by Lisa Morton
She turned back to see him holding a small object out to her.
“Since I’ve failed in scaring you out of this plan…this might save you.”
She took the offering and saw that it was a bullet, but of some strangely-colored and shimmering material she couldn’t identify. “What am I to do with this?”
Stephen’s eyes betrayed his nervousness; he looked away, oddly uncomfortable. “I…must ask something of you, Diana, something I wouldn’t ask were it not necessary.”
“And what is that?”
He forced himself to look at her again. “I can’t simply tell you how to use this bullet. Its employment requires more than simple knowledge; it also needs a—well, a quality that only those who made the bullet have.”
Diana waited, but when he didn’t go on, she asked, “And how will you impart that quality to me?”
“I must possess you, spiritually. For a moment.”
Diana gaped, then couldn’t hold back a laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
When she didn’t respond, he pressed her: “I assure you, it won’t be dangerous, certainly not like what doomed your friend Isadora. It should only take seconds. Diana…I don’t believe you can survive without this.”
She studied him briefly, then thought of Yi-kin and Mina, waiting on the other side. How long had it been now for them—hours? Days?
“What’s involved in this possession?”
“It’s quite simple,” Stephen said, “you close your eyes and try to think of nothing.”
“That’s it?” Diana said.
Stephen nodded. “Yes.”
“Then do it.”
She saw his smile, then closed her eyes.
Almost immediately Diana felt a strange sensation, like a strong wind buffeting her, but without physical force, and she stiffened.
She heard a small chuckle from Stephen. He said, “I knew you’d be strong, but…you can’t fight me, Diana. It won’t work if you do.”
She uttered a slightly irritated sigh, and tried again to think of nothing.
“Better…focus on the purring of the cats.”
She did as instructed, trying to push thoughts of peril and loss to the back of her mind, trying not to contemplate the horrors that awaited her, listening only to the gentle voiceless vibrato, the lulling rhythmic thrum….
And suddenly she was assaulted with a rush of feelings and sights not her own. From a maelstrom of thoughts she picked out images of herself, of London, of San Francisco, of places she’d never been, of places she knew didn’t exist in her world.
Stephen had taken her.
She tried to move her right arm, and had a brief second of panic when she realized she had no idea whether she’d succeeded or not. Then she felt his thoughts, soothing her, reassuring, and her anxiety died away.
His presence within her was a warm companionship, more intimate than anything she’d ever experienced. She felt his desire for her, and it coursed through her until it met with her own equally-strong attraction to him. Like mirrors set up facing one another that reflected infinity, their passions merged and were returned uncountable times, each return amplifying the intensity. Somewhere buried under that endless flood of feeling, she knew Stephen was working within her, changing something at her very core, altering her immutably. And Diana, in return, knew she was transforming him in some other way, taking in the essence of goodness at Stephen’s center and returning it as something closer to human. His grace, her strength, entwined and replaced each other until Diana thought she would surely burst into white-hot flame.
And then he was abruptly gone, and she was staggering.
He caught her, and held onto her until her stamina returned, and she was able to stand on her own. She pushed away from him slightly, and knew she was flushed. “Was it…did it…?”
Stephen could only nod. He’d obviously been as affected by the possession as she.
Diana searched herself, examining both her thoughts and her body; she felt only a warmth just below her stomach, fading even as she explored the sensation. “I don’t feel different.”
Stephen took a deep breath before answering: “You are. You won’t feel it until necessary.”
“And when will that be?”
“When you face Asmodeus. If you face Asmodeus.”
Diana frowned. “I don’t understand—if?”
Stephen was suddenly very serious again, as he’d been when they’d first met. “What I’ve given you can’t protect you from everything in the Netherworld. When you first cross over, Goodfellow will offer you a challenge. Should you survive it, you’ll be permitted to see Asmodeus. At that point you’ll have your chance to destroy him; it will require the bullet, and what I’ve left within you.”
