by Lori Adams
We don’t actually head into the trees but skirt around them, along the cliffs. The sharp edge staggers back and forth because it was made in a hurry back in the day. Rama and I follow single file along Degan’s zigzag path. After he finishes the song, he starts jabbering about what’s happening down below.
“Crazy shit, these Demonic Games. There’ll be lots of demons pouring down from the surface. Everybody wants in on the games.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, noting that the ground is beginning to slope. This part of the Borderlands seems less stable than where I’ve been.
“Bargaining. Lots of bets taking place. You know, high-stakes wagering.”
This surprises me so I ask, “What is there to wager for in Hell?”
Rama beats Degan to the punch. “Flesh,” he says in a nasty tone. “Nobles who own the damned like to wager for better flesh. More bodies. Like chattel.”
This makes my skin crawl and I remember the bloody slave blocks from my visions of Ka in Hell. I look up ahead at Degan. He has slowed down and is gazing into the black mist.
“Slave trade,” he mumbles. “Nobles are allowed to expand their territory in Hell. Same as on the surface. They want more territory, more structures on their territory, and more flesh to carve it into something resembling affluence. Greed is alive and well down below.”
It’s a sickening declaration but not altogether surprising. Dante shared a little about his life in Hell, and I’ve come to understand certain things. Evil can organize as well as anybody. I don’t want to be naive about anything I’m walking into. For a fleeting moment, I wish I had found a way to talk to Mom. She’s been heavy on my mind since Dad mentioned her. His instinct told him she could help; and so does mine. More than once since I arrived at the Borderlands, I’ve felt her presence like I did in the barn on my wedding day. I’d give anything to ask her if I’m doing the right thing.
We continue on in uncomfortable silence. I don’t want to lose my nerve so I focus on Ka and what she’s gone through. I remember visions of tornado-like funnels dragging her down. I wonder if that’s what we have waiting for us. When I ask Degan about it, he’s surprised that I know what I’m talking about.
“Yeah, for sure, but it’ll be a little more crowded this time. Like I said, demons are dropping like flies to get through the gates. I want you guys staying close to me. Your Chelsea Light will be a beacon.”
“What about iron?” Rama speaks up. He’s been reluctant to speak directly to a soul seeker but finds it necessary now. Degan stops and gives him his full attention. I can just image what he’s thinking. Here I’ve made friends with a spirit walker and her Ascended Master. We’re all cool to hang out.
Hardly.
“Iron? You mean using iron to shield her light?”
I show Degan the special glove I’ve hidden in my pocket. Rama created a churning conglomeration of metals that will cover the palm of my hand. “It’s an iron-nickel alloy. Rama thought the iron might mute the glow. Plus he added a special spiritual ingredient to keep the mixture cool enough for me to handle.” When I show Degan the effect, he nods thoughtfully.
“I like it. Doesn’t block it out as much as redirects it into shards of light in every direction. It might help divert attention from you, but we’ll stick to the shadows just in case.”
We continue on, the terrain changing into a gloomy, sparse atmosphere. The grass has faded into rocky silt that seems to shift and bubble in places. The trees have all but disappeared. Rama tells me we’re heading into the outer reaches of the Borderlands. Places most heavenly bodies don’t travel. Not unless you’re a Halo warrior.
This makes me think of Michael and my stomach twists in pain. God, I miss him. This has been one hell of an end to our honeymoon. I want to get this over with as soon as possible so I can return to him, whole. My soul intact with no more threats from Dante.
I won’t let myself harbor any doubts about what I’m doing, so I toughen up. I switch gears and ask Degan if he’s heard about this demon spy in Haven Hurst that works for Lord Brutus.
“Uh, yeah,” he scoffs. “Everybody has. I even heard the old man lost his seat on the High Throne because he wouldn’t give up the name.”
I stop in my tracks and stare at him. “What does that mean? Lord Brutus is not part of The Order anymore?”
