by S. M. Reine
Someone really hadn’t wanted people going down this tunnel.
Elise was thinking about turning back when the tunnel began to widen again, turning into a second, smaller cavern.
Her torchlight glinted off of a tall figure that stood in the center of the cavern, glistening and white.
She froze, waiting to see if it would move. It didn’t.
When she drew closer, she began to make out details. It looked very much like the statue of the three people that was in Abraxas’s cathedral on the surface, except that the faces weren’t broken off on this one. All eight of Yatam’s arms were intact. His delicately carved features were beautiful, but much more square than she remembered—Yatam had possessed an almost feminine beauty, difficult to distinguish from his twin sister’s.
In fact, the longer that Elise looked at it, the more she thought that it wasn’t meant to be Yatam at all. She had never seen him depicted with a serpent’s tail before. This statue had a forked tongue protruding from his lips, wide eyes set on either side of his head, and a flat nose. The only resemblance was the long hair sculpted to make it look like it was blowing back from his face.
Elise climbed onto the base of the statue, lifting the lamp to get a better look. The angel wasn’t Metaraon, either. It was a woman. She had a strong jaw, a sword held loosely at her side, and a missing wing. The absent wing was deliberate, not damage to the statue itself. When Elise leaned around the angel, she could see the care that had been taken in rendering the stump.
And the human wasn’t Teleklos, either. It was another woman. A mortal woman.
It was the same statue as the one in the temple above—but it was not the same three people that Elise expected to find.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
A warm, dry breeze whistled down the cavern, coming from the opposite direction of the other entrance. When it died, Elise realized she could hear faint movement echoing through the tunnel. Ace snuffled through the muzzle.
They weren’t alone.
She kneeled beside Ace. “I’m letting you go. Don’t bite me.” Elise unhooked his muzzle. He tore off into the darkness, leaving her standing with the basket in her hand.
Elise followed the sound of his clicking nails. The cavern’s rear tunnel intersected with one of the other paths—she could tell, because they had painted “road” on the junction, too—and the noise was coming from up ahead.
Red light filled the tunnel as it sloped upward. It grew steeper. Elise almost had to crawl to reach the top.
She stepped into open air in a small valley of rock. There was no way to tell which way Ace had gone—he had already run off. She wasn’t worried about it. He knew who had the bottle of water.
Elise climbed to the top of the valley opposite the tunnel’s exit. There was a large pile of black rock against the cliff, as though there had been a recent landslide, but it didn’t block her view into the wastelands.
The supposed mine behind Abraxas’s house had cut straight through Mount Anathema and opened into the desert beyond. It was different from the wastelands to the east; there were no gaping wounds in the earth here, no fiery pits emanating the screams of the damned. It was high desert caught between two mountain ranges. There was low, brittle scrub bush the color of blood-flushed meat, and iron trees with bare branches that looked like claws raking at the sky.
And there was also an army encampment.
Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes swept over the gathered legions. This was where many of the city’s inhabitants had gone—they had gathered behind the mountains, out of sight from the fissure, where any brave invaders wouldn’t be able to find them. Many were already organized into lines that marched toward the city through the mountains. That had to be the slowest route. It would take days to reach the Palace and its bridge like that.
But another, smaller line was moving in her direction. They were going to take the pass under the mountains.
With an unpleasant jolt, she realized that they were going to enter the city through the House of Abraxas.
She needed to get back.
Elise turned to look for Ace…and the mountain moved. She took a step back from the cliff, staring hard at the pile of rocks that had slid from above. It moved again, unfolding an arm from underneath its body, and then a leg.
She wasn’t standing next to a huge pile of rocks after all. She was standing next to a demon as big as the cliff itself.
Since she hadn’t been looking for something that big, it hadn’t occurred to her to look for enlarged features. But when two spheres bigger than her head exposed themselves, she realized that they were eyes. Then she saw the flat nose, the slit of the mouth that was nearly the size of the cave’s opening.
