All Hell Breaks Loose

by Cate Corvin

  I nodded stiffly, and he shifted into his lion form, bending his front legs so I could climb up on his back.

  I was wary of assassins all the way to the First Circle’s gates, especially since Dis was caught up in the elections of the new ambassadors, but there was no sense of malice. Perhaps Adranos had finally hunted down the last of the rogue Sin Eaters.

  And maybe pigs had wings. I snorted to myself, and Belial tossed his head.

  Lucifuge Rofocale, wearing long white and gold robes, was giving his speech in the First Circle as we passed. “You know my history, citizens,” he said. He stood on a tall podium, wearing a hat that exposed a ring of horns. “I’ve brokered deals with the likes of Prince Leviathan and Prince Belphegor. I have the trust of the Consortium. If you want your voices heard by the Princes, I am the Minister for you!”

  Belial made a grumbling noise and I leaned over his neck. “If all you Princes just talked to each other like normal people, we wouldn’t need ministers,” I said quietly.

  He swished his tail, almost setting a fruit stall on fire.

  “Don’t get an attitude with me. It’s true. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: if we elected princesses, we’d be ruling the world in no time.”

  Belial waited until we were well out in the wastelands to respond. “YOU ALREADY RULE DIS, PRINCESS WRATH. DO YOU WANT MORE?”

  I swatted his shoulder blades gently. “I’m just joking. I don’t really want more. Dis is more than enough trouble already.”

  “WE CAN GET YOU MORE. I WILL GO TO WAR FOR QUEEN MELISANDE.”

  “No. No more, absolutely not. I just want Lucifer and Vyra back, and I don’t want to be the queen of anything.” I shuddered at the thought. I barely got peace as a princess-in-nickname only. Being queen would be Hell.

  He laughed, the sound reverberating through his ribs and into my legs.

  “You just want an excuse to start another war. Good news: we’ve already got one, so let’s focus on that first.”

  Belial began to lope faster as we hit the open dunes, and I gripped handfuls on his fur to keep myself in place. “I NEED NO EXCUSES TO START A WAR.”

  I was really going to have my hands full when Sarai was born… or maybe I’d get lucky and she’d take after me.

  Knowing my luck, that was unlikely to happen.

  The trip to Hekla Fell was much faster on Belial’s back. He ate up the miles with his long legs like they were nothing, leaving huge paw prints for the wind to sweep away behind him.

  I slid off his back when we reached the edge of the mountains and he shifted forms, unable to fit between the small tunnels and ledges in his lion body.

  Anxiety built in my chest as we climbed, but this time, the mouth of the tunnel was quiet. Lucifer and Vyra’s voices were barely audible over the usual quiet murmurs, and there wasn’t so much of a hint of a crying baby.

  Whatever lived in the tunnel, it was a coward. Or it knew Belial was a match for it. Either way, I kept a tight grip on the Prince as we traveled through, only relaxing when the lava pool was visible before us.

  There was no sign of Wayland. I wiped sweat off my brow as I carefully bypassed the fiery lake and pulled back the canvas door.

  My mouth dropped open.

  The worktable in the middle of his space was completely clear except for one weapon… and oh, what a weapon it was.

  A length of gleaming ebony wood formed the long shaft, wrapped with gold wire at the hilt. A double-pronged spear head formed the tip, shining like the sunrise, as deadly sharp as a snake’s fangs.

  Waves of power spilled out of the forge, crashing against my magic. It wasn’t an unfriendly call- if anything, the newly forged weapon was pleased to be in one piece again. And not just any piece, but one that seemed to be formed for me, and me alone.

  “It’s the Spear of Light,” a gruff voice said. I jerked out of my reverie and found Wayland in the shadows on the opposite side of the forge, looking down at the Spear as well. “It wanted a new shape.”

  My mouth was dry with excitement. “Do you speak with it, too?”

  I itched to wrap my fingers around the smooth shaft and feel the balance. It was perfect. Absolutely flawless.

