I came to the end I rolled the parchment back up and banished it back to where it was stored, in the Hall of Records, with another puff of smoke.

 “I hope you enjoy your time in Hell.” I added, sardonically. A sly smirk curled at my lips as I played the 'holiday rep'.

 The words washed over Shane and for the first time he appeared to properly take in his surroundings. A shade of disbelief fell over his eyes and he scrambled to his feet; he had no idea what to do with himself and in his panic I watched him start to pace an uneven circle around one half of the room. Still naked, his bare feet slapped loudly on the dusty stone floor and he started to mutter to himself.

 “This isn't happening, can't be happening. I'm dreaming that's all, gotta be dreaming. C'mon Shane wake up.” His mutterings grew louder and the slaps suddenly echoed through the empty chamber as he smashed his palm against his bald scalp and his cheeks, hitting himself to a blushing pink glow.

 “Just a nightmare.” He went on, panic gripping his voice, “just need to wake the fuck up!”

 The sound of footsteps approaching along the narrow stone corridor beyond the archway distracted me from Shane's rantings. The welcoming committee was on its way.

 Hell is governed by a supreme, autocratic power. It has many faces and goes by many names, and takes advantage of this 'multiple personality' by dividing itself into all corners of Hell and governing all of the duties simultaneously. Our little section of the underworld was ruled over by Lucifer, who, for some reason always chose to appear in a human form – though there was no way to truly mistake him for a human. I'd wondered, at one time, if it was to make us all feel more comfortable, myself and the other hybrids, amongst all of the other monstrous looking pureblood demons; but that didn't seem much like his style. It was one of the mysteries of Hell I had yet to decipher.

 On occasion Lucifer would attend an execution himself, if the soul was sought after enough. Though he, of course, gained new souls everyday – bad people all over the world and what have you – and, in comparison, I wasn't sure even a monster of Shane's calibre would qualify for such an honour. So I was pretty certain it wasn't our Lord and Master coming down that hall.

 “So what's the verdict? Are we in for a good show tonight or what?” A familiar voice suddenly rang out from the arched doorway. “Because, you know Rayne, we were expecting you back with this one a good few days ago. Better not disappoint.”

 The drawling tone turned me to face him and the ribbing words he teased me with twisted my lips into a smirk.

 “And here I was expecting a nice welcome home. Typical you would be the one to come and greet me Lucas.”

 He sauntered towards me, followed in tow by a number of others. Some were demon officials, there to oversee the all matters of the execution; but there were others, like Lucas, who were there just to see the show.

 The executions in Hell were always a public affair. It still surprised me that it was a tradition that had died out in so many human cultures. They were bloodthirsty creatures, whether they would admit it or not, overly curious and held an irritating desire to make everyone else's business their own; public execution should have appealed. But, it seemed to be some attempt at playing 'civilised', as if they were less barbaric than the people of history. Having personally seen both sides of that coin I wasn't convinced by the act; it took away some of the fear factor in humans lives – the need to live well for being genuinely afraid of what might happen to you. A more pleasant existence perhaps, but just look at how well it's working out; I get far more work in these modern times that I ever did near a century ago.

 I looked back to Shane, he still paced the floor and ranted to himself - seeming oblivious to the party that had joined us – and I wondered, if people like Shane were forced to face their impending fate, would it be incentive enough for them to repent? If the promise of salvation from the church was not enough for some, the non-believers and what not, then perhaps seeing a glimpse of their own potential damnation could be their conversion. Though, in retrospect, that would render my breed obsolete; so despite all my good reasoning perhaps the world was better off for all of its changes.

 “So what took you so long with this one Rayne?” Lucas's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “We left at the same time, but I had mine bagged two days ago.” He questioned me, teasingly.

 Lucas was a hybrid, like myself, so we did the same job; we were also reasonably close in age and so a friendly rivalry had erupted between us once we were both qualified to take our own cases. Mostly we'd compete to see who could bring their marks in the fastest, and I knew that with Shane I had lost some serious ground.

 “Yes, yes. I know, I lost this round. Not for the want of trying I might add,” I replied, irritably.

 For the first time, Lucas took a proper look at Shane. He arched a blonde eyebrow and I heard a chuckle rumble deep in his chest. “So, gave you the slip then did he? Or were you too busy fucking him to actually cash in on the bounty?”

 I blanched at his words, but Lucas pretended not to notice as he reached out and slender hand and started to play with strands of my hair. “You know, if you were that desperate, you should have said something Rayne.”

 With a shudder I slapped away his hand. “Ugh, please don't make me sick.” I flicked a quick glance to Shane before looking back to Lucas, “On both counts.”

 Okay, so it was hard to deny that Lucas was a gorgeous specimen of the male of the species with his long, sandy-blonde hair. He was tall and spry, with just the right covering of muscle. I always thought he'd look just perfect with a pair of mossy green eyes set in that chiselled face, but of course, like mine, his eyes were amethyst purple; the trademark of our breed.

 Even as he was, Lucas was a nice sight to behold and we had given things a try some time ago – not so much a relationship as a 'friends with benefits' kind of deal; there does not seem to be so much time for a real relationship in our line of work – but it hadn't worked out too well. The trouble was that between all of the repartee and competitiveness between us, Lucas felt very much like a brother to me. While the sex had been good in its own way, something about the whole situation had felt very wrong. We wouldn't be trying it again in this lifetime, and, despite any bravado that might fall from Lucas's lips, I know he would wholeheartedly agree.

