Dark Gate Angels Complete Series Omnibus

by Ramy Vance

  Cire handed Sarah the book.

  The book's cover was an etching of a black orb in the sky. A white orb was at the bottom of the cover. Six humanoid figures stood in between the two orbs. Each of the figures was in a different martial arts stance. "Any of those look familiar?"

  Sarah recognized three of the stances instantly as being those of the three Paths of the Traveler. She'd never seen the other three, though. "Worth taking a look at."

  "I'll translate. Let's get to work."

  The red fog was fading and a structure was visible in the distance, reaching up like a finger pointing to God.

  The irony of something like that being in hell was not lost on Abby.

  The fog continued to clear, showing that there was a walled city lying beneath the spire.

  There was now a road beneath Abby's feet. Behind her, scores of demons still battled among themselves. The red fog was still there, but Abby and the rest of them had passed through it. The gnashing of teeth and screams were still loud enough to hear, though.

  The road began as dirt, but as Abby followed it, she could see that there were stones, shaved and ground down to be as smooth as possible. The farther down the road she walked, the more ornate the stones became. There were geodes and jewels sprinkled throughout the surface, making it look as if she were walking on stars.

  It was far too beautiful a thing to be in hell, but so was the spire. Now that the fog was completely gone, Abby could see more details.

  The spire had been built from what looked like ivory. Its sides were smooth, painstakingly ground down so that it looked like a weather-worn bone. Grooves had been cut into it that followed its rounded body, creating an illusion of clouds frozen in time.

  Terra whistled loudly. "Are you saying that this is where Rasputina lives? When did they start building cities in hell?"

  Grok laughed as she quickened her pace. "They started building cities in hell when Rasputina started building them. Before this, there were only circles meant for torturing and the wild thought energy of hell. Now there's a city, made with her own hands."

  The walls extended much farther than Abby had initially thought. They stretched far to the right and left, eventually becoming invisible under the tumultuous red sands and fog. There were also more buildings than just the spire. A row of skyscrapers built in a similar design was visible.

  The DGA and Grok walked up to the front gate, where two guards stood. They were both demons but were wearing armor that almost distracted from the fact that they did not have heads. Fire and smoke fumed from the empty wounds in their necks. They gripped battle-axes. "Halt. Who wishes to enter New Sodom?"

  Grok raised her hand to the guards. A sigil appeared on her palm. "These are my guests."

  Both guards bowed slightly, and the one on the right apologizing profusely. They stepped aside, and the gates opened.

  The streets of New Sodom were bustling, packed with demons wearing loose-fitting, cloth garb that looked like it had been pulled out of a medieval fantasy. The more humanoid demons could have easily been mistaken for undiscovered races if it were not for the utter lack of uniformity.

  The other demons were things to behold. Some were made completely of smoke, occasionally taking human form before contorting into something else and then shifting back into a cloud.

  There were bipedal demons, bizarre mixes of animals that one would have never thought of combining. Yet, somehow, they were nothing like the broken demons the DGA had come across in the circles of hell. These demons didn't look wrong. They looked like they had been lovingly put together.

  Shops and homes lined the streets of New Sodom, and the shopkeepers leaned out, encouraging the mass of bustling demons to stop and take a gander at their wares. Tonics, memories, lost things, glimpses into the lives of mortals, and profane texts.

  One of the vendors, an imp with two horns instead of eyes, shambled up to Abby. "Care for a taste?" he croaked as he produced a shimmering apple of glazed crystal that looked sickly-sweet. "Should sit as well in a mortal belly as any other."

  Abby cast a glance at Anabelle, her eyes wide with surprise and bewilderment, before looking at Grok. Anabelle shrugged and said, “When in Rome…”

  Grok grabbed the apple from the imp and then showed the imp her palm. It yelped excitedly before opening its back and pulling out another apple. "Thank you, m'lady," it said before scrambling away.

