Vala Eminence

by J. F. Jenkins

  “I figured you say that,” Johnathan said.

  Denver nodded. “Move faster before I push you down.”

  “Yes sir!”

  Flight by flight they descended the stairwell. Adrenaline pumped through Denver's veins and as they rounded a corner and stepped onto a landing for the one-hundred-and-fiftieth floor, he was amazed at how far they had traveled in what seemed like no time at all.

  Johnathan held up a hand. “Stop, there's a trap.”

  Taking the opportunity to catch his breath, Denver leaned against the wall. “The one with the giant rock? I disarmed that one already.”

  For a moment, Johnathan peered at him and then looked down the stairs. “It's probably been reset since the rock isn't there anymore. I don't know how many nosy demons have been squished by that thing, but it's been a lot. Lucien loves that one the most. The trigger is moved each time.”

  “Great,” Denver mumbled sourly.

  “It's not hard to find,” Johnathan added. He rose up a fist and shouted out three words Denver barely understood, an incantation of some kind, no doubt. Five stairs began to glow. “The triggers.”

  Nodding, Denver waved for Johnathan to go first. He followed the man's exact footsteps, avoiding the illuminated stairs. All it took was the slightest pressure and the whole trap would go. Luck would not be able to save him forever. Once Denver made it to the bottom, he watched as Ceete simply leaped over them all with ease.

  He chuckled. “Show off.”

  “There are three-hundred floors,” Johnathan said as they continued down. “Three traps in all. They get more complicated and messy the further down into the dungeon. The next one will be coming up in about twenty floors. Keep count.”

  “About twenty floors? You don't know? What good is keeping count going to do if you aren't even sure where it is?” Denver asked, noticing how the lighting was getting dimmer. The cell was empty on the floor they were resting on.

  Johnathan pressed onward. “At least then we'll have a rough idea of when it'll be coming up.”

  I guess, Denver thought as he continued to follow. There was some logic behind what Johnathan was saying, but Denver was convinced then and there that the man was a moron. Sad, because I used to have so much more respect for him.

  Just like he'd been instructed, Denver counted the floors on their way down. By the time he reached twenty, the light had completely diminished, leaving them all in pitch black.

  “We're at one-hundred-and-seventy,” he said. He touched the cool brick wall with his hand, using it to guide him along since he could literally see nothing.

  Not with your eyes, the small voice of Hades the First said. Denver hadn't even thought about using his magic to look around. Even though it was dark, he still closed his eyes to focus on drowning out the world around him so he could see the spiritual world instead. When he opened his eyes, he was stunned.

  Instead of simple black and white surrounding him, there were colors. Ceete was a blood red with black haze swirling about her. Johnathan on the other hand was a black and silver. The walls of the stairwell were a bright white. Not what Denver would have expected for the underworld. Then again, just because it’s the underworld, doesn't mean it's a place of darkness. And with all of the demons and monsters locked up in the cells, of course there needs to be a great deal of light to keep them from busting out. It's nice to know I'm not destined to inherit a place of pure darkness.

  Denver was about to step further down the stairs when he noticed a large, black gap in the middle of the set. “Woah.” He stopped, nearly tripping over his own two feet in the process.

  Johnathan nudged him sharply in the back. “Keep going, we're not there yet.”

  “Something is wrong,” Denver said. “I think it's a trap. There's a ton of dark magic in the middle of the floor here.”

  “There is no dark magic,” Ceete said. “There is no floor, period.”

  “No… floor?” Denver glanced back at Johnathan and was stunned to see the man grimacing back.

  Mr. Orinda raised a hand as if to push Denver down the stairs. Ceete caught it midair. A bright, white sphere appeared in Johnathan's hands, penetrating the darkness and causing Denver to lose his connection to the spiritual realm. He shielded his eyes as the orb grew in size before Johnathan threw it at Ceete. It exploded against her chest, sending her flying into the wall of the stairwell.

