I peer around the edge of the lake and there is no way to get to the other side without crossing the bridge.
"What now? What happens when we step foot on it?" I ask Dante. I don't have to look at the black ice of the frozen water to know there are more faces.
"The bridge is a tool for reckoning. It determines judgment,” Dante replies.
"Huh, I thought the lore was scales were used to determine the weight of one's soul.” Fae hasn't said much lately, but leave it to her to know the lore. It's helpful though.
"That's Egyptian lore,” James' teeth chatter. “It’s the belief of a whole other pantheon.”
I eye the bridge and wonder what determines if someone's weight is judged as treacherous or not.
"Treachery, or here at the mouth of Cocytus, is designed for those who have betrayed their loved ones. It is also reserved for those who have forsaken the Almighty. Anyone who is guilty of this sin will be sucked into the lake and river, and frozen for eternity.” Dante's lips twitch but I hardly find this amusing.
We are all guilty of this sin to some degree, which says what about our chances of redemption and saving Lowell's soul? We stand a big fat snowball's chance? Even just for being here we are technically betraying our employer, Satan, so by default, we are all doomed, except for maybe Dante and James, but I'm not banking on the professor being a saint. This just makes me more resolved than ever to see to the new regime of Damien and I. There needs to be a change in the system and what better way to do it than work on the inside?
"Then how do we get across without freezing to death or becoming even deader?" The ice looks like the kind that froze some of the original saber tooth cats back in the days when they were given free rein to roam the earth.
"We take the only other route available to us, of course.” Dante smiles at Charles. It's strange to see because up until now, Dante has ignored Charles and he has seemed to not mind the personal insult. But Charles glares at him, shakes himself, and then wraps his arms around Zeke. Dante unfurls his wings and I get it. If we can't cross the bridge, we might as well go over it because that he can fly us.
Damien also releases his wings, causing his body to shift. The form he presents seems to fit here like this gigantean domain was built for him. Damien opens his arms and cringing at the closeness, I force myself to walk to him and let myself be picked up before Damien launches himself into the air, followed by Charles who doesn't need wings, but rides the energy currents, and Dante, who is carrying Phil because Phil's wings have molted too much to be able to support his weight.
It takes about five minutes to cross the lake and when they set us down, I step back from Damien and turn away, but he catches my arm, forcing me to look at him.
"We're so close. No matter what he says to you, don't give up on your convictions.”
I frown, wondering what that was all about, and then I gaze up at the massive obsidian door, which leads into the center of Hell. Phil puts his palm on in and I wait, holding my breath to see if he's going to be sucked into it and join the many faces in the ice kingdom of treachery. There are only four in the door. I recognize one from his likeness in the Bible, Judas. The difference between these four faces and the ones in the lake and walls is they represent complete immobility. Not even their eyes move. They stare back at us, unblinking, but I get the feeling they can see us just fine.
"You don't have to do this.” I feel the familiar voice caress my senses as Zeke moves in close. So this is what Damien was trying to warn me about. Even after all this time, Zeke hasn't lost his charisma. He might have lost his composure a few times on this trip, but he still knows how to dial up the charm when he wants to.
"It's not a question of whether or not I have to do this, Zeke. It's a matter of when we find the answer when I do this.” I steal my feelings from him and resign myself to being as icy as those around me. He pauses for a moment and tries again.
"We had something, you and I, Catriona.”
"Had being the key word, Zeke. Then you stood by while I got shot. You did nothing and I was killed.”
"I am s--"
I whirl on him. “If you say you're sorry, I'll push you onto the bridge myself. You aren't sorry. You never have been. You didn't even go to my funeral, Zeke. You don't feel remorse. In fact, I don't think you feel anything at all. So, save me the pity party. I'm not buying into your schemes anymore. Go ahead and make your move. I know you will. But you need to know, I'll be ready for you when you do. You got me killed and I'm not standing by to let you betray Lowell either.”
I walk away from him before he has time to make a rebuttal and stand next to Phil. The kid can't do much to comfort me when I have to face some of the biggest mistakes in my life, but at least he's someone to be around at all. I can't say the same for Zeke as he starts kicking the walls next to the door. Let him rage. When the masses come for us, I'm banking on being in the library with the answer to switch Lowell's mark to him, so they take Zeke instead. My last bargaining chip will be Lowell and James don't belong here, and with Dante being an innocent from Heaven, I'm not sure everyone will challenge him making an escape. I can't say the rest of us will be granted the same reprieve, but then I remember my mantra. One soul at a time.
It takes another ten minutes or so to get everyone across the lake. When we're all standing, staring at the doors, I wonder if we should knock or if we should try to just sneak right in. I reach out and grab the handle, a massive ring made from the skulls of demons judging by the horns protruding from the heads and the fangs in the mouth. They are fused together by some kind of leathery rope, and it doesn't take a theologist with a minor in demonology like James to tell me it is skin.
I tug hard on the door and it doesn't budge. My girls are the first to step up and help me, and we're all heaving against the massive frame, but it just won't move.
