by Hunter Blain
© 2020, Hunter Blain. All rights reserved. The contents of this publication, or any part thereof, may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storing in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the prior written approval of Hunter Blain.
“I don’t like to commit myself about Heaven and Hell . . . you see, I have friends in both places.”
—Mark Twain
“If you’re going through hell, keep going.”
—Winston Churchill
Other books in the Preternatural Chronicles
Deliverance - A Preternatural Chronicles Novella
I’m Glad You’re Dead
Dawn and Quartered
Shadow of a Doubt
Moonlight Equilibrium – Book 3.5
Mouth of Madness
What the Hell
Holy Sheoly
7-13 Coming Soon Enough
Audiobooks available on Amazon, Audible, and iTunes - Narrated by Luke Daniels
Deliverance - A Preternatural Chronicles Novella
I’m Glad You’re Dead
Dawn and Quartered
Shadow of a Doubt (Available mid-2020)
Mouth of Madness (Available mid-2020)
Prologue
The Grand Master Warlock Vampire, Ulric, confidently strolled into a humid, dimly lit room with an impressive plastic prison cell in the center. Four small holes were spread evenly on each panel, providing a modicum of oxygen for the unfortunate occupant. The cell was ten by five and inside a twelve-by-twelve bedroom. Two windows were boarded up, preventing any light from shining through. Only a single weak yellow bulb above the cell provided any illumination. The air was dense with the metallic smell of old blood and the sharp aroma of ammonia.
At the center of the prison cell, held in place with silver restraints on a metal chair, sat Joey Caruso. The were’s head hung low from hunger and exhaustion. The dried blood that coated the front of Joey’s shirt flaked and cracked as he jerked awake. Both his eyes were horrifically bruised, with one completely swollen shut. His nose sat askew on his pummeled face, jutting at an awkward angle. The vamlock had beaten the werewolf over and over again until his healing had ceased, allowing his hunger to grow to uncontrollable levels.
The beast inside the control room of Joey’s mind stood just behind the shadow of the man, threatening to take over if he didn’t consume meat, and soon. Joey had never been this famished before, and he feared he would be unable to stop the wolf from going feral and taking over. Hell, at this point, he didn’t think he would even want to stop him if it meant eating.
“Hello, Joseph,” Ulric greeted with an arrogance that made Joey’s skin crawl.
Joey regarded him weakly with the only eye that he could see out of. His captor stood almost directly under the dim light, which created deep shadows on his face. Only eyes that seemed to shift between glowing green and vibrant purple were evident in the infinite abyss of darkness that bathed Ulric’s features into obscurity.
“How are we feeling today, hmm?” Ulric purred. He reached down and touched two fingers under Joey’s chin, who reacted by jerking back and yelling through the duct tape over his mouth. Ulric’s hand blurred and forcibly wrapped around Joey’s lower jaw, bringing his head forward and up to better see the most powerful being on the plane. There was a sickening pop as Ulric squeezed his captive’s jaw a little too tightly. Joey screamed, letting the air escape through his nose, and tried to yank his face free. “Still a little fight in you. That is good.”
Ulric leaned down until they were almost nose to nose, the light now spilling down his face showing only his forehead and nose clearly. His eyes still stared at Joey from the abyss, sending a shudder down the were’s spine.
Ulric’s grip on Joey’s chin tightened further, drawing a sharp gasp from the prisoner and signaling that there would be no use in trying to pull away. Joey tasted fresh blood in his mouth as a tooth was freed from its socket, forcing the man to swallow it or go mad from having it explore the rest of his mouth.
“You are going to do as I say, or I am going to make poor Dawson suffer in unimaginable torment. His agony will become an urban legend in Hell, something the damned souls will tell each other to make their own tortures seem like a gentle massage in comparison.” Ulric’s eyes glowed a dark crimson that made fresh urine escape Joey’s bladder.
The prisoner’s remaining eye bulged as a whine escaped through the passage of his nose, spilling twin streams of scarlet snot that dripped onto Ulric’s fingers.
Lifting his hand, Ulric roughly passed it through the were’s thick hair, smearing the snot before continuing his monologue. “That is right, child. Your brother’s soul is in Hell, and I just so happen to have a key. Disobey me, and risk going mad over the knowledge of what I will do to him for the rest of eternity.”
Joey stared at the vamlock with a hatred that could fuel a supernova until the end of time, but he didn’t protest.
“Listen closely, wolf, for I want you to retrieve something for me. Something of great importance.”
A single tear broke rank and rushed the only working duct to slip down a black-and-blue cheek while disbelieving ears relayed Ulric’s chilling words to a reeling mind.
Chapter 1
Once a warm breeze caressed my face outside the mausoleum, I felt slightly better, more at peace. Closing my eyes, I extended my hands out to my sides, palms toward the sky, and took in a slow, deep breath. Maybe I just needed to be away from the tense atmosphere that had been created and unintentionally amplified by my friends. Depweg had placed an entire mountain of pressure on me to retrieve Dawson’s soul, while Locke was downstairs, dying in his bed from refusing to obey Ulric.
