by E.J. Stevens
“You know it will not be that simple,” he said.
I shook my head, and sighed.
“No, it never is,” I said.
Chapter 17
Ceff’s color was back to normal, and he was once again moving with his usual grace, when we reached Torn. It wasn’t hard to find the cat sidhe. We just followed the red glow of flames, and the growls and snarls of a creature I’d never thought to see outside of Kaye’s occult books.
“A baphomet,” Torn said, face rapt.
“I thought they were fiction, something the inquisition came up with to accuse witches of worshiping,” I said, stopping midstride and giving the creature a double take.
“Oh, they’re real all right,” he said. “And this one’s been eating human hearts like they’re gummy bears.”
Bile rose in my throat, and I swore never to eat another gummy bear as long as I lived—which may not be all that long since I didn’t plan on letting some demon continue ripping hearts from peoples’ chests.
As I watched, a middle aged man appeared at the demon’s feet. He barely had time to look confused before the baphomet reached down, plucked out his heart, and ate it. I started to shake, fury making my skin begin to glow.
“We can’t let that thing get away with murdering innocent people,” I said, bile rising in my throat.
“It is not murder if they are already dead,” a woman’s disembodied voice said.
“What the…?” Torn muttered, taking a step back.
Light began to flicker beside me, coalescing into the shape of a woman. Judging from her blood soaked dress, she had probably died in the Victorian era. The high neck trimmed in lace and the bustle of the skirt would have been the height of fashion in the 1800’s. Well, except for the blood and brain matter.
If being bedecked in gore hadn’t been a clue, the axe in the woman’s hand would have tipped me off that this woman hadn’t been a saint in life. I didn’t know if my blades would be effective against a ghost, but I palmed my throwing knives, just in case.
“Come for the show?” I asked, nodding toward the guardian beast.
The woman turned her head toward me, eyes dark, empty pits in her pale face.
“I have come to aid new souls,” she said. “It is my penance.”
“And you are?” Torn asked, eyebrow raised.
“Cora,” she said with a twitch of her lips.
“Penance…is this Hell?” I asked.
Tech Duinn was supposed to be where the Dark One, Donn, the Celtic lord of the dead resided. I’d expected a castle straight out of Transylvania, the kind of thing Dracula would find cozy. Instead, we’d walked into a wasteland of ash and smoke. With the demonic creature in front of us, eating the hearts of the dead, I had to reevaluate, and I wondered if this was in fact one of the many planes of Hell. If so, I didn’t like our chances.
“No, this is Purgatory,” she said, her translucent hand tightening its grip on the axe. “At least in Hell one belongs to a side. Here we wander until the balance of our souls has shifted. Until then, we are nothing.”
As if to confirm Cora’s words, the baphomet swallowed the heart, and a circle of bright light appeared above the man staggering around with a hole in his chest. With a pulse of light that brought tears to my eyes, the man was sucked up into the portal, a rapt look on his face. I’d heard of people who’ve had near death experiences seeing a bright light—heck, I was one of them—but this was too much.
“Purgatory?” I asked, clearing my throat.
“Yes,” she said.
A woman appeared, and the cycle was once again repeated, but this time when the baphoment swallowed the woman’s heart, her body burned to ash. I gasped as a ghost rose from the ashes. With a shudder, the ghost began moving away from the baphomet, toward the ghost at my side.
“The souls of good men travel on to the Fortunate Isles, and the souls of the damned either remain here in the Underworld, or are sent on to Hell,” Cora said.
I frowned, but Ceff nodded.
“Tech Duinn is where the newly dead must travel,” he said. “A crossroads where the Dark One sorts the dead based on the deeds of their mortal lives.”
I swallowed hard, mouth going dry.
“Purgatory—wait until I tell the cats back home about this,” Torn said. “They’d give at least one of their lives for a glimpse of this place.”
I shook my head, and sighed. The man was incorrigible. I don’t know what could be fascinating about a barren plain of ash, and a creature munching on a steady supply of human hearts. Aside from the perverse curiosity of wondering if the souls would get sent to the bright light, the fiery pit, or reappear in spectral form to wander this place, there was nothing much to see.