  The orc stepped out in front of the DGA, leading them down the street. "The markets are always hectic. You should get a better idea of this place once we get to the square."

  Abby continued to watch the street vendors and demons interacting with each other. Even with the business of the market, it was obvious that all the demons were civil to each other. Nothing like outside the walls. "Rasputina really built all this?"

  The crowds thinned out. The town square was much less busy but interesting all the same. There were demons sitting on benches in a park with black grass and trees with what looked like small fairies flying in and out of branches covered with blood-red leaves.

  Terra pointed at three statues towering over the square. "Well, fuck me twice while standing."

  Abby gasped when she saw what had caught Terra's attention, then wondered why she hadn't seen it as soon as she had walked into the square.

  Statues of Annabelle, Terra, and Abby were the centerpieces of the square. They were made of some kind of living stone, giving them the illusion of breathing. The craftsmanship was superb. Whoever had created these had perfectly captured the fiery haughtiness in Anabelle's gaze and the glint of joyful violence in Terra's eyes. Looking at her own statue made Abby feel as if she were looking in a mirror that knew more about her than she did.

  Abby looked at Grok, confused. "Why are these here?"

  Grok shrugged as she headed closer to the statues. “Rasputina thought it was appropriate. I think the statues speak for themselves.”

  She sat on one of the benches near them. It was a bizarre sight, and a lot to take in.

  "How did she do it?" Anabelle asked.

  Grok looked at the statues and smiled. "When we got here, we were lost. We'd fought through the Netherverse and found our way into this section of hell without realizing it. We were exhausted and stupid, and Rasputina got away from me. She had a break with reality and fled into the unformed part of hell we just came from. I could still sense her, so I went after her. When I found her, she was surrounded by thousands of dead demons, and she was making this place out of their bodies. She kept building after her materials were gone, trapped in some kind of haze. From there, we started our work, gathering demons who were tired of lives they had to live out in the violence and bringing anyone who didn't want that life under our heels."

  Abby watched a one-eyed imp chase a four-footed chicken demon with the head of a bull. "Do you think that's right? Forcing demons under your rule?"

  Grok shrugged. "Someone always rules hell. Why not Rasputina? She might be crazy, but at least she's trying to make it a better place. And I think it's worth trying to do. Besides, no one is forcing anyone to stay here. The demons can come and go as they like. They prefer to be inside the walls."

  Abby didn't have anything to say. Judging by the silence of the rest of the DGA, neither did they.

  Grok stood up and looked at the tallest of the spires. "Come on. We've already wasted enough time with the tour. Let's see if Rasputina can help us."

  The DGA agents followed the orc.

  Abby continued to marvel at the city Rasputina had built. She was interested in the mechanics of how she had done it, but the why was as interesting as the how. She had more than a bit of interest in the lich and her motivations, mostly because Abby had never seen this kind of change in someone.

  Granted, the lich had been insane. Now she seemed just as insane, but much less evil.

  Grok was different too. It was more than the simple fact that Grok and Rasputina didn't want to kill the DGA anymore. The change was much deeper.


  The two villains seemed like they truly wanted to help people, and in that way, they weren’t much different from the DGA. Well, there was one major difference…they were more concerned with demons than mortals.

  Abby wished she could talk to Anabelle and get her perspective. Of the three of them, the elf was the least likely to trust Grok or Rasputina, but even Anabelle seemed taken in by the town they walked through.

  They made their way through the square into a residential section that reminded Abby of an old English hamlet. The smell of fresh baked goods and cooked meats filled the air. From there, they found their way to the largest spire.

  A dozen guards stood before it, their empty necks flaming just like the guards who watched the gate. These recognized Grok and saluted her as she approached.

  Grok returned the salute. "I'm here to see Rasputina."

  One of the guards stepped forward. "She is currently meeting the Lords of Death within the citadel."

  Grok sighed and shook her head. "Perfect. Just what we need." She turned to the DGA agents. "I thought she’d be done by now.”

