by Bea Paige
“Perhaps I should have left you in circle two, eh?” he muses, somehow sensing I am coiled up tight.
“Oh, sod off,” I respond, bringing my leg over Ceb’s shoulders and sliding to the ground.
I don’t have to look at Maro to know he’s grinning. A moment later he is standing beside me and Ceb has turned back into his human form once more.
“How do you do that?” I ask, noticing that Ceb’s now wearing a brand new outfit. I mean, why isn’t he naked?
“Do what? Shift?” he asks.
“Well, yes, but also, shift into clothes. Do you have like a wardrobe tucked up your armpits or something?”
“No, but he’s got a couple of large sacks,” Maro says with a wink.
Ceb laughs uproariously and they high five one another.
I see Plutus roll his eyes. He is watching us with barely tempered impatience, one dark eyebrow perfectly arched with his arms folded across his chest.
“Do you want to pass through my circle or not?” he asks, directing his question solely at me. “I mean, as much as it is entertaining to see your cheeks colour pink, and your lips part in desire, I do have work to be getting on with.”
“My lips weren’t parting in desire,” I protest.
Plutus rolls his eyes. “You keep telling yourself that.”
“Well it’s just as well I didn’t shift without any clothes on… I’m pretty sure your jaw would drop then,” Ceb says, making a show of twirling his hips, which only serves to annoy me more, especially when my damn cheeks flame red. Maro and Ceb fall about laughing.
“Urgh, you two are worse than a pair of teenage boys,” I say, giving them both my most pissed-off glare before twisting on my heel and running to catch up with Plutus who has already left us all behind.
“Wait. Those two are driving me nuts.”
“They’ll do more than that given half the chance,” he says, as I fall into step behind him.
“You don’t like them very much do you?”
“Like? Berus I tolerate. Maro… Let’s just say he and I have a coloured history.”
“Oh, yes. Ceb mentioned that.”
Plutus glances at me. “He did, did he? I suppose he told you how I stole Maro’s only love? I suppose he painted me as the bad guy, because of course an angel can do no wrong? Ceb is blinded by Maro just like everyone else.”
“Well, actually, that’s not…” my voice trails off as my attention is drawn to the sound of thunder rolling in the air. I look up, expecting to see flashes of lightning only to see cavernous darkness.
“What is that noise?” I ask, having to place my hands over my ears. The more we walk towards the sound, the louder it gets.
“You’ll see soon enough,” Plutus shouts over the increasing din.
A few more paces on, we get to the edge of a large pit in the ground, and by pit I mean a hole large enough to fit thousands upon thousands of people. People who appear to be pushing around boulders as large as small cars. Both men and women alike are wearing nothing but rags. They are skin and bone, hollow eyes and cheeks.
“What are they doing?” I ask, my mouth dropping open in shock.
“They are pushing boulders,” Plutus responds with a shrug.
“I can see that, but why?”
“Because these people in life either hoarded their possessions or lavishly spent all their wealth, and never considered anyone but themselves in the process. Their punishment is to roll these rocks around in perpetuity, never getting anywhere. They misused their wealth and privilege in life and now this is their eternal Hell. Their wealth in life cannot buy them a moment’s peace in death. Pretty neat, huh?” Plutus says.
“Neat?” I fold my arms across my chest. “I think it’s horrid. There are worse things in life than hoarding money, or spending it, for that matter. I mean, why does the Devil even care, it’s not like it was his bloody money.”
“It isn’t the Devil who cares. It’s the other fella,” Ceb says with a shrug of his shoulders. “The Devil, he just gives them a place to put them up.”
“The other fella? Surely you don’t mean...?”
“The one and only. The great Alm-”
Maro slams a hand over Ceb’s mouth. “Are you fucking insane, Cerberus? Don’t mention His name here.”