“And what’s up with the baphomet eating their hearts?” I asked.
It was possible that the creature was just an opportunist who enjoyed eating human organs like they were bon bons, but there was something about the men and women thrust at the baphomet’s feet that stunk of ritual sacrifice.
“The guardian of Tech Duinn must eat the hearts of the newly dead in order to measure the weight of their souls,” she said.
“That’s disgusting,” I said, nose wrinkling at the thought of someone tasting my sin, rolling my soul along his tongue like a sommelier savoring a fine wine.
“Some pantheons measure the heart against the weight of a feather, others use the skill of sin eaters,” Torn said with a shrug. “So long as your soul ends up in your version of paradise, who cares?”
He was already starting to look bored, a potentially dangerous emotional state for a cat sidhe, but I had one more question for Cora before she left us to fulfill her duty to teach the ghost who was approaching with a shy smile on her translucent lips.
“What determines if a soul remains in the Underworld, or gets shipped to Hell?” I asked.
If Cora had some insight, I was all ears. The latter was one hand basket we all wanted to avoid.
“It’s complicated…your friend Forneus could tell you more, but simply put, it depends on the weight of their evil deeds, and if they sold their soul to a demon,” she said.
I narrowed my eyes at the ghost, and took a step closer.
“How do you know who my friends are?” I asked.
Not that Forneus was a friend exactly, we were more like reluctant allies, but we both cared about Jinx. And if this ghost knew about Forneus, she likely knew about my human friend. I resisted a shudder as icy tendrils ran up and down my spine.
“It is my job to know,” she said, lifting her chin to look down her nose at me. “The baphomet tastes your sin, but I must sift through your memories. Have you ever tried to escort a terrified stranger? Mark my words, it is much easier if you know something about them.”
“You’re psychic?” I asked.
“Not as gifted as the Dark One, but yes,” she said, flickering as a new soul appeared beneath the guardian beast.
I didn’t want to share anything in common with this woman, but a pang of sympathy ran through me. If my options were to touch every new soul who came to this place so that I might someday make my way to Heaven, or do nothing and stay here, or worse end up shipping off to Hell, I’d have to get used to the smell of ash, or sulfur, because that was one job I would quit before I started.
“Now I must return to my duties,” she said, gesturing to the ghost who was shifting from foot to foot. “And your souls must be measured.”
She pointed to the baphomet who was licking his lips and eyeing us like we were coated in honey and sprinkled with chocolate.
“Oh Hell no,” Torn said. “I still have one life left, lady, and while I am tasty and oh so lickable, I am not on that thing’s menu.”
“You don’t miss a chance to be a pompous pervert, do you?” I muttered.
“Now why would I do that?” he asked. “Women everywhere would lose all reason to live. Keeping my lascivious thoughts to myself would be a travesty of epic proportions.”
; Ceff ground his teeth, a vein throbbing on his temple, but he didn’t say anything. That was good. I needed a minute to figure a way out of our current predicament.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, and squeezed my eyes shut. As much as Torn deserved being taken down a notch, snarling at each other wouldn’t help me think.
I took a deep breath, opened my eyes, and turned back to Cora. She was lifting the hand that held the axe, perhaps in an effort to shepherd us to the baphomet. Either that or she was ready to put a permanent stop to Torn’s narcissistic comments.
“If you’re psychic, then you know that we’re not souls of the newly dead,” I said. “We’re just passing through.”
She tilted her head, flickering as she examined each of us in turn.
“You are not dead,” she said.
“That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you, Love,” Torn said.
“You do not belong here,” she said.
Her nostrils flared, and she raised her axe above her head, her body becoming larger and more solid by the second.
“We seek passage to Donn’s hearth,” Ceff said, a sharp edge to his voice. “Will you not show us such remedial hospitality?”
Cora stiffened, spine going rigid. Way to go, Ceff. Nothing like insulting the crazy powerful ghost lady.
