"Dancing with the Devil." | Larry Stylinson. TRANSLATION

XIX. "Home, Bittersweet Home"

That cold place, the lack of life, and the remarkable cruelty made him have more than two shivers in less than five seconds. Unable to help himself, he moved closer to Louis, taking his arm.

—There's nothing to be afraid of, —the Devil said. —Partly, this is your home. —And he started walking with his boy holding on to his arm.

He walked with his head held high among all those lined up people, receiving silence and no looks, respect for being the king of that whole place. Harry avoided watching some people banging their heads against the wall, out of their minds. How long had they been there, just standing, waiting for something worse? Many of them seemed to be rotting, with their skin falling off their bodies.

There was a man a few feet away, at the beginning of that whole line. As the curly boy walked and looked around, he could hear the low voice of the man making completely sarcastic and cruel comments. "Is anyone thirsty?" "Don't you think they're taking too long? What do you say we clap our hands?"

—Azazel, —Louis says as they come to the front of the line, and Harry tries not to be surprised at how chilling his voice sounds; authoritative, demanding, too cold and dry.

The pale man in his forties, who immediately stopped laughing and turned to the Devil, making his completely black eyes visible, began to look frightened and even weak.

—Yes, My King? —He answered, and out of the corner of his eye observed the child standing beside the king of the underworld, embracing his arm.

Louis remained unexpressive and spoke out decisively. —I want you to bow, —he said. The demon immediately did so, placing himself in front of his king. —Bow to your new prince.

The demon looks up, confused at first, but immediately crawls in front of the child, bowing to him. —My prince.

Harry watched the demon leaning over his feet with his green eyes wider than usual. It seemed strange to him because one of those things was his nightmare, one of those things was following him and trying to kill him. It seemed strange to him, unreal but, damn it, it was real. That a demon was bowing to him and calling him "Prince".

—Hi... —He said, and he felt stupid.

Louis rolled his eyes without anyone seeing him. —Stand up, —he ordered. The demon did so immediately and took a few steps back. —He will come here when he feels like it, and I hope for everyone's sake that he will be treated as he deserves, or you will have twice as much suffering, —he says as he watches all the people lined up, who slowly went from being undead to hyperactive undead, with obvious nerves at the presence of the King of the Underworld. —Capiche?

—Of course, Your Majesty.

Louis moves his arm, extending it towards Harry, who grabs the Devil by the wrist with both hands, distracted as he looks around. —Continue with your work, —he tells his servant, and takes a few more steps, opening a door at the side of the long, somewhat narrow room. It's tall, iron, and sounds heavy when Louis opens it without a bit of force. He guides the boy through first, and then he goes inside, closing it behind him.

Both are silent, Harry blinks because the light has dimmed even more. It seemed as if he were in a long corridor of pure dirt, with a few torches shining along. There was wailing in the distance, crying. Louis stood in front of him, and the two of them stared at each other to confirm that the child was in good condition. He gave his husband a nod, and the king of the underworld grabbed him by the wrist before he began to move forward.

Harry discovered that that corridor had many corners that led to more corridors with more corners. He saw some doors, and he assumed that people were locked inside because many were begging to get out. A knot slowly formed in his throat. Could that have been his father? His cousin? Parker Jenkins? Could it be worse? Because he was starting to notice that nothing was better in that place.