Digging to Hell (The Gravedigger Series Book 3)

by Willie E. Dalton

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © 2018 Willie Dalton

  No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database retrieval system without the prior written permission of the author. You must not circulate this book in any format. Thank you for respecting the rights of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Edited by Lessa Lamb

  Cover & Interior Design by We Got You Covered Book Design

  www.authorwilliedalton.com

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  The Story Continues…

  About the Author

  “Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”

  ― William Shakespeare

  I’m calm now; the days of fighting where I am are past. I’ve come to accept my situation. I’m not dying—the dead can’t die again. I can’t starve, since the dead technically don’t need food, and I’ve adjusted to not having water. It also doesn’t matter how much or how little I breathe; I can’t run out of oxygen because it’s all an illusion.

  What I can do is plan: I can plan for the day I’m released from this coffin, and the revenge that will fall on the whole of the underworld. I will be released, be it hours, days, or years from now. He will let me out, or my friends will find me. Either way, I’ve learned, in life and death, that everything is temporary.

  When Persephone asked me to stand in for her as queen of the underworld, I jumped at the chance. After all, who wouldn’t want to be queen, even for just a little while? She made it sound so simple, and I was to have Thaddeus as my advisor in case things got complicated.

  The souls that had been misplaced were being rounded up in the other afterlives after Rasputin’s little game. And soon I would have my love, Raphael, back with me, and could resume serving my death sentence. However I had missed a very important detail in the otherwise simple plan: Hades.

  I knew that Persephone was married to Hades, and I knew how that marriage came to be. I was educated in mythology and world religions, although I was hardly a scholar on the subject. Ray, my adoptive father, had many books from around the world that I had skimmed all throughout my life. Yet, I never asked Persephone where said husband might be, or the role he could play in the underworld. It was stupid on my part—quite possibly the most mindless thing that I’ve ever done. The truth was, I still couldn’t comprehend that she was honest to goodness goddess, nor could I absorb the fact that even more gods and mythological beings were running around. Vampires, sure… zombies, okay—but surely Thor wasn’t chilling at the local hardware store selling hammers.

  But my lack of belief hadn’t saved me: it didn’t make him any less real, it just made me very unprepared, and left me wide open for attack.

  When Hades came to see his bride before she took her annual journey to the world of the living, he was not expecting to find me… although he wasn’t disappointed. He informed me of the agreement between himself and Persephone: that whoever was sitting queen while she was away was to serve as queen in all ways, as she herself would do.

  I can still see the events playing like a movie in my mind’s eye: Hades standing in front of me, untying the black robe that he wore and letting it fall to the ground. His body was chiseled in a way that you would imagine a Greek god’s would be, but his olive skin had an unnatural pallor that made him look almost sickly. His hair hung nearly to his shoulders in thick black waves, and his beard was as equally impressive. At first I thought his eyes were icy blue, or even white; but when I saw my own fear reflected back at myself, I realized they were mirrors. He was an awesome sight to behold: beautiful, and terrifying.

  He moved in towards me, and I couldn’t seem to resist. My mind screamed at me to fight, but I reasoned that Persephone herself had lost this battle against him—why should I even try? I wished she had warned me.

  I closed my eyes and turned my head, so I didn’t have to watch myself face him as he pulled me in. He caught my face in his hand, and then his lips were on mine, forcing my mouth open to his. I summoned the strength to push him enough to say, “No.”

  Hades laughed a deep and haughty sound. “You can’t say that to me, little one. You are my wife now, for ALL intents and purposes.” He looked me up and down.

  “I was not aware of this arrangement. I will turn over the crown and leave at once,” I said, forcing myself to sound a little stronger.

  “I’m afraid that’s no longer your call to make,” he said, and ran his fingers down the side of my neck. He kissed my cheek, and I shivered. “See, you respond to my touch—this won’t be so bad.”

  I stepped back and he let me. “You are attractive, Hades, and I’m sure you are a skilled lover. But you belong to Persephone, and I am no one’s to be taken without giving my consent.”

  He smirked at me, and nodded. “I see: a modern woman. I’ve heard about those.”

  For a moment I thought we were going to come to an understanding, and I smiled back at him.

  He stepped forward and all humor was gone from his face. “The modern ways are not MY ways, and I rule here.” He grabbed my wrist so hard that I heard something pop, and I screamed.

  He was pulling me towards him, despite my pitious noises, and then I heard growling… lots of growling—deep vicious sounds, like a pack of wolves had just entered the room.

  I couldn’t recall seeing animals in the underworld since I had been here. I forced one eye open, not sure if my situation could get any worse, and saw a huge, black, three-headed dog standing in the doorway. Its glossy ebony fur shone in the light, and all of the heads were showing teeth and snarling.

