"You who were the demon Jezebel," Alecto said, her voice deceptively light, almost girlish, "open your eyes."
Licking my lips, I lowered my arm from my face and opened my eyes to stare at a wall of small television screens, stacked like bricks, one atop another—all on, the volume just north of inaudible, and all set to different channels. My vision blurred as I took in the thousands of programs: newscasts and talk shows and political commentary and stand-up routines. I distinctly felt my mind lurch. During the best of times, with Paul lying next to me on the lumpy sofa in his living room, I had trouble trying to follow the text crawler at the bottom of the 24-hour news network while paying attention to the pretty anchors. Trying to focus on even one of Alecto's television screens now was like trying to read every word in the dictionary at once while singing "The Star-Spangled Banner" in five languages simultaneously, in harmony with myself.
Gah.
My head throbbing, I turned away from the television wall to see a collage of thumbnail photographs—hundreds of thousands of them, colorful stills of people in mug shots and glamour poses, in candids and in formals, tacked to the adjacent wall. Each photo had a series of words printed beneath it. Names, I realized: for every photo, a name. Next to that came the bookshelves, teeming with books and tomes and magazines, words crammed into pages, those pages squished into covers, those covers squeezed onto thousands of shelves.
And then there were the maps. Hundreds of them, spread over every spare portion of wall not claimed by a picture or a television screen or a bookshelf: here a section detailing the villas in France; there, topographical drawings of the Australian Outback. From Darfur to Detroit, from Hong Kong to Helsinki, maps and plans and sketches of the corners of the world. If there was a color to the walls, it was long buried beneath televisual and static information. Data as wallpaper.
A ringing sounded in my ears, and my stomach threatened to revolt. Rather than explaining to my body that I couldn't vomit—I was dead, a soul without the need for food—I turned away from the televisions and pictures, to focus on the one piece of furniture in the room.
In the center of the floor sprawled a desk easily the size of a pregnant whale. Maybe it was a dining room table and not a desk—it was impossible to tell by its surface, which was completely littered with computers, books, and stacks of paper. Suspended behind the table, floating on nothing, was an enormous whiteboard. On it, in red, was a list. The first three items had check marks to the left of their entries.
√ Kingdom v. Kingdom
√ Nation v. Nation
√ Doctrines of Devils
Tribulation
Famine
Abomination
Earthquakes
Eternal Damnation = Salvation
I had a sinking suspicion these weren't new lyrics to INXS's "Mediate."
Amid the laptops and piles of books, the desk spoke. "I didn't think you were coming."
Standing on my toes, I tried to peer over the mountains of electronics and hardcovers. "Alecto? Erinyes, are you here?"
Mounds of papers were shoved aside, and a stack of books crashed to the hardwood floor, revealing a woman in her mid-thirties, her black hair coiled around her head in elaborate braids. Her exposed skin gleamed like olive oil beneath her rumpled white peasant blouse. A black scarf wrapped around her neck, its pattern mimicking snakeskin. Her lips pursed pencil thin, she stared at me, her large blue eyes so bloodshot that they nearly glowed. Exhaustion clouded her like perfume. I couldn't blame her; I was exhausted just looking around the office.
"Bless me," I said before I could stop myself, "you look horrible."
She smiled tightly. "I think I preferred you completely terrified and polite."
Whoops. I thought about falling to my knees and begging forgiveness, but I couldn't summon the fear to drive me. "I've come too far to be properly frightened, Erinyes."
That earned me a quiet laugh. "Death will do that, I suppose."
"It's a temporary condition."
"Perhaps." She shrugged, her bony shoulders jutting beneath the large shirt. "You're right. I look like shit. You try keeping tabs on all of Hell and most of Earth, see if you get any rest."
"What are you," I asked, "His secretary?"
She opened a desk drawer and tapped in a code, and all the television screens muted. "Majordomo, actually."
