by Clare Kauter
Dick noticed my staring. “I’m innocent,” he whimpered. “Please help me.”
“Yeah right,” I said. “And hell no.”
“I’m going to die in here.”
“That’s what happens. You live, you die. If you murder someone in the middle, you go to prison and die there.”
“Are you enjoying this?”
“What – The Department watching someone else’s every move for a change?” I frowned and tapped a finger on my lips as if I had to think about it. “Why, I believe I am.”
“It’s horrible here,” he croaked. “The walls are closing in and the air is hung with so many wards that you can’t do any magic at all.”
“Dick, your magic was never anything to write home about. I’m sure you’ll survive.” I frowned. “For a while, at least.”
“Why are you here?” Dick asked. “To gloat?”
I shrugged. “Partly that. Partly to find out where you hid it.”
Dick frowned. “Hid what?”
“You know what.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know,” he insisted. “I’m innocent.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Let’s try again. Why did you do it?”
“I didn’t!”
“It looked like you were using the sacrifice to channel some pretty bad energy,” I said. “Must be a very dark spell. Could invoke something dangerous. It would be good if you could tell me what that was so we could stop it. I’d imagine that’s the kind of thing that The Department looks favourably upon.”
“I didn’t do it!” he cried. Like, literally cried. Tears and all. Pathetic. “I’m a creature of the light. I can’t do dark magic.”
I sighed. He was no help at all. “For fuck’s sake, Dick. You’ve seen the kind of magic I can do, right? I could have done that to you earlier and I didn’t. Give me something.”
Dick frowned, staring at me for a moment. “They think you’re him.”
“Him?” I repeated incredulously. “As in God?”
“No,” said Dick. “Him.”
I rolled my eyes. Great, that cleared that up. Then a thought occurred to me. “Do you mean the king?”
His eyes widened and he leaned towards me. “Is it true?”
I looked at him in disbelief. “No, it’s not. Obviously. I’m female for starters. Not your usual king material.”
He leaned back. “I knew it couldn’t be true.”
We were interrupted by familiar voices making their way through the prison. I looked out to the corridor and found Henry, Hecate and Daisy. They all frowned in confusion at the sight of me.
“I was hoping Dick might tell me what ritual he used that sacrifice for,” I said. Which was true. Kind of. “If it’s something dangerous I figured I’d better get started on the clean up.”
They nodded. “And?” asked Hecate.
I shook my head. “Nothing. He’s all yours.”
Chapter Fourteen
What now? I was back outside the prison, unchaperoned and unburdened by The Department’s demands for the first time in more than a month. I was free. And yet I was unable to enjoy it.
The conversation with Dick was playing on my mind. I didn’t believe his story about being innocent, but the bit when he’d asked if I was ‘him’ kept replaying in my head. Obviously I knew I wasn’t a guy. What did The Department think? That I was this man who called himself ‘the king’ in disguise? Was there someone else who had the same kind of powers as me? Someone of my kind? I needed answers.
Ed had told me as much as he could within the boundaries of the secrecy spell and everyone else was being super cagey about it. There was only one other person who might be able to help – and I use the word ‘person’ loosely. Technically he was a soul, formerly a satyr. Krampus, also known as Santa Claus. And now that I was in the dungeon district, I knew he couldn’t be far away. Disobeying Satan again was a bad idea, but maybe she was busy enough with filming that she wouldn’t notice… I took a deep breath, and instead of turning left to head back to the main part of the city, I turned right, further into the belly of the true Hell.
I hadn’t made it more than three steps when suddenly I found myself enveloped in a black cloud. I screamed and raised my arms, steeling myself for an attack.
“Calm down,” said a voice. “I’m trying to stop you from getting hurt.”
I lowered my hands. “Death?”
That would explain the cloud of black. He’d pulled me into a void, outside time and space, where Satan couldn’t see or hear us.
“Behind you.”
I turned. He was dressed in more clothes than last time I’d seen him, this time wearing a faded pair of blue jeans, lace up boots and a T-shirt with a cartoon pig on the front of it. I hadn’t seen him in a cloak for a while and wondered when he actually did his work. Then I remembered the time travel thing.
“Cute shirt,” I said, “but what exactly are you doing?”
“Saving your arse,” said Death. “Did you really think you could get into the dungeons without Satan noticing?”
I crossed my arms. “I might have if you let me try.”
Death massaged his temples. “You may be her favourite human, Nessa, but she is still the devil. Doing something she explicitly told you not to is foolhardy.”
“She’s busy with the reality TV show today,” I said. “I thought she’d be too distracted to notice.”
“There are alarms about two steps further up the street,” said Death. “You can’t sneak into the dungeons unnoticed.”
I bit my lip. I hadn’t known that. “Oh.”
“Exactly. She would not have been impressed with being interrupted from a day of filming by you deciding to break into the one area in the city you’re not allowed to go. Again.”
“Right. Well, thank you for stopping me.”
