by Jenna Grey
“I know that it’s a high price for humanity to pay for my freedom, but it was his price. I’ve opened up the way for some to come through already as a token of good faith.”
Polly stared hard into Hel’s face, and it was easier with its dead side covered. She was sublimely beautiful, in a sad kind of way.
“It’s not going to happen,” Polly said. “I know that it’s not. I’m sorry, I am, but your sentence isn’t over yet.”
Hel stood, and moved towards the door, circling around Winchard’s body without looking down at it.
“We shall see. It’s about three hours now until moonrise. You have that much time left. Make good use of it, child, to make peace with yourself and your gods.”
What goes through someone’s mind when they’re told that they have three hours left to live? It was probably nothing like the thoughts that were running through Polly’s mind at that moment, but then how many people are faced with the certain prospect of going to Hell, or some version of it for all eternity? She suddenly burst out laughing, probably a hysterical reaction because with the best will in the world she really couldn’t see anything even mildly amusing about the situation. She was beginning to realise that this might really happen, that Bert and Finn wouldn’t get here in time to save her. But she couldn’t allow herself to even entertain that possibility. Bert was coming, Finn was going to save her, somehow.
They had come and removed Winchard’s body shortly after Hel had left, which she was inordinately grateful for. The prospect of having to stare at his stiffening corpse for three hours wouldn’t have been something she relished much. She felt some small measure of satisfaction that she’d been able to see him die, but what she had seen had unsettled her. She wondered where Winchard’s spirit had gone, or if it had gone anywhere. Perhaps Hel’s touch simply destroyed the soul.
Polly touched the little charm around her neck, the one that Finn had bought her at the museum – at least they’d not taken it from her. It was small consolation, but it made her feel closer to him. She sent out her thoughts to him, praying that somehow he would pick them up, but it was a vain hope because Gaunt would have almost certainly warded this place against any kind of magical detection.
“Nana, if you can hear me, please help Bert find me. Liam said you were watching over me – if you can see me here, hear me, then please, please, help me now.”
Anger had replaced hope now. She just wanted these bastards to pay for everything they’d done, for the misery they’d caused her, for murdering Bram, for everything they might do with the Hellstone.
The door opened, and Polly felt a tiny trickle of pee run down her leg as her bladder finally gave way.
Gaunt stepped in, followed by two heavy looking minions. One blocked the door, the other just stood behind her uncle, making it pretty obvious she was not going to be given any chance to escape. Yet somehow, in the back of her mind, she still believed that there was a chance she could get out of this in one piece. It was ridiculous, unreasonable, but Liam’s words kept ringing in her head. Whatever happens in the future, no matter how bad it seems, you are going to live through it and come out the other side in one piece. There will come a time when you don’t believe it, when you will be quite certain that you’re not going to make it. Trust me; you will be the last one standing.”
“It’s time,” Gaunt said. “I am sorry that it’s come to this, but it will be quick and painless, you have my word. I can give you something to dull your senses if you like.”
“Shove it,” Polly said. “You’re a total waste of life, and you are going to pay for this, you scumbag.” She knew there was no point trying to fight; she had no chance of escape. At least if she was going to die, she wouldn’t die a coward.
Polly struggled to her feet and moved towards the door.
“You would be foolish to try and escape – there are more men at the top of the stairs. It would be better for you if you didn’t make a fuss.”
Polly just glared at him and gave him an evil smile.
“I’ve no intention of making a fuss. I’m just planning my revenge.”
Gaunt laughed.
“I admire your spirit, but I’ll be the one with the power once the sacrifice is complete. A pity Winchard won’t be there to see it after all of his hard work.”
Polly gave a fractious laugh.
“Better for you – you won’t have to share your power now.”
Gaunt gave a shark smile.
“I never intended to. Now please follow these gentlemen upstairs.”