  There was a slight breeze that blew past Denver and the brush of a hand along his back. No doubt, Johnathan's attempt at pushing him into the pit. Ducking and aiming for the top of the stairs, Denver tried to scramble back up to the landing where he had more space for a fight. What he wasn't anticipating was Johnathan already being at the top waiting for him.

  I should have used my magic again to see, he thought. Though that wouldn't have changed the fact that Johnathan had used a spell of his own to teleport to the landing. At least Denver would have seen him and been ready. Instead, he stumbled back as Johnathan's hands reached out and grabbed him by the shirt.

  The man pulled Denver upright and lifted him into the air. “No offense, kid, but I've been offered a deal from Lucien I couldn't refuse. Kill you and gain a whole kingdom. Seems like the best place to raise my growing family, don't you think?”

  “You're crazy if you think he's going to fulfill the bargain,” Denver said with a grunt.

  “Why wouldn't he? Has Lucien ever gone back on one before?”

  Denver knew he hadn't. If there was anything Lucien was true to, it was his deals. The results might not always be what the bargainer hoped for, but there was always something given in return. Taking in a sharp breath Denver conjured up his own magic. He could channel the light, and the dungeon had it in abundance. Soon, his hands were surrounded by white flames. He grabbed Johnathan by the wrists. The man winced in pain but didn't let go.

  One slow step forward, and then another, Johnathan carried Denver toward the edge. Kicking and thrashing didn't seem to faze Johnathan in the slightest, either. Denver was almost positive one of his feet landed in the guy's groin. It was like he was completely numb of all feeling. This is it? I'm going to go out by falling down a hole? I'd been hoping for something a lot more interesting.

  There was only one thing left for Denver to do, try to get out of his clothes. Desperately he wriggled his arms through the holes of his shirt and dropped to the ground. Johnathan tripped over his body and landed a few feet down the stairwell. There was a scrape of shoes against stone and soon Johnathan's face was inches away from Denver's. He made a swipe for Denver, but Denver back-handed him hard. Whatever spell was keeping Johnathan from feeling before was now worn off because the guy grunted and fell back, holding the side of his face.

  Denver gave him a hard kick in the chin, sending him sliding down further. Grunting, he carefully got to his feet. He glanced back at Ceete to check on her, but even with the light coming from his hands, he couldn't find her. She might have landed farther away than I thought.

  “You okay Ceete?” he called out.

  Someone grabbed him by the ankle and gave him a firm pull. Denver landed hard against the stairs, his chin splitting open upon impact and the wind knocking out of his chest. He kicked at the owner of the hand as he was dragged toward the pit. More hands appeared, hoisting him off the ground at the shoulders and at both legs. He reached out to burn whoever was holding onto him, only to discover that there was no owner of the hands grasping him. There was only a hand and a wrist. Neat trick, but how do I fight it?

  Blasting the hands with his fire did nothing. The ground disappeared from under his legs. Denver was dangling over the pit by his torso. A loud screech filled the air and Ceete flew over his head. Everything seemed to happen in an instant. Claws out, she slashed Johnathan across the face savagely. He screamed and tumbled back. The two rolled down the stairs, and then they were gone from sight. As soon as the hands carrying Denver disappeared, he dropped with a hard thud and had a millisecond to grab the edge of the pit. Somehow he knew
both Ceete and Johnathan had gone into the pit. His Aunt was gone, and possibly the last of his living, sane family. There will be time to mourn later.

  Free from his captor, but not from danger, Denver grasped at whatever he could find to pull himself up onto the stairs. There were no cracks or even small nicks in the stone for him to hold onto. Each time he moved, he slid a little farther into the open blackness below.

  He grunted. “Are you kidding me?” No blaze of glory? I've come too far, and worked too hard to fail now! This is my castle! It shouldn't be trying to kill me!

  As if the underworld could hear and understand his thoughts, there was a soft grinding sound and then a stone appeared underneath his feet. It wasn't large enough for him to do much with it, but it gave him some extra leverage and something to balance on so he could find his grip. Something, anything, will do.

