Hecate's Spell

by Lacey Carter Andersen

  I shake the thought away. Shades are born into this world from violence, not a mother and father. The gold in her eyes must have been a trick of my mind.

  Besides, I have bigger things to worry about.

  A skeleton guard stands at the end of the hall. Flesh hangs from his body, meaning he probably hasn’t been one of Hades’s minions for long, and his bones have been sharpened to find points, better than any swords. As I approach the door, he moves and unlocks it, then opens it wide. My hands curl into fists, and I continue weaving through the halls of cells as door after door opens in front of me. At last, the final door opens, and I walk out into the main part of the Underworld.

  Two paths stand before me, one to the shores of the river of the dead, the mighty Styx herself, and one up to the top of the wall and the gate that separate the shore from the Underworld. I choose the path going onto the wall because it doesn’t matter. Both roads lead to hell here. The scents of brimstone and a copper that can only be blood always hang heavy in the air. Down here, no wind sweeps through. There are no trees. No grass. No sun. It’s just bleak nothingness.

  “The gargoyle returns!” The shrill voice rolls down my spine, but long ago I learned to not react.

  The shade leaps down from the wall. Around her throat is a silver thread, and blood leaks from the thread down her chest. Her hair is long and purple and her face is pale and inhuman, almost cruelly beautiful, like all the shades. This creature, a servant of Hades, brings the worst of the humans down here and delivers them to Hades to torture. She, and the other shades, are vile creatures incapable of empathy of any kind. And I dread even looking at them.

  Another shades leaps down beside her and cocks her head, her purple eyes glowing. “What soul will you torture today?”

  I don’t answer them. I just continue walking along the stone wall, staring straight ahead. The wall is lined by torches that flicker and change colors from red to an equally eerie blue. Harpies linger in the shadows, and the shades gather here between their trips to the human world. Skeleton guards stand silently along the path, staring out at the river’s shore and saying nothing.

  A shade leaps into my path. “Why don’t you speak to us, gargoyle?”

  I grasp her by the throat, and a tiny squeak slips past her lips. Moving her to the side, I release her, then keep going. It’s strange how much I’ve changed. One of the most important rules that gargoyles follow is to not hurt women, but I’d had to change my views since coming here. Hecate is a woman, not a monster, and deserves to be treated as such. And there is nothing about the shades that deserve tenderness and care.

  Except for perhaps the one who had come down here and befriended Hecate.

  And the strange one in the cell.

  Often I wonder if my brother saw me now, would he agree with my changing views? But just as quickly, I hope that he would. Hecate is my mate, forever. I’d told her that when my brother came, we’d share her as our wife, but she’d thought the notion was strange. My brother, though, would understand that me choosing a mate means that I have chosen a mate for both of us, and he’d have to come to terms with the fact that she is a monster.

  And that if he can’t lover her, he’d lose me.

  Something I can’t bear to even think about.

  As I get closer to the center of the wall, a shiver rolls down my spine. Usually I try to keep my gaze straight ahead here, but today I can’t help myself. As if I’m being pulled by a power greater than myself, I move to the edge of the wall that overlooks the Underworld. And the second I focus on it, all the horror of the place seems to come crashing out at me.

  Below me, spreading out for miles upon miles, are the various places that people are being tortured. The cries, screams, and moans of the dead supernaturals and humans rise up like a chorus. I flinch at the sound of a whip. I curl further over myself as a scream grows and grows in volume and intensity until it cuts off.

  I’ve seen nearly every inch of this place. I can picture in perfect clarity what is being done down below. My feet propel me backwards, and the instant my gaze returns to the stone of the wall, the sounds die down. I’m panting as I turn around and look out across the river on the other side. The shore is covered in bones and black sand. The river is filled with white souls. And the ferryman, in his dark cloak, ferries the dead across. At least the dead who can pay the price. On the other shore, lost souls lineup. But they’ll be waiting there forever.

  “You need to accept it, gargoyle.”

  I stiffen as the low, quiet voice emerges from the shadows, but I don’t look back at the harpy.