I expected Death to take us back onto the street, but we remained in the void.
“You were going to speak to Krampus, weren’t you?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Why?”
“I just spoke to Dick,” I said. “He seems to think I have something to do with the king. I was hoping to get some answers from Krampus.”
Death nodded. “I understand your curiosity, but – and this is just my opinion – maybe you’d be better off conducting your research in the library rather than by breaking into Satan’s maximum security torture chambers.”
I folded my arms. Death was starting to sound like Ed. “I just want to know what I am.”
“I get that,” said Death, “but maybe you’re not ready to know yet.”
“Why? What’s wrong with me?”
He raised his eyebrows. “You keep killing people by accident.”
“I didn’t kill Dick today when I could have!”
“Not killing someone when you could have is kind of a low bar to set for yourself.”
“I just meant that I’m learning to control it,” I said. “Maybe if I know what I am then I’ll be able control it better.”
“Maybe you need to learn to control it before you learn what you are,” he said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means…” He sighed and shook his head. “If you want to know more, then there are easier ways than visiting the depths of Hell.”
“Like reading books?”
“Exactly. Though I really wish you’d thought of that yourself before embarking on this gung-ho plan.”
I folded my arms. “I’m sorry if I’m starting to behave strangely. It’s just that no one will tell me anything and it’s getting really annoying,” I said. “Am I some weird mutant species? Is that why no one will tell me?”
Death smiled. “Don’t come down here again. I might not be here to save you next time.”
Chapter Fifteen
As per Death’s suggestion, rather than continue on my mission to visit Krampus in the torture palace, I made my way back into the
main drag of Hell and headed for the city library. It was an ornate old building with those pillars out the front that have fancy swirly decoration at the top. I ran up the front steps trying to look casual and failing. Given that both Death and Ed had suggested I conduct my research here, I was hoping there would be masses of books inside that could tell me what I was and how to control my powers. Yes, it was a long shot (I’d been here many times before and never stumbled across any such tomes), but a girl could dream.
It was a huge library. Three storeys, each with expansive floor space. I’d spent a lot of hours here in my youth, studying up on the dark arts – necromancy and the like – under Satan’s tutelage, but I hadn’t been back in a while. Still, that meant I knew where all the different categories of books were kept as well as the best places to study them undisturbed. The bottom floor wasn’t of much interest to me – encyclopaedias, light magic, demonlore, history and some of the cushy dark magic texts. The second floor was similarly uninteresting. The place I really wanted to visit was the top floor, which was only accessible via a hidden staircase.
Tourists often came to the library searching for the legendary hidden passageway to the secret section of the library, but they never found it. They always assumed it was behind a bookcase with a trick book, and hordes of them would work together, pulling out every book on every shelf (at least until they go bored of it about ten minutes in) to try and find it. The thing was, it wasn’t behind a bookcase. It was hidden behind a portrait, and non-magicals wouldn’t be able to get through anyway. In fact, even light types couldn’t get in. It required a small burst of dark magic to open it. I was combination, so it opened for me, but Henry, Daisy or Hecate wouldn’t be able to come in. I wondered for a moment if Dick would be able to get through. Sure, he was technically a light type, but he’d been performing dark rituals. I didn’t know the exact criteria for entry. Not that it really mattered at this point – Dick was never going to have the chance to come here again.
I made my way to the portrait, looking over my shoulder to make sure that no one was watching me, and swung the painting out on its hinge like a door. I ran my hand over the stone wall behind the painting slowly, leaving behind a small trace of energy the way a snail leaves a slimy trail in its wake. The wall rippled in response to my touch. I pushed a hand through the wall just to test it had opened properly, then stepped all the way inside. It was like pushing through a wall of goo, but without it leaving any residue on you at the end. It was an unusual and not particularly pleasant sensation, but it only lasted a moment. The portrait automatically shut behind me and the wall re-solidified.
Once inside, I took my phone from my pocket and turned on the torch to light my way as I climbed the staircase to the top floor. When I reached the other end I exited the door and found myself in a glass ceilinged room. I felt around for energy, but found none. There was no one here but me. Excellent.
I hurried to the reference shelf and pulled out the Encyclopaedia of Shadow Arts, Volume 5, DE-DU to check on the Doomstone. I also grabbed Volume 12, KE-KO to check on ‘king’, though I knew it was a long shot. I was going to spend all day reading about random members of royalty and people who called themselves kings, just hoping that something would strike a chord. I decided to start with the Doomstone since it seemed more manageable. Plus, it seemed to be connected with me somehow, so maybe I’d find out something about what king I was looking for in the Doomstone entry.
I carried the two huge tomes over to my favourite table – the one right under the glass dome – and plonked them down on the table. As soon as it sensed my presence, the candle sitting in the middle of the table flared, illuminating the desk. It was brighter than a regular candle, thanks to the hellfire it burned with, so I didn’t have to strain my eyes to read by its light. I opened the first book and flicked through to the entry on the Doomstone.
