by E. A. Copen
“Take it as a reminder of what it costs to love,” Persephone said as Hades came to join her. “Few are willing to pay the price to make things work.”
My hand closed around the locket. I thrust my chin at Hades. “Did he really make you come against your will?”
She laughed. “Don’t believe everything you’ve heard, Lazarus. My mother would like to think so. She can be a bit...controlling. But what are you going to do? She’s family, after all.”
“The locket will open the Blood Gate,” Hades added. “By the time you reach it, I hope the waters have receded enough that you can walk through it.” He extended a hand to me. “It was an honor to work with you. Thank you again for saving my wife. If ever you’re in need, call.”
I shuffled the locket to my other hand where I still held onto Poseidon’s trident so I could clasp Hades’ arm again. “Thanks. What should I do with this? Might look nice above your fireplace or something.” The trident wiggled back and forth in my hand.
Hades held out his hand. I placed the trident in it and watched as he tested the weight of the weapon before handing it back. “Keep it. It’s not a very practical weapon anyway. I’ll never understand why he favored it.”
“How do I get from here to where Josiah and Charon are waiting?” I held up my hands when Hades shifted forward. “Please don’t throw me.”
The god roared with laughter and patted my back so hard he almost broke it. “I can see why you like this one, Persephone. You really should come by more often, Lazarus. Try one of Persephone’s duck pies. They’re to die for.”
Persephone shook her head. “I’m sure he’ll be very busy for a while, dear. Just as soon as he gets on his way.”
“Oh, right.” He made a quick motion with his hand, swirling the air until all the color in that space died, turning black.
Slowly, a scene came into focus on the other side, the image of another marsh similar to the one Charon had ferried me across earlier. The Ferryman himself sat in his boat enjoying what looked like a sandwich while Josiah relieved himself off the side of the boat. Charming, my companions.
I nudged Jean with my foot. “Rise and shine, Captain Sleepypants.”
Jean mumbled something and turned over.
“Come on, man. Not even going to see me off?”
“We’ll get him back to ship shape in no time,” Hades promised, gripping my shoulder. “He just needs a little rest is all. We’ll send him on his way when he’s better.”
“Swear he’s free to leave if he wants.” It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Hades or Persephone. I just knew better than to leave anything to chance when it came to gods.
“Jean is free to leave whenever he wants.” Persephone nodded. “Go on, Lazarus. You have a destiny to fulfill.” Her face was grave, her words were full of foreboding.
It had been Persephone who first told me someone would open all these gates. She’d outlined what she believed the consequences would be, Hell on Earth. She had even warned me against continuing when there was still a chance I could turn back. Of all people, however, she must’ve understood best how I felt. Unlike her, I didn’t get six months in the underworld with the person I loved. If I left, Emma would be gone forever.
“Goodbye, Persephone. Take care.”
Persephone and Hades waved to me as I stepped through the portal.
And fell face-first into gray sludge.
“Gross! Soul goo!” I used the trident to pull myself to my feet. Silver oily muck slithered down from where it stuck to my body to plop back into the muddy river. So that’s what souls looked like after they were processed.
Josiah finished zipping up. “What’s that you’ve got there?”
“Poseidon’s trident.” I tossed it into the boat. “There was a complication. Long story short, I had to kill a kraken. To do that, I had to kill Poseidon. He left this behind.”
“Nice!” He picked the trident up and turned it over in his hands. “How much you want for it?”
I hauled myself into the boat and sat to remove my shoes and shake more of the muck back into the river. “It’s yours if you promise not to run off on me again. Could’ve used you in that fight.”
“I’d say sorry ’bout that, mate, but I’m not. I don’t like calamari, and I like live sea creatures even less. Thanks for the trident, though.”
“Whatever.” I’d gotten what I cared about, the key to the gate.
Hades had called it the Blood Gate. I wondered where it had gotten a name like that. This far into the underworld, there wasn’t much blood to be had. The souls had been broken down and turned into a goo that flowed downriver.