The demon sat upright. He made the ground shake when he moved. His cloven hooves were as tall as Elise, his legs furred, his wings vast enough to blot out the sky.
Elise remembered those hooves and wings. She had seen them when he tried to force his way through a portal to Hell in Northgate.
It was Aquiel, the Prince of Nightmares.
“Looking for me?” he asked. His voice was the rumbling bass of an army marching across the wastelands, thousands of feet pounding against stone. His accent was refined. It was like listening to the mountain speaking the infernal tongue.
Elise held her ground, fists at her side, as she lifted her chin to meet his gaze. He may have been a very big demon, but he was still just a demon.
“Actually, I was looking for Belphegor. Seen him?”
“Not since this morning,” Aquiel said, eyes narrowing to red slits. “I sent him to visit with you, Godslayer. He should be outside your gates at any moment.”
He recognized her. He knew that she had taken the House of Abraxas.
And he had sent Belphegor to attack while she was gone.
Shit.
Elise began backing down the rocks, putting the breeze through the tunnel behind her so that she could follow it down. She didn’t dare turn from him.
Aquiel stood. The sweep of his wings blasted dust into her face. She coughed and waved a hand in front of her face. “For the Prince of Nightmares, you don’t look much like your people.”
“You’re confused,” Aquiel said with a dark smile. “I was not made the Prince of Nightmares because I am a nightmare, but because of my ability to control them. I sense that you are like them. You have the ichor within you, the ability to phase. Your abilities are within my control, Godslayer. You can’t begin to fathom what a mistake you’ve made in coming here.”
Elise moved to rip off a glove. Spells that could kill Belphegor might also be able to kill Aquiel, who was bigger but not necessarily tougher.
But before she could peel the glove higher than the heel of her palm, Aquiel reached for her.
His fist closed on her midsection. Elise tried to turn incorporeal to jump out of his grip—but couldn’t. Her eyes widened.
Aquiel’s booming laugh shook down his arm. “I am Prince of Nightmares, and you are nothing but a bottom feeder.” His breath blasted her hair back. Sputum flung from his bottom lip and splattered on her neck, hot and wet.
“I have the blood of the Father,” she grunted, kicking at his wrist, squeezing her arms in his grip, trying to loosen just an inch of wiggle room.
“No father of mine. He may have fucked and birthed half of Dis, but I come from depths far beyond his seed.”
She was off the ground, legs dangling. Aquiel lifted her toward his mouth. A painting flashed through her mind—the image of Jupiter, a vicious god, ripping his children apart with his teeth. Aquiel’s maw was massive. She was no child, but he could easily bite her in half if he wanted.
Her fingers closed around the cold, hard butt of the pistol.
Elise squirmed an arm free and brought the gun with it.
His tongue slithered over her shoulder. Elise grimaced. She could barely breathe through his stinking breath, could see nothing but the back of his mouth and the path of jagged
fangs between them, the bloody muscle of his tongue.
Elise lifted the gun. She didn’t have a chance to aim. She pointed her arm into his mouth and fired.
The bullet hit his upper lip, leaving a pinprick that oozed blood. It didn’t stop him from trying to push her into his mouth.
Elise fired again and again, bracing one foot against his lower jaw and the other on his upper teeth. The shots seemed to vanish into his stomach. She pressed with all of the strength she could gather in her thighs, fighting against the pressure of his hand and arm. Aquiel was laughing, like it was funny for his food to fight against being eaten.
And then Elise heard another growl. A much quieter growl than the one coming from Aquiel, but no less vicious.
She twisted to look over the side of his black knuckles.
Ace was on the cliffs above them. He leaped and landed on Aquiel’s face.
The pit bull was tiny in comparison to the great demon, but not so tiny that his jaws couldn’t grip Aquiel’s eyelid. He ripped his head back and shredded the skin. Aquiel roared. His hand clenched tighter around her for an instant, her ribs creaked, and Elise squeezed out a pained gasp. But then the hand loosened—not much, barely enough room to bring her other arm out.
