“What she is,” Naphtali said smiling, “is our greatest asset.”
Bale looked down at Achaia, apparently in deep thought. “You don’t think we are giving Hell what it most desires? A weapon that can be used against us?”
Achaia wanted to ask him to explain to her what she was. What had made him hate her before ever speaking to her… She could see his internal conflict through his eyes, which she met, pleadingly.
“What woe has fallen on you…” He said softly. “What blood that curses your veins… and what destruction you will bring on us all.”
“Even the greatest builders must demolish to build,” Naphtali said reassuringly to Bale.
Achaia couldn’t take it anymore, she heard herself speak as if it were someone else’s voice, instead of her own. “Is anyone ever going to fill me in on what the hell all this means?”
Bale cocked his head, studying her. “No.”
Achaia stared boldly into his face. “Right then,” she said, sarcastically. “Moving on. Will you help me, or not?”
“Against my better judgement, I will,” Bale said finally. “The council should have gotten more involved long before now, but their ignorance knows no bounds. As always, it is left to us to clean up the mess of the fallen.” Bale said looking to Naphtali.
Naphtali smiled, and reached out a hand, to shake Bale’s.
“What preparation do you need?” Bale asked Achaia.
“Time alone and a little blood.” Achaia fidgeted with the demon tooth in her fingers.
“Demons need little more than opportunity,” Bale said disgustedly, looking at what she held. “You need only to be open.”
“Right. Well I’ll go be alone then. And hopefully I’ll see you guys soon.” Achaia smiled tightly. “And if not,” Achaia turned to Naphtali and hugged him.
“Be brave, little firecracker.” Naphtali kissed the top of Achaia’s head. “We will come for you.”
“I know.” Achaia smiled.
Achaia sat on a frozen park bench, feeling quite alone. She had gone to the training room and grabbed her favorite weapons that could be easily carried and concealed; the whip that had caught her attention from the start, and a dagger with a feathered handle, that wrapped her hand like a friend. She tried to silence the torrent of thoughts and emotions coursing through her.
There was no denying she was afraid. She wasn’t just shaking from the cold. The tooth protruded from her pocket, and she pulled it out and ran her thumb over it. She wasn’t exactly sure what to expect, or what would happen when she drew blood with it. She wasn’t sure where John would take her, what state her father would be in when she got there…
Achaia closed her eyes, took a deep breath and tried to steady herself. She welcomed adrenaline to help her power through and do what was necessary. She looked back down at the tip of the tooth, so sharp she could barely see the tip of its point. She grabbed it in her right hand, and dragged it across her left wrist, a thin line of blood trailing its wake. She felt as if ice had entered her veins through the cut and traveled up her arm. The blood veins that marked its trail turned black under her pale white skin.
Achaia tensed watching the blood flowing back toward her heart, carrying the venom directly to it. She knew there was nothing she could do now to stop it from doing whatever damage it could. As the venom reached her heart, Achaia felt like she’d been hit hard in the chest; it rocked her back. She squeezed her eyes shut as her head was thrown backwards with the force.
When Achaia opened her eyes again, she was blind. She couldn’t see anything. She blinked rapidly, but her vision didn’t clear.
“Achaia,” a voice whispered in her mind.
Achaia shook her head violently, as if trying to shake water out of her ears.
“Achaia,” it drawled out in an almost hiss.
Achaia couldn’t see if there was anyone around to see her talk to herself, she answered back in her mind. “Yes, I’m here.”
“Come to me,” the voice hissed.
“I don’t know where you are,” Achaia thought.
“Follow my voice.” At that, whispers seemed to erupt around her. Achaia turned her head in every direction, trying to discern where they were coming from. She blinked her eyes, trying desperately to see, but couldn’t. She covered her ears, and tucked her head between her knees, fighting back a scream. She couldn’t focus, she couldn’t tell where the whispers were coming from.
Shakily, Achaia tried standing. Her balance was off, but she started walking, following the loudest whispers into the dark.