Panting, I let go of the ring and raise an eyebrow at Dante who has been here before. He shrugs.
"Don't look at me. The door was open when I was here last time.”
"Great, now what?" I tilt my head back and see the latch about thirty feet up the door. It's made of talons linked together, and if unhooking those isn't going to be difficult enough, the fact it's way up there is problematic. “Can you fly up there and unlock the door?" I ask Dante and Charles. Charles shakes his head.
"This isn't my mission. If you want it unlocked, figure it out.”
"Do you have any control over him at all?" I ask Damien. Before he can answer, Dante grunts.
"I don't think I will be permitted to touch the lock.”
I sigh and look around. I suppose I could try to climb the door, but with what? As I'm searching around for some miraculous ladder to appear out of nowhere, Damien launches himself off the floor and hovers near the latch. It's not as easy as prying the talons apart. It takes him a few minutes to figure out slicing his palm on one of the talons so blood trickles onto it, is what makes the talons spring apart.
When Damien lands in front of the door, the veins on the back of his hand begin to turn black, like the venom in the talons is webbing out into his system.
I watch, fascinated before asking, "Are you going to turn into some kind of comic book hero now?"
"Doubtful. I always root for the bad guys anyway.”
"You'd be more fun if you were rocking the pleather and the tights. Now can you open this door?"
Damien's laugh sends a fissure through the ice on the door because the sound is so foreign in the desolation of this place where sound doesn't exist. I worry momentarily about a cave in, but then he reaches out and tugs the handle and the door to the center of Hell finally creaks open.
Before he walks inside, he whispers, "It's nice to see the spark is still in there, Trina. I was beginning to think it went out.”
"My little joke was in the face of fear at having to potentially meet your dad. It was in no way an invitation for you to consider role-play in that perverse head of yours. Oh yeah, I'm getting you figured out, Damien
. Energy. Whether light or dark, it's what makes you uniquely you. People are drawn to you because their souls are comprised of energy. And it doesn't matter one wit to you if they are good or bad. You feed from it and in turn, they feed from you. Well, I'm just here to tell you, queen of Hell or not, I'm not down for the freaky stuff. That's up Tabby's alley.”
Damien's eyes bleed red and silver around the black pupils and I figure I've taunted the beast enough. I step through the door and run into the back of Dante.
"You're letting the cold air in. What's up, Dante?"
"I don't understand. Lucifer is supposed to be frozen here at the center of Hell from the waist down. It's his punishment.”
"My dad figured his way out of the little time out torture my grandfather inflicted on him eons ago.” Damien steps in the door and shuts it behind him. His eyes fade and are back to a normal blue. It’s like watching clouds part, and clear skies revealing themselves from behind the storm. It’s mesmerizing and it takes a moment to refocus my mind.
"He did?" I think it might be hard to shock an angel, but if it is, a pat on the back to Damien for accomplishing the task because Dante's jaw hits the floor.
"Oh yeah. He's around here somewhere. Find the book we need in the library over there and get out before there's a family reunion.” Damien points to a room off to the side of the entrance chamber and what do you know? Books galore in view of the open doorway.
17
I tip my chair back and let the legs fall back with a clunk. It annoys everyone around me after ten minutes and Damien threatens to knock me completely over the next time I do it. Satan's study isn't the most comfortable place to sit, but at least there are chairs. What I could really use is a shower. One with water and soap, and not just for my aching, stinky body; but one like a baptism for my mind and soul. Some of the stuff I have read in the last couple of hours is enough to make me cringe on the inside for an eternity.
We've been pouring over books, looking for any sign of the missing papers from the Devil's Bible for hours. Turning up empty, we changed tactics and just began looking through the rest of the tomes in the library. If it wasn't for the horrors depicted in the pages, I think James might have had a field day. But even Damien turns his head away in disgust a few times and he is the dichotomy of good and evil. He should be able to stomach all kinds of the big bad.
Whatever the human libraries and museums are holding are just powerful copies of some of the books. I don't care how much authenticating scientists and historians have done. Evil has seeped into the copies, making them appear to be authentic, but being in the presence of the real deal, books like the Malleus Maleficarum, the book that launched the witch hunts back in the day. The Prince by Machiavelli, which was a laundry list of tyrannies and subjugating the people. He could have given Uncle Asmo and brothers a challenge for their princely crowns. Of course, the library wouldn't be complete without Mein Kampf written by Hitler, but I toss it aside and decide to save it for bathroom material when the Wi-Fi goes down in Hell and I can't play my favorite game on my phone.
I bang my head on the table after closing Kramer's Malleus Maleficarum and wish the headache would go away. James doesn't seem to be any closer to finding the answers we are looking for and I'm having some serious déjà vu about his office. The only thing missing in this library is the alcohol, which is a shame because I could use a drink. I get Kramer. I even get Hitler and Machiavelli. Scholars have provided insight around the world as to the meaning and motivations behind their works. What I don't get is the books of torture against demons. From all appearances, it seems like Satan has a serious hate-on for his creations. The most horrific books are the ones devoted to destroying the beings he helped to create in every horrific way possible. I figured there would be books about torture. I even assumed there would be books about torture on humans, but the ones disturbing me the most are the ones I just looked at. I didn't need to know how the lock on the door to the center of Hell was made and what device was used to rip the talons out of the griffin guarding the front entrance to greed. I get it, there are priceless treasures here in the center of Hell needing to be guarded, but now I have images of a talonless griffin hopping around in front of the elevator on level four.