What was it Hades said was next? He hadn’t named the land, but I knew who was in charge. Some guy named Yama. He sounded unpleasant. Maybe we could avoid talking to him altogether and just get the key and move on. Or I could ask the expert sitting in the boat with us. “Hey, Charon. What do you know about this Yama guy Hades mentioned?”
Charon shook his head. “An unpleasant fellow. Very stern. Some would call him fair. Those people believe in the letter of the law, however, and not the spirit.” He dipped his oar into the soul goo and pushed us forward. “You’ll find nothing but harsh punishment in the land of Naraka. Osiris sends many mortals that way now. Liars, thieves, rapists, murderers...common crimes in need of not-so-common atonement. It will not be like this place. I count myself lucky not to have to go so far downriver.”
That sounded much closer to the type of Hell I expected. Eternal punishment for evil deeds. I shuddered as old childhood memories of fire and brimstone services came back. I’d had nightmares as a kid thanks to the church’s teachings that my magic was evil and connected to devils like Morningstar. How many times had I woken up screaming? I’d even vowed to quit magic for a while.
Pony never let me follow through, of course. He drilled me harder that year than ever before, dragging me out in icy rain and flashing lightning to practice. If I refused, he’d throw weakened spells at me until I got pissed off enough to defend myself. Then, when I woke up crying, he’d sit with me and read me passages out of books on magic theory until I fell asleep. Didn’t take long. I found theory incredibly boring.
“There it is,” Charon said and jabbed his oar into the thick, silver goop. “The Blood Gate.”
Ahead there loomed a rusty portcullis. A great stone wall, forty feet high, spanned the river on either side, climbing up on shore and stretching as far as the eye could see in both directions. The river of souls flowed through the grate of the portcullis, appearing a rusty red color on the other side. Red like blood.
Our tiny boat floated into the shadow of the gate where the air chilled noticeably. I shivered, and not just because of the sudden cold. Something changed at the metaphysical level, making the tiny hairs on my arms stand on end. There was magic here, a lot of it.
Charon brought the boat up to the portcullis. “This is where I leave you. I can go no further.”
“We’re square.” Josiah leaped over the side of the boat, trident in hand. The sludge came halfway up his shins and a little higher on me when I jumped out.
Charon nodded, stuck his oar in the muck and padded back the way he’d come.
“Careful, Laz,” Josiah whispered as we inched forward. “Something stinks of dark magic.”
“And blood,” I added. The air was thick with the coppery scent of it.
I inched up to the portcullis, locket in hand. A small indentation in the metal matched the design of the locket. I pressed metal to metal and waited. A moment later, the gate groaned. Chains clinked. The portcullis rose on a dark tunnel that ran so long I couldn’t see the light on the other side. Josiah struck his lighter, but the tiny flame was no match for the darkness. The light allowed us to see only a few inches in front of us. We exchanged glances and waded into the tunnel.
Normally, while walking through a dark tunnel in the underworld, knee deep in soul sludge, I’d be worried, especially when the air reeked of blood and death. In
that tunnel, I was terrified. Fear gripped my heart and squeezed, forcing my breaths to come out stunted and quick. Sweat gathered on my forehead and the back of my neck. My brain screamed I should run, that the faster I was through the tunnel the sooner I would be somewhere safe.
“Steady now,” Josiah urged. “It can’t go on forever.”
I swallowed. “You know, usually about now is when I’d expect some asshole to sneak up behind us.”
“Was I so obvious, boy?” The voice behind us sounded like four voices layered atop each other.
Josiah and I spun around. Something flashed through the air and slashed at my arm. Josiah knocked it aside with the trident. I charged the faint movement I picked up in the dark and tackled something that felt human. We landed in the soul slush, me on top of the other guy. A blade dug into the meat of my leg. I growled and punched at where I guessed his face might be. Bone crunched under my fist. Laughter followed.
