by Riley London
He briefs us quickly.
It’s a tunnel that goes under tavern. Tristan opens the door and I step through it. Something feels off, alive with magic, and my thoughts goes back to the ambush. But then I see Noah is joining us and Tristan isn’t dissuading him. The two seem like they’re friends.
If there was any chance of getting hurt, I don’t think he would invite him.
Tristan very carefully closes the door behind him, sliding bolts and spinning locks that leave significant questions for me on how we ever opened it the first place.
But I don’t get to ask my question.
The final lock clicks, and what little light was available in the tunnel blinks out.
There’s a vibration feeling beneath my feet, and then the sound of stone dragging on stone. This tunnel is rumbling like it’s about to cave in.
12
Tristan’s voice comes loud and clear amidst the chaos. “We are crossing into the Fae realm, hence the sound and blackness.”
I’ve never been much for amusement park rides.
This could give the best roller coaster a run for its money.
When wherever we’re standing floods with light, Tristan looks completely at ease. Noah looks a little gray but in a way that makes me think he somehow expected what just happened.
For my part, I just like a little advance warning.
We make our way up and exit the tunnel. It definitely looks like a new realm. It’s filled with plants and greenery, having that kind of diverse, multi-tiered wildlife that fills every square inch of the space.
A mix of beings fly above the different levels of flowers and greenery. Some move too fast to discern, human-shaped hummingbirds intent on their missions.
One woman dressed in an exquisite embroidered golden green gown with a tiny crown upon her head bats silk like wings and issues high-pitched orders to a small group with her.
Clearly there’s a lot going on.
I’m taking everything in when there’s a displacement of air and a man appears directly in front of us. I don’t scream. I don’t punch him. But I do confirm that my heart still works and that I can discreetly take a giant step back.
Tristan quickly introduces his cousin Callan. When Callan arrives, it’s like some of the warmth and life of the realm is absorbed. It’s almost like he stamps out the light.
On the surface he bears a more than passing resemblance to Tristan. Callan is tall, well-built, and has the familiar dark hair and eyes. His features are different, but no less handsome. It’s the complete lack of something else – that bright energetic signature – that leaves you feeling cold, sad and uncomfortable in this man’s wake.
“Tell me fast cousin, what is it that you need?”
No standing on ceremony then.
“I need a guide to the Underworld.”
Direct. I like it.
Callan seems uncomfortable. He shifts around, his eyes constantly circling the space. I look around seeing nothing.
“If they find out I’m helping you, they will gut me Tristan. I am trusting you to have my back.” For some reason when he says they, my mind flashes to demons.
I take in Tristan’s light, blazing brighter in the shadow of Callan’s darkness.
For the first time I understand what I am looking at. An Unseelie. My stomach contracts in fear.
I don’t want to hurt Tristan’s cousin, and I’m not certain that I could even if I wanted to, being in their lands. But what happens next puts my fear somewhat at ease.
Out of nowhere, Callan produces an elaborate scroll. It’s expertly wound, resting in an iron container rich with designed scrollwork detail. “This is the map we discussed. But I have to take my leave before were discovered.”
And with that, Callan blinks out of existence.
Tristan indulges my curiosity a bit and lingers. Callan agreed to meet, but didn’t want Tristan to bring friends. However, Tristan believed that I should see the meeting with my own eyes to verify the information source and to make important decisions that lie ahead. Callan’s not speaking to us, says Tristan, is nothing personal.
“Not speaking it all seems pretty personal to me,” quips Noah
it’s rich that the lack of personal contact bothers him, especially given his own sometimes limited social skills and grouchy conversation.
“Conversation with you or with Max would have tainted his aura. When he returned to the Court of Darkness, it would have been noticed and he would’ve been slain on sight.”
The reality of it hits, a chill running down my spine.
There’s a cost to everyone caught up in these demonic games.
Tristan becomes insistent that it’s time to go. We head back through the tunnel, suffer through the weird transitory rumble, and finally emerge back in the tavern. When the doors swing shut behind us and Tristan touches it, I look at him curiously.
“Only Fae can unlock it. Let’s get back to the Academy.”
The three of us walk back to Salem Academy in a heavy, tired silence. But when we arrive at the building, Tristan asks me to join him in his work room.
Once we get downstairs, Tristan locks the door and adjust the lights. Then he carefully removes the scroll which looks ancient and well-worn from its extravagant holder and unfurls it across the table.
”Illuminare,” he whispers, and ambient light awakens in the room. Looking down, it takes me a few seconds to process what I’m seeing.
What Tristan has used his connections in the dark Fae mafia that runs with demonic forces to procure is priceless.
This man just handed me a detailed map to Hell.
13
Serena looks over the map with great interest, her fingers tracing the lines of the ancient document. She has dawned pristine white cotton gloves, so she doesn’t damage it.
“Now that we have a map of hell, that should speed up our ability to formulate a plan to get Father Gabriel back,” I say, stating the obvious.
