by Vivian Wood
The Atrium was stunningly beautiful, a blanket of dazzling sky above and little clusters of buildings below, all done in different styles.
“Are we supposed to be in Rome?” Vesper whispered.
“Lucifer grew jealous of humanity’s ability to create things of such beauty. He took a little piece of each great city and replicated them all down here, in one place. Rome, Paris, Constantinople, Cairo, Jericho, Beijing.”
“Wow. Which part is Mercy in?”
“Constantinople.”
“And your errand?”
“None of them. The Fallen live in a replica of the same palace we inhabited in Heaven.”
Vesper glanced at him, surprised.
“Keep your head down,” he warned her. “It’s best if we don’t talk.”
They walked for several minutes in silence before they reached the brothel. The scenery changed, shifting from the column-filled piazzas of Rome to the soaring red-roofed majesty of Constantinople.
Kirael raised his hand to point at a building as they passed it. A neat chalk X was drawn above the door, as their informant had promised.
“Okay,” Kirael said, drawing Vesper over to the side. “In and out, as little contact as possible. Keep your head down, don’t speak unless spoken to, unless you absolutely must. Then you go to the safe house.”
“Got it.”
“Vesper,” he said, gripping her shoulders. “If I’m not back in an hour, you and Mercy have to find your own way out.”
She looked up at him, her emerald gaze darkening. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“You won’t have a choice. I promise, if I don’t return, I will be dead. They’ll have to kill me to keep me from coming back to you, do you understand?”
Her lips trembled, but she nodded. “Yes.”
Glancing around, he decided to take a risk. Leaning close, he kissed her lips, quick and firm.
“Go,” he said. “Be careful.”
I don’t know what I will do if something happens to you, was his thought, but he didn’t dare voice it aloud.
“You too,” she said.
Pulling her head scarf down to cover more of her face, Vesper turned and vanished around the corner, heading for the servants’ entrance.
Kirael forced himself to walk away, to keep his pace normal as he left Constantinople. He moved to the very edge of the cityscape, skirting the whole area in an attempt to avoid any Fallen or high level demons. He even hunched down a little, trying to make himself smaller and less noticeable.
Soon he was past the city and closing in on the palace. He’d explained it to Vesper as being an exact replica as the palace of the Heavenly Host, but he’d left out one detail: it was all done in black.
Black marble, black metal, black stone, sitting on an eerie black cloud. The product of Lucifer’s too-literal early interpretation of what it meant to rebel against Heaven, in Kirael’s opinion.
Looking back on the Fall, much of Lucifer’s behavior reminded Kirael of an angst-filled teenager, seeking to test boundaries and anger authority figures. At the time, he’d thought Lucifer was going to create a new world, a world that was just and righteous.
Instead, Lucifer had shown himself to be rotten down to the very core, corrupting everything he touched. Ruling Hell with a malevolent, violent cronyism that made even the earliest humans look like a wise, peace-loving tribe.
Kirael walked right into the palace. Between his cloak and the shambling walk he adopted as he made his way up the grand black marble staircase, no one even spared him a glance.
Inside, it was as though the palace of Versailles had been redecorated by a Goth with baroque leanings. All heavy, dark furniture, endless hallways running up and down the length of the place. There were communal dining and lounge areas in the middle of the palace, but Kirael wasn’t going near those.
As he headed all the way to the right side of the building, various demons and Fallen rushed to and fro, carrying out their daily tasks. Lucifer’s quarters were located at the very back of the palace, built into the bedrock of Hell.
Lucifer’s chamber was the most fortified place in all of the Atrium. Numerous guards and locked vault doors guarded the room. Plus, if the alarm was raised, the whole palace was packed to the gills with Fallen ready for battle.
Kirael kept his head down and pushed forward. He needed the Book, the reason he started this whole mad crusade in the first place. He didn’t slow until he turned down the hallway where Lucifer’s rooms lay.
