by Jana Oliver
When Riley came to his house the next night, he invited her to his bed, then laid down the law.
‘I’ll watch over you tonight,’ he said firmly. ‘I won’t let him take you from me.’
‘You won’t be able to stop him.’
‘Then I’ll go with you. Fight by yer side. I am not gonna let him get you killed.’
They’d said no more after that, knowing they were wasting their breath. Everything felt more urgent now, as if every hour might be their last. After they made love, they rested. Then Riley dressed and crawled back in bed with him, a sobering admission that her life was not her own. Beck dressed as well, then held her close, her against his body as she drifted into an uneasy sleep.
When his neck began to cramp, he rolled over on to his back. Unwilling to break contact, his hand sought hers. She murmured his name in her sleep and that pleased him.
The angel may own your soul, but he doesn’t own your heart. I will not let him hurt you ever again. I will kill him first or I’ll die tryin’.
Even with his best efforts to remain on guard, Beck finally fell asleep with his lover by his side. When he roused a couple hours later, he rolled over towards Riley, seeking her comforting warmth. She was gone. He jolted out of bed and called her name, but there was no reply. A quick search of the house proved the angel had stolen her away.
With a cry of anguish, Beck retreated to his bedroom to await her return.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Riley had expected a return trip to some alley in Demon Central, but nothing looked familiar. In fact, this wasn’t like any place she’d ever seen. In the distance was a wall of flames, undulating crimson and yellow and a smell hung in the air, sharply caustic. Sulphur.
This was Hell.
‘Why are we here?’ she demanded. She wasn’t dead, or at least she didn’t think she was. The last thing she remembered was falling asleep next to Beck.
‘We have been summoned before my master,’ was Ori’s chilly reply.
‘But—’
‘Keep up,’ he ordered, moving forward at a pace that made it difficult to comply. ‘You fall behind, you’ll remain here.’
When Riley sprinted to catch up with him, they quickly reached the wall of flames. Too quickly for the distance involved. Time and space were different here.
The wall wasn’t actually composed of fire: each flame was caught within a tiny shard of glass and millions of them billowed upward in a solid curtain.
‘What are those things?’
‘The souls of the damned,’ Ori replied. He stood beside her now in his full angelic glory. ‘How many are there?’ he said, as if she’d posed the question. ‘Even the Prince has lost count.’
‘I can’t go through that. It’ll cut me to pieces.’
‘You are under my protection. You will not be harmed.’
‘What if Lucifer decides otherwise?’
He frowned, but offered his hand nonetheless. Riley took it and jammed her eyes shut as they traversed the sheet of faming souls. She waited for the shards to fay her flesh, to strip her to the bone, but the pain never came.
‘If nothing more, you should know you can trust me,’ the angel said reproachfully. ‘Yet you trust that trapper. I do not understand.’
‘I love him.’
‘You once loved me, did you not?’
‘Yes, but that was different,’ Riley replied. ‘We both know why that didn’t last.’
‘If you think I took pleasure in what I had to do, you would be wrong. It was the only way to keep you safe.’
‘If I’m safe, then why am I in Hell?’ she asked.
Ori’s shoulders tightened. ‘Because I refused to give up your soul. Now we both must pay the price for that defiance.’
He ceased speaking after that, pressing her to move faster now, as if to make up for lost time. The landscape became more like Riley’s idea of Hell, a bleak, desolate terrain pockmarked by craters, like the moon. Dense steam poured out of them along with the nauseating stench of rotten eggs. She covered her nose with her palm, trying not to gag.
Ori eyed her. ‘What does it look like to you?’ She described it to him. ‘To each it is different. Your mind provides your own version of Hell. My Hell is different.’
She wanted to ask what his was like, but something told her not to pose that question.
They soon reached a wide stone gate where two Arch-Fiends stood guard on either side of the portal, each armed with curved swords. They eyed Riley with their goat-slit eyes.
