by Lily Luchesi
6
The next night, Angelica woke with a grim determination. If Hell wanted her, they were going to get her. It seemed that she hadn’t shown them just quite what she was capable of yet. If they wanted another taste, fine by her. They weren’t getting her, or the vampires, no matter what scare tactics they tried.
“You’re not going through with this, are you?” Danny asked as they woke, preparing for the long night ahead.
“They won’t stop, Danny. My duty is to protect my people, and that includes everyone at the PID. Demons can’t be reasoned with, but the Lieutenant was once human, most likely. Maybe I can get it through his or her thick skull that if they want the vamps, they’ve got to kill me first.”
Danny looked dumbfounded. “And if the Lieutenant takes that as a challenge?”
Angelica grinned. “Then they’re going to meet the same fate their predecessor did.”
Danny tossed the towel he was using to dry his face onto the counter and said, “Well, you’re not doing it alone. And don’t protest: I am coming with you. These are our people they want.”
Angelica wanted to fight him on that, but the truth was that she was afraid to go back there alone, and she was glad that he was going to be there with her. “Fine. And hang that towel up. I swear, you can hunt with the best of them but you’re impossible to domesticate.”
She smiled as she walked out of the bathroom, hearing Danny call, “Domesticate? What am I, a cat?”
“Meow,” she called back.
She was so grateful for moments like these. The quiet, sweet, funny things that took less than a minute, but meant so much. It was a moment like that she needed to hold onto, as she was about to descend into Hell for the first time in a century. She prayed that she had the strength to return there again.
Demons had tortured her in every single way possible. Her body still bore some of the scars, and her mind had more of them. Demons had taken far too much from her, and she’d be damned if she was going to let them take away the Empire, too.
“Am I the only person who thinks this is a trap?” Danny asked as he, Daniel, and Angelica stood before the still-hidden portal into Hell.
“No, but I can’t let them possibly blow up half the city with these electrical surges,” Angelica replied. She turned to Daniel. “You’re sure you’ve memorized the spell? You’ve got the blade?”
“Yes and yes,” he replied, holding up the knife he had to use in the ritual. “Why do I have to open the portal again and not someone else?”
“The portal can only be opened with a human blood sacrifice,” Angelica explained again, wishing he had listened the first time. “This is a code red mission, and you’re the only human we trust.”
“How will you get back?” he asked.
“The spell from the inside will work for us without a sacrifice. The portals’ wards were designed to keep anything from escaping, and by opening it from our side, we weakened the wards enough so that we can return. When we come back, we’ll have a Coven member reseal it.
“I’ve got guards coming to guard the portal while it’s open, to take care of any potentially escaping demons.”
Daniel nodded.
“You sure you’re ready?” Danny asked him. “The cut’s going to hurt.”
“I’m ready.” Daniel took the enchanted knife and sliced deep into his left palm. Blood welled up into the wound, and Angelica closed her eyes, glad that she’d eaten already. When he began to chant in Latin, she opened her eyes to watch and make sure that he was doing it right.
The blood was dripping in the proper design over what looked like a dirt floor. An open pentagram with arrows at each end. The ground began to glow, the blood turning orange like fire. Then it began to spin, slowly opening itself up.
The portal gaped open, the stench of sulfur and decay assaulting their senses. Hot air wafted up, like a warning to stay back.
“Be careful,” Daniel said.
“We’ll be as careful as always,” Angelica replied.
Danny chuckled nervously. “Like that’s going to reassure him!” He took her hand in his and said, “On your count … Empress.”
She gave his hand a squeeze and counted to three before they both jumped down into the abyss.
It was pitch black, all Angelica could see were her husband’s glowing eyes in the darkness. If not for his hand clasped in hers, she would have thought she was dreaming.
Unlike Alice’s tumble into Wonderland, they both knew that this portal wouldn’t yield smiling cats or rushing rabbits. Instead, they were going to a land of brimstone and hellfire, of torture and unrest.