Plutus laughs. “You two will never learn. You think the Devil cares? You think He does? We were all lost a long time ago. We have our own punishment to suffer, do we not? The Devil has far more important matters to deal with, your sister seemingly one of them.”
“Well I think this is wrong. I don’t even care if He hears me. No one deserves such torture.”
“Oh, believe me, Ciera, the worst things are yet to come. There are many levels to Hell. We’ve still got a ways to go,” Maro says as he stands next to me. His face has lost all amusement from earlier. I catch the look he gives Ceb.
“Worse how?” I ask, not really wanting to know the answer but asking anyway. Tris was down there somewhere. My sweet, innocent Tris.
“Every circle we pass through is worse than the one before. At the moment we are in Upper Hell, where the sins of the weak reside, beyond the Gates of Dis is Lower Hell…” Maro’s voice trails off. If I am not mistaken there is fear just beneath the bravado.
Ceb coughs loudly. “You need not fear, fair maiden, that is why we travel with you. All will be well.”
Plutus laughs at this. “Berus, do not give her false hope. You know as well as I do that once we enter the City of Dis, there’s no going back.” Plutus looks at me, his coal black eyes glistening from within. “You’ll have only one more chance to turn back. If you wish to return to the land from which you came, then you must say so before we pass through the gates. Understand?” He rests a surprisingly gentle hand on my arm and I try to ignore the electricity his touch sends across my skin.
“I am here to set Tris free. My soul for hers. I will not leave until I have fulfilled my promise to her and paid my debt to him.”
Plutus sighs, nods his head then turns to the people below and howls into the night. One by one they make a pathway between the centre of the pit. Far over the other side I can just about make out a dark broiling blackness, not unlike the River Acheron Maro flew us over. There is something ominous about it, something that makes my skin crawl.
“Well, this is all good and well, but how do we get down there?” I say, pointing at the hundred foot drop below.
“That’s easy. We jump,” Ceb says, swooping me up in his arms.
“Great, more jumping,” I mutter.
Half a second later we are all standing on the rough stone below. Inside my mouth, my cheek is bleeding where I accidentally bit it, the rough landing jolting my body in Ceb’s arms. I spit out the blood onto the stony floor and watch as it is absorbed by the ground. Swallowed instantly. Something about that makes me shiver.
“Let’s go, I can only keep them like this for a few minutes,” Plutus says, urging us forward.
We walk single file through the stone boulders and trembling wraiths. Up front is Plutus leading the way, then me followed by Maro then Ceb.
The faces of the greedy all look at me with a desperate kind of hunger. Now that I see them up close, they appear less pitiless and more frightening. I have no doubt that every single one of them wants nothing more than to smash me to pieces between the boulders they are leaning against.
Perhaps He was right after all, and they deserve this torture? Or perhaps they have become this way through millennia of pain and suffering. Either way, I want out of this circle and quick.
Not less than five minutes later, I release a huge sigh of relief as we all step out beyond the pit. The moment Ceb passes through the last man and his boulder on the edge of the pit, the sounds of thundering cracks resound through the bleakness as the inhabitants of the fourth circle of Hell take up their punishment once more.
Chapter 14
With every step we move away from the strange pit, the ground becomes softer. Soon, we h
ave to make sure we don't step into any of the tiny streams crisscrossing the marshy landscape. It reminds me a little of Ceb's circle, and I'm not the only one.
"This must feel like home to you," Plutus remarks, gaining a growl from Ceb.
"At least this place doesn't stink," Maro whispers to me and I snicker. He's right though. The air is laden with moisture, but it smells earthy rather than the pungent odour of the third circle.
This part of Hell is damp and dark, but it doesn't feel as threatening and depressing as the others. This could be Scotland on a winter's day, if the sky high above wasn't glowing a doomy red.
"When we get to Styx, try not to get involved," Plutus warns us, but he seems to single me out when he stares at me.
I frown. "What's Styx?"
He stares at Maro, anger clouding his expression. "Did you prepare her at all for this journey?"
