“You have to get them out,” I said. “They’re there because of Lucifer.” They’re there because of me.
“Sweetheart, I can’t get them out of the Ninth Circle. I couldn’t save them from the First.”
“Tell Lucifer,” I said desperately.
“Oh, I will,” he said. “But that won’t free them either.”
“I don’t understand.”
Bob sighed. “The Circles were created for the damned. It’s not like you’re asking me to break them out of prison. That would be quite easy. But the Circles are a different matter. It’s impossible.”
I was angry, but tears were in my eyes. The Circles weren’t difficult to get out of as Tom implied. They were impossible to escape.
I looked at Tom. He didn’t seem at all surprised by this. Because he knew. That’s why he sounded so hopeless and shallow. He knew, and he didn’t tell me.
But he did tell me. I just didn’t want to listen.
Bob walked passed me, and I kept my back to him as he spoke, “I’ll tell Lucifer, but it won’t bring them back.”
I heard the door open and shut behind me, and he was gone. Tom bent his head and walked away.
The world is a guitar that needs tuning, and its music is broken.
The tears dripped down to my chin. I wiped them with the back of my hand. They were out there because of me. Nash said he would fight angels for me, and now he was gone.
Call It a Loan
LYDIA walked with Robert arm in arm. She leaned her head against his shoulder as they strolled through the park under the fading light. It was night now.
For two years, they dated. They met at Faulkner House Books in the French Quarter. She opened a copy of Macbeth when he walked in. The little silver bell chimed, and she looked up.
His hair was dark brown, and his eyes were the space between the stars. He wore a red scarf around his neck and held a coffee. The night was chilly, much like this one.
Lydia pulled her shawl around her as her teeth chattered against the wind. The dark trees were backlit by the warm glow of the streetlamps as they walked the narrow track and passed ponds of brown water where delicate, green lily pads floated. She wasn’t sure why Robert was so silent, but he was only quiet when he was nervous.
She squeezed his arm tighter as he stopped. “What is it?” she asked.
“Lydia,” he started, “I have something to tell you. Well, actually something to ask you.”
Her dark hair tickled her as the light breeze drew the tresses against her face. She couldn’t remember a time when he sounded so serious.
“Okay,” she said.
That’s when he fell to one knee.
Her breath caught. She thought she was prepared for a moment like this. It wasn’t entirely a surprise. They were together for years and talked about marriage before. Still, silence hung in the air, and she couldn’t breathe.
Robert reached into his pocket and revealed a tiny, black box. He opened the box, and the diamond glittered in the moonlight.
“Lydia,” he said. “Thank you for giving me the best two years of my life.”
Lydia grinned and did a dramatic curtsy.
Robert chuckled and continued. “I’ve gotten to see your finest qualities, mixed with a few little quirks.”
Lydia’s short laugh came out between wide spread lips set into a smile that she wasn’t sure she would be able to wipe from her face.
“You’re perfect, except for one thing” he said. “The only thing I would change…” He looked at the sky for a moment as if he was thinking about it. Then he looked back down at her. “…is your last name…”
Her eyes glistened.
“Will you marry me?” he asked.
Lydia’s response was caught in her throat. She couldn’t take her eyes off Robert. She didn’t notice the men until they stood in front of them and behind. Her eyes widened, and her smile evaporated like water in the sun.
The men were dressed in dark clothing. The men to her left and right were very tall, taller than Robert. One had his hair tied back in a ponytail, while the other’s scraggly, curly hair hung on either side of his head, bordering a fully-grown beard. Directly in front of her was a shorter man with a long nose, and hair shaved close to his head. She could sense two larger men behind them.
Robert stood up and pocketed the ring box. He wrapped his arm around Lydia’s trembling shoulders.
The men tightened their circle around the young couple.
“Oh, don’t let us stop you,” said the shorter man. His voice was higher pitched than she expected, but confidence dripped from his words and told her this was not a man to be messed with. “What were you going to say, pretty lady?” His hands were in the pockets of his dark jeans.
The man with the ponytail smiled. He was missing one of his front teeth. He gripped a knife. She guessed the other men were armed as well. She could feel the heat which radiated off their bodies as they stood behind her.
Lydia glanced down the street. They were in the light of a single street lamp, but no one else was in the park. Robert must have chosen to come here so they could be alone. He knew a big show at the restaurant would have been too embarrassing for her.
The way the short man moved his hand to the pocket of his leather jacket made her think one heart-stopping thought. He has a gun.
“Why don’t you tell us what you were going to say?” The short man didn’t give up.
Robert spoke first. “This isn’t necessary. We’ll give you whatever you want. Just let…”
“What I want,” interrupted the short man, “is to hear her answer.”
This might be her last chance to tell Robert how she felt. Her heart dropped at the thought. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
He leaned in closer and smirked. “You’re gonna have to speak up, dear. I didn’t quite catch that. I’ve always had trouble hearing, or so I’ve been told.”
“Yes,” she said slow and clear. She looked up at Robert. “My answer is yes.” She tried to smile, but that was impossible.
“Wonderful!” he shouted and still smirked, “Put it on.”