I take my preferred position in the center of the room and begin pacing again. Fae is still reading a book with some sort of shroud covering the front of it and James is rubbing his eyes. No one else has cracked a book, not even Damien, but they are all seated around the library, lost in their collective thoughts.
I'm so rundown from the past week, it takes me a few turns around the room for the aha moment. The last time I had an epiphany, I’d been doing something innocuous like swiping my finger in some dust. I walk over to a random shelf and frown at the lack of dust. Either Satan is really picky and keeps his library squeaky clean, or dust mites are cognizant enough to leave well enough alone and not touch the baddy books.
"What are we missing?" I turn to everyone in the room. “If he were going to hide missing pages from the Devil's Bible, this would be the most logical place, right?"
Damien rubs his chin and sits back in his chair. “I would think so.”
"Then apart from the prince of Hell himself to give us answers, what are we missing? Where are they?" I take in the tan walls.
There are hard wooden chairs around a couple of tables. I figure there probably aren't too many people who come in here for a study session, so why bother with the comfy furniture, but we scoured the library from top to bottom. While James, Fiona, and I got to work reading books, everyone else was checking the nooks and crannies, looking through old scrolls and parchment made of people, and come up empty-handed. With the exception of Zeke and Charles, no one found a thing, and I'd even sent them out into the center room and the antechambers beyond to explore, but the majority of those rooms were empty. I scuff my boot on the floor and stomp my foot in frustration. What? Did I think the answer would be right in front of my face when I walked through the door? Of course Satan moved the pages. If he knew the plan all along, he would have taken precautions, which just leaves us sitting in a big musty library all wrapped up in a pretty package.
I open the door and peer outside into the freezing cold before shutting the door quickly against the chill. I'm just about to suggest we all get out of dodge as I'm walking back into the library when I see it. Fissures run along the floor where I had been walking. Absentmindedly I was tracing the cracks with the path I took, but it didn't register.
The pentagram I had been walking the lines of is laid out in the stone floor and runs under the rug and a couple of the tables. I begin pushing furniture out of the way and as they see me doing it, my girls begin to help rearrange the room to expose the symbol.
"Pentagrams are often associated with Witchcraft, but the misconception is they are symbolic of evil,” Fae recites the info like she's reading from an encyclopedia.
"Some say it can just be equated with a five-pointed star.” I point out and we all stand back. I wonder what we're supposed to do now we've discovered it, and in my gut, I know it's the key to finding out the secret of what we came here for.
"It's also a symbol used in a Devil's Trap,” Damien points out. He approaches the star but is careful not to step in it, like knowing the secret is out, the symbol will magically spring to life and trap him since the blood of his father runs through his veins.
"So, we can use it to call your dad here?"
"Yes, but why would we do that? We're hoping to avoid him,” Leo says.
"Because if it's a trap, we have leverage. He doesn't get out until he tells us how to switch the marks. Or gives us the missing pages to do it ourselves.” I bite my lip and look at the star. It seems logical enough. But even I am thinking there's a flaw to my brilliance somewhere. “I get it's risky, but what other option do we have? Dick and Doug will be hot on our trail, if they haven't gotten out yet anyway, and it's only a matter of time. I don't think any of us need some dreaded portent in the s
ky. Just look out the door at the lake to know we're in too deep. What have we got to lose we haven't lost already, and we're just waiting for the reaper to come and collect?" I stare at each of my girls. I've asked so much of them already and I know asking them this is asking them to risk it all. They could make a run for it now. Maybe they'd even last a few weeks, months, possibly years on the other side. But to last any longer than that roaming free would be an insult to the universe's biggest jailer and I don't think he'd take the slight very well.
My girls seem to come to a silent agreement as they each step back and near the apex of one of the five points. Even Tora takes a shaky breath and takes her place. I expect some massive explosion or sign to come from the pentagram, but nothing happens, leaving us all standing looking some kind of stupid.
Zeke starts laughing at us. Charles too, but I ignore them. There's got to be some way to call Lucifer and before Damien can say it out loud, I've already dropped my fangs from my jaw and raked my palm across the point. Tabby, Fae, and Leo follow suit, and Leo walks over and scours Tora's palm, as she's too new and out of control to just shift a fang out. We don't have time for her to go full feline, and so Leo walks back to her point of the star, and we all hold our palms out, letting the blood drip onto the floor. I'm just about to march over and open the door to Treachery again and start shouting for Lucifer to quit stalling and get his ass down here when everyone around me starts dropping to the floor.
I panic and my heart races as even Marty sinks down on his old wrinkled canine haunches and curls up for a snooze.
Highway to Hell Page 21