They finally landed on something soft, light from fiery wall sconces lighting up the dirt and stone walls and halls that made up Hell’s infrastructure. They both glanced at each other before looking down. Angelica was sure he was thinking the same thing she was: Please don't let this be a pile of bodies!
It turned out to be a big pile of dirty cloth, placed as if to cushion their fall.
“Too many residents breaking their tailbones?” Danny wondered as he helped Angelica up.
Before she could reply, they heard footsteps in the distance.
“Right on schedule for a trap,” Angelica muttered. But they wouldn’t go down without a fight. She grabbed her knives and Danny cocked his gun as the footsteps came closer.
Four demons appeared from the hall before them, looking as ordinary as Bloomingdale’s shoppers or PTA parents. Two men, two women. There were no weapons in sight, but Angelica knew that they didn't need them.
The woman in the lead held her hands up. “Don’t attack us. We’re not here to hurt you. We’ve been ordered to … escort you.”
Angelica held her blade before her. “Well, excuse me if I don’t take you at your word.”
One man, balding and clad in an ill-fitting suit, said, “Our Lieutenant has been trying to contact you, Miss Cross. He wants to see you, not attack you.”
“It’s Mrs. Mancini,” she corrected. “If we let you lead us to him, how can we guarantee that you’re not going to stab us in the backs? Literally? You do see our dilemma, right?”
“We assure you, our Lieutenant would destroy us if you were not delivered to him unspoiled,” the woman said with a sneer. “Him, however, we didn’t count on. Only you were invited.”
“I’m so hurt that I didn’t get a personal invite to Hell,” Danny said sarcastically.
Angelica pressed her blade to the skin of the woman’s throat. “Call him my plus one, shall we? Now go. You fuckers lead, we’ll follow. Any sign of attack and you’ll be so dead you can’t even get into Hell anymore.”
“Such a benevolent Empress the vampires have,” the second woman commented. “It’s no wonder they’re so obedient.”
“More like cowed,” the first man spat. “She fits in well here.”
Angelica smirked. That was what she had wanted, a reputation she’d fought hard to maintain. She led the deadliest race on Earth — being kind wasn’t an option.
The demons led them down four flights of stairs to reach the final level of Hell, where the leaders had their lairs. Danny and Angie had been there once before, to visit the former Lieutenant. Who also happened to be Danny’s past self’s great-great-grandfather and the spurned paramour of Vincent Cross, Angelica’s father.
The same large oaken door loomed before them, the door that should have bore the name and death date of its occupant. But this door had two dates, one in 1835 and another in 2014.
The Lieutenant died twice? Angelica thought as the demons knocked on the door.
“Miss Cross is here, sir,” the female demon said. “And she brought a guest.”
There was a pause before a male voice said, “Excellent. Send them in and be gone.”
From the moment the first syllable had been uttered by the Lieutenant, her entire body had went rigid and numb. She looked over at Danny, whose face had gone slack. Of course he, too, recognized the voice. He’d heard it in his nightmares
for decades.
It can’t be, Angelica thought. They’d never… He was a prisoner down here! He couldn’t…
Danny put his hand on her shoulder, giving and seeking comfort in his actions. His hand was shaking as he guided her to the door, both of them moving on stiff legs.
When they had been in the Lieutenant’s chamber before, it had been an old English library. Now it was a room Angelica knew well.
High, vaulted ceilings, lavender wallpaper, a large bookcase spanning one wall filled with French, British, and Latin literature, soft throw rugs from Italy atop an intricately layered stone floor, and high windows with deep purple velvet hangings with silver filigree. Two Monet paintings adorned the walls, and a black lacquered desk sat against the other wall. A small sofa sat in the middle of the room with what looked like a little girl’s doll discarded on its cushions.
As a small girl, Angelica had spent many hours in here as well as in the adjacent library, sitting on the rugs or that couch, reading and playing with her dolls under the watchful eye of her doting and still mortal father, Vincent Cross.