"It was her idea," the angel defends himself. "I never had the time to tell her more about Hell. If you forgot, we're here to rescue her sister, not to do a sightseeing trip."
Plutus sighs and falls back until he's walking beside me. "Styx is the river we need to cross."
"And what's the problem with it?"
Plutus runs a hand through his hair, as if he's not quite sure how to approach the subject. Then he sighs again and explains, "The river is full of people drowning. You can't help them though, so you need to stay away and not touch any of them. If you do, they'll draw you under the surface to become one of them."
"Drowning?" I gasp, imagining that terrible fate. "Why? What did they do to deserve that?"
"They're the sullen," Ceb explains from behind me. "They couldn't see the beauty of life when they were living under the sun, so now they're trapped forever in the murky waters of the Styx, gurgling and drowning but never dying."
I shudder. "That's terrible."
"It gets worse," Maro mutters darkly. "You'll see in a minute."
We walk on in silence, my mind spinning with images of what could be worse than eternally drowning. The marshland becomes ever wetter and soon, my shoes are filled with water and my trousers are glued to my skin, uncomfortably sticky.
Noise drifts to us like wisps of fog, the sound of people fighting and shouting. Weren't they supposed to be drowning?
"What..." I begin to ask but then the sky lightens and I see what's happening. There's a massive river in front of us, at least as broad as Acheron, and on it are hordes of naked people. Yes, on it, standing on the water like bloody Jesus. They're fighting, clawing at each other, biting, ripping out flesh. They're feral, attacking their fellow sinners without thought.
"What the h..."
"Don't," Maro interrupts me. "Really, you need to stop using that word. But to answer your question, these are the angry. Even though they may not have resorted to violence in life and kept their anger within themselves, here they become unstoppable, tearing each other apart."
I stare at the people, their blood-stained bodies, their deep wounds and broken limbs. "How aren't they all dead yet?"
"They heal," Plutus explains darkly. "Don't get close. I'm keeping them at bay right now, but if they touch you, I won't be able to stop them. Same with the ones drowning."
I look at the fighting people's feet and only now notice how the water beneath them is boiling with limbs and gasping mouths. These must be the sullen.
I shudder again at the violence of this punishment. Maro was right, every circle of Hell really is worse than the previous one. I don't even want to imagine what the final ones will be like.
I cautiously approach the edge of the river and peer into the murky depths. The water is too dark to see the drowning figures clearly, but then, suddenly, an arm breaks the surface, grasping for an unseen hold that would help it get out of the river. There's a tattoo around the wrist, a snake biting its own tail. It looks familiar, too familiar.
"I think I know that man," I whisper, and immediately, the three men are surrounding me, staring at the drowning person in front of us.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Plutus make a weird movement with his hands, like he's pulling on an invisible rope. A moment later, the man is thrown out of the water and lands in front of us, sinking deep into the mud.
He coughs and splutters, and I almost bend down to touch him, but when he lifts his head and looks at me, I forget all about that. I won't have pity for that man. Not after what he did.
"Filippo," I snarl and step forward, but an arm slings around my waist, preventing me from moving.
"Don't touch him," Maro whispers in my ear.
I stare at the man who took my mother away from me. I've not seen him for years; I didn't even know he'd died. But I'm fucking glad he did. He deserved to die, and as the anger bubbles up in me, I understand why the sinners get punished in this way. Death alone isn't good enough for him. He made other people suffer in life, so now he has to suffer in death. Good.
I take a deep breath and look straight into his eyes. He looks confused, but there is still a trace of his former arrogance sketched on his expression.
"Ciera?" he asks hoarsely, muddy water running down his chin.
"The very same," I growl. "I'm glad to find you here."
His eyes widen. "Are you here to rescue me?"
He takes me by surprise, but then I laugh loudly. The coldness in my laugh must tell him all he needs to know, because he lowers his gaze and looks at the ground. Is he ashamed? Feeling guilty? I bloody hope so.