The epitome of never-ending fury, trapped behind a desk. I shook my head, marveling at this display of chutzpah on the King's part. Then again, I had to admit, however grudgingly, that it was a particularly smart move. If I were in charge, I couldn't think of a better creature to be my go-to person. The Erinyes all had an affinity for seeing the truth of things and for predicting the most likely future. Add to that their nearly unlimited power and how almost every creature in existence was completely terrified of them, and you had at your disposal the most important players in all of Creation, save the Devil and the Almighty. And that last was a toss-up; it was rumored that even God Himself gave the Furies a wide berth.
I said, "Your Queen must be thrilled." Lyssa, the bird-woman goddess of madness, wasn't exactly known for her generous spirit; she guarded her role as Queen of the Furies with a mad conceit that made the Arrogant look positively humble.
Alecto grimaced. "Her name isn't spoken here."
Ooh, dirt. "Problems?"
"That isn't your concern." She sighed, closed the cover of the laptop closest to her. "Blessed thing's giving me eyestrain."
"Why don't you change forms, switch into something with stronger eyesight?" Maybe the rabbit from Monty Python and the Holy Grail.
Her mouth twisted into a sneer. "Dress code. The King insists on human attire when in the office."
"Ah." Workplace rules could be such a bitch. "So, majordomo of the Underworld. Not too shabby. It would look nice on a business card."
She leaned back in her chair, watching me. "I can't decide if your glibness is refreshing or annoying."
"I have that effect on people." One thing about being pushed beyond the limits of my endurance: I got very stupid. Next thing you know, I'd be chasing after the Minotaur, waving a red hat and singing "Raspberry Beret."
But it wasn't just me pushing my luck with the Fury. If I stopped to think about what I was doing, what I intended to do, it would paralyze me. How was I supposed to free Meg from a punishment she believed to be just? So I stalled, hoping that I'd get struck by a brilliant idea. I asked Alecto, "Do the thirteen Kings answer to you?"
"Eleven Kings. And no."
I blinked. "Eleven? But there are thirteen Kings of Sin and Land…"
"There've been some changes here in the past month." She leaned forward, closed another computer. "Some larger than others."
Thinking of the ruined Wall and the softening borders between Sins, I shivered. "So I've heard."
"Different rulers have different styles, of course," she said, her elbow resting on the desk and her fist cupping her chin. "He is not the Light Bringer. And some here appreciate that. Boiling down the Ten Great Rules into One, well, some would say that's genius."
"Some would say that's the sign of a megalomaniac."
"Careful," she said.
It was too late for caution. " 'Obey your King, or be destroyed.' King Lucifer never had to spell out such threats."
"As I said, times are changing." She glanced at the silent wall of televisions. "Times have to change. The dance for the Devil has gotten more complicated."
"I've heard about some of your changes," I said, remembering the words of the Arrogant after he failed to entice Circe to suicide. "Demons actively encouraging people to sin, instead of waiting until they actually sin before claiming them for Hell. It's wrong."
She shrugged. "Right and wrong, Good and Evil. Black and white. It doesn't work like that. What it all comes down to is survival. The Almighty wants the world and its peoples to survive. And that means keeping the Devil distracted, no matter what the method."
"I've noticed." I motioned
to the televisions. "The news is full of goodies about genocide, homicide, patricide. A billion ides. Your doing?"
"To a degree. Humans have always excelled at Evil. Now we influence that Evil, help it along. Get them here that much quicker."
The irrationality behind the statement was enough to make my head spin. "Didn't it occur to you guys that the worse the mortals are on Earth, the more that will incite the Nameless One to watch Earth, to forget about the tortures of Hell?"
She stared at her hands. "All I can do is advise. I do not make the rules."
"The Rule," I said.
"Right." She paused, drumming her fingers on a stack of books. "He's still new to His role. With time, I think He would do an excellent job. There's a bloodlust to Him that even He hasn't acknowledged."
You are too soft.
Even now, that judgment cut me to the quick.
"But there isn't time." Alecto sighed, leaned back in her chair. "For all of His changes, for all His decrees, it isn't enough. The Nameless One grows bored. You've seen it in the headlines Above. Our influence is nothing compared to that of the Devil."