Diana had forgotten she was still holding the odd bullet. She brought it up to her eyes again, examining it. “Only one bullet?”
He nodded. “It was…very costly to us to manufacture even that one. You’ll only have one chance, Diana.”
She eyed the unearthly ammo a last time, then unholstered her revolver, removed one of her bullets, and replaced it with this new one. She snapped the chamber closed, holstered the pistol, and offered Stephen a last smile.
“Then one chance will have to be enough,” she told him.
They looked into one another’s eyes for a long moment, and Diana knew she would now be forever connected to Stephen, bonded to something not even human but immeasurably good.
She saw a tide of sadness wash across his features, and he took her hands in his own. “I’m sorry I cannot accompany you myself, Diana. I truly am.”
She nodded, stroked his fingers once, then pulled away.
Just before she stepped through, she turned back. “Stephen, will you see to it that Mina is cared for?”
“Of course.”
Then she left all goodness behind, and entered the Netherworld.
Chapter XXVIII
October 31
The Netherworld
The first thing they saw was the moon.
Or at least, the Netherworld’s moon, since its size was impossible for any moon they could know; it took up a full quarter of the sky, floating what seemed to be a foot above the land, perfectly full and round and bright.
Its shadows also bore an amazing resemblance to a skull.
Diana tore her eyes away from the huge, gibbous thing, and turned to make sure Yi-kin was with her. He stood nearby, gazing into the distance.
“I’m sorry I took extra time arriving, but it was…necessary….”
Her voice trailed off as she saw what he was looking at:
The graveyard.
Because now that Diana’s eyes, which had been dazzled by the moon, adjusted to the gloom beneath, she saw they stood in a true necropolis, a cemetery that stretched endlessly in all directions, a true city of the dead. There were granite headstones intermingled with marble monuments, crypts with wrought iron doors and carved angels of death, all shining dully under the light of that night orb. Behind them was the gateway, set into its own oversized monument, surmounted by a stone grim reaper complete with scythe.
“Impressive, isn’t it?”
She turned, expecting to find Robin Goodfellow—and couldn’t stifle a gasp when she saw not the charming fairy with elfin face and whimsical dress, but a towering, black-skinned demon. The thing stood at least seven feet tall, and was possessed of white horns, yellow eyes, and great leathery wings, which folded inward and outward as Diana watched. The lower part of its body was shaggy, and other than the long dark fur it wore no clothing.
It grinned down at her, its snake-yellow eyes creasing in malevolent mirth—and Diana suddenly realized, with a second small gasp, that it was Robin Goodfellow, in truer form.
That understanding gave her new strength, and she addressed the demon fairy: “So, Robin, a fairy in one world, but a demon in this other, eh?”
He laughed, a deep, guttural sound. “Very perceptive of you.
Here you may call me Hob. ”
Yi-kin stepped closer to Diana. “Ngoh m ming baak….”
She wished she could have explained it to him in Cantonese, but her grasp of that difficult tongue was not up to the task yet. “Usually fairies are nothing more than mischievous creatures, Yi-kin; but there are some tales which suggest that fairies may actually be demons in the sidh world…or…here. Robin Goodfellow was sometimes called ‘hobgoblin.’ Apparently those stories were correct.”
Diana turned back to Hob, and swept the graveyard with a gesture. “I have to say, this isn’t how I imagined the fairy world.”
Hob responded, “It doesn’t all look like this.”
“Of course. And I would imagine there’s some particular reason your master wanted us to see this particular part of it?”
Hob offered her a small nod of approval, “Very good. He wishes to offer you a challenge.”
“I thought he might.”
Hob walked forward a few feet, and waved a clawed hand at the ground. Diana looked down, and saw a narrow gravel pathway materialize at their feet—or rather, it was something like gravel, but it had its own ethereal glow, a slight greenish cast. About four feet wide, it led out into the graveyard from where they stood, and was lost to their view only a few dozen yards on as it curved around a large tomb.