"Why is he in this circle?" I ask the men without turning around. "Why isn't he with the violent people?"
Suddenly, they crowd around me.
"What did he do?" Maro asks, his voice laced with poison.
"Seduced my mother. Made her leave us. Beat her. Got her addicted. Made her drink herself to death. Take your pick."
I look at the pitiful form of Filippo, but pity is the last emotion I feel now. Hate and anger is all that I sense, and it's taking all my strength to push them away from me. I don't want to become like these sinners. Just because I feel angry doesn't mean I need to act on it.
It's bloody hard. I never got the chance to punish him in life. Now he's here, right in front of me, and oh how easy it would be to take one of the men's weapons and make him suffer.
"Wolf?" Maro asks, but it's more of a demand. He puts his hands on my shoulders and squeezes, and I lean into his touch, drawing his strength into me.
"With pleasure," Plutus growls and without warning, Filippo is pulled back into the water so fast I almost miss it. He cries and shouts and claws at the ground, but he doesn't stand a chance.
I watch as the water devours his screams and a smile begins to form on my lips.
It's not a happy smile, not at all. But I can't help it, I enjoy seeing him suffer. He hurt my mother and through that, he hurt my entire family. He tore us apart, killed her, then made my father search for a new wife, who ended up throwing me out when I was a teenager. The only good part of it all is that my stepmother had Tris. My innocent little sister, trapped in Hell.
I get up and brush the wet dirt from my knees. "Let's go."
I don't look at my men, not wanting to know what they'll think of me now. I don't even know what I think of myself. Was I right to want revenge? Or should I have taken pity on him? Forgiven him?
No, I couldn't have. I'm not a good person, and I don't have it in me to forgive. Not Filippo. Not Lucifer. Not the man who took my sister.
Wait. And did I just call them ‘my’ men?
I take a deep breath. "How do we get across?"
Plutus turns to me and smirks.
"We run."
By the time we reach the other side, I'm covered in blood, sweat and mud, and am having trouble catching my breath. The men don't look much cleaner, but they don't look exhausted at all. Maro's glow is diminishing even further, though. Should I say something? Ask if he's in pain, perhaps? If it's safe for him to continue? I don't want the angel to suffer, and now that I've somehow acquired two new companion
s, he could return and leave me with them.
Not that I'd want that. Maro's presence is comforting and reassuring and... well, he's got other advantages. I lick my lips at the memory of his kiss.
In front of us, the marshland continues, the ground swollen with thick brown water, but in the far distance, a large wall hides the horizon.
"What's that?" I point at it and turn to the men.
"That, Cookie, is the City of Dis."
Chapter 15
I follow Plutus as we make our way across more marshland to the entrance to Dis. I’m tempted to ask Ceb to shift so I can rest awhile on his back, but I don’t want to appear weak. If I am to survive the descent into Hell, then I must project strength even if inside I feel tired or scared. I know I am a survivor, that I will do whatever it takes to save Tris, but I know from this point on that I must never, ever show weakness.
Not to the people I come across in Hell.
Not to these men surrounding me now.
Not to the Devil.
Not even to myself.
“You alright there, Ciera?” Ceb asks.
I swipe the back of my hand against my cheek, smearing blood and mud across my face. It looks as though I am going to be perpetually dirty. If I ever get to Tris… No, correction, when I get to Tris, I am going to be unrecognisable. She will scream blue murder if I turn up looking like some monster from the deeps.
“Ciera?” Ceb prompts.
“Good as gold,” I lie, feigning nonchalance. Both Maro and Ceb look at me with raised eyebrows. I cross my arms against my chest and glare at them both.
“What?”
“Need a bunk up?” Ceb asks, waggling his eyebrows.
“No.” Yes, I think. Yes, I’m so damn tired.
“It’s no sweat. You can lean on me.”
“I said no.”