"So stop fucking around," I said. "Stop enticing people to sin. Save the creativity for Hell itself. Make this place a beacon for Evil, not a shadow of the mortal coil."
Something passed over her face, a string of emotions too quick to follow. Grimacing, she said, "My hands are tied."
"Bullshit. You're one of the most powerful entities in all of Creation. No one can tell you to do anything."
A smile quirked her lips: sour, devoid of mirth. "There are always rules, you who were Jezebel. Just because you broke them, don't think that others can blithely walk that path."
"Why can't you?"
Tears of blood seeped from her eyes, stained her cheeks. "We all do what we must."
Meg's words, Alecto's voice. I wrapped my arms around myself to keep from shivering. "So I've heard."
"I obey the King of Hell. That is the right thing."
My voice soft, I asked, "Is the right thing always the best thing?"
She stared at me, her eyes bleeding. Finally she said, "It's moot. Things are coming to a boil, far quicker than any had anticipated. At this rate, humans will destroy themselves in a matter of years rather than millennia." Alecto glanced at the checklist on the whiteboard.
Tasting bile on my tongue, I said, "If He's not up to the job, get another King."
"Sure," she said, a grim smile on her face. "Are you planning on telling the Almighty that He made a mistake when He reassigned the Light Bringer?"
Thinking about how Earth had morphed into a reflection of the Abyss, of how murder had become entertainment and other people's pain was a catharsis, I said, "I'm not even sure God exists anymore."
And to my surprise, Alecto nodded. "You and me both."
We looked at each other, a Fury chained to a desk and an ex-succubus chained to a soul. "You could always leave," I said.
She closed her eyes, a smile spreading across her face. "You had that choice. I do not. I have my duty."
We all do what we must.
I said, "That seems to be a nasty trait in your family."
"Perhaps." She opened her eyes, pierced me with her gaze. "Why did you decide to help me?"
"Because no matter how much Meg hurt me, I still love her." I opened my arms wide, palms up, trying to express with my hands why I had to act on that love. "She's my friend. I have to help her."
Pursing her lips, Alecto nodded. "Come," she said, rising to her feet. "I'll take you to her."
I frowned, waiting for the rest. This was where she would tell me about the bad-tempered dragon guarding her, or the roomful of lasers that I had to cross. Finally I said, "Just like that?"
Her bloody gaze meeting my eyes, she nodded again. "Just like that. My sister is in the next room."
We materialized somewhere else, and I teetered for a moment before I found my balance. I hated it when entities bamfed me around without any warning. It was murder on the inner ear.
Alecto's office had been lit by the television screens and a few standing halogen lamps; this room blazed from ten crystal candelabras dangling from the vaulted ceiling like a string of diamonds. Elaborate silver sconces dotted the walls, stuffed with fat white candles, the wicks glowing softly, their light mixing with that of the chandeliers: electric candlelight. At the peak of the rounded ceiling was a spec of red sky—a window, perhaps, or a skyway entrance into the chamber.
Vertigo washed over me, so I tore my gaze away from that tiny skylight, focused instead on what was eye-level. Two tiers of rectangular mirrors decorated with ivory thorns lined the long walls, stretching the huge room—easily fifteen meters all around—into something gargantuan. The marble floor and walls reflected the light, casting the entire room in a pearl opulence. I swallowed, uneasy. White had never been my favorite color.
The elite weren't big on furniture, I noticed. Here, as in Alecto's office, there was exactly one piece of furniture: directly before me stood a dais, three steps swathed in red velvet. On the top step sat a large marble chair, high-backed and wide, its arms and edges carved with the faces of lions snarling in attack, of bulls charging, of eagles with open beaks and talons, ready to do violence.
The throne of Hell. It looked as uncomfortable as I felt.
Above it, fastened to the wall directly over the seat of the Abyss…
… was Megaera.
Staring at the ruined form of my friend, I bit back a cry. She hung, spread-eagled, manacled to the wall by her wrists and ankles. Her body drooped from the weight of chains wrapping her limbs and torso like iron vipers. The small flashes of exposed skin on her arms and legs were charred, blackened with glimpses of oozing red. Her head hung low, her long brown hair a tangled curtain hiding her features. Only her aura—pale blue, pulsing weakly—proved her to be Meg, my Meg, a creature of patience and terror, of passion and steadfast duty.