Elise threw both of her arms over her head and sucked in her breath. She slid out of his grip.
She struck the rocks on her side.
Aquiel was reeling, stomping his hooves, thrashing. His massive hand swatted Ace off of his face.
Elise leaped forward with her arms outstretched.
Ace hit her hard, and she wrapped her body around him as they fell, rolling down the hill toward the entrance of the caverns. She had the presence of mind to grab his mouth before he could bite her, but he didn’t attempt it—the instant he was out of her arms, he was lunging at Aquiel again, thirsty for another taste of demon blood.
“No,” Elise said, snagging his spiked collar. “Other way. Run!”
She yanked Ace into the tunnels with her, hoping that it would be too small for Aquiel to follow. She still couldn’t turn incorporeal—whatever Aquiel had done to force her into her physical body was still in effect. But she could run, she was fast, and she was small.
Elise and Ace shot into the tunnels. She felt pressure-sensitive panels on the floor sink underneath her feet; magma gushed into the air behind her, hot enough to singe her hair. It splashed over the floor in her wake.
She dared cast a glance over her shoulder. Aquiel was too big for the tunnel, but his arm wasn’t. His hand thrust through the tunnel after her. Burning welts lifted on his flesh, but he still pushed through the magma as if he couldn’t feel it.
“Go, go, go!” she yelled to Ace.
They scrambled around a corner in the tunnel, and Aquiel’s hand swiped at her back. The claw on his forefinger raked the back of her shirt.
Elise had reached the cavern with the statues again. She stopped at the feet of the trio, chest heaving, and turned to watch Aquiel’s hand withdraw from the tunnel.
There was another sound—the distant rumbling of his voice, as if he were shouting. She didn’t think he was shouting at her.
He was sending his army after them.
Elise swore and jammed Seth’s gun into the back of her belt again.
They had a head start, but Ace was limping now—he couldn’t put weight on his rear paw. Whatever fit of insanity had seized him long enough to save Elise and make a break for it had faded. Aquiel must have injured him in the attack.
“Come on,” she said, grabbing him around the ribcage with her arms. He kicked wildly as she ran.
She heard yelling. The army was already in the tunnels behind them.
When they broke into the chamber with the pit of magma, she felt a shift within herself. She had gotten far enough from Aquiel to be free of his grip. Finally.
Elise phased into darkness with Ace, lifting him into the air. They swirled through the gases spewed by the magma river, past the elevator, and into the entry tunnel. She felt the darkness compressing around her as Aquiel’s weight bore down on her again. He tightened on her like a fist.
With a sickening pop, she turned corporeal again.
She dropped Ace on the ledge, but missed it herself. She slid over the side. Her scrabbling fingers caught the edge of the cliff, just barely—her legs dangled hundreds of feet above the magma.
Elise could see movement on the other side: nightmares following her, little more than a black fog with an occasional flash of limbs inside of it. They wouldn’t be slowed by the magma lake or the elevator. They would be able to leap onto the ledge just as easily as she had.
Groaning at the effort, she hauled herself over the edge of the pit. Ace was waiting for her. His ears were perked forward and his wounded paw was tucked under his belly.
“Good boy,” she grunted, rolling onto the floor next to him.
He growled.
She could feel the nightmares creeping up behind her. All of the heat was sucked out of the air, blotting out the light from the magma lake.
“Godslayer!”
The roar shook the tunnel, making rock shower from the ceiling. Elise shot a look over her shoulder.
Aquiel had somehow fit into the cavern. The nightmares rippled around him like a desert mirage, sliding over his shoulders, clinging to his horns, stirring on every exhalation. He smelled of brimstone. He blotted out all light.
He must have been able to turn incorporeal, too.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Elise muttered. “Run, boy!”
