by Lisa M Basso
All eyes turned to me. “Another go might be risky, but it would be fun.” A spark of desire crept into my eyes, cloaking the center of my vision in gray.
“We do have one of our own waiting on our arrival. Let’s get moving. Valac, take care of the bodies and catch up.”
All I could think about as we split into two groups was snapping a few necks, finding a knife, and running. If I could pull that off I’d never have to worry about going back to Hell. Only one thing stopped me from starting with Ruman, grabbing that awful ponytail, and breaking his neck.
Filing toward the opening of a narrow side street, my pulse crested. Nearing the throng of people heading home late from their long days at work should have been a normal experience. Except I’d been caged like an animal for years in Hell.
The world surrounding me flicked to grayscale. Black and white and all the dimensions between, but nothing more. Humans all looked the same through this view. No colors to deter my eye, no care for the fear in the faces of those I chose. A true predator’s gift.
I quickened my steps, the brisk walk of a man in need of something. The first person to walk too closely was a professional man in a suit. I grabbed him by the jacket, slammed him into the wall, and stared into his eyes.
Without needing to speak a word, my black eyes in full effect, I coaxed his mouth open and inhaled the scalding hot and chilling cold. The mix of Earth, Heaven, and Hell. Without all three this man would never exist. None of them would. Without their freedom of choice, humans wouldn’t taste the same. I’d never been able to distinguish if the good deeds and memories were hot and the bad ones were cold, or vice versa. Not that it mattered. Every person tasted different. Each had their own perfume.
The body in my arms shook. I didn’t stop feeding. Nothing could pull me away from the not-quite-forgotten memory of stealing those last drops of life, holding on to that soul until it was claimed by either the light or the dark, feeling the disappointment inside them when they realized the mystery of life didn’t reveal itself at that junction between life and death.
Sorry, buddy. If I knew the reason we were all here, I’d share it with you before you slipped away.
The vapid dryness in my throat clawed at me the instant I let his body flop to the floor. A man in a dark gray suit and tie, with light gray skin and eyes almost as black as mine. I’d never know anything more about him than I did in those last seconds. But my undeniable thirst still wasn’t satisfied.
More.
The faint sound of chuckling rattled behind me. My fellow Fallen, no doubt, enjoying the show. Relishing in my pain and hunger.
The man at my feet was dragged into the alley, the entertained Fallen cleaning up after me.
I’d really give them something to clean up.
The two ladies walking arm and arm across the street had picked the wrong way home tonight.
“Wait, he’s going again!” one of the Fallen called from the alley.
This time, I pulled both of them toward me, putting my own back against the wall; a risky maneuver. The zippers and buttons of their jackets were all that kept them tethered to me. The one on the left squirmed while the one on the right pushed and flailed an arm between us. Bad choice. Movement to a predator was gold. I tugged her head back and waited. The fire in my throat was all-consuming, and only more life force could put it out.
“He’s on a roll!” One of the semi-familiar Fallen’s voices chimed in through the rush of my inhaling.
“It’s been ages since I fed on two in public. He’s an animal.”
“He’s also dangerous. Lucien should have never green lit him for above.”
“Lighten up, Forcas. It took him a long time to get here. Let the traitor gorge himself.”
“Traitor?” This one softer. I strained to hear.
“Why do you think Lucien spent so much time with him? He took out a whole seed of Lucien’s in San Francisco before he joined up. How do you think Lucifer reacted to his son being undermined that way under his own nose?”
“Ouch.”
“Lucien’s been making an example out of him. And the worst part, he did it all for a human. The girl Lucien has in the ninth circle.”
The girl. Rayna.
To drown out the noise, I tossed both women aside, one lifeless and the other half-finished, and bolted into the street. I caught a man by his arm, tilted his head back, and listened to the gasps as his essence filled me with reckless abandon, as if I was his soul’s true intended home.
