“So what if I believe in him or not? I’m a Demon! What the hell…er, heck, makes you think anyone up there would listen to me anyway?”
“Dante…please. This is important to me.”
“Then why don’t you pray?”
“Because…” I said somewhat hopelessly. “I don’t think I believe in God.”
Dante released a sigh of exasperation. “Then why are we even here?”
“No matter what…I’m going to die tonight,” I said. “Please…just do this one thing for me.”
Dante’s expression softened, and he sighed. “Fine. Whatever. Do I have to kneel too?”
I sniffed, wiping a tear before it could fall. “Please?”
He sighed again, dropping to his knees. Climbing up from the floor, I joined formation with him, lowering my head.
“Hey…God,” said Dante. “How ya doin’?”
He paused, and I could feel him rolling his eyes with and expression that said, ‘How the hell did I get sucked into this?’ But he continued.
“I don’t know if you know me,” he said. “My name’s Dante. My dad is like…your arch nemesis and shit. You know, the Devil, Satan, the Antichrist, Lucifer, the Dark Lord… Whatever you want to call him. I know that doesn’t really give you any reason to listen to me, but I’m not doing this for myself. I’m doing it for someone I care about more than anyone else. Her name is Monica Binsfeld.”
He pointed at me. “This one. In case there’s a bunch of other Monica Binsfelds out there. I’m sure that gets confusing with like seven billion people out there.”
Dante cleared his throat and sniffed. His voice elevated, as if he was trying to hide a sudden surge of crushing emotion.
“So here’s the thing, God. Monica is going to die tonight. Which is complete bullshit by the way. She’s too good to leave her family and save herself. Even if these Demons plan on killing her family regardless. You’re all about justice, right? Well there is no justice in letting her get cast down to Hell. I’ve been there, and it’s a shitty place.”
He paused, blinking, and fighting even harder to keep himself together.
“If you’re even half as good as everybody says you are, then there’s no way you can let that happen.”
A single tear trickled down his cheek.
“Please…” said Dante, sniffling. “Save her. That’s what you do, right? Save people? Take me instead. This is my fault. Take whatever you want from me. Anything. Just…save her.”
That was it. Without another word, Dante stood up. Wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his suit coat, he started for the exit.
I scrambled to my feet and hurried after him. The chapel doors had just closed behind him which I rashly burst through. Dante was sitting on the chapel steps. His head of dark hair hung low. I took a hesitant seat beside him. He was going to great lengths to avoid eye-contact with me.
My distraction was momentarily diverted as a single middle-aged zombie in an auto mechanics jumpsuit wandered across the street. He was smudged in grease and an even greater amount of blood. With a hungry grunt, his white eyes honed in on us.
Almost instinctively, I raised my hand at him. I felt an immediate mental string between me and the creature. Belphegor’s power, I realized. The creature seemed to look at me with a sense of understanding behind those eerie blank eyes. And then it wandered off.
“You’re more Demon than human now,” said Dante. “And it’s all my fault.”
“Is everything okay?” I said. I leaned forward to meet his gaze.
“Okay?” said Dante. “Monica, things could not be less okay! Stop pretending like this is some fucking little thing that’s just going to blow over next week!”
“What else can I do? They have my family.”
Dante sighed. “Nothing. There’s nothing you can do.”
There was a long, despairing silence before he added, “
But there’s something I can do.”
“What?”
“I can keep you from going,” he said. His eyes were filled with a defiant earnestness that suddenly made me very uncomfortable.
“Dante, no,” I said. I shook my head. “Don’t even joke about that.”
“I’m not joking. I’m dead serious.”
“I would never forgive you if you did that.”
“I think I would rather have you hate me for the rest of your life than dead and rotting in Hell. In fact…I know I would.”
This was more than just determination in his eyes. This was desperation. Dante was a frantic, wild animal making a last ditch effort for his survival.
Somehow that survival was dependent on me.
