by E. A. Copen
“You shouldn’t go out,” he said. “Someone will see you. We’ll get Konstantine to get some for you tomorrow.”
I finished buttoning my jeans and turned around. “This isn’t happening, Niko. There is no we. There can’t be.”
“But—”
“No buts. This was a fucking mistake.” I grabbed my shirt off the floor along with my bag and went to the door.
“Josiah!”
I paused with my hand on the door and glanced over my shoulder at him.
“You can’t hate everyone forever. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to let someone in, or that weight you’re carrying around will crush you. You don’t have to keep hurting alone.”
“Sorry, mate,” I said, shrugging on my borrowed shirt. “Alone’s the only thing I know how to be.”
I went out the bedroom door and kept going until I hit the stairs, leaving Niko far behind.
Chapter Twenty
KHALEDA
The one advantage Thoganoth and I had when traveling alone was that Alexi didn’t know our faces. Well, he’d seen me at Niko’s house before he tried to burn it down, but not since. I hoped that he believed I’d died there. He wouldn’t be looking for us the way he was Josiah and Niko. That meant we could move around Manhattan freely.
I put the window down and closed my eyes, relaxing as cool air whispered across my face. Thoganoth wanted to show me there were other demons who supported my claim to the throne, a fact I already knew. There might be hundreds, maybe even thousands, but it wouldn’t be enough. I knew the generals and earls of Hell, and they would have scores of demons. Not only that, but they’d have the backing of other powerful underworld deities, none of which liked me.
I was the bastard offspring of an upstart pretender. Lucifer Morningstar had never truly been a god, not like them. He’d won control over his realm with trickery and cruelty, not by right. It didn’t matter how he’d won it, only that he had. At least, that’s what Father told himself. Now, with him gone, it mattered more than he realized. Unless I got at least one or two of the gods to back my claim, making a push would be a fruitless effort. Even with that backing, it might be a waste of my time if Remiel got free.
“We’ll need to get you some souls,” Thoganoth said.
I opened my eyes and rolled the back of my head across the headrest to frown at him. “What happened to all the souls in my father’s vault?”
He shrugged. “Nothing, but no one knows how to get into the vault. If they did, the war would be over already.”
“War?” I raised an eyebrow. “What war?”
“You really are out of it.” He took the next turn and merged into traffic before continuing. “The minute word hit that Lucifer was gone, everyone who wanted a piece of Hell made a grab for it. Vinè, the storm demon was all set to move against the Lord of the Flies, but then your Nephilim friend made short work of him. His army got absorbed by Beelzebub’s. He was the favorite for a while until Mammon and Leviathan actually teamed up. I gotta tell you, I didn’t see that one coming.”
I rolled my eyes. “Mammon’s a coward. Without Leviathan, he wouldn’t stand a chance. The only thing he has going for him is a larger pool of souls to draw power from. The minute they’ve taken out Beelzebub, Leviathan will turn on him.”
Thoganoth nodded. “And that’s all assuming Remiel doesn’t get out. Most of the Fallen are banking on his return. The ones that survived the Earth invasion have been looking for a way to get him out of The Pit ever since it happened.”
“Earth invasion?” I almost laughed. “Two half-wits with a fistful of magic between them walked into Hell and made you look like dime-a-dozen minions from a B horror flick. It was barely an invasion. If you’d had a decent commander on the field, Josiah and Lazarus wouldn’t have stood a chance. Neither of them has any battle sense.”
“You see?” the demon said, grinning excitedly. “This is why you’d make a great leader.”
“Because I understand that ten thousand demons and a host of Fallen should’ve made short work of two idiot humans?”
“Because you understand humans.” He stole a glance across the van at me. “Most of us, when we hear someone with angelic blood has teamed up with one of the Four Horsemen, we run the other way. To you, they’re just people. You know their weaknesses. That gives you power.”