Yet one look at Serena’s face tells me it’s not obvious.
“Max, you and Tristan and Noah did great work today. This map could turn out to be an invaluable piece of the operation. But without data on where Father Gabriel is being held – and some deeper insight into why – it’s still extremely difficult to formulate the right plan. Things are moving forward and this is a serious contribution. But this doesn’t change our timeline. We are still probably looking at another week or two. We don’t have the people, the weaponry, the intel, or frankly the authorization to go today.”
I start to argue but have become fairly adept at reading when Serena is shut down.
This would be one of those times.
“For now, I am afraid that I’m going to have to veto any rescue mission. But I am going to step up our efforts and see if we can accelerate the timeline Max. I know you’re anxious, we all are. It’s almost time.”
Sometimes, when people are afraid to take risks, you really do need to take things into your own hands.
The three of us step out of Serena’s office and close the door behind us. Tristan looks concerned, but I give a noncommittal shrug.
“Look guys, today was a win. We made some progress and that’s something. And Serena said she’s going to speed things up. Thank you both so much for your help. I am actually going to head to the library and do a little research in preparation for my classes tomorrow,” and with that I head out not waiting for a reply.
I head straight to the Rare and Ancient Artifacts section. Those contain the oldest books that have the best shot of giving me any information about how to get to hell.
Falling down a rabbit hole is a real risk.
There’s one book from the sixth century that catalogs no less than 6000 ways human being can end up in Hell. The first thing on the list is actually being born.
It sounds like the horrors of a punishment mindset from a different time.
I’ve been reading for hours when footsteps distract me. Looking up, I am shocked to see Noah ap
proaching. He’s exceptionally well dressed, wearing a sportscoat over his usual button down an expensive pants. His hair has been styled, his shoes shined.
“What are you getting ready to go on a date?”
I tried to ignore the annoyance of my voice and hope it passes for run-of-the-mill sniping.
He raises the a bored eyebrow and slips something out of his backpack. It’s a huge book, an old book, bound in leather that’s been repaired. And embossed on the cover I see the following words: The Magic User’s Guide To Navigating Hell and Casting Demonic Workings.
Blink. Who the hell would write something like this?
“Sorry that took so long. This is a book that I saw recently in my parent’s library.” He flips to a particular section. “Read this.”
The writing is hard to get through and the language is out of date. But excitement rises as I get the gist.
This book has identified several fissures in the boundary between Earth and Hell, and at least a few of them are within a two-hour drive of Salem. In fact, it looks like one of them may actually be located in or near Salem itself. The text contains a spell that could be used to open the gate.
“Noah, do you think I could handle casting the spell?”
My voice sounds more tentative than I intend.
He leans against the table and he speaks his voice is not unkind. “In terms of sheer raw power? Absolutely. Do I think that you’ve had enough training to develop the finesse to rip open one of the divine seams of reality? Not really, Max.”
My heart falls like lead into my stomach. But I brighten at his next words.
“But if there’s one thing that I’m good at its finessing delicate magical work.”
Is it an offer? Is it a trap?
“Look Max, I need you to level with me. Are you planning to go on your own into Hell?”
I give him my best innocent look. “Noah, you were there for the conversation with Serena. She’s speeding things up. I agreed to wait.”
He snorts. “Let’s just say that your face and body language had something different to say than your words.”
When I don’t answer immediately, he continues speaking. “And I’ve been thinking lately, about how you never wanted to be here. Circumstances got you stuck with us. The fact that you have some sort of complicated family history only intensified the pressure. But I’ve only ever seen you care about one thing: getting Father Gabriel back.”
He runs a hand through his longish, slightly floppy dark red hair.
I get a little tingle somewhere that I try very hard to ignore. I do resist the sudden urge to brush it out of his eyes.
“Look Max, if it were me, I’d be making plans to go tonight. We just got a map of Hell. There are spells that we can do to help home in on which part of hell we need to get into and then focus on a fissure that will get us there. I’m not saying Serena’s wrong to want information or more backup. But I also now that you have one of the best strike teams in the world at your disposal, and that you’ve been working hard day in and day out to get to the right level. How many more days are we going to add to Father Gabriel sentence out of an abundance of caution?”
I don’t know if he’s being honest.
There’s a terrible part of me that feels skeptical even now, but as I look up into his face, he seems sincere.
Every part of my being tells me it’s time to go. That’s it.
I’ll trust Noah. I just hope that it’s not a huge mistake.
We agree to meet at midnight by front gate of Salem Academy and mount the mission to recover Father Gabriel.
My next stop is the armory.
Accessing practice weapons and even regular edged weapons is no problem. But I need to figure out how to get through the security to get to the good stuff.
I think about my own consecrated sword and knife.
The billionaire Asher Wan surely must have some relics in his collections that we could use for good. Consecrated weapons or holy items are going to be worth their own weight in gold.