Polly did as she was told, but she still hadn’t abandoned all thoughts of escape or rescue. Once upstairs there might still be some way she could get out of this in one piece. Perhaps it was a fool’s hope. There really wasn’t any chance that she was going to get out of this, was there? One thing was certain; when it came to the final chapter, and she knew death was inevitable, she’d make damn sure she did some damage before they put her down.
She walked up the narrow stairs and came out into a large open room. It looked like an old disused warehouse, rotted with age; an ancient edifice that had long since been abandoned and left to decay. There was an eerie silence as she walked in, but she thought she could hear water lapping against stone; were they on a wharf, beside a river perhaps?
She scanned the room, taking in the scene, almost in a trance now because this surely couldn’t be real. There were people already congregated there, all dressed in the obligatory robes – that almost did make her laugh because it was so Hammer Horror. The reality wasn’t nearly as amusing as a B movie horror film. There were eleven of them – some she recognised from her uncle’s gatherings, and some were strangers. They watched her with unconcealed eagerness as she walked in amongst them. She wondered what Gaunt had promised them in return for their treachery, wealth and power no doubt. He would betray them just as he would have betrayed Winchard, if he hadn’t obligingly fallen foul of Hel.
Hel stood in the centre, a terrifying sight, dressed in a long grey robe; it was pristine and lovely on the good side of her body and tattered rags on the other. Behind them were some more men who looked like mercenaries, great mountains of men dressed in black combat gear, carrying high powered rifles. They watched with hard eyes, scanning the room an alert for any potential intrusion. Polly felt all hope disappear. Even if Bert and Finn did find her, what could they do against those men? They’d be gunned down before they set foot into the room. She was going to die.
Her uncle turned and addressed the others; he sounded so pompous, so sure of his purpose.
The robed figures listened attentively, their eyes fixed on her uncle. There was such expectation in their faces, such greed.
“Unfortunately fellow travellers,” Gaunt began. “We are only twelve in number, thanks to Dalbert Winchard’s betrayal – and we must be thirteen. Come forward Edgar – you have been chosen by the group to take the betrayer’s place in the circle.”
One of the mercenaries stepped forwards, a giant of a man, handing his weapon to the man beside him. It was hard to read his expression, because his face was set in stone. If he was being given a great honour, he didn’t make his pleasure obvious. When her uncle handed him the robe to put on, Polly had the vision of it barely covering his great bulk. He pulled it on with difficulty, and it looked ridiculous, his feet sticking out of the bottom; it had obviously been Winchard’s robe. Polly started laughing, she laughed so hard that she was in real pain, doubled up, tears rolling down her cheeks and gasping for breath.
Gaunt looked furious, psychotic almost.
“You dare profane the ritual with your blasphemy!” he screamed at her.
Polly was still choking on her laughter.
“Look around you, Uncle. Just look at yourselves, ridiculous wannabes who think they can cheat God. What are they going to get out of this? What lofty heights are they going to soar to with the help of a half-dead goddess who has to rely on a piece of rock to send people in and out of her domain? It’s all
a joke and you lot are bloody hilarious!”
“Take her!” her uncle ordered. Two of the guards grabbed Polly and dragged her towards the sacrificial table. Polly saw the dagger lying there, an evil looking thing, elaborate, blessedly sharp. If she could get to it, better to die by her own hand than let them perform the ritual – at least then she’d have a chance of seeing her grandmother again.
Polly looked across at Hel and gave her the look she richly deserved. Then the fear, the real numbing terror set in because she finally understood that this was going to happen and nothing was going to save her. She began shaking uncontrollably, and she felt pee trickling down her legs to pool at her feet.
“Take off your clothes and put this on,” Gaunt ordered, throwing a white robe at her. “You stink of urine.”
“Go to Hell.” Polly hissed. The two guards moved towards her, and she put up her hands to stop them. “All right. I’ll do it, but not with the men watching. Hel can watch over me, nobody else.”
Gaunt nodded, reluctantly.