“Stupid bastard,” I mouthed while still holding my breath. Though the airless words were harsh, I felt a mushroom cloud of pride erupt at my core for the man. I was more than aware how much he had sacrificed in order to not betray his friends, his family. I sent out a silent prayer that Hayley would be able to help him.
Another warm breeze danced across my skin, and my mind flashed to Lily — my Lily — who had also made what could be considered the ultimate sacrifice. And no, I wasn’t referring to me, though you would be right in thinking so. No, it was her mind that she was giving up.
“I will fight to stay me,” she had promised. “Just know, in time, the darkness will take hold, but I will still think I’m me . . .”
I let out my breath with a whine that sounded like “Lily,” dropped my arms to my sides, and began walking to the cemetery gates. It would do me no good to wallow in my own pool of lamentation and woe while the prophecy scrolls waited for me. Perhaps just as important was the fact that Dawson’s soul resided in the place of eternal torture, and that made my pain seem like butterfly kisses from a baby.
And just like that, as quickly as I had felt better by stepping into the night to be alone, my mind made up for the lack of pressure and compressed on my thoughts like it was trying to create an anxiety diamond.
“I love you,” Lily had said with eyes that all but pleaded I return the auditory confirmation of what we both knew.
“NO!” I cried out as my hands shot to cover my ears, as if I could block the pain from the words that echoed inside my skull. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to hear her repeat those words on an infinite loop until the sun exploded in a few billion years, but I just couldn’t handle it right now. I had to keep my head in the game and focus on the impossible task laid out in front of me.
“Just gotta go to Hell; no big dealio,” I weakly said, trying my best to inject false confidence into my voice. If I could sweat, I would have probably filled a bathtub with how nervous I was. The tip of my nose, both lips, an
d fingers up to my palms all tingled the more I thought.
To rub coarse salt granules into my wounds of worry, my mind raced with still images of indescribable tortures.
Souls being filleted without the recourse of going into shock. Writhing figures skewered on various stalagmites. Screaming men, women, and even children drowning in the infinite expanse of a merciless hellfire whose hunger for agony could never be satiated. A bronze bull . . .
“Mom,” I breathed, setting my chin and looking up toward the heavens. My face and hands stopped tingling as I found renewed strength in the image of my parents staring down at me from above. Their confidence during our last meeting was empowering. They knew I wouldn’t let them down, and I wasn’t going to disappoint them.
I lowered my head and realized I had been standing in the parking lot for some time. Knowing what I must do, I pulled up my new phone and began the process of setting it up. Luckily, all I had to do was input my username and password, and the phone brought up my old settings.
“Lilith bless technology,” I said to myself as I brought up my favorites and selected a name.
After a few rings, Special Agent in Charge Collin Baker answered.
“Good evening.”
“Hey, bud. Got some stuff for ya,” I informed casually.
“Oh? What stuff do you have for me?”
“Couple things. First, there’s a massive demon body that needs to be dealt wi—”
“Already taken care of,” Collin interrupted.
I answered with surprised silence. Collin waited patiently for me to continue.
“Um . . . well, two, I need some information.”
“What sort of information?” the government employee asked with a tone that implied an unspoken reminder of discretion.
“I need to get to Hell. Like, tonight.”
“I anticipated as much, but I must say that I’m surprised you are acting so, shall we say, quickly. If I may ask, what caused the change in schedule? I was under the impression you wanted to spend a few nights with your friends.”
“Well, I’m sure you already know we got Depweg back.”
“I did not, actually. We lost track of him in Mexico, and I assumed the worst. Glad to hear he is well.”
“Thanks. But to answer your question, I had a visit from an old friend.”
“Ulric?”
“How in the hell . . .” I drawled, unable to find the words through my confusion.
“He did kill one of my contractors at Father Thomes Philseep’s church.”
My mind relived the time when I had been imprisoned. If it hadn’t been for my genius-level intellect and unrivaled ingenuity . . . I forgot where I was going, but the important thing is to stay in school.
Oh, right! I was remembering how awesome I was for escaping the vampire prison by kicking my way out. A flash of phantom pain tingled through my leg from where the blessed metal had made my flesh necrotic, prompting me to cut it off just below the hip.
“Wait a sec . . . why the hell didn’t I just cut my leg off to begin with? Damn it! I could have done it at the freaking ankle!!! BAH!” I yelled into the night while shaking my fists in the air, remembering how terrifying and painful it had been to escape the way I had.
“Come again?” I heard a muffled voice ask.
“Ah, shit,” I proclaimed, bringing my hand back to my ear. “Sorry about that. Anyway, where were we?”
“Hell.”
“Right. Um, how do I get . . . there?” I asked meekly.
“Well, we have a direct line of access at a valley in Israel called Gehenna.”
“I have to go to Israel? Wait, is that why the U.S. is—”
“I can neither confirm nor deny the question you are about to ask.”
“Ah. Got ya,” I said, winking at the phone. Then I palmed my forehead with my free hand for making the gesture at a damn cell phone. “Anyway, how do I get there?”
“We can pick you up. Which address should I meet you at?”
“Pick me up at home.”
“Alright. And the time?”
“Thirty minutes. I need a drink first.”