Behind me, Josiah barked out another one of his magic words, sending a bolt of golden lightning snaking through the tunnel. It lit the space just enough that I could make out the shape of a man under me, naked from the waist up and thin enough that I could’ve counted his ribs. He wore his unkempt hair in long, snaky dreads. Beads adorned his neck, and hanging from them were the bleached jawbones of at least ten people. The lightning died and left us once again in the dark.
I moved my hand to his neck and squeezed just enough to tell him I meant business. “Baron Kriminel, I presume?”
“I see my reputation precedes me. You must be the new Pale Horseman.”
“What is that thing?” Josiah brought his lighter closer, but the light still didn’t fully illuminate Kriminel.
“A Loa. An intermediary between gods and humans straight out of voodoo lore. This one used to be human before he committed the first murder in history.”
Kriminel snickered, his white teeth barely visible in the dim light. “I wanted to know what his insides looked like. It was so beautiful. It was art. You understand what I’m talking about. The thrill of watching that last bit of life drain out of someone, the last thready beat of their heart in your hands...”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t get it. That’s disgusting.”
“You tell me you haven’t pictured it when you put your hand into some poor god’s gut to rip out his soul? Tell me you haven’t fantasized about ripping out his guts instead. Haven’t you thought about doing it to Lucifer Morningstar? How about to the bastard that murdered your sister?”
“Shut up!” I resisted the urge to squeeze off his air. That was exactly what he wanted, to make me into a killer like him.
Kriminel laughed. His body dissolved to smoke and he reappeared beside me. “So much power and no idea how to use it. Pathetic.”
I swung at him, but he was gone, reappearing behind me. Josiah tried to grab Kriminel in a bear hug from behind, but the baron just vanished again, transforming into a disembodied voice.
“What about you, Josiah Quinn?” Kriminel’s voice echoed through the tunnel. “What wouldn’t you give to have Ramiel before you, knowing what you know now?”
Josiah shouted another word in the same strange spell language he’d been using. The air crackled with invisible magic that seared my skin and stuck to me like burning tar. “Show your face, bastard! Fight or get out of my way.”
“Fight you?” White smoke that reeked of rot coalesced between Josiah and me, forming into Kriminel. “Be careful what you wish for.”
Josiah swung the trident at him but froze mid-swing as if he’d suddenly iced over. His body darkened, turning slate gray.
“There, that’s better.” Kriminel turned to me.
I took a step back. “What do you want from me?”
“I want to pull out your liver and pick off the fatty scabs.” He grinned and inched forward, forcing me back another step. “Or maybe to stab you, just a little, right in the eye and watch it deflate. With enough time, we could have some real fun and do a little live flaying.” He drew his knife over his tongue. “Unfortunately, Samedi says I’m not allowed to kill you, but he didn’t mention the other one. I could just eat him up.”
My back hit the slimy wall of the tunnel. Nowhere left to go. “You’re going to need a bigger knife if you want to cut him up. He’s got a thick hide.”
Kriminel closed, leaning in close enough that I choked on the scent of decaying blood coming off him. He traced the dull edge of the knife along my chin. “I’ve never seen the inside of a necromancer before. Maybe we could do a little...exploring. I think I could keep you alive, at least for a while. Do you think all that death magic has warped your insides? Are they rotten? Or is that just your soul I smell?” He sniffed loudly next to my ear.
I jerked away. “I think maybe you’re the one who needs a bath, buddy.”
“It has been a while since my last bloodbath.” He spun the knife before lowering it. “No matter. You’re headed right for one. I hear you want Morningstar’s head on a pike. That’ll be fun to watch. Do you know how many demons he has in his service? Is that why you brought that one?” He nodded to Josiah and licked his lips.
“Morningstar’s flunkies don’t scare me.”
Kriminel’s head whipped back toward me, eyes unnaturally wide. “Oh, but they should. Just because you play with dead things and got lucky enough to kill a few gods, you think you’re such a badass, don’t you? You’ve got no idea how much trouble you’re in, Lazarus, my boy.”
