Kirsty knew how easy it was for people to vanish, especially when the passages that spirited them away could only be opened from one side. But, no matter how canny, it is impossible for a stranger in a strange land to go unnoticed forever. Kirsty had watched for the signs that eventually wound their way back to her. And her vigilance had paid off. As she suspected, Hell found its way back to her. It always did.
And now, as Kirsty turned over in bed, willing herself to stay down for a few more hours, her mind went to tomorrow. She had an appointment with Death’s Daughter when the sun reared its ugly head, and she’d need her energy for what was to come. Did the creature know about her? Kirsty couldn’t say, but in the same way the infernal’s agents always seemed drawn to her, she suspected she was doing her part to remain drawn to the infernal’s agents. That was the thing about Hell. Despite its existence or recent supposed lack thereof, it would be in her always. She could not imagine life without it. Wherever her crusades delivered her, she would bring with her the images, and knowledge, and losses that had delivered her to such places. But she would never let them stop her.
As Kirsty clutched her pillow close, wondering when she would at last be done with this game, her eyes went to the nightstand upon which The Cold Man’s nail sat in a mason jar, reminding her of one hard truth: it didn’t matter what she asked of God, for even if Hell had never existed, Mankind would always be there to fashion one for itself.
Hellraiser- The Toll Page 6