“What do you mean she’s gone?” Noland yelled murderously.
Bale’s quarters were lit only by the grand fireplace behind his desk, making the room smell of wood and smoke. Its illumination painted shadows over the rest of the minimal furniture in the room; a couple of chairs, and a bureau. It was however enough light for Noland to see Bale and Naphtali’s faces clearly.
“She’s left. She is most likely making contact with the demon at this very moment,” Naphtali said calmly.
“You didn’t put a stop to this?” Noland stared at Bale incredulously; steam was rising from his skin, making his shirt damp with it.
“I believe it, unfortunately, to be necessary,” Bale said coolly with a less than apologetic tone.
Noland turned on his heel, bound for the armory. He stopped at the door with his hand clenching the door frame, the heat of it charring the wood, and looked back at Bale, “If anything happens to her, I’ll make Hell look like paradise to you.” Noland said through clenched teeth, his eyes mirroring the flames in the fire.
18
The Descent
“The path to paradise
Begins in Hell.”
-Dante Alighieri, Inferno
Shael sat leaning against the arm of one of the ice sofas, with a glass of something amber colored in his hand. Luc sat across from him on the other sofa. “You’ve been low lately.”
Shael looked up. “Your demons are tedious,” Shael responded.
Luc shrugged. “I am working on a surprise for you,” he smiled in a way that made Shael cringe inside, Luc’s smile wasn’t a comforting sight. However, Shael forced himself to return it, at least in part; a sort of shrug of the mouth. “I think it will cheer you right up.”
“What are you up to?” Shael asked, setting his glass down on the arm of the sofa.
“If I revealed my endeavors it would hardly be a surprise anymore, now, would it?”
Shael shrugged. He wasn’t sure what Luc could possibly do which would actually cheer him up. Any gift Luc gave always had a bite that made the receiver regret ever accepting anything given in the first place.
“You’ll see very soon, brother.” Luc smiled again.
Achaia stood next to a young man with a scruffy, unshaven face and pale blue eyes at the mouth of a cavern. The air around them had gone dead still, and there wasn’t a sound to be heard ahead or behind, save for their breath. Achaia blinked, her eyes adjusting to the light. She took in her surroundings. She definitely was not in Moscow anymore.
“Where am I? How did I get here?” Achaia asked.
“Welcome home, Achaia. I’m afraid it won’t be a warm welcome, but you are welcome none the less. We are happy to have you.” The man smiled.
“Are you the new John?” Achaia asked, shaking her head in confusion, struggling to adjust to her new surroundings.
“Shall we?” He smiled in confirmation and gestured for her to go on ahead of him over the threshold.
Achaia stepped tentatively through the mouth of the cavern. As she did, all the air was pushed from her lungs. She had thought Russia was cold. She had never felt a cold like this. It was as if every cell and molecule in her body had forgotten what warmth was. She couldn’t remember the feel of the sun on her skin, or a mug of hot coffee in her hand. She forgot the flush of embarrassment and happiness. She forgot the heat of anger. That which filled her was a death-like indifference. All she knew was cold, the empt
y cavernous depth of the ice penetrating deep into her soul.
“I’d like to tell you, you get used to it,” John said frowning down at her, “but you really don’t.”
Achaia shivered, holding her arms around herself.
“You’re lucky we are only going into the fourth circle.” John said gesturing for her to walk on.
“Wait! What?” Yellaina yelled as Emile and Noland filled the others in on what had transpired with Naphtali’s arrival.
“She’s gone?” Amelia asked. “Like, to Hell?”
“Yes, Emile said. He could feel their worry, their anger, and their fear.
“But we’re going after her right?” Olivier asked. “Why haven’t we left yet?”
“We have to wait for her to be in danger before Noland is going to be able to find her,” Emile said.
“But we need to be ready. We need to grab weapons, we need to—”
“Olivier, we will,” Noland said.