“Dante…don’t do this,” I said. My voice softened. “Please…”
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”
His reaction was uncharacteristic. It was like he was egging me on. He wanted me to get mad at him. It would make going against my will that much easier. There was only one way to fight this.
Scooting closer on the steps, I embraced him in a trembling hug. “Because I care for you. And I know you care for me too. And because we both know that this is the right thing to do.”
Another tear streamed down Dante’s perfect, distraught face. “Damn you, Monica.”
“That’s the idea, isn’t it?” I said. My own laughter was almost instantly drowned in tears.
Dante’s blinked away the tears from his own trembling smile. “That was the worst joke ever.”
Our tear-glistened faces drifted only inches from each other. And then his lips gently met mine. I breathed him in like it was my last breath.
We kissed until the full moon.
34
The Gateway to Hell
It happened only a moment after Dante transported us to the encompassing woods of the Saint Salazar Cemetery. Pandemonium materialized before us. It started off as a rather ordinary stretch of forest. My senses blurred, however, as the forest floor vanished into a deep chasm. A new formation of earth emerged instead. Black mist swayed to titanic proportions, solidifying to a grand, gothic silhouette. Dozens of spires scraped the moonlit sky. These became supported by towering parapets and majestic archways. Gargoyles stared down from their grand walls like the very demons they guarded. A single stretch of earth bridged the chasm between us.
It was as terrifying as the first time I’d seen it. Perhaps even more so.
Dante extended a gentlemanly elbow to escort me. “Shall we?”
I forced my bravest smile and slipped my arm around his.
Together we crossed the chasm, eyes fixed straight ahead. I didn’t dare glance down at the jagged rocks several hundred feet below.
It wasn’t until we had practically reached the entrance that I noticed two black-veiled witches standing guard at the towering arched doorway. Perhaps they had just appeared there. Or maybe they had just been camouflaged in the shadows the whole time. Whatever the case, they did not speak to us as we reached them. Instead, they silently pushed the doors open for us to enter. I hugged myself closer to Dante as we stepped inside.
The entire Demonic palace was blazingly illuminated by torch fire, dancing and flickering with life. Two more witches stood at either of the curving staircases leading up to the balcony. It was there that everyone appeared to be congregated—a crown of silhouettes.
I couldn’t help but noticed the broken section of the white stone balcony railing where Dante had punched Amon over the edge.
Dante and I continued up the left staircase, escorted by a new witch. As much as I wanted to close my eyes, I forcefully kept them open and alert as we reached the top.
At least a dozen more black-veiled witches had formed a near circle around the extensive balcony. The only break came at the far end where two tall throne-like seats had been placed. To the left was the Witch King, Mammon. His long spindly fingers
were intertwined.
And to the left sat the second Hartley twin, Lucy. Lucifer. Her blond hair was pulled back, her legs crossed, and her hands were in her lap, looking just as human and preppy as ever.
There was no sign of the cage with my parents and Casey.
“Where’s my family?” I asked.
“They’re somewhere safe,” said Lucifer in her usual composed tone. “Well…assuming your brother is able to control himself for the next couple minutes. It shouldn’t be a problem as long as you comply with us. We simply needed insurance to make sure that you wouldn’t try to kill us and free them yourself.”
“How do I know that you won’t kill them?”
Lucifer responded with a cheeky smile. “I suppose you’ll just have to trust us. You don’t really have a choice if you truly wish to save them. But we need to do this quickly. Every second lost is one that’s certainly not in your family’s favor.”
This was even worse than I thought it would be. I would have to die without the knowledge that my family had actually made it out of this alive. But what other options did I have? If I left, they would die for sure.
“Okay…” I said.
I noticed Dante’s jaw tighten.
Lucifer nodded to Mammon. “You may proceed.”
“Step into the center of our circle,” said Mammon. He gestured us forward with a long, robed arm.