The guards were midlevel Fallen, standing calmly outside the door to Lucifer’s antechamber. Kirael walked right past them, then summoned his sword.
Whirling, he took them both down in a matter of seconds, practically in near silence. He took care not to kill either of them, instead knocking them out.
Vanishing his sword, he pulled out the set of keys that the Shkisa demon passed on to him. He unlocked the heavy black wood door, then stepped inside. Dragging the two guards inside, he summoned a length of cord and tied them both hand and foot, ensuring that they wouldn’t be a problem.
Kirael stood and looked around. He’d never entered Lucifer’s rooms before; only Belial was allowed the privilege. The antechamber was empty except for three huge doors. One gold, one silver, one black.
This, Kirael had not anticipated. The gold, he assumed, was the bedroom. It would be very much like Lucifer to have a lavish, color-saturated private chamber reserved for himself, while everyone else lived in monotones.
He walked over to the black door, raising a hand. Before he could even lay a hand on it, all the hair on his body rose, prickling with alarm. He backed away, surprised.
Whatever was in that room… Kirael wanted nothing to do with it.
Pulling out the keys again, he saw that only one was silver. He made quick work of unlocking the silver door and letting himself inside.
His jaw dropped a little when he saw the room’s contents.
The door was obviously a bolt-hole, because inside was a strange scene. A stunning green pasture, sun shining down, horses roaming in the distance.
The only two things in the immediate area were a tree and a glass structure that held a heavy book, pages bared. The Book of Names, Kirael assumed.
The tree caught his interest for a moment, though. It was perfectly lifelike but black as night, with shining red apples hanging low. He walked closer to the tree, the sudden desire to taste that fruit blooming within him.
He raised his hand, even going so far as to cup his fingers around the apple, but something stopped him. His interest was too strong, too sudden. It was pure, carnal temptation.
Not quite understanding what he was feeling, Kirael forced himself to step back. He had to drag each foot to move back another step, the tree’s lure was so strong.
Lucifer, he thought. This tree is… or has… his essence, somehow.
Turning, he propelled himself toward the Book. He made it to the Book, flipping it closed in a swift movement. His fingers trailed over the engraved title, inscribed in Aramaic, but it was certainly the right tome.
Kirael hefted it, running his fingers over the smooth black leather. He held it out in his hands, attempting to vanish it, but no luck. The book weighed on him, in a strange way. The more he looked at it, the stronger his desire to return to the tree became.
I’ve got to get out of this room, he realized. I have to get back to Vesper, protect her.
The image of Vesper’s face, the way she’d looked at him just before he left her at the brothel, helped him focus. The twenty steps to the door were some of the hardest Kirael ever took, but he managed it.
Stepping through the threshold was like emerging from the depths of a frozen lake. He sucked in a deep breath, taking a moment to stop and catch his breath.
Straightening, he held out the book, this time managing to vanish it. One of the guards was awake, wiggling and calling out. Kirael looked at him.
“I know you. Drishael, right? Listen, don’t make me kn
ock you out again. I’m already out the door anyway.”
Drishael looked at Kirael, then at the other guard. He stayed silent.
“Good man,” Kirael said, leaving Drishael behind on the floor. He pulled up the hood of his cloak again and slipped out of the antechamber.
As he left the hallway, turning off into another part of the palace, he passed two more Fallen. No doubt they would soon notice the missing guards, which meant that Kirael needed to get out of the palace, fast.
He trotted down every empty hall he found, wondering how much time he had to meet Vesper. He exited the palace, trying not to feel too excited. After all, he still had to escape Hell with two others in tow.
Glancing up at the clock tower looming in the distance, he cursed aloud. He only had five minutes remaining to meet Vesper at the safe house. Time must have run differently in the bolt-hole, but no matter.
Tucking his head down to keep his hood in place, Kirael began to run.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Vesper
Clutching at her head scarf, trying to keep her steps at a normal pace, Vesper walked around the back of the blood brothel. Now that she was here, on the verge of finding Mercy, she began to tremble.