As Ori passed, they bowed, but not very deep, as if such deference was expected but not warranted. In her mind she heard the fiends talking to each other, speaking of the delicate morsel that the Divine had plucked from the mortal world and how he had not offered that morsel to his master. That now he was a traitor to the Prince.
‘Do not listen to them,’ Ori said, steering her down a damp tunnel where verdant moss carpeted the walls. Right before the tunnel abruptly ended, a bizarre mouse-like creature with tiny spikes skittered ahead of them. When they entered an open area, a dense fog greeted them, as if somehow they’d been transported to the seashore.
‘These are the shades of the damned,’ Ori said. ‘They’re quite thick here. Some you might recognize.’
God, I hope not.
‘So many,’ she whispered as individual faces swam by her, quickly replaced by another and then another.
‘Some are here for eternity. Others pass through once their souls are cleansed of their sins.’
‘You mean Hell’s not a forever thing?’ she asked, surprised.
‘It depends on the deeds of the deceased.’
‘What about . . . me?’
The angel did not reply.
The demon sat at an antique wooden desk laden with stacked In and Out trays, like you’d find in any earthly office. He, or at least Riley thought it was male, had a quill pen wedged behind his fan-shaped ear. This was a clerk. A Hellish one. She wondered how many of them it took to handle Lucifer’s infernal business.
‘State your name and purpose,’ the demon said.
‘You know who I am, Asbantarus,’ Ori replied crisply. ‘The Prince has summoned me. I bring with me the living mortal, Riley Anora Blackthorne.’
The demon’s goat eyes checked out Riley and then he nodded. With a wave of a scaly hand, a door appeared in the solid rock wall behind the desk.
They were about to enter Lucifer’s court. Surely the Prince wouldn’t let her leave after this. Who had ever gone to Hell and come back to tell the tale?
‘Come,’ Ori said. ‘We must not keep him waiting any further.’
When she didn’t move, he took hold of her hand and pulled her forward like a naughty child. Once she was moving on her own the Fallen released her.
Throne rooms were supposed to be big and opulent. This space resembled a school gymnasium, minus the basketball hoops and the bleachers. It smelt about as bad.
Riley had expected something more medieval: rows of banquet tables laden with the corpses of the damned, blazing torches in wall scones. There were no bodies or tables, and instead of the sconces there was some sort of subtle light dancing along the walls. When she peered closer, she realized they were souls, expending themselves to provide Hell’s interior lighting design.
That’s totally sick.
Though Riley didn’t try to count them, there had to be at least a hundred or more demons here. No wonder the place stinks. They varied from the small to the large, all hideous. There were Mezmers and Gastro-Fiends and a number of Arch-Fiends. Some were Hellspawn she’d never seen before – like the one that oozed across the floor in a wave of crimson steam.
‘Can they hear what I think?’ she whispered.
‘No. I’m shielding your thoughts from the fiends. You’ll get yourself killed otherwise.’
Lucifer sat in a carved ebony chair at the far end of the room where two massive Grade Five Geo-Fiends stood guard over him, their horned heads ending only a few feet
below the curved stone ceiling.
Demonic growls rose around them as Ori strode towards his lord and master. He’d killed enough of them over the aeons that he was hated by their kind.
The Fallen angel paused about fifteen feet from Lucifer, but did not go down on one knee or bow. In the past Ori had shown nothing but deference to the Prince of Hell.
What is going on here?
Riley didn’t know what to do, so she stood by Ori’s side, wishing that this was just a bad dream and that Beck would wake her up and hold her and it would be all right. She clasped her hands together, rolling his ring back and forth on her finger, frightened to her very bones.
When Lucifer’s midnight-blue eyes tracked to her, she couldn’t help but shudder. They did not speak of welcome, but of malice.
This was no dream.
The chief of the Fallen was clad in armour, such as she’d seen him wear at the battle in the cemetery. A sword lay across his thighs, unsheathed. Did he feel so vulnerable that he had to be fully armed in his own realm? Or was this for Ori’s benefit?
‘You requested my presence, my prince?’ her escort said.