“The Horsemen and Josiah are not my enemies. I won’t betray them, Thoganoth. That’s the difference between my father and me. Loyalty. Understand?”
The demon nodded. “I wasn’t saying you should. Lucifer’s one weakness was how removed he was from everything. He ran our little kingdom like an isolationist shithole. All the other gods looked down on us. But with you in charge, maybe we could recover some of our reputation. We wouldn’t have to fight over scraps. We could be respected again.”
I crossed my arms. “You don’t think the other underworld gods would respect Remiel?”
Thoganoth snorted. “Respect? No. Fear? Absolutely, and that’s something we can use to get some of them to back your claim, though I expect most of them will just wait to see who’s left standing at the end rather than get involved.”
That sounded right. The other gods would be useless unless the war affected them directly, which seemed unlikely. The way Hell was set up each kingdom was virtually independent of all the others. It wasn’t like on Earth, where there was open dialogue and trade between leaders. That’d make too much sense.
My thoughts drifted back to Father’s vault. He had millions of souls stashed there, just waiting to be claimed. Whoever got into that vault first would win an arms race thousands of years in the making and get a significant strategic advantage.
“What’s the worst-case scenario?” I asked.
“Excuse me?”
I looked at him. “You heard me. The worst-case scenario. Walk me through it.”
Thoganoth sighed, blowing his air out through pursed lips. “I suppose the worst possible course of action would be to do nothing. Alexi and Iosef complete their ritual, summon Remiel in exchange for whatever fleeting power Alexi wants, and Remiel goes straight to Hell and claims the throne.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “There’s always something worse than doing nothing. Sometimes, intervening in a situation makes it worse. In your scenario, Remiel still doesn’t get into Father’s vault. He won’t even be able to find it. The vault’s hidden from him, just like it’s hidden from all the Fallen.”
Thoganoth nodded approvingly. “Smart.”
“But it’s not hidden from demons. Or from me,” I continued. “So in a worse scenario, after Remiel goes to Hell and realizes he can’t get into the vault, he begins systematically torturing and killing demons by the thousands until someone gives up enough information to get him what he wants. Eventually, he comes for me, assuming I know how to open it.”
“Do you?” Thoganoth looked over at me.
“No. I’ve only been inside the vault once, and I was so young, I barely remember it.”
More like I’d blocked it out. Father once thought it would be a fitting punishment to make me spend the night in the vault with millions of tortured souls. I kept my sanity only because he changed his mind after an hour.
I shivered at the fleeting memory of all the screaming. “But I probably saw Father open it, which means somewhere in my memory is the key to opening that vault door. I just need to remember it. Remiel will torture me. Probably publicly just to make his point. But before he ever gets to me, he’ll do his damnedest to eradicate any and all resistance inside the demon ranks. Anyone who opposes him will die. That’s still not the worst-case scenario. Father said some of the Fallen still liked to think of themselves as angels who could earn their place back by killing demons. If Remiel comes out of The Pit believing he and his kind are superior, and that he could take Heaven by eradicating demons…”
Thoganoth uttered a curse in Hellion. “You’re talking about the genocide of my race.”
I nodded. “T
hat’s the worst-case scenario, Thoganoth. Remiel killing anyone and everything in a misguided quest to earn his place back in Heaven.”
“But you’re going to stop him. Right?” He glanced over at me, his voice pleading.
I frowned and focused forward on the waves of passing headlights on the other side of the road. I didn’t want to be the Queen of Hell. I’d never wanted it, not even when Father was grooming me for the position. But now that I knew someone worse could take it and abuse the power so easily, I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. Once Remiel was dealt with, I could step aside, abdicate to someone else who wanted the crown maybe. Right now, however, I had to do whatever I could to stop Remiel from getting free.
“That’s going to depend on what kind of army you have waiting for me,” I answered.
“About that…” Thoganoth scratched the back of his head. “I didn’t exactly promise you an army. Just that I had something to show you.”