Without Kirael at her back, anxiety truly set in. The building itself was a neat three-story stone affair, something that wouldn’t have been out of place, perhaps, in the oldest parts of London.
She found the servants’ entrance at the back, just as Kirael said. At the right of the door was a simple silver plaque that read: Drisgell House — Ring Bell For Assistance.
Biting her lip, she tried the door. To her immense relief, she found it unlocked. Easing it open, she stepped inside. Pulling a piece of paper from her pocket, she jammed it in the door lock, making sure she’d be able to leave again.
Taking a deep breath, she turned and scanned the dark, silent hallway before her. She’d talked this part through with Kirael. He didn’t frequent them himself, but he’d been inside them before.
She couldn’t just walk through, opening doors until she found her sister. She’d do a quick examination, get as far inside as she could, and when she eventually talked to someone… she’d lie her ass off.
The ground floor proved uninteresting, mostly storage and a big kitchen. A couple of women worked in the kitchen, but Vesper swept right past them, heading for the stairs at the far end of the hallway. When she reached them, she realized that there were two sets of stairs. One simple and worn, one gleaming and polished.
One for staff and one for customers, then. She took the staff stairs, thinking it prudent to chance a confrontation with a servant than to run into an important Fallen or demon.
She went straight up to the third floor. Kirael said that most of the slaves were kept in rooms upstairs, so that was her target. She emerged onto the third floor, immediately spotting a woman in a head scarf at the far end of the long, door-lined hall.
When the woman didn’t notice her right away, Vesper tried the first door to her right. It opened and she slipped inside, gasping when she saw a hulking male leaning over an unconscious woman.
“Hey!” he cried, turning to glare at her.
A Vampyre. She could handle this.
“The owners sent me up to you,” she blurted out. “I’m… fresh.”
The Vampyre scowled, wiping blood from his mouth. On the bed, the girl he’d been feeding from stirred and moaned.
“Let me see your face,” he said.
Vesper reached up and drew her scarf down, her stomach turning at the way the Vampyre’s face lit up. “Fresh, you said…?”
“Yes, let me just…” she pretended to fumble with her scarf, moving toward him.
At the last moment, she pulled her swords, burying them in his chest. He let out a shocked gurgle, clutching at her arms, but Vesper gave both swords a sharp twist.
She felt nothing as he dropped to the floor, or as she made quick work of removing his head. Nothing but disgust, and perhaps a grim determination.
He went up in a sulfurous billow of smoke, the close quarters making Vesper cough.
She turned to find the girl blinking at her. She was half-naked, her white night dress ripped open at the chest, a thin rivulet of blood running down from her neck.
“Who are you?” the girl rasped.
“No one. Do you know Mercy?” she asked.
Vesper moved over, dragging a thin blanket over the girl’s body. The girl didn’t even flinch; her enlarged pupils and too-sweet scent said she was high as a kite.
The girl blinked, then slowly nodded.
“What room is she in?” she asked.
“Two down…” the girl said, closing her eyes.
“Thanks. Don’t… don’t call out, okay?” Vesper said, but the girl was already asleep, or unconscious again maybe.
It took everything in Vesper’s soul to make herself leave the girl there like that, but there was nothing for it. Brushing the last bits of Vampyre dust off herself, she sheathed her swords and left the room.
“You can’t be here,” said a voice.
She turned to find the same servant standing just to her left, staring at her.
“Oh, I—” Vesper started, then faltered.
“You can’t be here without a head scarf,” the woman said.
Vesper pulled up her scarf immediately, eyeing the servant. She could only see a few inches of the woman’s wrinkled face, but the sound of her voice was… vacant.
“Sorry,” Vesper said. “I’m just here to retrieve a girl for… Jeremet.”
She took a risk, naming the Fallen that had chased her and Kirael earlier.