Lucifer leaned back on his throne, stroking his chin in thought. ‘I have been hearing rumours that you are not happy with your tasks.’
His voice was different from when she’d last seen him in the cemetery, more guttural. There was none of the suave trickster on display now. Was this the real Lucifer or just another persona he donned when the need arose?
‘Well? Are these rumours true?’
‘You know what I think on the matter,’ Ori replied.
‘Yes, you’ve been extremely candid about that. I see your latest conquest is at your heels.’ Lucifer straightened up now, eyes blazing. ‘How dare you bring the whelp of a master demon trapper to stand in my presence?’
She frowned up at Ori. ‘You said he wanted me here.’
Her demi-lord ignored her. ‘This mortal’s soul is in my charge and I do not trust leaving her without my protection. Some might feel the need to harm her.’
‘For good reason,’ Lucifer replied. ‘Perhaps I should break the bond between you and gift her to one of my other, more loyal, servants.’
Break the bond? Can he do that? Of course he could.
Demons in the back of the hall laughed and hooted, the sounds scorching like acid in her veins. She twisted Beck’s ring again, trying to find some courage from the simple piece of metal.
When Ori did not rise to the bait, Lucifer settled back on his throne. ‘Deliver your report,’ he ordered.
Ori began to detail the executions, listing out the long demon names, one after another. The Prince remained motionless, his bottomless eyes riveted on Riley. Sweat broke out on her forehead, though it wasn’t particularly hot, and her skin began to itch like it was peeling from the inside out. She desperately wanted to scratch herself, but forced her hands to remain clasped.
Lucifer waved Ori to silence. ‘What of you, Blackthorne’s daughter? What have you been about?’
‘Ah . . . I’ve been acting as his second,’ she offered. At least that’s what she hoped he wanted to hear.
A chorus of hisses erupted from the demons telling her that wasn’t the right answer.
Lucifer shot up from his throne, sword in hand.
‘How dare you teach a mortal to slay my servants?’ he roared, his voice booming off the cavern walls.
‘You refused to provide me with assistance. You said I should use my imagination to destroy your enemies. So I have. I can kill twice the amount of traitorous demons if I have a second.’
‘That is no excuse! You have given this mortal a taste of Divine power. You have favoured her since the first time you saw her.’
‘You were the one who ordered me to guard Blackthorne’s daughter,’ Ori parried.
‘An order you have taken to the extreme. When you were dying, you could have saved your own life, yet you refused to take hers to do so. Why?’
Stunned, Riley looked over at the angel. ‘Is that true?’
‘Yes,’ Ori conceded, answering her, not his master. ‘As your soul is mine, I could have drained your life energy to heal myself. I refused.’
Ohmigod.
‘It was I who healed you,’ Lucifer continued, striding up and down in front of them, his fury translating into motion. ‘Yet I see no gratitude for that gesture, my servant.’
Ori stiffened. ‘I sought the nothingness of death and you refused me that honour. I do what you command me, my prince, but there is no love in the task.’
Lucifer came to a halt and laid his sword over an armour-clad shoulder.
‘It is whispered that you seek my throne,’ he said, his words slitting like razors. ‘That you wish to overthrow the tyrant. What say you to that?’
Ori did not reply. Behind them, the demons grew restless, scenting blood on the wind.
We are so dead. There was no way the Prince could back down now. She’d just disappear and Beck wouldn’t know what had happened to her.
No, not this way. Please. I want to see him one more time.
A tortured howl erupted from somewhere in the vast room. Lucifer issued an order and the fiends parted, revealing a battered figure that knelt inside a broad circle sketched on to the stone, some sort of magical prison. The creature’s garments hung on its body, filthy and tattered, and there were thick metal chains looped around its body. Those chains were not stationary, but moved, sliding across the abraded flesh.
Sartael.
The archangel’s mad eyes sought hers and he howled again, shouting curses at her in Hellspeak.