Lydia stared at him like she was trying to fit together the first pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
“The ring. You said, yes, didn’t you?”
Robert fished the black box out of his pocket and opened it. He took the ring out of the box and placed it on Lydia’s finger. His hands shook, and he dropped the box to the ground.
Lydia could tell Robert tried to maintain his composure. His nostrils flared, and he shook not only from fear, but from anger.
The short man sneered. “I’m going to make this very easy. I wouldn’t want a young couple to miss their wedding day.”
Lydia shuttered at the threat.
The two men alongside him glared at them. Their hands were also in their pockets. Heavy brows shadowed their eyes.
“All you have to do is give us everything in your pockets. Anything you have.”
Lydia’s hand trembled as she handed her purse over to the tall man as Robert reached into his pocket for his wallet and cellphone.
“Take it,” he said. “We don’t want any trouble. We’re meeting friends here later. They should be coming around soon.”
A lie. No one was coming to meet them. Robert was trying to make the men leave sooner so this whole ordeal would end.
The short man smiled, and went through Robert’s wallet. He pulled out a picture of Robert and Lydia, the one they took last Christmas, a month ago. They both wore ugly holiday sweaters and stood in front of the Christmas tree.
“This one you can keep.” He flicked the picture into the cold night air. The photograph drifted to the ground. “But, we’re not done. Aren’t you forgetting something?” He glanced down at Lydia’s hand. The ring encircled her finger.
She hadn’t got the chance to admire the full beauty of the diamond or feel her heart thrill as she fanned out her hand to look at it.
She had no family. Her p
arents died in a car accident when she was eighteen, six years ago. But she kept several good friends. Christine, her friend since high school, would have giggled with glee at the thought of her best friend getting married. She would have grabbed Lydia’s hand and held it captive until she got a better look at the ring.
That was a fantasy now. Robert probably put all his savings into the ring, so he could surprise her with something beautiful.
Lydia was about to take the ring off when Robert said, “No.”
“No?” The short man lifted his eyebrow.
“You have our money, our phones,” said Robert. “Leave us alone.” The edge in his voice scared Lydia, a mixture of pride, fear, and anger.
The short man laughed. “You think that’s how this works?”
“Robert, let’s give them the ring,” said Lydia.
“You better listen to her, Robert,” the short man said. “This goes one way.”
Robert’s whole body trembled, and he clenched his fists. “You have what you came for.”
“Oh, for shit’s sakes.” The short man pulled the gun from his pocket and pointed it at them.
Lydia’s eyes widened. She held out her hand. She started to whisper. An incantation nestled in the back of her mind as she stilled the trembling of her outstretched hand. The words wouldn’t work. They never had, not as they did for her mother and her grandmother. She was powerless. But before she could finish the words, the short man was pushed backward, as if he were shot from a cannon. His feet left the ground as he flew against the trunk of the tree behind him.
A gunshot rang through the air.
Lydia wasn’t sure if the shot resonated from the short man’s firearm as his back hit the trunk or from one of the other men who surrounded them.
“Holy shit!” one of the men shouted.
The other men hastened into the darkness.
The short man scrambled to his feet and stared at Lydia. His hands trembled as he placed one against the trunk to steady himself. As soon as he got his footing, he darted down the path and into the gloom.
Lydia could still feel Robert at her side. He tried to say something but choked on the words.
Blood dripped on the pavement in front of her, a startling red under the light of the park lamp.
Lydia turned to Robert. A lump caught in her throat as her eyes trailed down. Blood covered the front of his shirt.
She grabbed his arm as he stumbled to the ground. “No, no, no,” she chanted. She knelt at his side. Their cellphones were in the hands of those men. Robert was a head taller than her, and his muscled body was too heavy for her to carry.
“Help!” she screamed, but her scream was dampened by sobs. Tears blurred Robert’s face like rain down a car window.
“You need to get up.” She tugged on his arm in vain. “We need to get you to a hospital.”
Robert coughed, and a spatter of blood sprinkled onto her light blue dress. His eyes panicked and pleaded. His hand was slippery with blood as Lydia tried to clench it, but it slipped as if oil coated his fingers.
“You have to get up!”
But Robert closed his eyes.
“What a shame,” a voice said above her. The voice was layered, like two people spoke at the same time, using the exact same words. One voice sounded like a man’s, but a deeper voice came like a growl as he spoke and echoed his words.
Lydia jerked her head up, afraid that yet another mugger came to take advantage of her desperate situation.
The man stood. He wore a dark suit with a bright, red tie. His face was clean-shaven, and his dark hair was slicked back. He looked like a lawyer or an accountant. What was he doing in the park at night?
“He’s not dead yet, you know,” said the stranger. “You could run out into the street, call for help, but I can tell you that won’t do anything.” The man looked at his watch. “He has ninety-eight seconds left. If you had put pressure on the wound, he might have gained, I don’t know, ten seconds or so.”
Lydia pressed both hands against Robert’s chest where the blood issued forth. The rusty smell of blood stung her nose as she leaned over him.
The man glanced at his watch again. “Look at that, he just gained thirteen more seconds. My, my, my!”