  The guards stepped away, and the surface of the spire melted into a door. Grok opened it and stepped through.

  Abby and the rest of the DGA followed her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Persephone held a one, a three, a five, and a ten in her hand. Her foot was bouncing nervously. Naota and Blackwell were staring her down. She could sense murder in Naota’s eyes. He held the deck beneath his hand and made something like a smile with his lips, but Persephone knew the truth. He was ready to end this all in a second.

  Roy had left the game, much to Persephone’s irritation. He had been helping her for the last hour, and she’d been winning. Blackwell didn’t seem to mind. There might not be a competitive bone in his body. But Naota…that was another story. Persephone thought that even Rasputina might have folded under the intense pressure of his gaze.

  Naota tapped his hand on the table. “So, what’s it going to be? Hit? Or stay?”

  Persephone looked back down at her cards as she tried to remember the rules of the game. She was only a few points away from having twenty-one. Roy had cautioned her to play it safe once she got that high up, and she was already in the lead, having taken most of the pot already.

  But there were Naota’s eyes to still deal with—those cold, brown, dead eyes peering at her from underneath those bushy eyebrows.

  Persephone leaned forward. “You want me to hit, don’t you?”

  Naota folded his fingers over each other like a collapsing piece of origami. “Honey, I don’t want anything. I’m just a dealer, slinging cards. I ain’t got no stake in the game. I’m neutral.”

  “Don’t call me ‘honey,’ and stop trying to psych me out.”

  Naota grabbed the cigarette hanging from Blackwell’s lips and took a puff. He exhaled a cloud of smoke that obscured his face. “Trying? I ain’t ever tried anything my entire life.”

  Blackwell snickered as he snatched his cigarette back. “You know that doesn’t make any sense, right?”

  Naota pretended to continue smoking. “Sense? I don’t even know how to spell the word.”

  Persephone glanced at her cards one last time. She knocked on the table.

  Naota pulled a card from the top of the deck and placed it face-down in front of her. “How about we make this extra spicy? If you get twenty-one on this card, you take the whole pot, plus my gold teeth. If you lose, I take the pot and…your shoes.”

  Blackwell burst out laughing. “Are you serious? You know those things aren’t comparable, right?”

  Naota grinned. “Remember what we were saying about making sense?”

  Persephone narrowed her eyes as she ran her finger over the card. “Fine. I’ll take it.”

  She flipped her card over.

  An ace of diamonds stared up at her.

  Persephone picked up the card to survey it. “Uh, what’s an ace again?”

  Naota tossed his cards on the table. “An ace is 1 or 11, Percy. That means you win the game.”

  Blackwell hooted as he slapped his knees. “Goddamn, Naota. I didn’t think your luck could get any shittier.”

  Persephone passed her cards to Naota before pulling the pile of cash, magical artifacts, and trivial items such as buttons and bus tickets toward her. “Naota, you don’t have to worry about it. I don’t want your gold teeth. Honestly, that’s pretty gross.”

  Naota hooked his fingers into his mouth and spread his lips wide as he let his jaw drop. “I don’t have gold teeth. That right there was a golden-mouthed bluff.”

  Blackwell yawned as he took the cards from Naota and began shuffling. “That was not a bluff, that was lying, you idiot. If you pull that shit in a real game, someone’s liable to break your legs.”

  Naota reached into his pocket and pulled out two gold coins. “That should be about the same amount.” He turned to Persephone and gave his usual, good-natured, goofy smile. “Not bad for beginners’ luck. If you want to play again, just let me and Thomas know.”

  Persephone was surprised to hear Blackwell’s first name. Naota was the only person who used it.

  Blackwell put out his cigarette and stood. “All right, who’s making rounds with me?”

  There wasn’t anything else to do this late at night, and Persephone didn’t think she was going to be getting any sleep. She raised her hand and followed Blackwell as he walked into the camp.