“I’m not your boy. Either let us pass or kill us but don’t try to lecture me. Depending on who you ask, I’m either too stubborn or too stupid to listen.”
“Maybe both.” Kriminel shrugged. “Very well. But before you go, I’m obligated to offer you a scrap of advice.” He dissolved into smoke and reappeared looming over me. His fetid breath washed over me, smelling like a thousand rotting corpses in the sun. If I weren’t so afraid of what he was about to do to me, I would’ve thrown up. “Kill him when you have the chance. It’ll be kinder than the alternative.”
“Who? Morningstar?”
“No, fool. Your sister’s killer.”
I tried to grab him, but I wasn’t fast enough.
Kriminel disappeared.
Josiah suddenly came back and finished his swing with the trident only to hit empty air. He stumbled forward a step, looking very confused. On the other end of the tunnel, a red light stretched into the darkness.
Josiah turned his head to stare at the expanding light. “What happened?”
The light struck the handle of Kriminel’s knife sticking up out of the soul sludge. I bent over to pick it up. “He’s gone. I guess he’s letting us through. By the way, who’s Ramiel?”
Kriminel had mentioned the name, and it set Josiah off. It had to be someone important.
Josiah lit another cigarette and took a long drag before turning his back on me. “No one you want to know. Come on, then. Let’s get this over with.”
That he’d rather walk through a Hell Charon had described as a land of uncommonly harsh punishment than answer my question told me all I needed to know about Ramiel. We all had our personal demons, the ones we didn’t like to talk about, the ones that kept us awake at night. My father was mine. I didn’t talk about him unless I’d had too much to drink and I hated him with every fiber of my being. Ramiel, whoever he was, had to be Josiah’s. With a guy like Josiah, it was likely his demons were a little more literal than mine, which meant he was right. Definitely not someone I wanted to get to know.
Thick, silvery goop sloshed underfoot as I followed Josiah around the bend toward the light. The dark cave spilled out into a world of red. Rust-colored fog floated over everything. Huge white ribs curved into the sky with bits of rotten flesh hanging from them. The carcass might’ve belonged to a whale or some other huge creature, but I couldn’t be sure. Black, shadowy monoliths dotted the landscape on either side of the river of souls, which flowed over a cliff not far away. Screams rang through the air almost rhythmically, cr
eating a spine-chilling chorus.
Before we could step through into this new Hell, a group of humanoid creatures came marching in from either side of the tunnel. They might’ve passed as men if not for the excessive body hair, huge tusks, and gleaming ruby eyes. Some of them carried whips while others pointed spears at us. We had no time to ready for a fight before two whips snapped out. One wrapped around my throat while the other closed around Josiah’s arms, pinning them to his side. I tried to cut the whip with the knife I’d taken from Kriminel, but the blade melted the moment I touched it to the whip. One of the tusked men stuffed a wad of cloth into Josiah’s mouth, preventing him from shouting a spell, while another jerked the trident away from him.
The tusked monster who had his whip wrapped around my neck jerked me forward and barked, “March.”
I reached for my power. Maybe I could zap him with something and get free, though I didn’t know where I’d run. I still needed to find the key to the next gate and get through it.
Nothing happened. No magic answered my call. I reached for it again but felt nothing. The After was a void. It was as if all the power had been sucked out of the space and placed in a single spot. I could feel it lurking somewhere distant, but out of reach.
The whip lit up red and pulled me further. It had to be blocking access to my magic somehow. Hands like hot coals pushed me to the edge of the waterfall of processed souls. To my left, a path of red stone snaked downward in a loose spiral toward a vast plain littered with pits of lava, boiling tar, and black fire. There were souls in every single pit, screaming and trying to get free only to be knocked back in by more of the tusked monsters.
“Nice décor,” I quipped. “Could use a few more skulls. Maybe some bear skulls. Helheim had some nice bear skulls.”