  Then someone grabbed hold of his hand. Who grabbed him was hard to tell, because all Denver could see were a pair of worn, dusty sneakers and jeans with holes along the bottom hemming.

  “Yowch! Turn the fire off,” a male voice said as he pulled Denver out of the pit.

  Denver ignored the request. Once he was back on solid ground, he held up one of his hands so he could see his rescuer. He gasped. Standing before him was Zacheaus, a guardian of the underworld, and Jewl's dead best friend. He'd only met the guy once and that was when he'd helped save Jewl from Lucien a handful of months ago.

  “How did you know we were here?” Denver asked.

  “Part of being a guardian is I can sense when someone who doesn't belong here arrives,” Zacheaous said and sat down on the steps.

  “I belong.”

  “Oh, I know. But you had a living human with you. No one else got unsettled about it, so I decided to investigate. Watching the gates gets a little boring and I wasn't sure if maybe Lucien was trying to hurt… her… again.”

  Denver bit his tongue. Zach had to be referring to Jewl. The guy seemed to give off the impression he was in love with her. Which stunk for him since he was dead and she was very much alive. Then of course, he had to add Anj into the picture. As much as Denver hated Anj, he couldn't deny that he and Jewl were indeed meant for one another. She was the only one who could put Anj in his place, and he was the only one who could calm her down before she potentially blew up the school in a rage. Zach's feelings for her were sweet, sort of, but pointless. He needed to get over himself.

  Clearing his throat, Denver dusted off his pants and took a moment to wipe some blood off of his face. “No, she's not here. Far as I can tell she's happy and blissfully unaware of anything going on down here. Kind of want to keep it that way too. Can't complain about you coming down here, since you saved my butt.”

  “I'm glad I did. Would have sucked for you to fall in. It's a never-ending pit,” Zach said quietly.

  “Excuse me?”

  “A never-ending pit. You just keep going and going and going and… you get the idea. There's no end. It's a form of torture, really. Even after the body dies, the soul remains.”

  Denver's chest tightened at the thought of Ceete receiving such torture. “And I'm guessing there's no way to get out?”

  Shrugging, Zach leaned against the wall. “I don't know. Maybe, but it's not something anyone talks about. Did… someone fall in? Wait, someone had to have, because I don't feel the intruder's presence anymore.”

  “A couple of people went down there.” He gazed down at the pit and shook his head, not wanting to think of Ceete and the sacrifice she'd made for him. At least she isn't traveling alone. But Johnathan's wife was pregnant with their first child. The guy had tried to kill Denver, and yet he still felt pain over what the consequences would do to everyone else. That's new. Usually, he just didn't care.

  Zach sighed and closed his eyes. “Right now there are more important things to think about. Like getting down to the bottom. I know that's where you're trying to go. And I can help you get there, but if I do, then you have to do something for me in the near future. Deal?”

  Letting out a quiet laugh, Denver extended his hand to Zach. The guy can't want anything too bad. He's dead, and a friend of a friend. “I'm all about making deals.”

  “Good trait to have for a future lord of the underworld.” Zach took hold of his hand and the two teleported deeper into the dungeon.

  The only reason Denver knew they were deeper down was because all sense of goodness was gone. What little remained in his heart felt nothing but despair. He decided it would be a good time to turn off that tiny light inside of his heart. There were torches to see by, which surprised him since so many of the lower floors had been dark. The cell before him had gold bars and a gold floor. Inside the cell itself was blackness, so he couldn't see who or what was kept inside of it. The other thing he noticed about his new surroundings was the lack of more stairs going down.

  “Are we on the last floor?” Denver asked quietly.

  Zach nodded, but didn't say anything.

  Denver took a tentative step forward. If they were indeed on the last floor, that meant inside of the cell was his father — and the Devil himself. Few things scared Denver, but the ultimate Prince of Darkness was on his list.

  He didn't want to call out, not sure he wanted to face whoever, or whatever, was on the other side of the golden bars. A face appeared before him, and he let out a yelp of surprise. Zach grabbed the hilt of his sword. When Denver saw bright, green eyes gazing back at him through the bars, he waved back at Zach.

