Devilish Detective ✅

I Am The Prince Of Hell

Chapter Twenty-Four: I Am The Prince Of Hell

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I leave Sam on the bench and walk deeper into the room where I take a left turn and get into a stall, locking the door behind me. I chuckle silently as I realize there is absolutely no need to do that as I’m sure the locks pose no barrier for the Devil. Moreover, he gave me his word that he didn’t plan on being a peeping Tom and so far, he has always kept to his words.

However, the locked door seems to provide me with a false sense of safety.

“If you don’t speak every language, how then do you communicate with everyone in the world?” I continue the conversation as I start to strip.

“I speak the language of the Angels,” he answers. His tone is one of boredom as though this isn’t exactly an interesting story, or he feels like it’s something I should already know.

“The language of the Angels?” I repeat, wondering why it sounds so familiar, yet so strange. I turn on the shower, letting the cool water wash the paint off of me.

“Yes, that’s what I said. I believe I was very clear. I speak, and you hear me in whatever language you so wish. So, if a French man were here with us, he’d hear me speak French while you’d hear English.”

“Wow!” I breathe out, pausing to reflect his words. A thought suddenly dawns on me. A Bible passage that was read to me years ago. “On the day of the Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit descended on Peter and –”

“Yes, yes! Father gave him the divine ability of Angelic unison. Looks like someone was paying attention in her Sunday school.” His teasing tone causes me to giggle.

“I do pay attention in church, but I’ll have to admit that I don’t always understand the Bible.”

“You can’t. You’re human.”

His explanation causes me to scrunch my brows, though he cannot see my expression of confusion.

“Care to explain?”

“Not necessarily.” He sounds nonchalant and I sigh at how he went from being teasing to being impassive.

I spend the rest of my shower time in silence as I have nothing more to say, and Sam doesn’t seem to want to make any small talk. Once I am done, I dry myself and slip into the white knee length gown Sam earlier gave me.

The material is so soft, it almost feels unnatural. The sleeve and the neck are covered with lace and the top part of the gown hugs my body, accentuating my shape. It spreads out a little from the hip downwards, giving me room to stretch my legs. Overall, the gown looks causal, yet super elegant.

I pull out a pair of white heeled sandals and slip it on. By the time I’m done, I shyly open the door only to find Sam staring right at me as though he could see through the walls the whole time. He has a smug smile playing at his lips.

“You look a whole lot less repulsive. I’m impressed with myself.” His violet eyes shine with admiration and pride – to himself. “Now, let’s do something with that hair.”

“It’s still wet,” I tell him, not wanting to loosen the towel from around my hair so I don’t ruin the pretty dress. He however scoffs at my words and beckons me over.

With uncertainty in my steps, I walk closer to him and turn my back to him. He gets up from the bench and helps me get rid of the towel, holding my hair before it falls on my dress. I feel a warm tingling sensation on my scalp, but before I can ask what it is, it fades away and my hair falls over my shoulder, completely dry.