My hand by my mouth, I whispered, "Meg."
She lifted her head, and this time I did cry out. Blood streaked from the holes where her eyes had been. Fixing those empty sockets on me, Meg spoke, her voice a harsh rasp. "Jezzie."
"Oh, you stupid thing," I said, running up to her, "what did you let Him do to you?" I strode up the dais, climbed onto the marble throne and reached up, touched her bare foot hanging over my head. The toenails had been plucked out, and spikes had been driven into her feet. Overkill, I thought numbly—the manacles were enough to fasten her body to the wall. The only purpose of the nails had been to inflict even more pain.
How long had she subjected herself to torture, all because of me?
Meg spoke again, her words lacerating me like hot blades. "You shouldn't have come."
"I know," I said, wondering if Angel could heal Meg's wounds, soothe her spirit. "After what you did to me, I should have left you here to rot."
She sighed, a sound of defeat. "No. You shouldn't have come because it's a trap."
Chapter 20
The Throne Room
I frowned up at Meg, hanging like a piece of performance art. "Be quiet. I'm here to rescue you."
"Jezzie," she said. "I'm so sorry."
"Hush. I need to think." It hit me then that I had no idea how I was supposed to free her, let alone return to the mortal coil. Mental note: Finish planning the rescue before executing it.
Meg said, "Please, go. Go before He comes."
"I'm not leaving you. Now shut up." What would my White Knight do? I reached out with my power, tried to unlock the chains, but something slapped me away like a metaphysical demon swatter.
Crap.
"Sire," Alecto said from behind me, "she is here, as promised."
YES.
The voice exploded in my mind, tore through me like shrapnel. I fell backward, barely felt the impact of crashing to the floor. My hands fisted against my head, tried to muffle the reverberating sound.
I AM COMING.
Those words thundered, building in my mind until th
ey were the roar of stars colliding, bursting in a supernova to rock the rim of Creation. Curled like a fetus, I chewed my lip to keep from shrieking.
Fuuuuuck.
His words echoed, then gradually faded, but the air remained charged from their power—the fine hairs on my body stood on end and electricity kissed my body, crackling softly as it traveled up my spine, my skull. Arms wrapped over my head, I shook with aftershocks of agony. Unholy Hell, I hurt all over. It felt like my brain was about to rapture. Fine with me, just please do it fast.
Through the lingering pain, I distinctly heard Alecto sigh. "He has a tendency to overcompensate."
I couldn't answer her; I was too busy trying to keep my brains from leaking out of my ears.
Above me, Meg whispered, "Perhaps you should tell Him that."
Alecto sniffed. "He already has one wall hanging. I'm not eager to add to His art collection."
"Jezzie, please. Run."
"Too late," Alecto said. "From the moment she first ran, it was too late."
Grinding my teeth to keep from screaming, I stared up at Alecto. Nothing on her face registered any guilt. "You asked me to save your sister." My voice was a raw wound, seeping with hurt, both physical and emotional. How could she have betrayed me?
"I asked many things." Blood gleamed in her blue eyes, turning her gaze a royal purple. "I asked Daunuan to entice you back, and he was all too happy to agree. I asked Lillith to force you back, and once I healed her, she swore on her name to do whatever it took. Between the three of us, I knew you would once again return to Hell."
Black spots swam in the edges of my vision, and I felt my heart shrivel. They'd played me. All of them. Daun and Lillith, I could understand—whether lust for sex or lust for revenge, I could understand obsessive desire. But Alecto? "Why?"
"I promised our sovereign ruler that I would deliver you to Him, Jesse Harris, willingly, in exchange for my sister's freedom."
My throat tight, I asked again, "Why?"
The Fury smiled grimly. "While you are here, at His mercy, He will be distracted. And then I can do His job, far better than He. I can put Hell back to where it needs to be."
The Road to Hell Page 22