The servant stared at her, then bowed and turned away.
Vesper tried not to look shocked. She hadn’t actually expected that to work. Then again, if this place wanted tighter security, they shouldn’t rely on drug-addled slaves.
Moving down the hallway, she opened what she prayed was Mercy’s door. There was no client in this room, at least… just a sleeping form under a pile of blankets.
Vesper crept over to the bed, drawing back the blanket. A horrified sound flew from her mouth at the sight of her sister, thin and bruised and shivering.
“Mercy,” she whispered, her voice breaking a little. “Hey, Mercy…”
She reached out and shook her sister’s shoulder. Mercy rolled over, showing Vesper the full extent of her injuries. She was covered with black bruises, the after-effects of vicious bite marks, all over her arms and neck and chest.
“Ves?” Mercy asked, her eyelids fluttering open. “Am I in Heaven?”
“Oh, honey…” Vesper said, blinking away the tears that stung her eyes. “I’m here to take you home, okay?”
“I can’t leave,” Mercy said, closing her eyes. “I’m his now.”
“Okay, don’t worry about that,” Vesper said. A thousand questions came to mind, but there was no time. “Come on, I’m gonna help you up.”
She drew back the sheets, cringing at the mottled black and blue marks all over Mercy’s body.
“How’d you get here?” Mercy asked. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
Likely, Mercy didn’t even know where she was.
“I’ll tell you later. Come on. Do you have shoes?” Vesper asked.
“Don’t need ‘em,” Mercy sighed. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. He’s gonna take care of me…”
Vesper helped her sit up and swing her legs over the bed.
“Sure, honey. Can you walk? Here, let me just put my arm around you, okay?”
Vesper got Mercy upright, then looked around. There was little in the room except a second twin bed, so Vesper stripped the dark-colored top sheet off the spare bed and wrapped it around Mercy, making sure to cover her head.
“Where are we going?”
“Just for a walk,” Vesper said.
“I don’t think you’re real,” Mercy said. “I always think you’re here, but you never are.”
“Shhh, it’s okay. Come on, quic
kly now,” Vesper said. “Remember that game we played as kids, hide and seek?”
“Course. I always won,” Mercy slurred.
“Yeah, well we’re gonna do that, but while we take our walk. So we’re gonna be really sneaky, okay?” Vesper said.
“Kay.”
Sucking in a lungful of air, Vesper opened the door and stuck her head out into the hall. It was empty, so she hurried Mercy out and toward the stairs. Mercy was slow and clumsy, each movement jerky.
“You got this, Mercy,” Vesper said. “Come on, now.”
Vesper half-carried her all the way downstairs. Mercy was painfully thin, making Vesper’s job all too easy. To Vesper’s complete shock, she actually got her sister all the way to the back door without incident.
So close… she thought.
Pulling open the back door, she dragged Mercy outside.
“Ves…” Mercy moaned.
“Shhh, just a little further,” Vesper said.
“I can’t leave him, Ves.”
“Who, honey?”
Vesper waited until a cloak-wearing demon shambled passed them, not even looking up, and then pulled Mercy across the street.
“Lucifer,” Mercy said.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to,” Vesper said, too preoccupied to work through her sister’s words.
“He loves me.”
“Okay.”
“He really does.”
“Sure, honey,” Vesper said.
“Said I’m his favorite girl, because of you,” Mercy said in a near-singsong.
“What?” Vesper asked, stopping. “You know what, I want you to tell me all about it once we’re inside again.”
“Kay.”
They moved down the street, Mercy slowing things down so much that Vesper started to sweat under her clothes. It took almost ten minutes to make the two blocks from the brothel to the safe house, and getting Mercy up the front steps was a Herculean task in itself.
Finally Vesper flung open the door of the safe house, pushing her sister inside before slamming it behind them. Vesper flattened herself against the door, pressing her hand against her hammering heart.