  “This is the Underworld. It doesn’t matter that your circumstances were unfair. You’re never getting out.”

  The shades are cruel, loud, and shrill. Like a pack of cackling hens, their voices are as annoying as nails sliding down a chalkboard. But they bother me less than the harpies. Because the women, with their ability to shift into birds, have a quiet way of making my life miserable. A way of peeking into my soul and poking at the vulnerable places.

  But still, my gaze lingers on the far shore. For a long time, I had sensed my brother. I had been sure he was coming to save Hecate and I. But I haven’t felt him for even longer. I should’ve told Hecate, but hope is the only thing she has left. I can’t take it away from her.

  If she feels the way I do, if she knows I have lost faith that my brother has ever planned to come for us, she would feel the way I do now. Like eternity is stretching in front of her, and there is truly no escape.

  So, I hold my tongue. I tell her that I still believe.

  One of us needs to have that hope.

  “You’re going to be late for your rounds,” the harpy says with a snicker.

  It doesn’t matter. Everyone here is being tortured, just as I am. It doesn’t matter if I see their pain now, or hours or days from now, it will all be the same. And yet, I never again want to risk Hades’s wrath, now that he knows my weakness. So I turn away from even the ghostly hope of something better and turn back to hell.

  3

  Blaise

  We hear the bar before we see it. There’s the din of music, laughter, and trouble in the air as we plow through the swamp. My bright wings light the dark with their flames, but I almost wish they didn’t. Everything around us is creepy as fuck. The swamp water to one side of us is most definitely swarmed with frogs, snakes, and alligators. I can see the mutant reptiles' eyes reflecting back at me, and even though phoenixes are supposed to be tough sons-of-bitches, I’ve always had a thing about reptiles, especially alligators. A wise man once told me that they were close to prehistoric beasts, and that creatures like that didn’t survive this long without being dangerous.

  And I believed him.

  But Orion? He doesn’t give a shit. He just storms through the swamp toward the bar like nothing can hurt him. At least that’s what anyone who doesn’t know him would think. But I know better. The man is solely focused on finding his brother. In freeing his brother from the Underworld.

  The only other thing he cares about in this world is me.

  Since the shade had shown us the places she knew to access the Underworld, and we’d found them gone, he’d gotten even more reckless. We’d revisited the shade and learned there was one last lead she had to getting into the Underworld, which had led us to flying night and day to this dangerous and creepy place. Orion seems to think that if we aren’t fast enough this lead will be gone too. I doubt it, but I keep my thoughts to myself.

  Most people would think I’m crazy for joining a gargoyle Brotherhood, knowing that this man was hell-bent on...well, going to hell, but that is the other thing most people don’t know. Orion is the only thing I care about in this world too. After being cast out by my people, and with an eternity to burn, I didn’t have a reason to keep going before I met Orion. So now, no matter if it takes me through creepy prehistoric beast territory, I’m with him.

  The light from the bar peeks through the trees. Orion hesitates in front of me,
then turns back. His dark hair is even longer and more wild than when I first met him, and his dark eyes hold an untamed quality that screams danger. When he looks at me for a second, it’s like he’d forgotten I was there, and then he shakes himself.

  “Things might not be pretty in there…”

  I smirk. “You never take me anywhere pretty, Orion. I like spas, nice clothes, cars, you name it. But you always manage to take me to places like this.”

  Any other time, he might have given me that half-smile, which is all he can give now, but tonight he’s too close to his goal. He doesn’t even react. “If it gets too bad, you come outside and avoid all the shit. You got me? I’ll be just fine.”

  “I’m not delicate,” I say, lifting a brow. “Just delicate compared to a freaking man who can turn into stone.”

  He rolls his neck, and I can feel his desire to reach for his sword. “If you get hurt, we still have to keep going...”

  I sigh. “I got it. Okay? I’ll be careful.”

  He gives a sharp nod and keeps going.