  “Cerberus!” Hades called. “What is wrong with you?”

  The dog growled and barked; the fur on the back of all three necks stood straight up as the dog readied itself to attack.

  Hades glared down at me and my arm in his grip. I was silent now, but tears from the pain were still falling from my eyes. He seemed as confused as me about which one of us the dog wanted to attack.

  The dog was suddenly closer to us, yet in the same position he had been in in the doorway, still growling, with long trails of drool hanging down the sides of its mouths. Only now the dog’s eyes were locked on Hades.

  “What is wrong with you, Cerberus?” Hades asked again; this time his voice was softer. “You have never turned on me in such a way. You are loyal to me, my dearest friend.”

  The dog stopped snarling, and then one head whimpered at his master, looked at me, and back to Hades.

  “Why is it important to you that I not harm the girl? She is in my land under my rules. I can do with her as I wish.” He tightened his grip once more, and another cry of pain escaped my lips.

  The dog jerked its heads to me once more and narrowed its eyes; this time a small growl trickled from its lips.
>
  Hades looked completely baffled. “Dear friend,” he said to the dog, “if you feel this strongly about it there must be a reason. I will not harm her.”

  My heart jumped in my chest, and I wanted to run to the great beast that had saved me and throw my arms around it—I’d always been a dog person anyway.

  “However, I can’t let her go unpunished,” Hades finished. He looked to the dog. “If she will not submit to my rules, she is to be entombed until she comes to our way of doing things.”

  I was hoping Cerberus would eat him. Instead, I was suddenly in the arms of two other men, being escorted out of the palace, and dragged through the underworld.

  I remember entering an area that I had never seen before. There were spirits roaming, hovering just above the ground. Their faces were death-masks, with sunken cheeks, and their hollow eyes filled with desperation when they stared at—or maybe it was through—me. They frightened me, and that’s when I closed my eyes. I only opened them once more when Hades spoke to me.

  “Helena, this can end whenever you want. All you need to do is call out to me and I will release you.”

  The room I was in was cold and damp, with only a sliver of light shining in from high above. His eyes cast my reflection back at me, and I could see myself lying in a stone coffin. I knew what the terms of my release would be, and I would be lying to say I didn’t consider it, but I said nothing.

  I heard the sound of the top sliding into place: the grinding noise of stone against stone—the darkness growing darker, inch by inch. I remained silent and stoic, even as the tiniest gap closed.

  When I was certain they had all left the room, I gasped for air and clawed at the stone until my already short nails were bloody—and I screamed.

  I knew my best friend Grace would get suspicious if she didn’t hear from me. She had known Boude was missing almost instantly when Rasputin had left him on the other side of the wall. Maybe she would get Boude and Andreas to help her search. My mind flickered to Soren and Billy, and I wondered if she would go to them for help as well.

  Soren’s wife, Eira, was one of the souls Thaddeus was planning to bring back. If he had already returned with her, I didn’t know if Soren would still be willing to help me—or even if he would still be in the fields where Grace could find him. Soren had been my boss, my friend, and my lover. He was my own Viking, big and strong, right down to his blonde beard and icy steel eyes. Soren had been my savior here in this new world—I had loved him, and he had loved me. It was an honor to be the first woman he had loved since death had parted him from his wife. But when the soul files were located and his wife was found, along with that of my Raphael, we knew our time was up. I couldn’t believe he wouldn’t still help me if he knew I was in danger, but I also didn’t want to wait for a knight in shining armor who wouldn’t come.

  If Grace went to the other vampires, Boude and Andreas, they would likely help out of obligation, since I had helped them before. But I wasn’t sure how many stones they would turn over before giving up.

  No, I couldn’t count on anyone finding me. As angry as I was with Persephone for leaving me here without so much as a hint to Hades’s wrath, I did have hope that she would find and release me when she returned from the above world. But all of these scenarios relied on others, and I just wasn’t OK with that.

  Ray’s voice played in my head: “Hel, above everything, make sure you can count on yourself.”

  Ray had raised me to be fiercely self-reliant. He would be disappointed in me if I were to just lie here and not take some kind of action—though currently I was at a loss for what exactly I should be doing. I had pushed against the top of the tomb for hours, and it hadn’t budged. I had pushed against all sides of the stone coffin, and nothing moved even a millimeter. I had screamed for help, and not a single soul had answered. What was left to do?

  I tried to think about what I had on my person, maybe in my pockets, or a hair pin in my hair. I tried to recall every T.V. show I had watched where someone had escaped a situation like the one I was in. Nothing was quite like my situation; I didn’t remember a show where someone was entombed by the god of the underworld somewhere in his basement.