The sounds of chaos erupted around us. Screaming coated in fear, horns honking, feet running in the opposite direction, and shouts from those who knew the consequences of what I had just done.
“Track them down,” Ruman, the Fallen in charge, shouted.
“Who?” another asked.
“Everyone who might have seen this.”
“Everyone? That could take—”
“Does it look like I give a flying fuck? And for the sake of everything wrong with this world, someone stop him!”
This was it. They would do anything in their power to stop my feeding frenzy. Maybe for good.
I should have cared. In this state, though, nothing mattered above the demolition of this soul. Or so I tried to convince myself. Either way, I’d be glad when it was done. Lives were never meant to be lived as long as mine.
Fingers dug into my cheeks, a hand bruising my chin. My head wrenched back with a tug, and the man in my arms was ripped from my reach. I growled and screamed, but underneath it all, I begged, End it. Just end it!
As a second hand settled atop my head, I knew what to expect, but still I tensed and fought. Slowly, whoever was behind me turned my head to the left.
This was it.
I closed my eyes.
I’m sorry, Rayna.
And my head snapped to the right.
Chapter Five
Rayna
My head throbbed. My stomach churned. Sand and blood coated the inside of my mouth, grating between my teeth. I spit and opened my eyes. Az laid on the floor, Lucien half out of his throne. Both were unconscious. My eyes blurred and my chest rattled. I shook my head, battling the swimming feeling all around me.
Now wasn’t the time to think or feel. I crawled toward the door on my hands and knees, my fingers slipping in my own blood. From the stomach down I must have looked like Carrie after the pig’s blood incident. When I reached the door, I clawed my way to my feet, wrapped my hands around the bars over the peephole in the door, and tugged. The door barely budged. The exterior lock rattled.
I yanked the door harder this time. Nothing changed.
“Hello?” I whispered, trying to find my voice through the blood and sand and desperation. “Anyone?” No answer. I stood on my tiptoes and peered out the barred hole. It was no use; the hallway was too dark.
I hugged the wall, lurching back toward the middle of the room. When I made it to the far wall, I shuffled along that one, ignoring the dizziness and wobbling objects on the weapons rack. First I tried for one of the heavier weapons, a long wooden pole with a spiked metal hammer at the top, but could hardly lift it. Resolved, I settled for one of the smaller knives. Maybe eight inches in length. I stood over Azriel, dangling the knife over his throat. The only thing I wanted more than killing him and Lucien, was getting out of Hell. And if I killed either of them now I’d never leave here alive.
Convinced I was running out of time, I braved the center of the room, a straight shot to the door, stepping over Lucien, praying neither of them would wake.
I clung to the bars of the door with one hand, hiding the knife by my side in the other. With my heart pounding so loud, I barely heard the scream I let loose. I glanced back at Az and Lucien. Still out. I tried again.
“Help! I need help here! Lucien isn’t breathing!”
I thought about that for a second. Did he ever breathe?
“Help! Lucien’s unconscious! Help!”
Something jangled up the hall, cutting through the echo o
f my voice. Footsteps clomped in the dirt.
“Down here!” I called again.
“What happened?” The voice asked, still approaching.
“I don’t know.”
He stepped into the candlelight flickering in the hall. Another Fallen. They were all beginning to look the same.
“Lucien?” He pushed his wide face close to the peephole.
“He’s not responding.” Sweat slicked the handle of the knife in my other hand.
“Lucien,” he tried again. “Okay, you”—he pointed at me—“back away. Stay where I can see you.”
I released the bar and slid to the floor. “I don’t know what happened. One minute it was fine. The next, I … I just feel so weak.”
The lock rattled, and then the bolt snapped back. When the door swung open, I scooted to the side. The Fallen stood in the doorway. He took one step in, his eyes locked on Lucien crumpled over his throne. I expected him to rush to his master’s side, but he stopped himself, turning toward me. “I need you to stand up.”
