Hessians and Hellhounds

by Tilly Wallace

  Seraphina brushed a hand over Hannah’s cheek. Worry flitted behind her eyes. “Will you be all right on your own?”

  “Yes. I want to observe the ceremony here, then I have something I might do while we wait for Wycliff.” An idea gnawed at her, and this presented an opportunity.

  Relief flowed over her mother’s face, and Hannah sighed at how she missed the range of expressions concealed by the veil. “I shall see what information I can extract from Anubis while I repair his ward.”

  Hannah sat on the dais at the feet of Anput. The goddess reclined on a gilded chaise while a man waved a massive ostrich feather fan above her. On closer inspection, Hannah noticed Anput’s unusual headdress depicted a jackal recumbent upon a feather. The symbolism struck her as combining the feather of truth used in the weighing ceremony and her husband’s role as overseer of the souls in the afterlife.

  “Did you fear marrying a hellhound?” Anput asked.

  Hannah turned the question over in her mind. At the time they were wed, she hadn’t known of his other form. Before she had glimpsed Wycliff’s true nature, she might have been afraid. Now she only saw the soul of the man she loved. “No. The outer form does not cause me fear, for I love what dwells within.” Many would run screaming from the scarred face of Frank, but the monster possessed the gentlest of natures.

  “You are wise for one so young.” Anput regarded Hannah with a thoughtful gaze.

  Hannah gestured to the brass scales. “The scales do not judge a person’s exterior, but the deeds and thoughts that dwell within the heart.”

  The goddess made a noise in the back of her throat and smiled, like a teacher pleased a student had answered a question correctly. Hannah watched the ceremony until her bottom grew numb from sitting. Then she stood and walked from the temple and back down the stairs. On the busy road, she searched the faces, trying to find the familiar one they had passed on their way into the temple.

  There, off to one side, sat Lady Albright with an orange in her hand. She peeled the citrus and stacked the rind beside her. Judging by the size of the pile, she had consumed more than one orange since Hannah had last seen her.

  “Lady Albright, if you have had your fill, would you join me in the temple?” Hannah asked.

  “Very well. I have so enjoyed eating fruit again.” As she stood, a woman came along and swept up the peel into a basket and carried it away. Lady Albright’s attention drifted to watch a group of children at play. “I suppose this place is not so bad, but…”

  “You miss Henry?” Hannah finished.

  “Yes. My dear little boy. How I miss his laughter and bright smile. But he was snatched from me far too soon.” A tear glimmered on her lashes.

  “Many souls are content to stay here, in the Duat. Others move on to a place called the Aaru. I believe that is where you will find Henry.” While Hannah didn’t know for sure, instinct told her the innocent child would have gone to the golden place ruled by Osiris. Given all the poor woman had suffered, especially at the hands of her uncaring husband, surely she would be judged worthy of continuing her journey to join her child?

  “Can I go there, too?” Lady Albright’s eyes widened with eagerness.

  “Yes, I believe you can.” Hannah drew the woman closer as they walked up the central aisle of the temple. People parted around them. Some bowed their heads as Hannah passed, probably because they had last seen her accompanied by a hellhound and a shadow mage. Before the altar, people milled around waiting for their chance to approach. While it was no doubt rude to cut ahead of the others, Hannah didn’t have an eternity to wait. When one soul was dispatched and its form disappeared, Hannah stepped forward and pulled Lady Albright with her.

  With a bow, she addressed Ma’at, who stood in front of her scales. “This woman has led a good and honest life. She is ready to journey to Aaru to be reunited with her loved ones.”

  “The feather will determine her fate.” The goddess of justice and balance waved them closer, and the single ostrich feather in her hair nodded.

  At that point, Hannah realised that poor Lady Albright had no idea of what would happen to her. The Egyptian ceremony was rather different from having a quick chat with Saint Peter at the Pearly Gates. She tightened her grip on the other woman’s hand. “This will not hurt, I promise. Look at me and tell me about Henry. What made him laugh the most?”