I glared at the demon in the driver’s seat. “If you’ve been stringing me along, I swear I’ll rip out your throat.”
“I’m not!” He raised one hand, waving it erratically. “Maybe I don’t have an army, but I’ve got something better. A way to get one.”
“This had better work.” I crossed my arms and watched the darkened city pass by. We’d left Astoria and Queens behind us some time ago and passed into Brooklyn. I didn’t know New York well enough to know exactly where in Brooklyn where we were, or where we might be headed. I had to trust Thoganoth for that. Maybe I was trusting him too much. After all, he was a demon, and it wasn’t long ago that every demon in creation served my father. I had no reason to believe he’d be loyal to me except out of fear for his own skin. The minute he thought I wasn’t in this to save him, he’d turn on me.
We exited the expressway sometime later and turned down a few side streets before stopping at a traffic light. Cars crawled by on the cross street, but Thoganoth didn’t put on the turn signal, indicating we were going straight. The only thing I could see straight ahead were shadowy iron gates, denoting the entrance to a closed cemetery.
When the light changed, we drove across the intersection and stopped in front of the gates. Thoganoth put the car in park and unbuckled his seat belt.
I leaned forward to read the name of the place. “Green-Wood Cemetery? What could you possibly have to show me here?”
“Cemeteries are sacred ground,” he said as if that should explain everything. When I just stared at him, he sighed and added, “Once we pass through these gates and step on the ground, we’ll shed a considerable amount of power and be vulnerable.”
“Yes, I know how sacred ground works,” I snapped.
Of course, I did. More than once, I’d stalked prey in a graveyard. It was prime hunting ground, mostly because people didn’t linger too long and it was one of the few places humans would go alone at all hours. But I couldn’t feed on anyone on sacred ground. The monster inside me wouldn’t wake there. Once, I’d believed I could use that as a solution and pursue some sort of normal life if only I surrounded myself with sacred ground, but I’d just wasted away. Without the monster, I couldn’t survive. She was as much a part of me as I was her.
Thoganoth got out of the car and went to fiddle with the cemetery gates. They were locked at that time of night, but that wouldn’t stop a proper demon. Lockpicking was a basic skill in Hell, as natural as breathing. He took twenty seconds to get the lock free and another ten to push open the gates enough that the car could pass. Then he was back in the driver’s seat, pulling through.
Green-Wood Cemetery was almost five hundred acres of death crammed into southern Brooklyn disguised as an arboretum. Long, winding paths slipped lazily along rows of leaning oaks and landscaped streams and bushes. It was almost enough to make you forget the marble and sandstone structures that dotted the horizon were graves.
The car crawled along narrow roads, turning at seemingly random intervals until we were so deep in the city of the dead I never could’ve found my way out. Fewer trees and more headstones took up real estate there, some so ancient they were barely little more than withered stone lumps.
Thoganoth stopped the car at the bottom of a hill littered with graves. “We walk from here.”
The night air had a particular bite to it. Not cold, but heavy as if there were thousands of eyes watching from all around us. I shivered and wished I’d put on a jacket. The skin-tight catsuit might’ve been good for our trip to the club or for an assassination, but it wasn’t much protection against the wind.
We climbed the hill. I glanced at a few of the stones as we passed, reading and forgetting the names as soon as I did. The grass there was dark and dead, taken over by a choking moss slowly working at tearing down some of the older stones. One or two had already lost their battle against nature and lay on their sides, defeated.
The top of the hill overlooked a small dip free of tombstones but ringed by trees. At the bottom of the depression stood a small white chapel that looked out of place among all the dying greenery and broken headstones.
“You brought me here to show me a chapel?” I exchanged a look with Thoganoth.
He shook his head. “That’s no ordinary chapel. You won’t find it marked on any map, or as part of even the most extensive tours. As far as humankind is concerned, that chapel doesn’t exist.”
“Then how do you know about it?” I asked him.