  “All metals speak to me, some louder than others.” Wayland gestured to the Spear. “Take it. It doesn’t belong here, and neither do you.”

  I looked up at him sharply, but there was no unwelcome in his words. “What do you mean by that?”

  His ruby eye flashed in his socket, gleaming red as blood. “You have places to be, things to do. It might take a while to get there. It might not.”

  I inched forward. “Do you know a better way?” I wasn’t going to ask if he knew what we were talking about. Something about Wayland felt odd, like he was somehow in all places at once, aware of everything but unwilling to speak of it openly. “I’m taking this to Irkalla.”

  His eyes trailed over the Spear. “Beautiful, isn’t it? A weapon like this wants to be used. The balance must be in order. I’m surprised your shadow-man hasn’t told you about the Between yet.”

  “What’s the Between?” Or rather, why did I always walk away from Wayland with far more questions than I came in with?

  I moved close enough that my hips just touched the edge of the work able. The Spear’s power didn’t recede, but it felt warm, welcoming… practically humming with the desire to be in someone’s hand.

  Several of Wayland’s arms were crossed over his chest and abdomen. “Ask the shadow. The faster you right the imbalance, the better.”

  I steeled myself for the pain and reached for the Spear’s shaft.

  It hurt. Oh God it hurt, blazing pain ripping through my palm and up my arm, but I was better prepared this time to handle the fire. It scorched my hand, like gripping a coal, but I felt the Spear’s sense of relief and righteousness. It was right where it wanted to be.

  “I don’t know how to thank you for the things you’ve done,” I said. It took all my willpower not to wince as I spoke, but every second spent holding the Spear meant that I adapted to the pain a little more.

  Wayland just lifted a shoulder. “It was what needed to be done. Not for you; but for the world.”

  I nodded. That I could understand; I didn’t want to owe favors to him, but if I was meant to be a tool the universe used to right the scales of balance, then I was willing and ready.

  I backed out of the forge, careful not to touch Belial with so much as the barest centimeter of the Spear.

  “It was made for me.” The weight, the balance, the length… it was all perfectly designed to suit me. When the Spear was in my hand, I didn’t feel like a person wielding a weapon. I felt like it was part of myself, an extension of who I was in a strange sort of way.

  Belial looked it over slowly, his eyes lingering on the reddened skin at the edges of my palm. “We’re ready.”

  “Not quite.” I gripped the Spear tighter, determined to know every inch of it before I brought it to the one battle that counted. “Azazel’s been holding out on me. We’re not wasting any more time.”

  Belial raised an eyebrow. “He’s always holding out on something.”

  We walked to the tunnel together. I went ahead, letting the light drifting off the Spear illuminate my path. “We’re going to go to the Between.”

  If Azazel hadn’t told me about it, no doubt it was dangerous. But every second we wasted was another second where the scales of balance tipped further in one direction.

  If they went too far, we’d never right them.

  21

  Azazel

  Frost crackled under my hands as I searched the orb, scanning the lands over Irkalla.

  Melisande would kill me for doing this without a guide or someone to pull me back, but my lover was far from here, her light gleaming in a completely different portion of the orb.

  Besides, I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Satan’s grip on my mind had been oily and slick, but his power was easily recognizable. I avoided it for now,
searching the rest of Irkalla for the thing I feared the most.

  We were in luck, for the most part. Satan’s power was the only signature registering in the orb, plucking at the edges of my mind, but that was better than the alternative.

  Far better than Ereshkigal herself.

  I didn’t dare search closer to Kur, where she might feel me lurking in the magic webs entangled around her city, but I still felt remnants of power from an ancient battle staining the lands of Irkalla closest to Kur.

  She’d spilled her sister Inanna’s blood there, humiliated her, tortured her, then ripped her heart out of her chest and ate it as we’d watched. It was the last place we should go; the land there had long memories.

  And it would know me.

  I exhaled and pulled my hands from the orb. As long as Ereshkigal remained holed up in Kur, we stood a chance. If she left, well…

  I’d leave Lucifer to his fate. But Vyra… I couldn’t let her die like that, nor could I let Melisande throw herself into it headfirst.