  The sound of the top sliding into place echoed through my head once more, and a thought occurred to me. Maybe I shouldn’t be pushing against it, but trying to slide it back down.

  I put my hands against the top of the rough stone, and had just enough room to put my feet in the same position. The stone was rough against the soles of my feet, and I wished they had left my workboots on me. It was hard to make the sliding movement without pushing up too much on the top. It needed to be steady, even pressure that slid straight back. After each try, I made adjustments to my position to try to get better leverage. On my twelfth attempt, I felt it move.

  It was only the tiniest of movements. There was no visible change, but I felt it move, and if I could do it once, I could do it again.

  I tried until my arms burned and legs cramped. The palms of my hands were torn from pressing into the the rough stone, but that was OK. I could rest and try again. I had made it move, and I had all the time in the world to work on it.

  I smiled to myself. I was going to get myself out of this box, and now I could rest a little easier. I closed my eyes and drifted in and out of consciousness, imagining the Hell I was going to stir up when I got out of here.

  For every hundred tries, the lid moved a fraction of an inch. My palms and feet felt like raw meat, but I had light now—just a sliver: a shining glimmer of hope in all of the darkness.

  I had no idea how much time was passing, or any of the events that had transpired since I had been entombed. Is Hades ruling the underworld? Are my friends trying to find me, or do they even know yet that I’m missing?

  I wondered if Thaddeus was back with the souls, with Raphael and Eira. Surely when he sees that I’m not in the palace, he’ll go to Persephone. How are Soren—and Billy? I missed my friends and their company, even the beautiful, egotistical, golden-haired vampire, Andreas.

  My hands were sticky with drying blood, as I wiggled my fingers and clenched and unclenched my fists to try to keep them flexible. They ached with the movement, but it wasn’t unbearable. It was surprising what you could endure when you knew you couldn’t die or develop a lethal infection.

  More time, more tries. The lid was just past eye level. I could look straight up and slightly behind me, though the sides of the coffin were too high to look far to the left or right. I was excited. The ceiling was so tall I couldn’t be sure if I was looking at it, or just the shadow. The stream of light I had seen was from a small window, up so high that no one would consider scaling the slick walls to try to escape.

  Once I had been able to get my fingers around the edge of the lid, I knew the work would go much faster, and it did, by comparison. But it was still damn heavy, and I still couldn’t get very far with each try. I smiled at the thought of being able to sit up soon, though. It really was the little things.

  With the next attempts, I was able to get the lid down past my nose. It felt like the track the top was on was more worn there, and it slid easily for second or two... until it didn’t. Even though my luck was short-lived, I was grateful to raise my head and breathe in the cool damp air from the room.

  I sighed with relief and let out a small giggle. Then I told myself how well I was doing, since most people in solitary confinement go a little mad—then I realized I was basically having a full-on conversation with myself, and promptly shut up.

  I almost laughed at myself again: maybe I was going mad, and just didn’t realize it. What if I was dreaming everything up until this point, and this is death? This coffin... this room... What if I managed to free myself, only to wake up in it once more, over and over. I really was losing it.

  I had just started trying to push the top back further, when I heard something.

  Up until now the only sounds I had heard were the ones I had made. My screams, my scratches, my crying and
half-crazed laughter had been the only disturbances to echo from these walls.

  My body froze and my breathing stopped. My heart pounded, and I didn’t think my sense of hearing had ever been so sharp.

  Footsteps. I was definitely hearing footsteps making their way towards this room. Voices—loud voices that I didn’t recognize… the one doing the most talking was female. There was one, possibly two, other people in the group (judging from the voices that I heard), but strangely only the footfalls of one person.

  I struggled with whether or not I should try to close the lid back over my tomb. That would mean undoing all of my hard work—and I wasn’t even sure I could, on such short notice. The thought of doing all of that again made me nauseous. However if someone came in here and saw that I was trying to escape, I didn’t know what kind of punishment I would be in for—and this time, the dog might not be able to save me.

  I heard the heavy door open and the sound the people walking inside. Time was up; the lid was staying open. Shit.

  I kept waiting to see a face looking over the side of the coffin, or for someone to simply slide the top back into place—or a voice saying my name... But the female voice only spoke to her companions.

  “When we go through that door, we need to be fast and thorough. Open the gates, and get out of the way,” she ordered. Her voice was was distinctly female, and had an Australian accent.

  I heard the eerie creaking sound of another door opening, and then the footsteps and voices were distant once more. They hadn’t been looking for me.