  “We had a puppy. How they loved one another.” The woman’s eyes were unfocused as the memory played out in her mind. At that moment, Ma’at reached out to pluck Lady Albright’s heart from her chest. The goddess’s fingers eased through the soul’s form and removed the organ.

  Hannah stayed by the older woman’s side as the goddess placed the heart on the scales. The feather rested on the other side. The two sides played a game of seesaw, one side up, the other down. Hannah bit her lip, certain in her own heart that Lady Albright would be found worthy. She let out a sigh as the scales levelled off in perfect balance.

  “This soul is worthy. She may journey to the Aaru,” Ma’at announced. Then she picked up the heart and returned it to Lady Albright’s chest.

  A golden doorway opened beside the scales with a glowing path so similar to the one Hannah had walked with Wycliff, and yet so different.

  “Is that it, is it over?” Lady Albright whispered to Hannah. She dared a glance downward at her chest, but no visible sign of the process remained.

  “Yes, it is done.” They walked closer to the light.

  A small shape shimmered within the golden glow. Lady Albright sobbed, “It’s him! Henry!”

  She turned to Hannah with tears in her eyes and hugged her. “Thank you, Lady Wycliff, for all you have done.”

  Lady Albright stepped onto the golden road and walked through the glowing doorway. Her form took on the same yellow hue as she knelt down and embraced the child. The light encircled the pair, and then floated away as though a thousand fireflies took flight.

  Hannah wiped a tear from her eye. While she could not save Lady Albright in the living realm, she had brought her peace in the afterlife. As she turned, she met the gaze of Anput, who watched her with keen interest in her eyes.

  23

  A commotion erupted at the temple entrance and drew everyone’s attention. People cried out and pushed themselves to the pillars as the hellhound strode down the aisle. The stone crackled under his feet and ice rippled away from him. Those who were too slow to move toppled and flung out their arms as their sandals slid away from them on the slippery layer.

  From the hound’s jaws dangled a man’s arm, the rest of him limp and dragging between Wycliff’s legs, the body skating along on the layer of ice. The mage kept up a stream of curses that made Hannah’s ears redden.

  Before the dais, Wycliff spat out the mage. Then he shook himself and with a soft whump, fire raced over his body and the ice dissolved, leaving a puddle of water around his feet. That then turned to steam and Wycliff stood in a warm mist until it drifted upward.

  Hannah waited until the puddle evaporated before going to his side. She stared at the captured mage, who challenged her expectations. She thought she would see the visage of evil…but he looked like a grandfather with grey hair and a long grey beard, a rotund belly, and laughter lines in the corners of his eyes. He also possessed a colourful line in curses that would make a sailor blush. Not to mention an aroma similar to rotten fish.

  “I have had to listen to that the entire way back,” Wycliff muttered. “Not to mention he tastes as bad as he smells.”

  Seraphina stepped from behind a column, the obsidian god at her side. The fallen mage glanced over the god of the afterlife as though he were of no importance, but the woman at his side made him turn beetroot red.

  “You! I should have known such an abomination would reside in this Hell,” Dupré spat. “Not that it matters. We are all powerless here and there is nothing you can do to me now.”

  Seraphina laughed. “You might be powerless. I am not.”

  As she appr
oached, she rolled her hands together and then flung them out. A ball of silver light shot toward the downed mage and encircled him. Seraphina waved her hands like a conductor and threads broke loose and wrapped themselves around the man’s hands, feet, arms, and legs. Then she drew her hand upward like a puppeteer and commanded her marionette into an awkward position.

  “Impossible! How are you doing this?” Dupré demanded as he struggled against the bonds.

  “You made a mistake any mage learns as a child—don’t cast spells you don’t fully understand. You corrupted the shadow mage ritual of Anubis. While you killed me, you left me animated in the world of the living. You made me a creature of the underworld, and I draw my power from this realm.” Seraphina pulled the strands tighter against her enemy’s form and with a swipe of her hand, spread his arms wide as though he were chained to an invisible wall.

  “A dead mage is a creature of evil!” he hissed.