I did so, followed reluctantly by Dante. My brain scrambled for some other alternative to what was about to happen. Nothing came. Even with all of my Demon powers, I had never felt so helpless in my entire life. Only Dante’s presence gave me some sense of comfort.
An emblem had been drawn in the center of the witches’ circle, traced in blood. The many symmetrical lines and shapes formed an image—hands, teeth, eyes, flames. It looked like Hell.
We stepped into the center, hands clasped tightly.
Mammon thrust his hands into the air, rasping some incantation in a ghostly language. The surrounding witches raised their arms as well, repeating his eerie and unfamiliar words. Deep beneath the marble floor, I could hear the earth rumbling. I could feel it.
The floor vanish beneath us. All of us. The witches and Demons remained level with Dante and me as we plunged through shadow and darkness. My red hair whipped around my face and my insides became weightless. I clung to Dante for dear life while he remained still and calm.
A new floor materialized beneath us. Not nearly as smooth as the marble balcony. The wind of our directionless plunge ceased. Still clinging to Dante, I struggled to regain balance. I blinked in the darkness, discerning several sharp objects protruding from the floor and the ceiling—stalactites and stalagmites.
“A cave?” I said
“We’re several hundred feet directly beneath Villeneuve High School,” said Lucifer. Her prim voice permeated the darkness. “Ever wonder why seven Demons would be so obsessed with the place?”
A deep rumble pervaded below. Only this time it nearly shook me off my feet. I felt a sudden intensifying heat through the soles of my shoes.
“You might want to step away from the emblem now,” said Mammon.
No sooner had Mammon spoken, the blood-drawn symbol lit up in glowing crimson beneath us. Dante gripped me and whisked me back several steps. The circling witches did the same, backing away in revered awe. Even Mammon and Lucifer had vacated their thrones, distancing themselves from the emblem.
The center of it crumbled inward. An even greater scarlet light seared through the darkness like a solar flare. As the hole expanded, the cave illuminated. This was no mere cavern. Pillars as thick as redwood trees filled the cave like a great stone forest. Each was bathed in ancient runes. They reached high into the elaborate framework of granite beams supporting the ceiling, forming a dome of cosmic proportions. Though the walls were remote, their sculpted surfaces were so colossal they could be distinguished even from a great distance. The shadows subsided, revealing hundreds…thousands of stone-carved souls, naked and overlapping each other in a lake of fire. Each face was far gone from sanity. Horrible Demons of every fathomable variety were illustrated as well, flashing deadly claws and teeth as they feasted on the damned souls.
My gaze returned to the still-crumbling hole and the fiery light escaping its mouth. The emblem had vanished entirely, swallowed in its wake. Both thrones toppled into the chasm. It finally ceased at about twenty feet wide.
Deep within, blazing fire swirled in a whirlpool of flames. There appeared to be no bottom to its depths. Distant winged creatures soared through the vortex with batlike appendages and forked tails. Their screeches echoing into oblivion. I swallowed hard. There was no mistaking what this was.
“The Gateway to Hell,” said Lucifer.
Mammon approached the fiery pit in contemplative strides. “Monica, I need you to summon the Demon Dagger…and then cast it into the Gateway.”
Great. My only weapon against these bastards. With great reluctance, I called upon the Demon Dagger. It materialized in my grasp. The blade gleamed orange against the hellfire.
Mammon watched me with his burning red eyes. Lucifer glanced at her fingernails, disinterested.
A part of me considered attacking. Right now. If it was just one Demon, I would. Two was pushing it but even that didn’t make the idea completely dismissible. I had Dante to even out those odds. But then there was still the matter of over a dozen witches surrounding us. Taking Zoey’s Demon-repelling ankle bracelet into consideration, I could imagine that they had plenty of ways to fend off my only ally. And if, by some miracle, we did manage to take them all on, it still didn’t solve the problem of finding my family before Casey ripped them to pieces.
I turned to Dante, hoping, praying, for some sort of answer gleaming in his eyes.
There was nothing. Nothing but despair.