Polly glanced up at Hel as they all turned their backs. The goddess lowered her face and Polly saw that tears were trickling down her beautiful cheek, the other, monstrous side covered by the veil. Polly took off her silly furry boots, stripped off her urine-soaked jeans and filthy sweatshirt and pulled the robe over her head. It was a good foot too long, and she had to bunch it up to stop herself tripping over it.
“Please don’t do this to me,” Polly pleaded, turning to Hel.
Hel just turned away.
“Nobody is doing anything to you,” a voice she knew only too well said, cutting across the silence in the room.
Polly looked up to see Bert standing in the doorway, with Finn beside him – no not Finn, it was Liam.
Polly sank to her knees, all strength gone from her, too weak and numb with relief to keep her legs under her.
Gaunt turned to the intruders and for a moment showed no reaction at all. Then he laughed.
“Well, I’m truly amazed that you found us. You really are a master of your art, Fountain. I salute you as one magician to another, but what exactly are you going to do against all of us?” he sneered. “You always were a fool.” The guards raised their guns, all aiming at Bert and Finn. Polly stopped breathing; they were going to die.
Liam held up his closed fist and opened it. In his palm lay the Torinstone.
“And you always took short cuts, Gaunt, never finding out all of the facts,” Bert said.
Gaunt’s gaze travelled down to the Torinstone, and just for an instant, a look of uncertainty crossed his face.
“More parlour tricks?” he asked.
“More magic,” Liam said. “Let Polly come with us, and we’ll let you live. It’s a more than fair offer after all the misery you’ve caused us.”
Gaunt shot a look across to the guards.
“I want them alive,” Gaunt said.
The guards moved forwards, and Bert merely raised his hand and made a slight movement with it, as if he were flicking off a fly. Two of the guards flew backwards across the room, smashing into the wall with incredible force and dropping to the floor either dead or unconscious, their weapons clattering to the ground. Bert never gave the other two a chance to move. He threw his hand towards them, and they dropped where they stood, out cold or dead, it was impossible to tell.
“Impressive,” Gaunt said, turning to the coven. “You’ll find it a little harder with the rest of us.” But none of the others made a move. They looked from one to the other, uncertain. “Don’t just stand there, you fools. They’re no match for all of us if we work together.” They still didn’t move.
“Come over here, Polly,” Bert said. “They won’t stop you.”
“I will.” Hel moved forwards, raising her hand. “I will not let you keep me from my freedom.”
Polly never saw Hel move. Her speed was terrifying. She lunged at them, pushing Bert aside with her good hand and reaching out to touch Liam with her vile claw. Polly saw Liam drop and the Torinstone tumble from his hand. Without thinking Polly made a grab for it. As soon as she did, the misery of this nightmare disappeared to be replaced by another one, and she fell into it with a sense of overwhelming relief.
Sigurd’s son, Bragi, raised from the dead by his father, was standing over the corpse of Hallfrid Iricsson, a smile of triumph on his face. And she understood – Sigurd had used the Hellstone to bring Bragi back and now his son was exacting vengeance on the man that had destroyed his family. He held the Torinstone in his hand, the stone that banished people to Hell and deprived them of eternity in Valhalla. And Polly knew how to use it.
She opened her eyes again and looked around at the worthless creatures who didn’t deserve to live, twelve terrified mortals who hid behind Gaunt and their goddess. Polly held out the Torinstone and whispered the incantation, closing her other hand over Bert’s arm to protect him. It was too late for Liam, too late for Finn, but she could at least save Bert. She spoke the incantation, and Hel screamed her fear and rage at Polly, but it was too late for all of them. Hel was gone, just gone, no fanfare, or fuss – she merely ceased to be – at least in this reality. Around her, the others dropped to the ground, and Polly captured the image of her uncle’s face to keep in her memory as he pitched forward, quite dead. She was sitting alone in a room full of corpses, only she and Bert still breathing.