  “Evil is not defined by life or death, but by your actions. You are the loathsome creature. You created this curse, and you will tell me how to reverse it and restore your victims to life.” Seraphina flicked a finger and a tiny bolt of lightning shot along a silver strand to zap the prisoner.

  The French mage gasped, and his head snapped forward. Then he drew a deep breath and steadied himself. He looked Hannah’s mother dead in the eye. “There is no cure. I made sure of that to ensure your end was prolonged and painful.”

  “No,” Hannah whispered.

  With no cure, the Afflicted would be at the mercy of Lord Tomlin and every frightened man who sought to protect his brain. How long would they endure as the country turned against them? She doubted the Afflicted would last a year. They had mere months at most. They would be forced to flee England and roam the world, always one step ahead of those who hunted them. Her knees buckled and Wycliff dipped his weight to support her. Hannah fisted his fur as she met his amber gaze, despair already settling inside her. “We cannot be cured.”

  Wycliff knelt and lowered her to her knees. Hannah pressed her face to his side and inhaled his smoky aroma. They had pinned all their hopes on extracting a cure from Dupré. Her tears evaporated against his warmth. What would they do now that all hope was lost?

  “Together, Hannah, beyond death,” Wycliff murmured as he nuzzled against her.

  His words reminded her that she was loved, regardless of whether she possessed a pulse. She steeled her spine and despair drained from her to be replaced by determination. She had journeyed to the afterlife to find relief for the Afflicted, and she refused to return empty-handed. Hannah climbed to her feet and kissed Wycliff’s furry muzzle. Then she turned to face the man whose actions had stolen her life.

  “You killed innocent people, then left them to suffer all over again as their bodies rotted.” Hannah tried to reconcile the man’s genial appearance with the blood running from his hands.

  “We were at war. Things were done.” He shrugged and had the audacity to stifle a yawn as though they bored him.

  Hannah took a step closer. Wycliff nudged her side, offering his protection should she need it. She stroked his fur. The man before her was now powerless, stripped of his magic and his life. Events of the past two years crashed into her mind. She remembered the lives lost, the horrors she had witnessed, the helplessness as they laboured to find a cure. All because of this man.

  She let go of Wycliff and advanced on the mage. If she had been a man or a mage, she would have demanded justice be extracted from his hide. “This was not war, or the clash of one army against another. You used twisted, evil magic and created a poison that stole into the parlours and bedchambers of hundreds of people and snuffed out their lives like a thief in the night. You struck at them in the one place they should have been safe—their homes.”

  “Who are you but another dead thing? Shoo, little fly, go bother someone else.” Dupré tugged against the bonds holding him upright and muttered a spell that turned to empty words.

  Wycliff growled, and Seraphina narrowed her gaze and sent another lightning bolt rippling through the lines. The French mage twitched as spasms of electricity surged through him.

  Who was she? A mouse who could roar. Rage flowed through Hannah. Here, immobile before her, was the man who had murdered her mother and set free the poisoned powder that had stolen three hundred lives. Only the intervention of Sir Ewan Shaw had stopped a far larger tragedy from unfolding. Dupré had created enough of the poison to take thousands of English lives. Even more damning, he didn’t exhibit a single shred of remorse for his actions.

  “You cast the shadow mage spell without my permission and transformed this woman against her will.” Anubis prowled around the twitching mage.

  “He should be judged, husband.” Anput gestured to the brass scales.

  Hannah shook her head and clenched her hands into fists. “You should not foul the scales of justice by weighing his heart. If I could, I would pluck it out myself and toss it to Ammit!”

  Anput stepped forward and took Hannah’s clenched hands in hers. “Then do it. We give you our permission to take this worthless being’s soul and feed it to the void.”

  Anput stroked Hannah’s knuckles with her thumb, and a tingle brushed over her skin. Could she do such a thing? Emotions collided inside her. She worked alongside her father to save people and ease their suffering. For years, she had studied books and always took the quiet route through life. Here, now, was her opportunity to step out of the shadow and deliver justice for the Afflicted.