Thoganoth rolled his eyes. “Demon. Hello? I can see it, and so can you, because of our infernal blood. Problem is, even though I can see it, I can’t do what needs to be done. But you can. Come on.”
Before I could stop him, he’d stepped over the side and slid halfway down the hill on the dry dirt.
I cast a long look at the strange chapel, wondering what might be inside that might grant me an army. A magic item? A spell? Why hide such a thing so only demons could see it? And if only demons could see it, why hadn’t Thoganoth or someone else just taken it? Surely, he wasn’t the first demon to wander through one of New York’s largest cemeteries and stumble on this place.
I won’t know until I follow him down. If only I’d known we’d be sliding through dirt, I would’ve put on better shoes. Dirt shifted under my next step, and I slipped several feet before I found my balance. All the way down to the chapel was like that—one step, slide several feet, find my balance—until I was close enough to leverage the chapel walls to keep myself up. Power like lightning bit at my fingertips when I rested them against the stone wall and I pulled my hand back, looking to Thoganoth for an answer. He frowned and carefully walked around the corner. There, two wooden doors marked the only entrance and exit from the chapel. One groaned loudly as Thoganoth pulled it open. Dust fell from the top of the door as if the place hadn’t been opened in centuries. Again, I looked at the demon, wary of entering, but he encouraged me with a nod.
“If this is a trap, I’ll kill you so slowly, my father’s punishments will seem kind,” I warned him.
“I swear to you, it’s not.” The demon tugged the door open a little wider and stepped aside. “Everything you need to depose Remiel is there, inside. But I can’t get it for you. You have to take it yourself.”
My first footsteps echoed through the empty sanctuary. Three rows of dusty pews lined either side of a moth-eaten red carpet that led to a broken altar. Behind it rose a pulpit covered in spiderwebs and the corpses of small insects. A vine of black-tipped thorns wound its way around an upside-down cross on the wall behind it.
Before the cross knelt the most detailed ivory statue I had ever seen, the figure a black-winged angel in prayer. An inch of dust covered the figure, turning it a pale shade of gray. I closed on the statue, admiring the craftsmanship. Whoever’d carved it clearly had an eye for beauty, one whose skill would’ve made Michelangelo weep with envy. I reached to brush away some of the dust so I could admire it a little more.
The statue shifted and I pulled my hand away, swallowing a surprised gasp. Sparkling mulberry eyes blink
ed away dust as the figure slowly stood to tower over me. Iron chains clinked through metal hasps, moving with him. Only when enough of the dust had drifted to the floor did I realize what I was looking at. One of the Fallen.
The church door suddenly closed with a loud bang, trapping me in the darkness with him. That little shit demon! When I got out of there, I would skin him alive.
I stepped back and clenched my fists, ready for a fight. Having never fought one of the Fallen, I wasn’t sure I could take him, but I sure as hell wouldn’t let him have me without a fight.
But he didn’t move to attack. The Fallen turned his wrists over, revealing thick iron shackles that glowed with Hellion script, one of Father’s favorite punishments. I’d been chained up in similar shackles more than once until I figured out how to get out of them.
I glanced from the shackles to the Fallen’s face. They shouldn’t have been able to hold him. The Fallen were powerful enough that Father feared each one of them and worked tirelessly to keep them loyal. One on one, he could take them, but if they ever banded together again the way they had during their rebellion, he stood near no chance of defeating them a second time. Yet here was one of them, broken, chained, and left to his punishment as if he’d simply been forgotten. He looked at me, his dark eyes full of some distant emotion I couldn’t name.
“Who are you?” I chanced a step closer.
“Malphas.” His voice was deep and raspy. It didn’t match his angelic appearance.
I’d never heard of a Fallen named Malphas. I took another step forward and he recoiled slightly. “Why are you here, Malphas?”
“Because I betrayed my king.” His chains rattled as he sank back to his knees. “I was given an order that I could not obey, and for that, I rot, forgotten.”