“Got it. See you then,” he said before adding, “Might I suggest a dash of restraint on the imbibing?”
“Yup,” I breathed out as I clicked the end button and closed my hand.
Having set a time frame, I decided to walk with a degree of determination rather than the casual stroll I had been partaking of before the call.
Within a few minutes, I made it to Val’s and pushed past the brand-new swinging doors. I had broken them on my last outing when the Grand Master War . . . lock . . . Oh Lilith! Val hadn’t been here when Silver and I had had our discussion.
“Val!” I called out with urgency as I came into the saloon.
“What, boy?” Val asked calmly from behind his bar. “An’ take it easy on my doors, won’t ya?”
“Oh, Val!” I breathed in relief as I sat down at the bar across from where he stood, letting my chin rest in my hands as I propped my elbows up. “Thought maybe something had happened to you.” As I finished, I let my palms slip off my face and stared at the man.
In response, Valenta lifted an eyebrow while managing to scowl with the other.
“I-I . . . I was here just a few hours ago, man, and you weren’t.”
“Did ya check in tha back?”
“No. I, ah, just assumed . . .”
“Assumed what?”
“Dude!” I burst out, frustration spilling over the dam. “The Grand Master Warlock was here waiting for me. When I didn’t see you . . .”
“Ya thought a mortal warlock had kill’t an angel, boy?”
“I—” I drawled out, lifting both hands and indicating I had nothing I could say.
“I was in back, cleaning tha chests while do’n inventory. How long did ya wait fer?”
Thinking back and cutting out the hours it had felt like I was in Hell after that bastard had stabbed me in the foot with the Spear of Destiny, I said, “I guess only five or six minutes, really. Less than ten for sure.”
Val looked down at his bar, which still had the woodworking tools from which he had crafted new doors, and admitted, “Odd that I didn’ sense anythin’ was off when I came up an’ saw what had happened to my doors.”
The scene where I’d been looking directly at the Grand Master Warlock but couldn’t sense him played over in my mind. It had been like he was comprised of antimatter, always there but never felt or seen. How could a mere mortal wield that much power, to the point where not even an angel could sense him?
“Oh, Lilith,” I drawled as I covered my face with my hands and let my forehead fall to the bar.
“What is it, boy?”
“Ulric is now the Grand Master Warlock,” I slurred through my palms.
To his credit, Val’s only response was, “Hmph.”
Lifting my face from where it rested on my hands, I squinted at the neutral angel and repeated, “Hmph? Really? That’s all you have to say? Hmph?”
“What more is there ta say?”
“Oh, I don’t know. How about holy shit? Maybe a little Great Scott!” I said, lifting my hands to the sky.
“An’ tha point would be?”
Slapping my hands on the bar, I continued to stare with openmouthed awe at how casual the man was being. Then again, he wasn’t a man, was he?
Letting the issue drop, I closed my mouth. I looked to the side, shook my head, and said, “Just give me a drink. I have to go somewhere I don’t wanna.”
“An’ where’s that?” Val asked as he poured me a Jack and Blood.
“Oh, you know, North Korea.”
“What’s that now?”
“Hell, Val. I have to go to freaking Hell.”
Valenta nearly dropped the bottle he was pouring as I spoke.
“Yer serious, aren’t ya?” I nodded in agreement. “Why on Earth are ya go’n there?”
Pulling the glass toward me, I took a sip, remembering wha
t Collin had suggested even though I wanted to drink the entire bottle Val held.
“Why am I going to Hell,” I repeated more in a statement than a question as I gathered my thoughts. “Two reasons, the first being the Scrolls of the Prophecy.” I said the name like some sort of medieval announcer who was sick of his job. As my mind formulated how to finish structuring the sentence for the second reason, I went still and coldly said, “Dawson’s in Hell, Val. I gotta go get him back.”
Valenta closed his eyes, letting his face fall toward the ground as he shook his head. He gently set the bottle he held on the bar and crossed his arms as he thought about my words.
“There is nothing you can do for him, John,” Varhmiel the Angel said gingerly, dropping all pretense of an accent. “You might make things worse if you even try to help the poor boy. Nothing gives weight to anguish like having hope, only to lose it.”
“I have to try,” I said while taking another sip of my drink, silently begging for the enchanted ingredients to dull my anxiety, like gliding the edge of a knife at a ninety-degree angle against a whetstone. Unfortunately for me, my anxiety was one of those impossible-to-dull knives you saw on TV. The harder you tried to wear down the edge, the sharper it got.
With another hmph, Val disappeared into the back room. I could hear a heavy door opening, and I knew where he was going. My mind flashed to the armor that was almost within my grasp, making my mouth salivate as I drummed my fingers against the bar. My leg was shaking up and down as if I were trying to make wine inside a basket of grapes.
After a minute or two, the door shut, making my fingers and leg grow still again.
Valenta walked from the kitchen to stand in front of where I sat. “Are ya sure I can’t persuade ya not to go?” he asked, his Southern drawl returning.
I shook my head from side to side once, closing my eyes for a moment. I didn’t want to do this, and his encouragement to stay was near impossible to resist.