“I will show you the way,” she said.
Wow, that was easy.
“Lead on,” I said, eager to get this crazy train moving.
The ghost behind Cora nodded rapidly, and shuffled her feet, obviously eager to leave behind the place where her heart had been ripped from her chest and eaten. Her face clearly said she was eager to high tail it out of here. I agreed with the ghost.
“But first, you must defeat the baphomet,” Cora said.
“Wait…what?” I asked.
“Defeat the baphomet, and I will be your guide,” she said. “If not, I will gather those who dwell in Tech Duinn and together we will make sure that your souls are weighed.”
“But we aren’t dead,” I said, body tensing.
“If you don’t fight the baphomet, you will be,” she said, baring her teeth in a vicious grin.
Of course it wouldn’t as easy as asking for help. Nothing was ever simple in the Otherworld. I rolled my shoulders, and tested the weight of my blades.
It was time to take down the Dark One’s pet guardian beast.
Chapter 18
“Are you sure that this is how you wish to proceed?” Ceff whispered, his lips close to my ear.
His nearness sent tingles along my neck where his breath caressed my skin.
“Yes,” I said.
He nodded once, and moved to my left, giving me room to fight. He drew his trident, the wicked points of his weapon gleaming with the reflection of the fire that licked the ground where the baphomet stood.
The guardian creature ran a tongue along his bloody lips, and tossed a woman’s body over his shoulder. The lifeless corpse turned to ash, falling like gray snow to blanket the otherwise barren plain.
A memory surfaced just as the woman reappeared as a ghost. Perhaps it was the endless plain of ash and flame licked shadow, but I recalled a passage in one of Kaye’s books mentioning that the baphomet was a creature born from Hell. If that was true, then the baphomet might have the same weaknesses as other demons I’d encountered.
“Wait,” I said.
I shifted my blades into one hand, and reached inside my jacket. I pulled out vials of holy water, tossing one to each of my friends.
“If this thing is demonic, holy water might give us an edge,” I said.
I sprinkled holy water onto my weapons, tilting each throwing knife so that the water ran along the full length of the blade. After coating the tip of my dagger, and the long cutting edge of my machete, I rolled my shoulders and returned the throwing knives to my hands.
I grinned, showing a line of small, white teeth. I didn’t need fangs, not with silver and iron blades coated in the magic equivalent of venomous acid.
“Time to dance,” Torn said, lunging forward with catlike grace.
I shifted my weight onto my back foot and lifted my right hand, the tip of a throwing knife pinched between my index finger and thumb. Torn ducked beneath the baphomet’s pitchfork, and raked his holy water dipped claws across the creature’s stomach. I aimed higher, shifting my weight forward and releasing my blade to turn end over end until it lodged itself in the baphomet’s eye.
The creature roared, kicking up ash as he flailed. I covered my face with one arm, and tried not to suck in a lungful of ash. I squinted, trying to locate Ceff on the battlefield. Where the hell was he?
A cry rang out, and Ceff thrust his trident into the baphomet’s flank. While Torn and I had kept the creature busy, Ceff had circled in from behind, getting inside the baphomet’s impressive defenses.
Our enemy was a mass of rippling muscle. As if that wasn’t terrifying enough, rams horns grew from the sides of his skull, small, pointed horns ringed his bald head like a crown, leathery, bat-like wings sprouted from his naked torso, his fingers were tipped with evil looking claws, his mouth was filled with sharp, pointy teeth—all the better to devour our hearts with—and he held an enormous pitchfork that gleamed blood red from the flames that flicked where his cloven hooves touched the earth. By Mab, he was one badass son of a bitch.
I was particularly wary of that pitchfork. With the baphomet’s size, and the length of his weapon, his reach was far superior. No “size doesn’t matter” jokes here. It was amazing that none of us were shish kebabed.
Then again those claws were nothing to sneeze at.