Polly dropped the stone, horrified by what she had done. When she turned her hand over and looked down at it, she saw the entire surface of her palm had gone, a burnt and blackened ruin. The pain suddenly hit her, but she pushed it aside, dropping down beside Liam’s body, Finn’s body, and pulling him into her arms. She wanted to cry, but couldn’t; she was empty. There was no sign of life, no pulse, just a dying warmth as whatever was left of his life force slipped away from him. It wasn’t fair, just wasn’t fair after all they’d been through. But Finn wouldn’t be going to Hell; he’d never done anything wrong in his life, as far as she knew, Liam perhaps, but not Finn. It didn’t help make her feel any better.
“Look after him for me, Nana,” she said and then she began to cry.
Bert came back to consciousness just a few minutes later, and apart from a nasty bump on the back of his head, he seemed okay – until he saw his sons’ body.
“What happened?” he asked, looking around at the sea of corpses and then down at the lifeless form of his sons, his face a blank mask of shock.
Polly could barely talk through the tears, and the gravel in her throat. Her words came out as a rasp.
“Hel touched him. I... he’s go––” Bert crawled forward, staring down at the lifeless form, stroking the sweat-damp hair back from his forehead.
“Finn wanted to come with me, of course, he did, but Liam forced him out, took over and wouldn’t let him back. He felt that he owed you this much at least. He told me that he never tried to harm you. It was an accident pure and simple. You do believe that, don’t you? He didn’t want you to think that he could do anything to harm you.”
“I believed him. I was coming back home when I was taken.” Tears streamed down her face, and she couldn’t say any more. Bert had lost both his sons, she had lost Finn, and there was nothing left for her now.
“We’ll take them back and give them a decent burial, although I have no idea how we’re going to manage. Liam drove us here. I... I have friends I can call who’ll help us... we’ll manage.”
Bert seemed so lost.
“Where are we?”
“In London, just a way along the river – an old warehouse that’s due for demolition. We’re not too far from home. Liam, Finn has a cell phone in his pocket. Can you get it out for me, sweetheart? I’m not very good at using those things. I’ll tell you the number to dial.”
Polly reached forwards to get the phone and screamed as Liam’s body lurched upwards and drew in a great gasp of air, as if he were drowning on it, his whole body shuddering.
Polly just stared at him, fixed in shocked awe and then she saw h
is eyes and the clear brightness of his aura.
“Finn?”
Finn looked around in total bewilderment.
“What the hell’s going on? Liam pushed me out; I don’t...” He looked around, his face a picture of confusion. Bert grabbed hold of him and examined him from top to toe.
“I don’t understand, how is this possible? Hel touched you. You should be dead.” Poor Finn had no idea at all what was going on and just sat opened mouthed, looking utterly bewildered.
Polly suddenly understood.
“She touched Liam, not Finn, Finn wasn’t at home.”
Bert began to cry again.
“Of course. She takes the person’s soul, not the body.”
Polly couldn’t cope with any of this, but she knew one thing. Finn was alive, and right now that was all that mattered.
“Does that mean that Liam is in Helheim now?” Finn asked.
Bert shook his head quickly.
“I don’t believe that for a minute. Liam had his faults, but he gave his life to save you, and that has got to be worth a great deal of credit with the powers that be. I don’t believe that he will be punished for saving someone’s life.”
“Please God. But we have the Hellstone,” Finn said.
“Don’t even think it,” Bert said, his voice harsh. “Liam should have died at birth – he had 21 years he should never have had. We have to look at it that way,” Bert said.
“So if he is in Helheim, we let him rot there?” Finn asked.
“And what do you suggest? That we risk you trying to get him back? Where would his soul go – back into you? We must trust in the Powers That Be. It’s all we can do.”
“But I feel so strange,” Finn said. “I can’t feel him; he’s really gone. There’s a terrible emptiness where he used to be. It’s awful.” He wrapped his arms around himself, hugging himself for comfort. Polly closed her arms over his and held him close.
Bert groaned as a realisation hit him.
“I think he knew this was going to happen. He wanted to keep you safe, Finn.”
“I think he saw it in the cards when he did my Tarot reading,” Polly said. “I feel so bad now after all the rotten things I’ve thought about him.”