Bingo.
According to this entry, the Doomstone was the head of a collection of objects imbued with powerful properties by a mythical figure in the early 200s. It was the strongest of the lot, and the other objects could be used to find it, blah blah blah. I already knew most of that. The bit that interested me was towards the end of the passage.
There has been much speculation on what the other objects may be, and rumours of their existence continue to circulate. Perhaps the most famous of these companion items is an object said to be the key to unlocking the Damnation.
The key to unlocking the Damnation. I had no idea what that meant, of course, but it was a start. Was it a literal key or a metaphorical key? What even was the Damnation? I had no idea, and when I checked volume four to find out I found nothing. It wasn’t a lot, but I was on the right track. Now I knew what to look out for as I kept researching. I wished that the book had told me who exactly the mythical figure was who had created the items, but I was sure I’d come across it as I kept investigating.
What now? I decided to check just how many entries there were for ‘king’ in volume 12, but I stopped counting at 47. Right. That was a job for another day.
Next I grabbed a copy of Dark Magicks and searched through for any rituals that described the kinds of injuries Gnawlack had sustained. Nothing. I tried The Art of Murder and Sacrifice and again found nothing other than a couple of handy tips on how to get blood out of clothing.
I pulled book after book from the shelves and read as much as I could, trying to identify the ritual Dick had performed. I was so lost in my work that at first I didn’t even notice I had company. Then I saw something move in my periphery.
“Aaah – oh, for Satan’s sake, Ed,” I said. “Why do you have to be such a lurky weirdo?”
“I didn’t want to interrupt,” said Ed. “It looked like you were in a zone.”
He took the Doomstone from his pocket and returned it to me. I took it and slid it into my pocket, feeling much more comfortable now that I could feel its familiar pressure against my leg.
“Find anything?” Ed asked.
“A little,” I said. “Do you know anything about the Damnation?”
Ed shrugged. “I’ve heard the word, read it a couple of times, but as far as I can tell no one really knows what it means.”
I nodded. “Right. Well, apparently some people think that one of the companions is the key to unlocking the Damnation.”
“Literal key or figurative key?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But it’s a start, right?”
“Right,” said Ed. “I’ll start looking up magical keys and see if I can find anything.”
He walked over to the bookshelves and pulled out a couple of volumes, returning to the table. We each pored over the books for hours, only stopping to get up and to check a reference or pick up a new book occasionally before getting right back to it.
The buzzing of my phone on the desk interrupted us. I glanced at the readout. Henry. I suddenly felt inexplicably guilty, possibly due to the company I was keeping. I answered the phone, trying to sound normal and not like I was holed up with a known fugitive brushing up on my dark magic.
“Hello?”
Chapter Sixteen
“Ness, it’s Henry.” There was that heart flutter again. In conjunction with pangs of guilt. It is not a combination I would recommend, if you were wondering.
“Hey,” I said in a totally normal voice. Cough. “What’s up?”
Henry sighed. “We’ve been questioning Dick for hours and yet he keeps saying he’s innocent. Daisy and Hecate are still with him, but I couldn’t take it anymore.”
“How can he be protesting his innocence when we have him on camera with the body? Does he not realise that that’s pretty much incontrovertible evidence?”
“I know,” Henry replied. “But he’s insisting that he just found the body in the alleyway, got scared and ran away in a panic.”
“That’s ridiculous. Why would anyone be in that alleyway other than to dump a body?”
“You realise I found you there, right?”
�
��Well, apart from me. And you.”
Henry laughed quietly. “Anyway, I was hoping we could maybe cross-reference the time stamp on the video with the estimated time of death just to see if there’s a chance he’s telling the truth.”
“You think there is?”
“Not really, but we should check it out anyway.”
My thoughts drifted back to when I’d spoken to Dick earlier. I’d wondered at the time how he could possibly have eaten the eyeballs out of Gnawlack’s skull with his teeth, but I’d mostly just put it down to determination. Still, it seemed a stretch. There was also the matter of how a light dweller would know the kind of dark magic I was having trouble finding information about it the restricted section of Satan’s library.
I sighed. I had my doubts about Dick’s guilt now too. Unless we could get him to confess or find some other piece of evidence that corroborated our theory, we should keep investigating.
“OK. Meet me at the offices in ten minutes.”
Henry walked into the office holding two takeaway mugs of coffee shortly after I arrived. The room was still in disarray from our earlier capturing of Dick, so he had to pick his way around the puddle Daisy had left (as well as chair debris from his own takedown move) to get to my desk. He sat down beside me, handing me a soy latte.
“Thanks,” I said, taking a sip.
“No problem,” he said. “So, how do we got about this?”
“Well, we can’t really go off the times written into the files because the camera isn’t set to Hell time and we don’t know what time zone it is. If I had it here I could check, but that seems a bit iffy.” And also involved maths. “The better option would be if we could somehow pick up the time from something in the video. A clock through one of the windows or something like that.”