“No, he still sits at the table, just not in the big-boy chair.” He laughs at his own joke. I’m frantic to know the details but, sadly, Degan says that nobody knows who the demon spy is or what human it’s using as a vessel. “The old man’s not talking. If you ask me, he’s up to something. Big. He’d rather give up the High Throne than give up the spy. If that shit don’t stink, I don’t know what does.”
The ground slopes dramatically now and we slide down the grade like we’re dirt surfing. Once it levels back out, Degan stops.
“Here we are,” he announces. The dim light that has guided us this far shudders like an old bulb on its last watt. Everything above is muted and gray. Lifeless without hope. The black mist that once hovered at the cliff’s edge has been overtaken by thick, red roiling clouds. A carpet of bloody stew. Off in the distance, craggy mountain peaks rise within it, indicating that some crude form of land exists below, the secret body of an iceberg. Here and there, the red clouds gurgle and create a dark, frothy concoction.
“There is no direct drop from the Borderlands to any of the gates to Hell,” Degan explains. “But this here is the closest we can get to gate five. You jump from any other spot and there’s no telling what gate or wasteland you’ll be sucked into.”
I look uncertainly at Rama. He’s been stone-faced most of the way. Now he stands tall at the edge like a man who’s never known fear. It gives me more comfort than he can imagine.
“So that’s what we do? Just jump?” I ask Degan. His attention has gone in the opposite direction, where a band of lesser demons is striding along the Borderlands. They’re deep in an aggressive conversation and not paying attention to us. More are following behind them; Degan was right. It’s going to get crowded.
I loop my arm through Rama’s and then stuff my gloved hand inside my pocket, curling it into a fist. The lessers sense something in the air and look our way. We need to be in a large crowd for this distraction to work, so we’d better get going. I grab Degan’s hand to make sure we stay together. Then, with an all-or-nothing look, I pull us forward like we’re BASE jumping off the edge of insanity.
Immediately, the red clouds swirl into a funnel to control us. We are whipped and tossed with a vacuum-like sensation of being sucked into a tight vortex. The brutal ride forces us apart and spins incessantly until I feel nauseated. It seems to go on forever. Then we are violently spit out at the entrance of a swampy-looking place.
“Yuck!” I cough and wipe dirt from my mouth. My hair is a mess and my coat has been thrown open, exposing my weapons. I’m flat on my back, lying between two rock pillars with blazing torches. Twisting around, I see that we’ve landed on the bank of a gruesome moat. As I climb to my feet, I hear Rama spitting out pebbles.
“Epic wipeout,” he grumbles. We stand and rearrange ourselves to look presentable. Degan is waiting, completely unaffected. Behind him, the lesser demons drop from their funnels, landing lightly on their feet with feline agility. They don’t hesitate but take off across a rickety wooden bridge. It leads to a monstrous gate looming across the gloppy moat. I realize it’s not water bubbling up but molten lava.
We are now on the underside of things, the red boiling sky pressing down on us. Evil radiates everywhere and makes me twitchy beneath my coat. My heart is racing.
“You ready?” Degan asks as more lessers fall from the sky. They’re dropping everywhere in their black coats. Rama and I actually blend in.
We start across the bridge, Degan first, then me, and Rama. We’re not alone. Lessers fall in behind us, chatting about favorite competitors already destroyed in the games. Who they’ll wager on next. Who they want to see destroyed for good. A
pparently the games have been going on for three days and the final round is well under way. They’re anxious to get inside and enjoy the final battle. It all sounds rather normal and helps distract from the skulls rolling to the surface of the lava and the eerie chanting rising from the shadows.
We leave the bridge and cross a wide stone concourse flanked by tall tombstones. It all seems vaguely familiar. Ka must have stood outside the huge gate for a while; her visions are sharp in my mind. The anxious emotions attached to them are leading me to believe that something significant happened here. An attack of betrayal. Ka discovered that Lord Brutus sent guards to kill them.
I gaze up at the horrific gate just as it moves to open. Stone grates against stone and everybody pours inside. The lessers go straight through a huge, cavernous room with pillars of fire. Degan pulls us off toward the right. We head down a dark stone stairwell where he decides to share some news he heard while waiting for us at the Borderlands.