Maybe the Demons did have every intention of setting my family free once I was out of the picture. After all, my mother was a part of Mammon’s coven. It was the only hope I had.
I stepped to the very edge of Hell. The heat licked my face.
I tossed in the Demon Dagger.
A jagged grin splintered across Mammon’s face. Extending both robed arms over the pit, he chanted in the same foreign tongue as before. His fingers contorted, and his voice intensified. Suddenly, his hand erupted into flames. Several of the witches gasped. There was no shock in Mammon’s skeletal mask of a face. His voice grew louder still, filled with hunger.
Within his fiery grasp, a gleaming new object appeared. The flames dissipated. Mammon’s long blackened fingers curled around a blade.
It was the Demon Dagger.
Mammon’s red eyes fixed on me. “Thank you, Monica. I’ve utilized the fires of Hell and my own black magic to sever your ability to summon the Dagger. It’s mine now.”
Lucifer cleared her throat in her obnoxious, superior alpha-female way. “Ahem. Yours?”
Mammon’s face twisted into a scowl. “Ours,” he said.
“When I allow you to use it. Now bring it to me.”
Jesus. Could it be any more obvious that these two Demons represented Greed and Pride?
The Witch King approached Lucifer with his ram-horned head lowered. His open palms extended the Demon Dagger to her in utter subservience. “My lady.”
Lucifer responded with a smug grin, reaching a manicured hand for the Dagger.
Mammon’s hand refastened over the handle. In one quick thrust, he plunged the blade into Lucifer’s chest. Her eyes bulged and her mouth gaped open. Gasping. Choking.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” said Mammon. His skeletal mouth curled into a sick sneer. “I’m so sick and tired of your self-proclaimed leadership. Now it will just be me and me only. The last of the Remnants!”
Lucifer’s perfect complexion grew dark and hardened like charcoal, laced in cracks.
Lucifer staggered backwards, clutching the handle sticking out of her chest.
She did not crumble instantly like the others.
Instead, the cracks slowly began to seep away. Her complexion returned to its normal flesh tone. The texture of her skin smoothed. The only immediate difference was that her eyes had now become solid black. Her face was a rigid sheet of malice.
The Dagger hadn’t killed her. Not even close
Mammon backed away. Even though his eyes were burning embers, his skeletal face emanated dread.
Instead of returning to human form, she grew en exotic couple feet taller, exposing plenty of skin. Rune-like tattoos snaked all over her majestic body. Her blonde hair darkened to shimmering black, matching her eyes. The back of her shirt bulged and writhed. Two feathered wings, like sleek black blades, sliced free.
Lucifer takes the form of a Fallen Angel, I recalled Leviathan’s words. Believe me…it’s scarier than anything you’ve seen so far.
The “scarier” part didn’t quite make register in my head at first. She looked beautiful. Perhaps the most gorgeous and exotic creature I had ever seen.
Then she shoved her hand inside Mammon’s chest and ripped out his heart.
Lucifer opened her mouth, revealing an elegant row of sharp teeth. “You traitorous fool.” Her voice was frighteningly amplified, like a dozen very different voices combined in one: some feminine, some masculine, and some monstrous.
Black blood spurted out of the ravaged hole in Mammon’s chest. The heart itself was black, still beating in Lucifer’s grasp. Inky blood streamed between her fingers and down her elegant arm. Mammon collapsed at her feet.
Lucifer gripped the Dagger’s handle with her free hand. Gritting her razor teeth, she pulled it out of her torso. “You may have severed Monica’s ability to summon the Dagger, Mammon. But it still only works when Monica kills with it.”
Extending her wings, Lucifer launched herself into the air with one sweep. Propelling herself over the fiery pit, she descended swiftly, landing right in front of me. She dropped the still-throbbing black heart in my left hand—slimy and pulsating—and set the Demon Dagger in my right, closing my fingers around the handle with her own. Her skin was cold, hard, unbreakable marble.
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