“This path,” Hob instructed her, running one talon a foot above its surface, “is your lifeline. If you follow it, it will eventually lead you through the necropolis, and to the castle of my lord Asmodeus…and your husband.”
She looked into the far distance, but could make out no trace of a castle. She turned back to look at Robin, who seemed to be waiting for her question: “And what exactly is the challenge?”
“Simple: You must stay on this path. Confine your steps completely to it, and you will reach the far side safely. However, set one foot off the path, and….”
“And what?” Diana asked, not really expecting an answer, but curious to see what the demon would say.
“Well, there are things in the cemetery that will no longer consider you off-limits.”
Diana looked around again, chilled at the thought of what things might be lurking out among the gravestones. In the distance, she heard a soft voice, moaning or chanting, although it could have been the wind….
Yi-kin looked at her curiously. “We only must stay on this path? Why is this challenge?”
Diana answered, “I doubt that it will be anything easy, Yi-kin—”
At that instant Hob suddenly roared—an immense, lion-like sound—and dove at them, his great wings spreading under the moonlight, his mouth open and eyes ablaze, and Yi-kin involuntarily stumbled backward. Diana reached out and steadied him just as he was about to step off the phosphorescent gravel. She turned with defiance back to Hob, who now stood only inches from them, laughing uproariously.
“Oh, you’ll do just fine!” the demon howled.
Irritated, Diana snatched her waistcoat from Yi-kin and thrust the garment into Robin’s hands before he could react. His laughter died abruptly and he stared from the vest to Diana with wide, shocked eyes.
“You know, Robin, I’m just glad the challenge wasn’t a riddle, because I’m really not very good at riddles. Now goodbye.”
The demon uttered a cry of frustration, then spread his wings and launched himself into the air. He flew away from the moon, and was lost from sight in seconds.
Yi-kin pulled his arm free from Diana’s grip, returning angrily to the center of the path. “Just now I would not leave path—!”
Diana said, trying not to smile, “Of course you wouldn’t. I’m sorry I over-reacted.”
Yi-kin was mollified, then bent halfway down to stare at the ground just beyond the gravel stones. “What if we do? There is nothing.”
Diana took a deep breath, then said, “I’m sure there will be plenty of somethings ahead, Yi-kin. Now let’s go.”
She set off, leading the way down the path, Yi-kin following slightly behind. She kept her eyes firmly on the ground in front of her, trying not to look too closely into the crypts and open plots that occasionally crowded their way. At one point, she realized her lantern was actually unnecessary, and was even making it slightly harder to follow the sickly green glow of the stones.
“Hold on,” she stopped him, “let’s put the lanterns away.”
He shrugged out of his backpack, then unstrapped it and held it open while she snuffed out the lanterns, waited for them to cool, and secured them inside. Diana checked her pocket watch while Yi-kin shouldered the pack again.
The watch seemed to be functioning normally, and showed that only a few minutes had passed.
“Miss Diana—” Yi-kin suddenly whispered, and Diana looked up from the watch to see him staring fearfully at something.
She followed his gaze, and found he was looking at a life-size marble statue of a grieving woman, set near the front of a crypt. The sculpture was finely detailed and vividly portrayed a veiled woman with hunched shoulders, carrying a bundle of lilies. She guessed the statue was meant to suggest a mother’s sorrow over the loss of a child.
Then the statue opened its eyes and looked at Diana.
Her heart quickened and she tensed, prepared to flee along the path, but the statue made no other move; it simply stared out at Diana with eyes that were somehow accusatory.
“Stone thing watch us,” Yi-kin breathed.
“Well, yes, Yi-kin, remember—we’re in the Netherworld now. I expect we’ll see much worse than that.”
He nodded, but his eyes kept darting back to the statue.
“Just try to keep your eyes on the path, don’t look to the sides. Hob said we’d be safe as long as we didn’t leave the path.”
“What if he gong daai?” Yi-kin asked.
Gong daai… speak big…lie.