“And by ‘we’ I mean, not you.” Olivier said looking over to Yellaina.
“What?” Yellaina said angrily.
“You’re not well trained in combat. I don’t want you getting hurt.” Olivier said plainly.
“And none of you are fluent in every demonic dialect!” Emile felt the anger that was blooming in Yellaina’s chest.
“We don’t need to be able to talk to demons to kill them.” Olivier argued. “You’re not going.”
“And we aren’t married! You can’t tell me to stay. She’s my friend, too!” Yellaina’s face was flushed.
“Olivier’s right,” Noland said loudly, stopping the argument once and for all. Emile could feel his frustration, his annoyance. “You’d be a liability. I’m sorry,” Noland said looking to Yellaina and Amelia.
“What? Me?” Amelia asked outraged. “I’m trained!”
“And you’ll feel everything that happens to all of us. You’ll be useless before we even reach her. Let alone getting her out.” Noland raised his eyebrows as if asking her to argue that he wasn’t right.
Amelia was furious. Emile felt like every ounce of blood in his body was boiling.
“Okay,” he said putting his hands up in the air. “I need everyone to calm down. Yes, this sucks. Yes, Noland could have worded that better. No, you’re not useless,” he said looking at the girls. “Yes, he can be a prick,” he added looking at Noland, “but they’re right.” He said standing between the girls and Olivier and Noland.
“We love you. And we aren’t going to let you go into a dangerous situation where the odds are stacked against us, and where it would potentially cause more problems and decrease our odds of getting everyone out alive,” Emile said sadly. “It’s nothing personal.”
“It doesn’t get any more personal,” Amelia said venomously before storming out of the library.
Yellaina stared them down with bloodshot eyes. Emile could tell she was trying not to cry. “If anything happens to her, and I have to live with the guilt that I did nothing to prevent it, I will never forgive you,” she said looking directly into Olivier’s eyes.
Emile felt the hit to the gut that it had been for Olivier. Yellaina followed Amelia out of the room. “It’s for her own good,” Olivier said quietly, more to himself than anyone else.
“So what’s the plan?” Emile asked, looking at Noland.
He felt his rush of anxiety.
“We don’t really have one.”
Achaia spent hours following John through legions of demons. Any shred of hope she had that Noland and Naphtali could get to her, was gone. Even if they were to find her location, they would be outnumbered beyond belief. Coming after her would be suicide.
Hell was designed like a never ending cavernous catacomb. The iced over walls occasionally granting glimpses of bone, of skulls. It trailed on in a round spiral with archways branching off into what John explained were the various circles of Hell, where humans with no Godly allegiance were sorted based on the severity of the actions of their lives. Beyond the arches, Achaia could hear the occupants’ cries of misery. The first circles started as moans and weeping. The further they descended, the more desperate and horrible the sounds of their agony became.
Finally, they came to an opening. She could see in the distance what looked like a grand room coming into view. As they drew closer, the ceiling rose into a high vault. It was an icy room with a stalactite strewn ceiling. Stalagmites rose from the ground like ice pillars and columns. The room was blindingly white, with the reflection off the ice hitting her from every angle. She blinked in an effort to adjust her eyes from the dark tunnel to this vast, white room.
“Welcome to the fourth circle, the home of those damned for greed.” John bowed his head as we gestured for her to go on into the grand hall.
“Achaia!” A voice called happily. A man in a floor length leather coat walked briskly toward her from beyond the pillars. His arms were spread in welcome.
She’d never seen this man in her life, but he greeted her like a long lost friend. A perfect smile shown at her from behind his perfectly symmetrical and shapely lips. His blue eyes were as deep as the Caspian Sea. His features were flawless, save for where he was obviously frozen. His face, as he came closer, had translucent fractures, and was chipped with frost bite. He looked like a living ice sculpture who had been chiseled out by the world’s most talented artist, and had endured years of use and abuse, but was still, undeniably, a masterpiece of beauty.