‘Your enemy has missed you,’ Lucifer said dryly. He returned to his throne, the sword across his thighs again. ‘Do you understand the precipice upon which you teeter, my servant? Do you doubt that it could be you in those chains?’
‘Yes, I understand, master,’ Ori replied through gritted teeth.
Lucifer’s attention went to her and he grinned savagely. ‘Do not think that fate is for Ori alone . . .’
Riley began to quake in terror, her lungs tightening with each sulphurous breath. She pulled her eyes away from Sartael’s endless torture and riveted them on the feet of one of the massive Fives in front of her, the claws on its toes as long as her arm.
Lucifer rose from his simple throne, his dark wings fully visible now. Lightning danced along the walls, arcing into the vaulted ceiling and then down to the ground itself in the throne behind him.
He pointed at Ori with the tip of his sword. ‘Seek my enemies and destroy them. Side with them and your punishment will be eternal. This is your last warning. Now be gone!’
Chapter Thirty
A hysterical sob brought Beck out of his dark thoughts. He leaped towards Riley as she wavered on her feet at the end of the bed. Taking her in his arms, he gasped at the overwhelming stench of sulphur.
She shook like a frightened kitten, sobbing uncontrollably, each breath a tortured wheeze.
‘I’m here, girl.’
Her eyes were consumed with abject fear, tears flowing from them in torrents.
‘Hell . . .’
Beck hefted Riley in his arms and carried her into the bathroom where he sat her on the edge of the bathtub. She instinctively bent over, trying to breathe as much oxygen as possible. The next breath grew tighter and he began to panic. What if she stopped breathing? What would he do?
He opened the window and then turned on the shower, hoping the fresh air and humidity might help. It was then he saw her right hand, the one with Hell’s inscription glowing a pale white. My God.
He knelt in front of her, making eye contact with the terrified girl.
‘Take a slow breath. OK, now another one. That’s good,’ he said, coaching her. Over time and with his patient coaxing, her breathing improved. When he felt she was doing better, he reached for the top button of her shirt.
‘Ya need a shower. It’ll warm ya up. Get rid of that . . . smell.’
Riley nodded and al
lowed him to help her undress. When only her underwear remained, he backed off.
‘I’ll let ya do the rest, OK?’ he said. ‘I’ll go make ya some hot chocolate. Ya need anything, call out.’
Beck reluctantly left her on her own. When he heard the shower door roll closed, he sagged against the wall outside the bathroom door.
Why had she been in Hell? What had Ori done to her?
I have to stop this. But how?
Riley took her time in the shower, like he’d hoped. When she stepped out, he had a warmed towel waiting and covered her so she wouldn’t feel so exposed in front of him. Then he had her stand in front of the sink as he gently towel-dried her hair and combed it. Those simple actions and the mug of hot chocolate seemed to calm her.
Every time life sucker-punched her she’d pulled herself up and kept going. It was one of the many traits he admired about her. But even Riley had a breaking point, and it appeared she’d just reached it.
‘That’s better,’ he said, trying to sound upbeat. ‘You smell like my girl again.’
Her reddened eyes met his in the mirror, her hands shaking so badly she could barely hold the mug.
‘Lucifer summoned us,’ she said in a roughened voice. ‘He was furious. He thinks Ori is after his throne.’
Beck forced himself not to react, unwilling to frighten her further. Instead, he urged her to drink more of the beverage. When she had, he placed the mug in the sink. ‘Let’s get you to bed. It’ll be warmer there.’
Riley offered no protest, but allowed him to dress her in one of his long T-shirts and then tuck her under the covers. He climbed in next to her and she clung to him.
‘Tell me what happened, all of it,’ he said.
In a halting voice Riley gave him the story, how she’d seen the demons and the dead souls and Sartael in chains.
‘I know what it’s like now,’ she said, her voice so faint he could barely hear her. ‘I’m going there when I die.’ She sobbed into his chest. ‘God, I’m so afraid. I don’t know what to do any more.’
Beck did. ‘In the mornin’ we’ll go to the masters, tell them everythin’. They’ll know how to handle this.’