 Lucas laughed, a loud, barking of sound that echoed through the circular chamber. “Point taken.”

 As one, we both set our eyes back onto Shane. He appeared to have finally clocked the gathering of demons that had joined us in the Receiving Chamber, for he had stopped pacing and made some effort to retain his modesty by covering himself with his hands. Perhaps it was only in male company that he feared for his dignity.

 “Well I must say Rayne, they certainly do seem to give you the interesting cases. Out of curiosity, why exactly is he naked, if you weren't shagging like rabbits?”

 I turned and looked Lucas dead in the eyes. “He liked to strangle women as he fucked them. Though he'd grown kind of reluctant to indulge in his little hobby since I got there. That's why it took so long, had to resort to some aura manipulation in the end, else I'm not sure he'd have taken this last one, to be honest. He wanted to, but for some reason he was reluctant, I couldn't give it any longer or I might have gone insane up there.”

 “Really?” Lucas asked, his eyebrows arched as he took in my words. “Must say, it's been a long time since they've given you a case so tricky. I was actually getting used to losing, can't deny this victory feels mighty satisfying.” He grinned down at me, broadly, and I rolled my eyes. “You sure he wasn't on the verge of repenting?”

 “Positive, didn't even need a trip inside his head to tell me that much.” It was my turn then to grin broadly up at Lucas. “I think my turning him down bruised his ego.”

 Something twinkled inside Lucas's eye and I could tell that he was dying to come back with some witty, teasing retort. But he took a quick glance around to the other demons who'd grown obviously restless in their desire to get down to business.

 Somehow he managed to hold his tongue and instead announced to the room, “well, time is money. Let's get this show on the road shall we? So you said he had a thing for strangulation? Nice, been a while since we had a good hanging down here. It'll all seem worth the effort once you see him blue in the face.” Lucas clapped me hard on one shoulder.

 “I'll see you down in the pits then Rayne.” He added in passing as he made for the archway, followed by a few of the other demons who'd just come along to gawk at the new prisoner; all eager to get a decent seat at the execution site.

 I sighed slightly at the sight of him walking away. “Yep, definitely a brother,” I muttered. It was only then that I noticed another voice had been relentlessly calling my name.

 “Nice to finally have your attention Rayne.” Malick scolded.

 He was a wizened old demon, a pureblood. He was one of the officials who oversaw all of the sacrifices and kept the quota and records all up to date. I thought of him as somewhat of an accountant if you like, and an impatient one at that.

 He tapped, irritably, at the scroll he held loosely in his long, skeletal fingers with curved bronze talons. His skin was a dark muddy brown and tough like old boiled leather. His form was all bones and angles, sharp and wiry though not remotely frail looking; demons like Malick could make the emaciated form appear strong and durable. I met his eyes, tiny black orbs hidden between a prominent brow, hooked nose and knife-edge cheekbones, with some difficultly and waited for him to continue – though I surely knew what words were coming.

 “Can we, at last, get down to business? We've been waiting long enough for this soul as it is.”

 “Yeah, sorry about that. He was giving me some trouble...” I started to apologise, but Malick held up a hand to cut me off.

 “Save your excuses for Lucifer, should he ask for them. Now...” He unrolled the scroll with a light clattering of talons over parchment. “...You know the procedure well enough by now. Do you guarantee that this soul was obtained only by means deemed necessary for the nature of his crimes and accepted by our order?”

 I nodded in response and Malick cleared his throat to continue.

 “You can assure that the prisoner's free will was not greatly infringed upon and that, above all, no harm nor exposure has, or will, come to our race as a result of your actions?”

 We'd all heard Malick's speech too many times to count; and he had spoken it even more. He fixed me with a strong glare and I nodded again.

 “You know only too well, Rayne, the punishment that would await you should you be found guilty of any of these crimes so I need not detail them to you.”

 His question was rhetorical, but I still shook my head.

 “No, I know the drill.”

 “Good.” He shoved the scroll of parchment towards me, along with a black feather quill already loaded with ink. “Sign here then.”

 Hastily I scrawled my signature on the dotted line and handed the scroll back to Malick, eager to be out of his presence. He didn't like me much, I'd been rather reckless in my youth and had indeed done some of the things that had warranted punishment – though I had always owned up before I signed the papers. It earned me a few Brownie points, though Malick had been sore about all the extra paperwork that got landed on him. I think he held a grudge.

 “Excellent.” He clicked his fingers and the scroll disappeared in a puff of smoke.

 He gestured to the three remaining jailer demons to bring Shane forwards. They'd bound his hands in thick iron chains and had fixed a leather collar and long chain lead around his neck so they could draw him along like a dog. Shane seemed reluctant to move, his eyes were wide and a visible tremble shook his body, but the jailer demons were incessant as they tugged at his collar and encouraged some forward motion. He moved in an awkward, shuffling gait and the three demons managed to, slowly, lead him towards the archway and down the dark corridor.

 “Now then, let us all adjourn to the Pits. The hanging awaits its executioner.”