  I watch him, smiling for some reason. Orion forgot to eat. He forgot to bathe. He forgot whether it was day or night. But still, he had cared for his brother’s body. A body that lay on a platform, safely hidden away, not decomposing, just staying forever the same like some sleeping princess. The only other thing he does is care for me. The man was almost driven insane by his brother’s...death, but nothing can taint his good heart.

  We come out of the trees, and I take a deep breath. The place might not be the entrance to the Underworld, but it might as well be. It’s like a massive shack. The windows are blacked out, neon signs are flashing, and bugs are circling the signs. The din of sounds from inside are unsettling in a way I can’t put my finger on, but I don’t hesitate as we approach. I do, however, let my glowing wings fade, then glamour them to disappear. No human is going to walk into this place, but I don’t need everyone to know I’m a phoenix. All they would see is a six-foot something man in nice clothes with a sword at his belt, walking in with a giant.

  Yeah, because I always look petite next to Orion.

  I half-expect Orion to turn his skin to stone, but he doesn’t. Part of me wonders if he’s thinking the way I am, that’s it better people don’t know what we are if they don’t have to. Gargoyles are like the white knights of the supernatural world, which means a lot of these assholes will see him as an enemy. And phoenixes are like the smug bastards that won’t be caught dead in a place like this.

  Even though both our kind would be feared, since our fighting skills are renowned, I guess we’re going in playing nice at first...until they make us pull out the big guns.

  Orion shoves open the door, and the low din is an explosion of noise. On one side, a literal witch is cooking up some crap in her cauldron that smells like strong whiskey and tequila blended together. Assholes are drifting by, scooping their cups in the smoky brew and sucking down the drinks. In another corner, vampires are feeding on supernaturals of some kind, and a few are quite obviously fucking and sucking. Shifters play pool in another area. Monstrous creatures are just barely visible through the open door in a back room. But Orion ignores all of them and goes to the bar, where some kind of cyclops half-breed is tending it.

  He gives us a look with his one eye that makes me want to crack a joke, but I hide my smile behind my hand.

  “Two beers,” Orion says, then digs some money out of his pocket and slaps it on the bar.

  The cyclops pours our drinks, then takes the money. His gaze moves to us, a warning his eye.

  I get his message loud and clear, he’s keeping an eye on us. It takes me a minute to swallow down my laughter. Neither Orion nor the cyclops would appreciate my joke right now, so it’s better to just keep it to myself.

  Slowly, I sit down on a barstool next to Orion. “So, what’s our plan?” I ask softly.

  He picks up his drink and sips it slowly. “We try to do this smoothly.”

  “Then shouldn’t I handle it?”

  He gives me a look, the one that says this is too important to fuck up, and I try really hard not to be offended. I do have a tendency to fuck things up, after all. But I’m also definitely the “people person” between the two of us. I might have bad jokes and constantly have to pull my foot out of mouth, but Orion tends to glare and ask far too direct questions.

  Maybe neither of us would be great at this smooth thing, logically, but if he wants to take the lead on something this important to him, I’m not about to argue.

  “Okay then, I’ll let you handle it,” I tell him, trying to save my pride, if only by a little.

  We have two more beers. I make some light conversation with the bartender, and I’m pretty damn proud of myself because I never once mention his one big eye. I’m the kind of guy who can’t help but stare and point. My brothers...no, not my brothers anymore, but the family I was raised with said I was always just a big kid. Orion says I needed to get a filter, whatever that means, but tonight I’m being smart. Not a single joke about that eye. I’m even starting to feel good. Like we might be able to get out of this bar with the info and not a single scratch.

  And then Orion sets his beer down and leans closer to the barkeep. “I need some information.”

  The cyclops lifts his one big, fluffy eyebrow. “Yeah, what kind of information?”

  I almost tell Orion to hold back. I might always say the wrong thing, but I’m decent at reading people, and this guy still needs to be broken in a little. We need to buy a couple more beers, tip him well, get to know him, but I already know that Orion has been as patient as he can be.

  Orion leans in even closer. “I need to know where the monster Ryane is.”