He’d sit at his desk, doing paperwork while she read and played pretend. Her mother, Veronica, would be sleeping then, as it was daytime, so it would be just the two of them, father-daughter bonding. Angelica had loved those days, and after what had happened with her mother’s death, she had often longed for them.
“Angelica.”
She’d never gotten used to how his voice had changed so abruptly after being turned into a vampire. It had lost all warmth and kindness.
“This has got to be some terrible joke,” she said, looking at the man seated at the desk. Though to call him a mere man would be a grave misjudgment.
Vincent smiled like the Cheshire Cat. “No joke, daughter. I assure you. Come, enter.”
Angelica and Danny were now allowed to cross the threshold and they entered the room completely, proceeding with tentative steps.
“Detective Mancini, what a surprise,” Vincent drawled. “When I learned you’d agreed to be changed, I admit I was stunned. Do you enjoy leading our race?”
Angelica stepped forward, shock and rage mingling within her. “What do you want?” she asked. “It’s been a century since you died, since we killed Leander. Why contact us now? I am sure that it wasn’t to make small talk.”
“Always so hasty, Angelica,” he tutted. “I suppose I have only myself to blame for that. You look just like your mother, but your heart you got from me.”
Her eyes flared with a rage that only he had ever been able to ignite within her.
“I’m nothing like you!” she cried. “And no amount of time may pass when I will think it’s okay for you to talk about Mother!”
Despite Vincent having taught her to hunt, kill, and torture at a young age, Angelica hadn’t let it take her light away like he had. She’d been kind and quiet like her mother. It wasn’t until she’d watched Vincent tear her mother’s throat out in front of her eyes that she’d become the hard, nearly heartless hunter that she was.
It had been centuries since Veronica Delarue’s murder in 1835, but the pain hadn’t lessened for Angelica. She still despised her father just as much as she had on the day she’d killed him.
Her assertion that she was nothing like Vincent was an outright lie, however, and all three people in the room knew that. When she’d first become a full vampire, she’d been terrified that she’d become a ruthless, unfeeling murderer like Vincent. It had taken Danny months to convince her that she wasn’t inherently evil like Vincent was.
Now her husband came behind her and placed a calming hand on her back. He’d seen her infuriated and frustrated over their long years together, most notably against Fiona the witch, but he knew nothing got to her like Vincent could. The only time she’d ever broken down and really cried was during their hunt for him.
“You nearly gave Chicago an electrical short getting your message to us. Now we’re here. What the Hell do you want?” Danny asked.
“Impatient,” Vincent observed. “Still have those mortal tendencies, do you?”
“Our humanity makes us who we are,” Danny said.
Vincent smiled, but there was no kindness or mirth in that grin. “Ah, that old phrase. Little Angelica learnt that at her mother’s knee. Not mine.”
“Will. You. Get … to the fucking … point?” Angelica asked, barely controlling herself. That son of a bitch knew Veronica was her only hot button, and he probably took pleasure in her discomfort.
The new Lieutenant nodded and gestured to the chairs on the other side of the desk. “Please, have a seat. I will explain.”
“I prefer to stand,” Angelica said. She and he both knew that she was being deliberately obstinate and she didn’t care.
Danny shook his head no in solidarity with her.
“Fine, Angelica. You’re nearly three hundred but you still act like a child sometimes.” Vincent shook his head in amusement. “If I am being completely candid, I called you here to prove my ill-fated predecessor wrong.”
He didn’t need to say more about Leander. Angelica knew that her father despised the former hunter. He’d tried to kill him and Veronica when they were first a couple, partly because Veronica was Undead, and partly because he was in love with Vincent and jealous of her.
When Vincent had gotten to Hell, Leander had personally tortured his soul for years. Of course there was no love lost there.
“You called us here out of spite? That’s low, even for you,” Angelica commented.
“No, no. Actually, it pertains to you, daughter,” he said. “I just cannot deny that I do take pleasure in proving him wrong as well.”
“Well, we’re waiting. What is it, already?” she asked.