“I … I don’t think I can.” It wasn’t a complete lie. If my adrenaline hadn’t spiked so high I probably would have been on the floor anyway.
He grasped my upper arm and yanked me up. I raised the handle of the knife and drove it down onto the back of his head. His hand dropped from my arm. I hit him again before he could rally. He fell to his knees. Too afraid to try again, fearing he’d strip me of the knife, I bolted for the door.
In the darkness it wasn’t easy to find my way, but I’d been dragged through this hallway enough times to know it was two lefts and then a right before a straight shot out the door. I dragged my fingers along the wall, letting them be my eyes. Stone, stone, stone, wood. A door. Stone, stone, stone, wood. Another door. Left. I repeated the process, panting and stumbling, determined to keep my feet moving. Finally, the last break. I made the right. Light flooded through this hallway. I abandoned the wall and ran faster than I had in my life.
All I could hear was blood roaring in my ears and footsteps pounding. Footsteps that weren’t mine. Inches from the door. The outside became clear. Something wrapped around my legs. I careened toward the ground, putting my arms out ahead of me so I didn’t accidentally stab myself with the knife, and ate dirt for the third time today.
I twisted the top half of my body, hoping for a clear shot with the knife. The Fallen’s hand slammed into my forearm, knocking the knife out of reach. I kicked out and lunged for my weapon. He stayed on top of me, flipped me over, and delivered one, two, three backhanded slaps to my face. The Fallen grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled me to my feet. One of his hands wrapped around my neck, squeezing, and the other pulled my arms back and away from my body so hard I swore my shoulders were going to pop from their sockets.
He marched me forward, out of Lucien’s House of Torture and down the one hundred and ninety-seven paces toward my cell. He shoved me in with his boot to my back and slammed the door behind me. “I’ll be back, little girl, and you’d better hope it’s me that comes, and not Azriel.” His threat chased an icy shiver down my spine.
***
An immeasurable amount of time later, two Fallen came for me. When they marched me past Lucien’s House of Torture, I knew I was in trouble.
Not long after arriving in the ninth circle five hellish years ago, Kade had looked deeply into my eyes and made me promise never to lose myself down here. “Don’t let them strip you of your humanity, of all the things that make you who you are. And always let them see it in you. It’s what gives you power over them.”
It had taken me a long time to act on this Yoda-style teaching. A long, long time. Once I did, using the sarcastic humor I’d obviously picked up from Yoda Kade, it didn’t magically make anything better. I still got whipped and slashed for “insolence.” Meals had been rationed or taken away completely. But the internal strength I felt—that extra one-pound mental barbell—and the idea of getting under Lucien’s skin, made it all worthwhile.
Kade.
Damnit.
A chill blistered the air as we reached a set of stairs that went up instead of down. Huge columns of solid rock still stood, holding up the vast ceiling and artificial light sources. Torches placed high up, I assumed. I didn’t think to count the stone steps until we were almost halfway and I was out of breath. To be fair, one does not get a lot of exercise as a prisoner.
Fallen Number Two draped his long-sleeved shirt over my head. It smelled like he hadn’t showered in two point nine years, but it was still warm. As another plus, he now looked even more ridiculous shirtless, carrying a sword and fanny pack combo.
Once we reached the top of the stairs, we stared down the opening of another cave, this one surrounded with pale blue ice. Large black and brown rocks made up the floor, shrinking toward the center where a small trickle of water could be heard.
The other Fallen, his name had sounded eerily like Fornicator, nudged me when I took too long to move.
“Down and down, into the rabbit hole,” I muttered.
Chapter Six
Rayna
After what seemed like hours of twists and turns, ducking, sometimes crawling inside the winding ice caverns, we came to an opening. The vast expanse made it seem impossible that we were still underground. Though I knew we were. A small circle of what could have been sunlight beamed down on a monstrous, gothic castle that loomed before us. Towers and spires sharpened to fine knifepoints. Stone arches and retaining walls reached high. Flags of red with white inverted crosses on them draped down from the windows. A moat surrounded the entire outside of the structure.