  The camp was a makeshift construction, a containment center for the zombie outbreak. Myrddin had been organizing them across the world through a combination of funding and magical tech. Each country supplied military forces to take care of the dirty work, putting everything together and moving the zombies. Myrddin’s forces were overseeing the process and helping out wherever they could.

  The work had been a pleasant change for Persephone. Integration workshops and jumping between worlds every couple of days had been draining. She was glad to be in one place long enough to feel like a person again.

  Persephone and Blackwell walked down the rows of zombie pens.

  On the surface, they were little more than giant steel cages, but that was only on the first look. If you had any knowledge of sigil work, which Persephone knew a small amount of, you could see that all the cages were rigged with the same sigils, linked together. If anything set off one, they would go off at the same time, incinerating anything inside.

  It seemed like a disrespectful end for the dead. The drow would have never done anything like this. But then again, having your body reanimated by a giant floating sphere in the sky also seemed fairly disrespectful.

  Blackwell stopped at one of the cages and peered inside. “Kinda disturbing, isn’t it? Never been a fan of prisons, and here I am, playing guard and everything.”

  The zombie within the cage was frozen, its dead eyes looking at nothing.

  Persephone was sad for the thing. “Not quite a prison. They aren’t alive.”

  “We don’t know that yet,” Blackwell corrected. “HQ is still trying to figure out what the hell is going on with these guys. They’re not undead. Not like we’ve seen before, at least. Whatever they are, they’re a problem. Still, I’d rather be the one watching shit down here than waiting for something to go wrong.”

  Persephone agreed with Blackwell, but she wasn’t sure what to say. Instead of speaking, she watched the zombies inside the cage. That was when she noticed one of them blinking. “Dark Goddess, did you see that?”

  Blackwell shook his head as he leaned in to get a better look.

  Persephone pointed at the zombie that had blinked. “Watch.”

  The two of them stared at the zombie, holding their breath.

  Blackwell left out a sigh. “It was probably nothing.”

  The zombie blinked.

  Blackwell stuck a cigarette in his mouth and lit it. “Fuck. That’s not good.”

  What Anabelle saw in front of her was difficult to fathom. Even if she’d had it explained, it still wo
uld have been hard to wrap her mind around. Yet here it was before her.

  She had stepped through the door of the spire into a large chamber. In its center sat what looked like a snow globe. That, in and of itself, wasn’t impressive. What was inside was, though.

  There were at least a dozen continents, each of them built from the ground up. The trees, plants, mountains, each piece of nature had been handcrafted, and the detail was immaculate. Some of the continents had buildings, replicas of places Rasputina must have seen over the course of her life. Anabelle could have sworn she saw New York.

  That is to say, Anabelle noticed for a brief moment before her perception was altered again. If she'd been looking into a snow globe, what happened next was akin to the snow globe's glass dome cracking open and the contents being tossed on the floor, the miniatures sinking roots into the ground and swelling in size until you were in the scene.

  Anabelle whirled, trying to understand where she was. As she searched, she could see Abby and Terra trying to figure it out as well.

  Abby looked the most confused. "Wait, are you saying Rasputina did all this? This is an entire planet!"

  Grok pressed her hand to the floor, her sigil burning into the stone. "No, this is one planet out of at least twenty. It's her sanctuary. She keeps building. I think it’s part of her process to deal with everything. She can't create life, but she can make constructs.” The orc lowered her eyes, sadness painting their edges. “She can make worlds where nothing grows. It just exists."

  "That doesn't make it any less beautiful."

  Grok stepped back from the glowing sigil. "True. It is beautiful, but it’s a pain in the ass to navigate when I need to find her."

  Anabelle stared at the stars above her. It was both night and day, the sun shimmering in and out of clouds that shifted into the shape of the moon as stars breathed themselves into visibility before exhaling and vanishing. "This is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!"

  Grok knelt and scratched more lines into the sigil. "It is. Being here has been good for her."