Vincent opened a drawer in his desk and Angelica tensed, reaching for her blade.
“Calm yourself,” Vincent said. “If I wanted to harm you, I wouldn’t need a weapon.” He placed on the table a familiar swatch of preserved human skin, onto which the prophecy of Profeta Firenze had been imprinted in blood. The prophecy of Angelica’s rebirth as the Empress.
“What has this to do with me? I already went through the transformation, as you obviously know,” Angelica said, confused.
He nodded. “I do. But there is always a loophole in every prophecy, and there is one in yours, one Leander would never have known about.”
“Are you going to tell me I’m not the Empress?” she asked.
At that he laughed. “You? Not the Empress? Oh no, my dear, you are. And your beloved husband is the natural born Emperor. But you are not the vampires’ last or only hope for leadership.”
Was he going to tell her she had a long-lost vamplet sibling, born to her mother and to another mortal? If he did, she’d probably just laugh. Her life had already been a mix of a soap opera and a horror movie; it would almost make sense.
“You call me uncaring, and perhaps I am. In a way. But you are my daughter and, while I don’t agree with your methods or your laws, I don’t like to see an uneven playing field.”
“There is no playing field,” Danny said. “The only people contesting our rule are people like you and that skin changer who can’t lead the vampires if they wanted.”
Vincent stood up and Angelica instinctively backed away a step.
“Your fear of me does sting, daughter,” Vincent admitted. “I have never tried to harm you.”
“No, you just killed my mother and then went on a fucking murder spree across the globe before trying to kill Danny,” Angelica said. “I find you quite trustworthy.”
Danny grabbed her hand again, but she was beyond being soothed.
“Is this a threat, Vincent?” she asked. “Are you telling me you’re going to take us down? You and your legion? Because I have news for you: I already killed you once, and I have no qualms about doing so again. It looks like the first time didn’t stick.”
Vincent inclined his head. “I cannot challenge your rule, Angelica. But someone else can. I’ve been c
onditioning this person for some time now, and the time has almost come. You can concede, or you can die. Are you and the detective prepared to watch your world crumble before your eyes?”
That’s what the faceless person said in Danny’s vision, she thought. This was what Danny predicted.
“I’ll defeat anyone you can put in my path, and I’ll take pleasure in every bullet that will destroy your soul,” she spat.
Vincent smiled. “I am sure you’ll try your best, but too many vampires think as I did: feeding like leeches in the shadows is no way to live. I may be a demon, but I retained my Undead values. Humans are food and servants for us. And soon enough, they will be put in their rightful place.”
He paused, icy blue eyes searching Angelica with an emotion she couldn’t decipher. “I do wish you’d see things my way. You are everything I trained you to be: ruthless, cunning, and intelligent. You could have everyone eating from the palm of your hand if you wanted. You need only say the word.”
“I will never see things your way,” she said, feeling tears well up in her eyes. Because she had been her father’s daughter, hunting and killing alongside him. She had loved him, and he’d wound up a monster, going against everything they had ever believed in. She could pretend she didn’t care, but it had always hurt that he’d changed. Hurt that he’d lost all the love he’d ever held in his heart.
He averted his eyes and looked behind her, at Danny. “I apologize for the return of your powers. I believe it was my demons’ breaking the plane between our world and Earth that triggered their return. Are you enjoying your dreams, Detective?”
Danny bristled. “Fuck you.”
“Oh, how eloquent. You could have done better, daughter.” He stepped forward. “I called you here as a warning, to prepare you for what’s to come. You can side with us, or you can die with your so-called values intact. I would hate to see you die.”
“You won’t have to,” Angelica said. “But I would love to watch you die one more time.”
Vincent stepped closer, and this time Angelica forced herself to stand still. “There is no worthier opponent than the one you have trained yourself. Everything you know about murder you learnt at my knee, daughter. The student cannot surpass the master. You can't handle what needs to be done with the vampiric Empire, nor can you admit to yourself that you crave that control you have over them.”