  I closed my eyes for several long moments, remembering when Ereshkigal had gripped Inanna by the throat and tore right through her chest, forcing her lover to watch her die.

  Then my imagination superimposed Melisande, and then Vyra, in that situation.

  Unacceptable.

  And yet I couldn’t leave her there.

  The conundrum tore at me. I’d always thought I’d be there for Vyra first, willing to sacrifice myself for her, but not if it meant Melisande would plunge in and die, too.

  The only way to win was to prevent Satan from getting any closer. If he was swapping bodies, perhaps that’d buy us a little time.

  I smoothed my coat and descended through the floor, leaving the silence of my library behind. Soft, agonized snuffles filled the air in the cathedral below.

  I gave Druzila and Typhon a cool once-over. And to think I’d believed they would make something of themselves.

  All they’d managed to do was embarrass the Grigori and treat my mate like dirt under their heels.

  The rage that’d been slowly building since I realized what Satan was doing began to rise again, a slow and steady bubbling in my veins. Every bit of impotent anger that I couldn’t unleash on the one who deserved it was directed at these two, the easy targets sitting in front of me.

  It was times like these that I realized I’d never be completely free of the monster inside, whether my soul was whole or not. I enjoyed their suffering, the retribution for their disobedience.

  But she would be disappointed if she knew.

  I forced myself to exhale. They’d been physically punished long enough. It was time to let them down from their crosses before I vanished, potentially for months.

  But first…

  “You two have gravely disappointed me.” I looked at Druzila’s plum-colored face, and then at Typhon. His eyes flickered, barely able to open all the way.

  Druzila’s mouth moved, and she finally managed to squeak out three words. “Yes, Lord Watcher.”

  It was too late for apologies. I had no use for Grigori in my ranks who couldn’t follow simple orders and wished to satisfy their own base desires instead.

  “You’re free. I release you from the ranks of the Grigori. Go, and never come back.” I raised my hand. Flickering shadows grew around my fingers as the tips lengthened into sharp, ethereal claws.

  I plunged my incorporeal fist through Druzila’s chest. She gasped, eyes flying wide open as I gripped the little ball of violet light in her heart, but she didn’t dare move without the scythe cutting her throat. “Please, no, Lord Watcher.”

  Her whimpers fell on deaf ears. I cupped the light and drew it out, closing my fist around it. When I opened my fingers again, it was gone, merged back into my own body and magic.

  Typhon didn’t moan or beg. He squeezed his eyes shut instead, grimacing as I ripped away his ability to Reap.

  The magic had been a gift, entirely conditional. Neither of them would be able to communicate with or touch souls any longer.

  I flicked my fingers and the scythes flew away as the ties binding them came loose. Both former Grigori fell to the stone floor, their wings folded stiffly behind them, making small noises of pain as feeling slowly came back to their hands and feet.

  As soon as Typhon could move, he was up on his feet, hobbling to the doors and freedom.

  Druzila threw herself at my feet instead. “Give me a second chance,” she begged. Tears dripped off her cheeks and fell to the floor, leaving dark stains behind. “Don’t take my scythe.”

  I glanced up at the scythes, still hanging in midair. “No.”

  Shadows swirled around the weapons and they vanished, returning to the place from which they’d been borrowed. Druzila’s face was still red and swollen, contorted with disbelief, as she watched her weapon disappear.

  I knelt down and lifted Druzila’s chin, forcing her to look at me. “You put my mate in danger,” I said softly. “It was because of you and your childish taunting that she didn’t have Grigori at her back when she needed them. You’ve brought nothing but shame to us.”

  Something dark moved inside me. Her soul was dim and tarnished, but it was still a soul… and it’d been a long time since I’d eaten.

  I let the edges of the dark creep out from inside me. My eye sockets felt hollow, the skin on my face like a mask being pushed aside.

  The little things that made me me slowly vanished. They were no longer important.

  Only the soul was. Nobody would miss hers.