What was this man talking about? She thought he might be a lunatic, that his mind was so far gone, he would be of no help at all. He might be dangerous. But she didn’t have time to choose her friends. Robert was dying. He needed to go to the hospital as soon as possible.
“Do you have a cellphone?” she asked. “Please, call an ambulance.”
The man shook his head and knelt across from her. Robert’s form rested between them. “Unless, an ambulance arrives in forty-five seconds. It won’t matter.” He winked.
“What are you talking about?”
“He doesn’t have time for me to explain what you already know, Lydia. How long have you pretended to be a normal college girl?”
“Tell me what you want.” Lydia narrowed her eyes.
“To make you an offer. But there’s not much time for negotiation.” The man snapped his fingers, and a scroll of paper appeared in his hands.
Lydia’s vision blurred from the tears. Maybe she hadn’t seen him take the scroll from his pocket.
“I don’t have anything to give.” Lydia hoped that wasn’t the end of the conversation. Whatever this man wanted, she would gladly give it to help Robert.
The man cocked his head to the side. “You don’t have anything to give, yet. But as you know, I must make my quota. People are so much less desperate now-a-days. They care so little. But you care a lot, don’t you, Lydia?”
She knew what he was. He wasn’t a man although he appeared as one, but when she searched for his shadow under the light of the lamp, she couldn’t find one.
“What do you want?”
“A simple trade. His life will be spared if you offer me the soul of your firstborn child.”
Lydia laughed a dry laugh. The story of Rumpelstiltskin entered her mind. If the love of her life wasn’t dying on the floor before her, she might have asked something cheeky like, Will I have to guess your name? But instead, she said, “I have no children.”
“Call it a loan,” he said. “And the best kind because it accrues no interest.”
The thought of selling an unborn child’s soul to the devil left a bad taste in Lydia’s mouth. She and Robert discussed the idea of having children after the conversation about marriage. They both wanted to make sure that they were on the same page for all the important things before they decided to get hitched.
Robert’s breaths came out slow and shallow. Lydia couldn’t imagine her life without him. She would miss the way he inserted her name into popular love songs that he sang in the shower, the way he flared his nostrils whenever he got angry, and all the other little things that he did every day that she didn’t feel grateful enough for.
For their second anniversary last year, they went to Augusta, Georgia. By the end of the week, they visited Meadow Garden and the Institute of Art. They wandered the streets of downtown, listened to outdoor jazz shows, and went to a production by the Symphony Orchestra. The city was so beautiful that at the end of the week, Lydia said that she loved being able to spend the entire week with him in such an amazing place, but that the time they spent together seemed too short. All Robert said was, “Don’t worry. We have forever.”
The demon’s offer didn’t matter. In less than a minute, Robert would be gone. They talked about children and agreed that one day, that would be a possibility. But as Lydia gave the demon the answer he wanted, she changed her mind about that possibility. Lydia wasn’t having any children.
TWELVE
FOUR weeks passed since Nash, Adrianna, Kiran, and Chandra entered the Ninth Circle. I filled those weeks with books about the Circles, the Archangels, and Sheol. Nash had quite a library and no television. I found it hard to distinguish fact from fiction, however. After everything I’d seen, I was willing to believe
a much larger range of things than I had before.
Many days, I was bored, and nothing brought me comfort except petting Sim. She followed me wherever I went throughout the house. I missed my music. I couldn’t play my guitar, and I left my MP3 player at my house.
I wondered if MP3 players were a thing in Sheol.
I cut off my cast myself with a dagger from Nash’s armory. I made sure the steel was darkened: a duller blade than the sharpness of pure Arcadian Steel, but still sharper than blades of other metals.
I lounged in the living room with a book in my lap when a knock echoed down the hall. I answered the door. Bob stood outside.
“You shouldn’t be shut up in this house all day, sweetheart,” he said.
“I told you, I’m not fighting angels for Lucifer until Nash comes back,” I said.
He smiled. “You know, not many people defy the Lady of Darkness. She won’t wait much longer.”
I folded my arms. Lucifer needed me. I could make angels fall, and it would be much harder to do that if I wasn’t a willing participant. “What do you want?”
“I would like to invite you to one of our trial proceedings,” he said. “I thought you might enjoy the show.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“A demon has failed to meet his one-hundred-year quota,” Bob said.
“Why would I want to go to something like that?” I asked. I had been to court a number of times since the police found me in an abandoned house. I was glad when my parents adopted me, and the court visits ended. I couldn’t think of anything fun about sitting in a cold courtroom and listening to people talk.
“Because, my dear, you need a bit of fresh air. You look depressed. I wouldn’t want you to go killing yourself.”
I uncrossed my arms. “Alright. Just let me get dressed.” I closed the door.
I came back wearing a black knee-length dress and a pair of black flats.
I tried to hold my breakfast down as Bob sped down the street. He parked outside a marble building with a wraparound staircase.
I waited to see officers at the door who would look in your purse and make you go through a metal detector, but no such security existed.
The Wings of Heaven and Hell (The Arcadian Steel Sequence Book 1) Page 14