I held my breath as the baphomet thrust a clawed hand toward my boyfriend’s heart. Ceff had his feet braced, and was tugging at his trident, trying to dislodge his weapon from the creature’s side. Being too close for the pitchfork to be effective didn’t make him safe.
“Ceff, look out!” I screamed.
Torn appeared through the growing fog of ash, once more raking his claws across the beast’s stomach. It wasn’t enough. The baphomet was intent on Ceff.
I slowed my breathing, and with a fluid motion I raised my arm, swung my hand down, and released my second blade. The knife punched through muscle and bone, skewering the baphomet’s hand to his chest. It was a temporary fix, but it gave Ceff the time he needed to make it clear.
My heart raced as he twisted, narrowly missing the baphomet’s stymied attack. I was already reaching for my machete, a blade long enough to qualify as a sword, when he yanked his trident free, and ran. The baphomet turned to follow Ceff, and I rushed in.
I blinked against the ash that the baphomet’s wings churned into the air. I could barely see where the creature was going. Thankfully, the Dark One had the forethought to chain the baphomet to a pillar of stone that rose up like a skeletal finger from the ashen plain.
With his massive leathery wings, there was no way we could keep up if the beast was free to fly. Fighting a tethered baphomet was challenge enough. Blood pounding in my ears, I dove toward calves the size of tree trunks. I needed to slow the beast down before he got close enough to eat my friends.
I sliced across the back of the baphomet’s leg, severing the Achilles tendon. I rolled as the creature crashed down to one knee, the damaged leg no longer holding his monstrous weight. I hurried back to our rally point, a shaky laugh escaping my lips as I saw that Ceff and Torn were both safe.
I smiled, and flashed my friends a thumbs up. We’d wounded the baphomet, and made it out of his reach. With a continued pattern of strikes and retreats, we just might win this fight.
The sound of crashing stone and shrieking metal cut my celebration short. I spun, keeping my machete out in front of me as I watched the baphomet thrash against his restraints.
“Those chains aren’t going to hold him much longer, Princess,” Torn said.
Torn was right. The baphomet was already using his wings to make up for his injured leg, and the pain from the wound’s we’d inflicted o
nly served to fuel the creature’s rage.
“Thoughts?” I asked.
Torn and Ceff were immortal fae. They’d been doing this kind of thing a lot longer than I had. If they had any tactical advice, I was open to suggestions.
“Do you have any more holy water?” Ceff asked.
I nodded, retrieving the remaining vials from the utility belt slung across my hips. Those reinforced nylon mesh pouches came in damn handy.
“Yes, though I’m not sure if it works on this thing,” I said.
“Oh, it works, Princess,” Torn said, holding up one of his clawed hands. “I dipped these claws in holy water and smoke rose from the wounds. Not so with this hand.”
He waggled the fingers of his other hand, which was covered in blood up to his wrist. I’d seen Torn rake his claws across the baphomet’s stomach on two separate attacks. The first made the creature scream, the second was brushed off like Torn was no more irritating than a gnat.
“Okay, I’ll try for his other eye,” I said.
It wouldn’t be easy, not with the baphomet thrashing around. I’d be lucky get a clear shot past his wings, and I’m pretty sure I used up all my luck for this fight. In fact, hitting my target on the first try had been a total fluke. Fate was probably scheming ways to bite me in the ass, but that wouldn’t keep me from trying.
“I have a better idea,” Ceff said. He turned to Torn, eyebrow raised. “How good are you at climbing?”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because we need someone to upend one of these vials into the creature’s ear,” Ceff said.
Torn eyed the thrashing baphomet, licked his lips, and smiled.
“I’m your man,” he said.
Yep, he’d just confirmed it. Torn was a psychopath. Thankfully, he was on our side.
“What’s the plan for you and me?” I asked.
“We’re the distraction,” Ceff said.
Oh goody.
I handed over the remaining vials of holy water, which Torn secured in the many pockets and leather pouches strapped to his body. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that the cat sidhe had come along with the intent to steal his weight in valuables. I shook my head. Actually, that was a distinct possibility.