  “At ease, it's… it's him…” Denver said.

  Zach let go of the sword, but his body did not relax. “Y-your dad?”

  Nodding slowly, Denver leaned in a little. It has to be him. His eyes are so… green. He finally understood why people were so captivated when meeting his gaze. If Denver did, in fact, have his father's eyes, then he could see the magic-like shimmer he must have had as well. The man moved closer, the light of the room hitting more of his features. Sure enough, Denver noticed their shared jawline, cheekbones, and forehead. They had the same dark, nearly black hair, and a similar body frame. The man was a little taller, and Denver was a little broader in the shoulders. Still, the resemblance was uncanny.

  “So you've finally come,” the man said, then snickered. At least he was able to have coherent thoughts, which was a big step ahead of what Denver had been expecting.

  Denver peered at him. “Yeah, I figured it out, Dad.”

  The man laughed. “We placed a bet over what would happen first. You croaking or me. Looks like I win.”

  “Let's not be a Debbie Downer just yet, Pops. I'm not quite in a hurry to off you.”

  “Ah, yes, I'm sure you have a lot of questions and want to make up for all kinds of lost time. I can't take you to any baseball games or anything, but I can indulge you for a handful of minutes. Then my friend is going to wake up and you'd be better off not seeing him.”

  “Lu—”

  “Don't speak his name,” his father warned. “Such close proximity will definitely wake him. He's kind of vain like that. Every time someone on Earth says his name, he stirs.”

  Nodding, Denver took in a deep breath. “I don't know what I want you to say to me.”

  “That's good. It takes a great deal of the pressure off me. I'm not sure I have much I can say. Not without it coming across as negative. Being held prisoner here for so long would make anyone a sour puss.”

  Denver laughed quietly, amazed his father even had a sense of humor still. Another thing they seemed to have in common: they were both a bit sarcastic and cynical.

  Sighing, his father reached out of the bars and gently ran his fingers over Denver's chest. “You're big. Really, big.”

  “Thirteen years will do that,” Denver said quietly.

  “I always wondered what you'd turn out like. If you'd be more like me, or more like your mother.”

  “Pretty sure I got an even amount of you both, don't worry.”

  His father cracked a small smile. “Good, because even if
she was a demon, there are some things I was hoping you'd get from her genetics.”

  “Why a demon?” he asked. “C-Ceete told me a few things, but I figure hearing it from you would be more accurate.”

  “You need to make sure she didn't leave anything out, basically.” The man nodded. “I understand, but there isn't much to tell. She was hot, I was lonely, and clicking with people was pretty much impossible for me. Our family line has always been reclusive, Denver. It's in our nature to shun society just as much as it is society's job to shun us. I'm sure by now you've grown comfortable with that. Anyway, your mom was one of my favorite demon friends. We got along, she eased my loneliness, it worked… sort of. There was a wedding, of course. Demons don't see marriage the same way as people do.”

  Denver snorted. “I could have told you that. My girlfriend is married to one right now because of some stupid deal they made.”

  Smirking, his father nodded some more. “So you two did find each other, good. No wonder Lucien is so nervous. He keeps visiting me, demanding I hand over the family inheritance. I keep telling him to buzz off.”

  “So Mom didn't love you?”

  “She was fond of me, just like I was, her,” his father said with a shrug. “We were a good partnership, and we both kept our vows. The marriage itself wasn't one of love, but necessity. Nobody in the Divine Council was happy I took a demon for my bride. Kind of ironic since they're leaping for joy over it now, huh?”

  “Not too weird. You married a demon. They probably think that the real heir is demon spawn, literally. I always wondered why they believed Lucien could possibly be the true heir.” Denver lowered his gaze.

  “Yeah, now you know.”

  “And now it's time to get things back on track.”

  His father closed his eyes and smiled. “I've been looking forward to this day for a long time, let me tell you. At first, I was frustrated that it wasn't coming fast enough, but I like this more. You needed to be old enough to understand what was happening and bold enough to kick some serious butt.”