She didn’t need to tell him. He was already shooting up the tunnel at an awkward lope, foot dragging behind him. Elise shielded him from Aquiel with her body as she peeled her glove off.
Aquiel reached into the tunnel, and Elise jumped out of the way of his hand, tucking her legs to somersault into the corner. He was big and clumsy—by the time he reached around to the other side, she was already on her feet.
She jumped back when he swiped for her again. His claws whistled an inch from her shirt.
As he passed, Elise drew the gun with one hand and the jar with the other. She emptied the clip into his hand. The prick of bullets in his magma-burned skin made blood gush over his knuckles. Elise ducked under his fingers and lifted the jar.
She had it—she had Aquiel’s blood.
Elise flung out her hand, speaking a word of power.
The destruction rune activated.
She turned her face away from the brilliant light that flared from her palm. It sucked all of the strength out of her, channeling it through the earth, the mountain above, the magma below.
And everything exploded.
For a fleeting, rewarding instant, Elise saw the anger and shock on Aquiel’s face—and then a piece of the mountain above dislodged and smashed into the back of his head. It slammed his skull to the ledge. His head snapped back. He cried out, but it was cut off as another piece smashed into his face. Blood gushed from the wound and slopped over Elise’s feet.
The entire cavern began to collapse. Boulders rained around them.
Elise ran.
The wisps of incorporeal nightmares darted around her, but she swatted them away, pummeling at nothing with elbows and fists. The left wall of the tunnel crumbled in on itself. A chunk of ceiling crashed in front of her, and she leaped over it in time for the opposite wall to collapse, smashing shut on Aquiel’s outstretched arm.
She didn’t look back again. She just kept running.
Within a few steps, she felt Aquiel’s control release again—whether it was because the collapse had killed him or he had let her go, she wasn’t sure, and she didn’t care.
Elise exploded into shadow.
In a heartbeat, she stood outside the mouth of the tunnel. She reformed beside the end of the tracks and watched as the mountain consumed the tunnel that Abraxas’s forces had so carefully carved out. Ace had flopped down a few feet away, sweaty and panting and covered in black dust. He was safe.
The land slid above a
nd below. With a final, mighty groan, the entrance collapsed.
Even after the opening was nothing but rubble, Elise could hear everything inside shifting, shattering, settling into a new configuration. The mountain above her had an obvious indentation where the rocks had caved in. Aquiel, and all of his nightmares, were trapped inside—hopefully permanently.
The humans were raiding the warehouse when Elise climbed down from the mine to return to the House. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end when she realized that they were hauling crates out into the open air, spreading their contents across the ground. They had found the weapons. They had spears and shields and the short swords that the fiends liked to use.
Neuma was helping them.
“What are you doing?” Elise asked, jerking her away from one of the open crates.
“Hey, Elise,” she said. Neuma brushed red dust off of Elise’s shoulder. She was completely coated in debris from the mines. “Have you been up on the walls?”
“I’ve been busy,” she said curtly.
“Get up there. Take a look.”
Elise flashed to the walls. She looked through the window at the streets surrounding the House of Abraxas and found them as empty as ever—but farther into the city, closer to the Palace, darkness was seething. It was like a dense mist that consumed a row of buildings at a time, inching forward at walking pace, slow but sure.
She stretched her senses beyond the walls. Her mind glanced off of the darkness like hitting a sheet of ice and sliding away. But Elise recognized the flavor of the energies.
Someone was sending nightmares after her.
Belphegor.
It didn’t matter. He didn’t have Devadas’s other hand. He wouldn’t be able to get inside. But it also meant that anyone who wanted to go back to the Palace would have to go through the nightmares first.
Elise slammed her fist into the opposite palm, shoulders tense, jaw clenched. Belphegor and Lincoln weren’t waiting for the army to move in from the wastelands. This was it. This was the fight.
And she still didn’t have an army. All she had was two vials of blood.