The first thing I need to do is hack a fairly complex computer system.
I’m not great with computers.
I’m standing over the keypad wondering whether I could just fry it with magic when a familiar deep voice says very closely to my ear, “That would be a terrible idea. If you hit that keypad with magic, not only is it going to reverse the force back at you tenfold. It will hit you with the paralyze spell and set up an alarm that will have seven government agencies here in less than five minutes.”
He sounds so blasé I turn to look at him half expecting a smile.
Erik.
But that handsome face wears the usual serious expression that I’m coming to know means business.
Maybe I’m feeling a little reckless. Maybe feeling a little hopeful at the possibility of getting Father Gabriel back sooner than we planned.
I give Erik my widest smile. “Is there any way that you could help me with this?”
There are several beats of silence.
As I take in the man, that impression of Erik as a brick wall – a force not to be reckoned with, reaffirms itself.
What if I could just use a little bit of force, just a tiny bit of influence, to get his help?
I imagine power gathering inside me, around me, and filling the space between us and around him. My mind struggles to recall what Tristan said the next steps were.
Initiate physical contact.
I hold the thought in my mind and reach out to touch his forearm. The muscles rippled beneath my fingertips’ brush.
Fuse your intention into your voice. Got it.
What comes out next makes it sound a little bit like I’ve been smoking and a little bit like I’m trying to emulate a sex kitten from a B-movie. “A big strong guy like you knows his way around a place like this. Erik, don’t you want to make me happy and let me inside?”
I don’t gag when I say it, which is probably the biggest miracle of all.
Then hit them with your best shot.
I pull back on the energy dampers I’ve been putting in place and will my intentions and seduction magic to roll down my arm and into his body.
It’s hard to read his face, but he’s not reacting to my touch or my words. He’s granite. Despite my fantasies, maybe this is as hot and bothered as this guy gets. Maybe the monotone stare is all systems are a go for Erik.
The thought is depressing as hell.
That’s what I notice he’s standing with his back to the touchpad. One push of his head up against the flat sensitive surface and those doors should open.
I look up into his eyes. I start to think that I need to convey confidence and interest. But there’s something in those eyes – something about them – that leaves me captivated again.
I’ve never bought that whole the windows of the eyes to the soul thing.
Mostly that idea has been relevant during exorcisms.
Are you looking into the eyes of a demon or a person?
When I look up into Erik’s eyes, I’m swept with desire like a riptide carrying me into a vast ocean I’ll never find my way back from.
But the important thing right now seems to be my overwhelming desire to crush my lips against his. I do, and every second of mounting sexual frustration and tension between us pours into my body.
Long hours of watching the fierce muscles of his body in motion. Feeling his six-pack stomach against my hand when we’re training, as he shows me a specific move. The way he jumps into action any time I ask for help.
And everything that I see it contained in those beautiful eyes.
If his kiss is any indication, there’s no worries that this Norsemen is cold.
His kiss is fierce, hungry, demanding, commanding.
I’ve never been claimed, marked, schooled, educated so thoroughly in just a few seconds.
I am completely and utterly turned on.
He pulls his lips away and I realize that I didn’t push his hand against the screen.
I got so distracted by his touch that I missed my window.
As I look up into his face, I see he’s grinning. Casually, he leases palm across the screen and the doors to the armory slide open.
My eyes go wide. Before he lets me pass, Erik takes a step very close to where I stand and pulls me close against his body. Hard muscles, heat, and a reassuring grounding that I don’t remember ever feeling anywhere else in my life.
When he speaks his lips are very close to my ear. “Don’t waste your energy using sex magic on me. I am immune. Besides, you don’t need that shit, Max. I told you that if you need something from me all you have to do is ask.”
The weapons or the kiss?
I’m feeling ashamed, trying to find the right words for an apology, when he whispers again. “That goes for weapons and for kisses.
Once again, he captures my mouth with his, and his expert kisses leave me lightheaded.
Holy shit.
Erik very quickly and adeptly assembles a small armory of weapons. Since we’ve been training together, I have come to understand what he values in his weapons kit. Some choices are for him, some are for me, and others are for backup in case needs arise.
That’s when it hits me. He’s coming too.
When I look up at him, he looks back at me with a more open look than I’ve ever seen on his face. He looks almost relaxed, almost happy.
I make myself a promise: if I make it back from Hell, I am going to see exactly how happy I can make him.
At least for one memorable afternoon.
“I’m coming with you Max. You probably figured that out by now but there’s something I have to tell you. If I let you go alone and you got hurt, Micah would never forgive me.”
Micah.
My eyes find his. “Micah’s alive then?”
One nod, almost imperceptible, but definitely there.
I throw my arms around him and try to keep a sob relief from spilling out. A few minutes later he puts me down on the ground, and when he smiles, it’s clear that he is pleased he made me happy.
“If you want to sleep, I totally get it. But I think we’ve got just a few hours to kill before we head out.”