  I inhaled, tasting rust and ash and bitterness. It was barely a mouthful, but the monstrous anger dancing inside me was pleased.

  Take it. Swallow it whole, cast her into the void. Eat her alive. Make her suffer. Make her hurt forever…

  “Azazel!”

  I blinked. The taste of rust was still strong in my mouth, but everything came back together in a split-second.

  I was about to eat a former Grigori’s soul. To condemn her consciousness to an eternity of torment.

  Just because I was angry.

  I was really no better than the creature that spawned me. The guilt crashed over me in a tidal wave, and I shoved Druzila away as a little figure stormed into the cathedral, carrying a Spear of Light.

  For a wild moment I thought Melisande was upset that I’d come this close to eating Druzila’s soul. Her eyes flashed as she brandished the spear.

  “What is the Between, and why have you never told me about it?”

  I barely registered Druzila crawling away on her hands and knees, shaking and tearful. “The Between is no place for you,” I said, blinking at Melisande.

  Had she even noticed?

  She scowled. “You said your library was no place for me, either, and yet I seem to have survived it perfectly fine. Will the Between get us to Irkalla faster, or won’t it?”

  I stood up straight, straightening my lapels again. It was an unconscious tic that brought me back to myself, a small motion that was so ordinary, so pretentious and fussy, that it was like gripping a lifeline back to normalcy.

  A lifeline away from the dark. Away from what I would be if I let myself go.

  “It would.” I looked over her spear, admiring the new form the Sword of Light had taken. Melisande was grace incarnate with a spear in her hand, like the weapon was a natural extension of herself. It wasn’t surprising that the weapon would have requested a shape to suit its new owner. “But faster isn’t always better.”

  “Anything is better than taking weeks. Vyra is at stake.” If anyone else had used Vyra as a weapon against me, I would’ve flayed them alive. But Melisande’s pleading look took the heat out of my anger; she was just as worried sick for my sister as I was.

  I barely spared a glance for Druzila as I stepped over her cringing form towards Melisande. If the ex-Reaper was wise, she’d get out while I was distracted. Even the small taste of her soul had been just a teaser, whetting the appetite of the monster inside.

  Even now, with the
bond between Melisande and I stronger than ever, I could still smell it. It was almost a psychic flavor, but that little bit of lingering rusty scent practically made me salivate.

  I ignored the voice inside me urging me on. She’s seen you consume them before. She loves you, she won’t shy away. Feast on the worthless one. Feed me. Feed us.

  “Most people are smart enough to stay away from the Between,” I said through clenched teeth. “Who told you about this?”

  I was going to kill whoever put the idea of the Between in her head.

  She lifted the spear, shaking it. “Wayland said you would know how to get there.”

  Well, then. I would not be killing whoever put the idea in her head… though it was still a tempting thought.

  I held back a sigh. If we ever had the chance, I was going to put Melisande on an in-depth study of the arcane and liminal places in Hell, and maybe once she read the eyewitness accounts, she’d be a little less enthusiastic about throwing herself into those places. “I could get us there. But everyone’s lives would be at risk the entire time we’re in it. That place isn’t a stroll through the park. It’s infinitely more dangerous than traversing Hell on foot.”

  She was careful to keep the spear at bay as she took a step closer, not sparing a single glance for Druzila, who was still whimpering on the floor near her feet. “Everything is dangerous, Azazel. We’re equal to it.”

  I gazed at her, reading the sheer determination in her eyes. Come Hell or Heaven, or anything in between, she wasn’t going to be dissuaded by any of the warnings I gave her.

  “It’s a leap of faith.” Melisande’s lips were set firmly. “The moment I heard the name, I knew it was the place to go. This is what we’re supposed to do, so please show me the way.”

  There was no fighting what she wanted. I massaged my temples with my fingertips. “We’ll take a vote. Everyone should know what they’re getting into.”

  “Fine.” She agreed quickly, not giving me time to backtrack. “Tell them exactly what you told me, but I guarantee everyone will vote yes.”