“So yeah, apparently Wolfgang has regenerated.”
Rama and I both react. We stop on the stairs and gape at him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I hiss out. Degan grabs my arm and pulls me along. We have to keep moving.
“Don’t freak. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m just telling you as a courtesy. Thought you’d want to know. Most likely, he’ll never know you’re down here.” I demand to know where Wolfgang is but Degan doesn’t know. “The reaper who told me about it says Wolfgang lost his original body. So basically he’s not himself anymore.” He grins but I don’t.
“What does that mean, exactly?” I demand as we round a dark corner. The grimy walls are moist and I’m trying my best not to touch them. The pathway is chalked with something white that coats my boots. We passed a few skeletal parts strewn on the ground so I’m guessing it’s bone shavings I’m walking on. If that’s not bad enough, the odor is thick and putrid along this corridor. I’m fighting to keep my stomach from heaving.
“It means Wolfgang has a new body. Like I do. But probably not as handsome.” He flashes another smile and then goes on when he sees that I’m not charmed. “Well, anyway, remember how you didn’t know me until Dante reintroduced us outside that high school? Yeah, so it’s the same with Wolfgang; we wouldn’t know him unless he revealed himself to us.”
“This is a nightmare,” I say. “He could be anyone. He’ll recognize me. Or Ka.”
“Believe me, it’s nothing to worry about. He’s not even going to see us. You’re staying in the shadows and I’m going to lure Ka over so you can do your spell thing. That’s the plan, right?”
Yeah, that was the plan. Degan has to speak to Ka like he’s talking to me. It will force her to remember him through my memories. She will trust him because I do. Hopefully.
The low roar of a crowd echoes down the tunnel. Degan says we’re getting close. We keep going until the tunnel narrows considerably and we have to double over to get through. The bone shavings on the ground have long since disappeared; this is not a pathway anyone uses with regularity. I’m guessing only soul seekers like Degan or underlings like Santiago sneak around this way. When we round the corner, we come to a vast, open space. We are suddenly on the narrow ledge of a huge, hollow cavern. Degan wanted us above the games so we are basically higher than the nosebleed section. From this vantage point, we have a perfect view of the grisly and horrific.
It’s overwhelming at a glance; a cave coliseum. Like a crypt stuffed with corpses, the gray walls have been honeycombed into box seats. It’s the theater of the gruesome; gladiator games for the undead. All around the cavern, fans shout and jeer, leaning from their seats to punch the air or beat iron clubs against the walls. Some are spitting down at competitors that have disappointed them.
Far below is the arena, a giant stone slab cut into a sophisticated labyrinth. Inside the high walls of the maze are contestants, hideous-looking creatures not unlike Wolfgang the last time I saw him. Four creatures, each armed with a sword and a shield. Any extra body parts like horns or tails or claws are part of their own makeup. Two have the hindquarters of some hoofed animal. Another has the snout and horns of a buffalo. The last one seems more human, less grisly if you disregard the reptilian Mohawk running from its head down its back.
The giant stone labyrinth is precariously balanced on some hidden apex that tips it back and forth in response to shifting weight. Some passageways are open and lead to the surrounding sea of boiling lava. Similar to the molten moat outside the gate, it rolls and bubbles with fire. The heat shimmering up is extraordinary.
Degan pulls me into the shadows of a niche because I have been gawking in horrified wonder. Not exactly fitting in. If a lesser should bother to look our way, it might get curious as to why I’m appalled.
“Stay down,” Degan whispers. He motions for Rama to squeeze in behind us. He’s a big guy so it’s not easy. After a series of grunts and groans, Rama gets himself situated and Degan explains things. “Okay, now look. All along the middle tier are the box seats of the nobles. See?” He points to an elaborate box seat decorated with gargoyle carvings to set it apart from the others. Six people are seated inside and my eyes immediately land on myself. Ka is sitting between Dante and a woman with multicolored hair. I clutch the rocky ledge and peer closer, concentrating on Ka. From this vantage point I see that she is wearing a simple dark cape like most of the other nobles. She is smiling, happy for all the world. Dante takes her hand and brings it to his lips, kissing it through a smile. I’ve never seen him like this. Relaxed and genuinely in love. Ka reaches up and brushes the hair from his forehead. She pulls him closer for a quick kiss. Then she says something and Dante throws his head back, laughing.