  Yes, she could do this. For the former Lady Albright thrown into the gutter by an uncaring husband. For Miss Knightley, spurned by her fiancé and left alone to her fate. For her mother, taken from Hannah and her father. And for herself, her heart stilled as she died in Wycliff’s arms, robbed of their future together.

  Hannah strode over to stand before Dupré. “You asked who I am. I am justice.”

  She reached out her hand. Her fingers touched the grimy linen covering his chest. In her mind, she visualised the placement of his heart, if he even possessed one. She recalled how easily Ma’at’s hand had slipped into Lady Albright’s chest, like a hot knife through butter.

  She pushed, expecting resistance from skin and muscle and the odd weight that ran up a scalpel during an autopsy, but found none. Dupré gasped as her hand disappeared into his chest. An odd, gelatinous feeling rippled over her knuckles, as though she demolished a jelly. Logically she assumed that since they were in the Duat and both souls, it was not unlike two ghosts colliding and one passing through the other.

  “No. Stop it. You cannot do this.” Dupré’s eyes widened and he tugged furiously at his bonds. He curved his spine, trying to arch his chest away from Hannah’s reaching hand.

  Hannah ignored his twitching and concentrated on her task. Her fingers found a solid object, and she grabbed hold and pulled. The man’s heart popped free of his soul form and Hannah held it aloft. Unlike the dark red hearts of those she had witnessed being judged, this organ emitted a black ooze that seeped between her fingers.

  “Rotten to your very core,” Hannah said. Then she tossed the sticky object to Ammit.

  The goddess snapped her crocodile jaws and caught the treat. Instead of swallowing it in one gulp, she held it between her long teeth.

  Dupré screamed and his knees gave out. He slumped against his bonds, and only Seraphina’s silver net kept his arms outstretched and his torso upright. “No! Please! I’ll do anything!”

  “Anything? Cure the Afflicted.” Hannah stared him in the eye and waited. This was his last chance, if a cure existed.

  The old man gasped and shook his head. Tears rolled down his cheeks—shed for himself. “I cannot. But give me time…perhaps…one day…”

  Hannah turned and walked to Wycliff. Sliding one hand through his fur, she nodded to Ammit. The Eater of Hearts bit down slowly. One long tooth at a time pierced the rotten organ. Hannah shuddered when it appeared the goddess relished the disgusting taste in her mouth, the black
ooze sticking to her teeth and forming droplets at one corner of her jaws.

  Dupré writhed on the ground, begging for mercy. When all her teeth had lacerated his heart, Ammit closed her lips and swallowed. The mage let out a single blood-curdling scream and then his soul form exploded with a soft pop and turned into ash. The pieces drifted to the ground but never touched it, each winking out of existence.

  Anput smiled at Hannah. “Now it is your turn.”

  Hannah swallowed the lump wedged in her throat and her fingers curled deeper into Wycliff’s fur. “No. I do not want to be judged. I will return to the living realm with Wycliff and my mother.”

  “You are dead and your soul stands before us. You must be judged if you are to continue your journey.” The goddess walked toward Hannah.

  Wycliff growled and Seraphina took up a warrior stance, a ball of light sizzling between her outstretched palms. “No one touches my daughter.”

  “Stand aside, shadow mage. Heel, hound,” Anubis called and tugged on an invisible lead.

  “I’ll not leave her side!” Wycliff snarled and snapped.

  Hannah held out her hands, but didn’t know how to help him as the goddess advanced on her.

  The hellhound planted his massive feet. His entire body resisted the god’s command until a crack whipped through the air and he surged backward onto his haunches.

  “What?” Anubis rose from his throne. “You would both defy your master?”

  “You are not my master. I answer only to the woman I love and you will not take her from me.” Wycliff curled his gigantic frame around Hannah.

  Seraphina stood on the other side of Hannah and raised a shimmering sphere around them. “You made me an offer, Anubis. I will serve as shadow mage on the condition you restore my daughter to life.”

  Anubis barked in laughter that echoed around the temple. “You are a worthy shadow mage. This child must be extraordinary that she commands the loyalty of my hound.”