Fornicator pushed me again.
“One more time, Fallen, and I’ll do everything in my power to clip those stupid wings,” I spat, refusing to take my eyes off the dark fortress.
As we walked further along the narrow pathway paved with tiny crushed rocks, I noticed the larger pebbles were dirty white in color. The closer we got to the castle the more fixated I became. The road was almost entirely made up of these strange rocks. We neared a bridge, not too high off the river below. The surface of the water was frozen, but dark shapes clouded the bluish-white water beneath. Large, moving shapes. I halted the line by stopping to peer in, and Fallen Number Two almost barreled into me.
“Remember what I said about touching me,” I warned Fornicator as the warmth from his hands neared the back of my neck. I didn’t trust him not to touch me, but it boded better for my spirit if I made myself believe he wouldn’t.
It suddenly occurred to me to hope the name I coined for him had nothing to do with his personality.
Squinting eyes that hadn’t seen any manner of restful sleep in some time, I watched the drifting shapes below the water, their rhythm slow, fluid. Peaceful. The faint sound of rushing water could be heard through the ice over the top of the river. Digging my fingers into the brick-lined bridge, I leaned closer, hypnotized by the almost peaceful nature of the river’s motion. Soft, serene, more like true nature than anything I’d seen since arriving down here.
A thud hit the glass-like ice, scaring my heart into my throat. A lighter blue object, small but powerful, created a circle beneath the surface. It hit the ice again and again. It was something alive. I gasped, the sound echoing through the cavern. A second, larger circle pressed against the ice beside the first. Touches of light played off it, as if it was moving. The dark spots grew, and bubbles blurred the image. The first, smaller circle slammed into the ice again and again. Wisps of dark-colored string surrounded the top shape. Hair. A body. A person.
“There’s a woman in there!” I shouted, stepping onto the rock wall, ready to leap down.
A hand wrapped around my waist and lifted me off the wall. “Monsters under the bed,” Shirtless Fallen Number Two whispered close to my ear. His breath was worse than his BO. I turned away from him best I could. Shirtless didn’t put me down. He walked the rest of the way to the castle with my back pressed against his chest, carrying me one-armed as I kicked and fo
ught.
“Keep her close,” Fornicator ordered. “Imagine what she’d try if she knew we were walking on ancient bones.”
The white rocks. I struggled harder to break free, but he was too strong. With nothing left to do, I watched more shapes drift down the river. No doubt they were all people, all alive somehow—probably damned souls—and trapped underwater.
The monsters weren’t under the bed, or under the ice; they were right beside me, and I’d bet anything they also resided inside the castle that towered ahead.
We left the darkness, frozen lake, rocks, and bones outside and entered a castle built entirely from ice. The detail work outside had made the façade appear like stone, but inside, close enough to touch, each block sat atop the other clearly, the ice glossy and reflective. Tall, wide pillars of ice, carved into columns swirled with intricate lines and marks, held up the entryway. Six on each side.
Shirtless set me down when I stopped thrashing to take in the view. The cold ground was slick beneath my feet. Hard-packed snow created a runner down the center with fluffier snow around it. Midway through the room a chandelier hung, made of only icicles and metal, with some kind of orange light radiating from inside it. Drops of freezing water battered us as we passed beneath it.
“The structure melts and is reconstructed every day,” one of them, I didn’t pay attention to which, said.
A chill shot down my spine. They must have used the souls trapped in the river to rebuild it. My stomach turned in on itself. “I feel sick.”
“Not much longer now,” Fornicator said with a push to the back of my head.
“I’m human. I haven’t been fed a proper meal—”
“Give the girl a snack.”
A disembodied voice startled the two Fallen more than me. I’d been living with the idea that someone was watching my every waking moment since Lucien dragged me to Hell. Nothing to be afraid of, right?