  I swear the second that he says her name, the entire bar goes silent. So fucking silent that I can hear the bubbling of the witch’s pot. Every gaze turns in our direction, and it feel like they’re all holding their breath.

  “And what would you want with her?”

  Orion shrugs. “I got my reasons.”

  “Could it have anything to do with you hunting her, gargoyle?”

  Oh, fuck.

  Orion’s skin turns to stone, and he pulls out his sword. I pull mine out too as the cyclops leaps onto the bar top, a bat covered in spikes in his hand. Orion chops off his head in one motion, then whirls around. A dozen monsters and dark creatures rush us as one. A vampire hisses and goes for my throat. I manage to clip his arm with my sword, then stab some kind of a swamp beast in the chest. Orion roars, a sound that seems to shake the entire building, and he goes nuts. I want to say the people start running because we’re both badasses, but it’s all him.

  He traps one guy in the corner. A swamp guy with a frog in his stringy green hair.

  The man pleads, “Please don’t kill me. I’m not a monster.”

  “Where is Rayne?” Orion asks, the threat in his voice making even me stiffen.

  “Down the river. Go east. At the fork in the road, go south. It’ll look like you can’t through. You’ll want to turn back...it’s one of the curses of the place, but if you keep going, her house is at the end of it.”

  “If you’re lying to me, I’m going to find you and kill you,” Orion growls.

  The man pisses himself, and I can’t help but wrinkle my nose as I watch the wet spot spread and move down his leg. “Y-you can even take my boat. It’s the green one, right out front.”

  Orion releases him, shoving him back on the ground, then turns around.

  “Tomorrow will be a better day,” I tell him, wincing, then hurry after Orion.

  We find the boat outside, and all the people from the bar seem to be long gone. Orion’s stone flesh fades away, and he resheathes his sword. I put my sword away, then slowly reveal my wings once more, stretching them free and making them glow. The flicker of the flames from my wings lights the area, and Orion climbs into the boat, then looks back at me.

  “Uh, wouldn’t it be easier to fly?”

  Orion lifts a brow. “The mons
ter has this place cursed and her home hidden. We didn’t just fly and search for it for a reason.”

  “Okay then, maybe you drive the boat and I’ll fly overhead.”

  He sighs. “How can you be so damned brave when it comes to anything but alligators?”

  “I’m not afraid of them!” I say too quickly.

  He lifts a brow.

  Knowing the only thing I can do to not completely embarrass myself, I climb into the boat with my head held high. In the distance, I see the light from my wings reflect off of some big sets of eyes.

  “You know,” I say, inching back toward shore. “This is their home and their territory. It’s night; maybe we shouldn’t tick off the--”

  He yanks on the rope connected to the engine and it comes to life, drowning out my words.

  Orion glances back at me, and I see the first trace of a smile in weeks. “It’s time.”

  I sit down before I fall out of the boat, then cling to the wooden seat, praying that the sound will keep the gaters away.

  We head down that river, me sitting in the dead center of the boat. The creepy moon is out, full and almost orange. And I’m damned sure there are about a million hungry alligators in this freaking place. But as uneasy as I feel, Orion’s face is the calmest I’ve seen in a while. Before the shade told us about seeing his brother in the Underworld, I think Orion had started to lose his way. Now with a clear path in mind, I hope that some of the man inside of him will start to come out again.

  Life might not be short for us, but it still has value. And If I do anything for the remainder of my days, I want it to be that I finally make Orion happy. He saved me, after all. He deserves nothing but goodness.

  Even if we are heading toward a monster of legendary cruelness.

  4

  Orion

  The swamp air holds moisture that dampens my skin, and the mucky water hides creatures of a sort that I don’t typically deal with. But my hand is steady as I steer us through it all, looking for the fork in the river. For so long I’d felt lost, wondering if I was crazy for thinking my brother wasn’t really dead, at least not in the traditional sense. I’d spent far too long with his body, which never changed the way dead bodies do, and I told myself the “twin connection” that was begging me to listen wasn’t there, but the nagging feeling wouldn’t go away.