Diana decided to answer honestly. “If they really wanted to kill us, they would’ve tried already. Besides….”
She was unsure how much to say; were they being spied on even now? Did she dare tell Yi-kin of her meeting with Stephen, of how he’d secretly armed her for her encounter with Asmodeus? She was mulling over her answer when Yi-kin shushed her. “Something come on path.”
Listening, Diana heard it as well: The sound of feet crunching gravel. It didn’t sound large, but it was definitely on the path—where they were supposedly safe.
“See? Demon lie.”
Diana glimpsed a low shape outlined against the glowing way, coming toward them. “No, wait—it’s—”
“Mina!” Yi-kin cried out happily as the cat joined them. She seated herself at Diana’s feet and meowed.
Diana groaned and picked up her companion. “You were supposed to stay behind. But you were having none of that, were you?”
Yi-kin joined in with the petting, and when they started off again, he held the cat firmly in his arms.
Mina meowed for Diana to follow.
With a small smile to herself, she followed.
Yi-kin kept his eyes fixed firmly to their path, walking rapidly. She did her best to follow his example, but she couldn’t resist the occasional glance to right or left…although those glances nearly cost her the contest once or twice.
The necropolis was haunted.
The manifestations were small at first—a candle floating by itself over the grave of a child. The sound of sighs emanating from a sealed crypt. A headstone that trembled, as if whatever lay beneath it were recklessly trying to rise. Once Diana was reminded of a fake séance she had witnessed several years before, in which the so-called medium had supposedly levitated musical instruments and produced trailing strings of “ectoplasm.” Diana had laughed at the obvious theatricality of it all. She wasn’t laughing now. She knew there were no hidden strings holding up the candle, no unseen assistant pushing against the tombstone. This was all real. It was dead and deadly.
At one point the path zigzagged around a large tomb, and within the tomb Diana plainly saw a spectre.
&n
bsp; It began as a faint glimmering deep within the tomb, the interior of which was visible beyond its iron-barred door. The bluish glow swirled and rippled, then coalesced into the indistinct figure of a robed and veiled woman. Although the ghost—for there was no question that was what Diana saw—lacked solid form or distinct features, Diana thought it had turned and was looking straight at her, its eyes nothing but black wells surrounded by glimmering ectoplasm.
“Miss Diana—” Yi-kin was calling, and then Diana realized she’d stopped to stare at the apparition.
Yi-kin had walked past the crypt without seeing it, and Diana thought it just as well that he not, so she pulled herself away from the sight and walked to him quickly, urging him along the path.
“Sorry, Yi-kin. Just…nothing.”
“What…?” he started to ask.
“Just walk,” Diana commanded.
A few paces later, it became impossible to keep him from seeing the ghosts, because they were everywhere now.
They appeared near graves, in mausoleums, came walking through solid crypt walls. Most were little more than rough human shapes, their forms indistinct as if they were so old that corporeality bore little meaning for them. Some seemed to be unaware of the pair; a few floated towards the path, causing Yi-kin to slow, then stop.
“Hui laa!” Diana blurted, hoping she’d used the right Cantonese inflection for issuing commands.
It must have been correct, because Yi-kin tore his eyes from their ethereal companions and continued on. Diana heard him muttering a mantra to himself, perhaps in hopes of drowning out the rising wails surrounding them: “M hoh yi tai…m hoh yi tai….”
Can’t see.
When some of the apparitions took on more distinct outlines, she began to think that good advice, because not all of them were exactly human. The spirit of a soldier still bore not only his old uniform, but his gruesome battle wounds as well, including a large chunk of missing skull. One wraith seemed to have brought the decay of the grave with her, as her hair was largely missing, her eyes and nose sunken, and her teeth protruding from gumless jaws. One thing actually flew towards the path and stopped mere inches from Diana, fixing her with glittering eyes surmounting a death’s head rictus grin, and Diana staggered back from that one, catching herself just before she stumbled off the path.