“Lucifer?” Achaia asked, as the man finally closed the remaining space between them.
“At your service, Love.” He smiled so brightly at her, she couldn’t help but want to smile back.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered if his gift was the same as Bale’s. How could someone so beautiful be as tainted as everyone made him out to be?
“Come in! Come in!” Lucifer turned and led her into the room, around pillars, and down some steps into what looked like a formal sitting room. The icy floor was covered with an ancient, expensive looking rug. There were sofas carved out of the ice, which were covered with thick furs. On one of them, sat her father.
“Dad!” Achaia ran to him, throwing herself onto the sofa, and hugging him fiercely.
“Achaia,” her father’s voice sounded stunned and sad in her ear. “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here.” He said, his eyes full of fear. Achaia pulled back and looked up into his face.
“I had to see you.” Her eyes were filling with tears, but instead of warm salty tears gliding down her cheeks, they froze in her lashes. She hugged her father again.
“One big happy family!” Lucifer said throwing himself on the sofa across from them.
“She can’t stay here,” Shael said with finality.
“Dad?” Achaia said sitting back up and looking into her father’s face. His once brown skin was pale. His vivid brown eyes were dull. His once fierce face was without hope.
“I thought this would cheer you up!” Lucifer said looking at Shael, confused. “Didn’t you miss her?”
“Of course I missed her,” Shael said grasping Achaia’s hand over her knee. He squeezed it firmly. “But this isn’t the future I wanted for her. I want her to have warmth, and love.”
“You want her to have Him.” Lucifer’s voice was full of contempt.
“Luc, please. All of this mess was created out of your jealousy of Him. Of course I want her to have Him.”
“Then why did you keep her unaffiliated?” Lucifer sat up straight on the edge of his seat.
“I wanted her to have a choice, when the time came.”
“The time did come, and she did choose!” Lucifer’s face would have been flushed by now, if there was any blood in him to make it to his cheeks. Achaia, however, was beginning to believe he was made entirely of ice, inside and out. “And now she has joined us forever.”
“What did you promise him?” Shael asked turning to look Achaia in the eye.
“Nothing.” Achaia said.
“False.�
� Lucifer said triumphantly. “It was made perfectly clear that the offer was for you to join us for eternity.”
“But I didn’t accept the offer.” Achaia said looking from her father to Lucifer.
“You came with John, that was acceptance.” Luc said, looking over to John, who was standing in the distance.
“You did ask her?” Luc said, a tinge of doubt in his voice.
“I asked her if she considered the offer, yes.”
Luc looked back at Achaia triumphantly.
“I said ‘yes’ I had considered it. Not ‘’yes’ that I agreed or accepted it.” Achaia said, hoping this counted as a loophole. “I did consider it, and I decided I didn’t like it. But that I’d really like to see my dad.”
Lucifer’s smile fled his face. “Pledge allegiance to me, and you’ll have him forever,” Luc said coming to stand before Achaia. “There’s no need to ever say goodbye.”
“No.” Achaia looked into his eyes, and no longer saw the beauty in them, only the coldness. She thought of Noland, and tried to remember what warmth felt like. She couldn’t.
Shael was on his feet. “Leave her, Luc.”
“Shut up, Shael,” Luc said pushing Shael in the chest. “You always were the weak one.” Luc spat. “You and your feelings.”
“Oh, stop it,” Achaia said rising to her feet. “Everyone talks about you as if you’re someone to fear.”
Luc’s attention snapped back to Achaia, giving her a look to use extreme caution. “Tread carefully,” He growled.
“Or what?” Achaia asked.
“Achaia,” Shael warned.
“What? You’ll kill me?” Achaia asked. “So I’ll just still be stuck here? Or miraculously I’ll go to Heaven I suppose. I’m not sure how that works really. But either that changes nothing, or I escape?” Achaia cocked an eyebrow. “You still wouldn’t win…”
Transgression Page 34