I close my eyes, reeling from the effect. So close to her now, the emotions channeled to me come quickly, like a drug. My heart is racing. So much love. It’s intoxicating.
“Sophia?” Rama squeezes my shoulder as though he understands what I’m experiencing. I’m overwhelmed. Suddenly tormented by what I’m about to do—rip them apart all over again.
Don’t they deserve to be happy? Don’t they deserve a chance at love?
“Be strong, wahine,” Rama whispers when a moan escapes me. “Don’t let it toss you.”
Be strong. I nod and take in a deep, calming breath. Just the sound of his familiar, meditative voice brings me back. I open my eyes to Degan staring.
“You okay?” he asks. I answer with, “What now?” and he continues. “The men sitting behind Dante are part of The Order: Lord Malachi, Lord Stivell, and Lord Viperon. They support Dante’s cause. Lord Brutus and the others are in the next box.”
“Where?” I demand sharply. “Which one is Lord Brutus?” Degan singles out an old man, pale and decrepit-looking.
“Don’t be fooled,” he warns. “He’s ancient but powerful. A crafty son of a bitch.”
My eyes cut back to Ka. The woman sitting between her and Vaughn seems familiar, so I rifle through my memories until I find her. She was the one Lovaria knew in her past life, the one Dante foolishly trusted. Seeing her there suggests that he still doesn’t know she betrayed them. “Tell me about Isatou. The witch.”
Degan looks impressed and explains that she is shifting her allegiance from The Order to Dante and Vaughn. “Lord Brutus has controlled her for eons but now that his authority is in question, she’s taking her chance to be free of him.” I notice a softness in his voice when he speaks of her. I give him a look and he smiles sheepishly. “Nothing more alluring than a beautiful tragedy, huh?” He shrugs.
Degan is not the only one who thinks so. Vaughn doesn’t seem to mind sharing Isatou’s company. I wonder what Bailey would think if she could see him now.
The crowd noise escalates abruptly as one of the creatures comes upon another in the maze. There are booby traps, smoke, and false walls to contend with, but they find each other and launch their attack as the stone slab teeter-totters. At the opposite end, a door in the floor opens and a hideous lizard-like monster crawls out. It’s
huge and hungry, a Komodo dragon on steroids. It bares its teeth and then slams its jaws shut like a steel trap. The crowd goes wild. Apparently, fighting each other is not enough; obstacles by way of the slimy and demented are thrown into the mix.
The lizard’s added weight sends the slab rocking in great swells. The contestants lose their footing and tumble along the corridors. It’s like an oversized child’s toy, except that the giant lizard has clawed its way to the buffalo-faced contestant. A piercing shriek comes from buffalo face. It gets in one good swing before its sword arm is bitten off. Echoes of joy reverberate all around and clubs pound the walls. The lizard pounces, devouring the creature in one bite. Lifting its head, the lizard shifts the buffalo body in its fleshy throat and forces it down. More histrionics from the crowd; they wail and shake parchments at each other, changing their wagers on the spot.
It’s obscene and surreal but I can’t look away. While the lizard is eating the contestant, we can see the Mohawk creature weaving its way closer. It pounces, driving its sword into the lizard’s neck. Repeatedly. The Komodo lizard flails and eventually collapses. In the far corner, another carnivorous monster is attacking one of the hoofed creatures. They wrestle but the monster’s tail slams the hoofed creature unconscious. Then it clamps down on the hindquarters and tears away a chunk of red meat. The stone slab shifts without warning, dumping the carnivore and his kill into the lava. This leaves the Mohawk creature and the last hoofed creature. They work their way through the maze, swords ready. This continues for another ten minutes as various monsters rise from the floor only to be destroyed by the last two contestants. In the end, the Mohawk creature outmaneuvers the hoofed creature and cuts off his head. The mob explodes. They have a winner.
