by Ivy Asher
With a pop of air, suddenly Nefta holds an identical scythe in her hands. She rubs a reverent palm over the black wood and metal bands of her own scythe, and something about the two weapons in close proximity feels almost...otherworldly. Holy.
“I call her Lark,” Nefta tells me, a hint of a smile in her normally even voice. “She sings as she cuts down the enemy,” she adds, making my eyes widen.
And here I was thinking, awww, Lark, how pretty. I should have figured the Colonel would have some brutal meaning behind the name.
“My grandmother had her Rasorium mounted on the wall when I was little. My friends always begged her to tell them stories about it and all they did together,” she explains before glancing over at Tazreel. “I’m surprised Lucifer didn’t tell you about that. I’m assuming he knows about her, doesn’t he?” Nefta asks with a wave in my direction as her tone turns a touch accusatory.
“He was about to tell me everything, but then this Ophidian nonsense came up, and he just took off,” Tazreel grumps.
“So what am I then? A Gatekeeper like a Grim?” I ask, but my question comes out at the same time that Nefta says, “The Ophidian? What nonsense exactly came up involving the Ophidian?”
Tazreel levels her with a look. “You tell us.”
She bristles, her amethyst-colored wings shifting at her back.
I intervene before they can get off-track with arguing again. “The five of us were attacked in the Vestibule by Outer Ringers,” I explain. “They were there to capture me and take me to the Ophidian.”
I glance over at my guys, just a physical reaction to reassure my mind that they’re all here with me.
Nefta’s purple eyebrows pull together as she takes in what I’ve told her. “Ophidian was the name of the big bad we always fought against when we were playing as children in Heaven. Only four beings would have known that name. Me, Lucifer, Sytry, and Morax. But Sytry and Morax are dead, so either it’s a coincidence or…”
I don’t get to hear option two, because all four of my demons suddenly flinch simultaneously. My head whips to the side at the sound of Jerif’s grunt at the same time that I hear a sharp intake of air come from Iceman. Echo and Crux are looking at each other, like the blood just drained from their faces.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, looking at all four of them with bewilderment and panic. “What’s happening?”
“The Gate,” Iceman says, and my gaze snaps over to him. “It’s being attacked. Our portal is about to be overrun. We have to go.”
Dread fills my chest like cigarette smoke. Seeing the panic in their eyes lets me know exactly how serious this is. My head swivels to Taz. “I need you to make us a portal to get back home.”
The Pride demon just frowns. “Delta, I am right in the middle of arguing with your birth womb about why all of your issues are her fault, so it’s going to have to wait.”
I stalk over to him, my boots clipping against the tiled floor until I get right in his face. I look down at him where he sits, because I know this position, more than anything, will piss him off. “I wasn’t asking. I’m telling.” My shoulders are back and my chin is high, and I stare down at him hard, giving every physical cue I can think of to let him know that this is deadly serious. “Make the portal and get us there. Now. You can argue with Nefta later. Guarding the Hellgate comes first.”
The muscle in his jaw jumps as he grinds his teeth together, and just like I knew he would, he quickly gets to his feet so that I can’t look down on him anymore. Not physically, anyway.
“I will make you a portal, but only because I want to,” he says petulantly. “I was growing tired of hearing Nefta, anyway.”
The Legion Colonel rolls her Concord grape colored eyes, but I ignore them both. “Get us as close as you can, Taz,” I tell him, feeling the need to hurry, solely based on how tense and poised for battle the four demons at my back seem to be.
“Yes, yes,” Taz says dismissively before raising his arm, ready to make a portal.
“You may not make a portal on Legion territory,” Nefta cuts in, one hand still holding her scythe.
Taz scoffs. “I can do whatever I want,” he says insolently.
“You absolutely cannot do whatev—”
“Stop!” I shout, cutting them both off. “You two are a fucking nightmare! Thank fuck that you gave me away, Nefta, because if I’d had to deal with this my whole life, I would have gone bat-shit crazy,” I say, shaking my head. “Now, I don’t care about your pride or your rules. Stop thinking about yourselves for two seconds and take us where we need to go so we can kick some unauthorized demon Hell Spawn ass!”
They both stare at me. Taz looks put out, offended as usual, but Nefta...I think I see delight in her purple gaze. “I see it now. Your blood sings with battle just as mine does. A family trait,” she says before she turns and shoots Taz a look. “What are you waiting for? Get the damned portal up so our progeny can go kick some ass!”
Cursing and grumbling under his breath, he flicks his wrist out to the side, and a seven-foot tall wall of a semi-transparent, metallic veil stretches in front of us.
We don’t waste any time. All four of my guys race after me as I sprint straight into it, this time welcoming the feeling of vertigo, because I know it’s going to take us where we need to be.
I land hard on the balls of my feet, immediately wrapped in the dark shroud of Sandpiper’s night sky, smack dab in the middle of Perdition Estate’s long drive. My guys get spit out of the portal right beside me, and we immediately start cutting across the grounds toward the graveyard. My arms pump as I do my best to keep up with the fast pace of the guys, but their strides are much longer than mine, and I have to move twice as fast to keep from lagging behind.
Iceman races ahead of us, his horns glinting in the moonlight, and I focus on him as my personal beacon as we charge into who knows what kind of clusterfuck. Images of Cousin It demons flash through my mind, slowly to be replaced by memories of the different demons at the Vestibule. I have no idea what we’re about to run into, but I can’t let the uneasiness I feel slow me down.
But with every step I take, apprehension thickens in my veins. True comprehension sinks down into my joints. Fear nudges at my muscles.
I’m heading straight for another demon battle, and the last time I was in one, the guys almost died, and I was almost taken.
Memories of the Vestibule battle plague me as our racing steps crunch on gravel. We skirt around the mansion, heading through a side gate, in the direction of the cemetery.
Time seems to be breathing down the back of my neck, and I’m not sure if that’s just the guys’ anxiousness I’m picking up on or if it’s something more pushing us to hurry. All I know is, I didn’t have the same automatic physical reaction that the guys had. I didn’t feel whatever alert they got that let them know the Gate had been breached. But I do feel something.
Echo and Crux are both slightly ahead of me now too, and I push to catch back up. Iceman still leads the way, and Jerif is just slightly behind me to my right. I feel like his placement is strategic, and it puts me on edge even more.
I expect my lungs to start burning at any moment in protest, and for my legs to feel overworked with each running step I force them into, but they don’t. I’m surprised when my body doesn’t seem to have any reaction for my running at all. Yay for my new demon body sans blocks. It’s as if I’m on a leisurely Sunday stroll instead of possibly sprinting to my death.
I shove that thought away. No one is dying, not on my side of things anyway. The guys and I will be fine. I’ll make sure of it this time. A thrill of anticipation moves through my wings, as though they’re agreeing with me. I know I’ll need every ounce of physical prowess that I have tonight so that I can protect the Gate, the guys, and myself. The problem is, I haven’t exactly test driven this body in battle yet, so I’m not sure what I’m working with.
I clutch my scythe even tighter, hoping it will help guide me and stay glued to me like it did
during the battle at the Georgia Hellgate.
“Go faster,” Jerif barks at everyone, like we’re not running at Mach Cheetah pace as it is.
I shoot him a glare over my shoulder, but he’s unfazed as he pushes us on, his flame-colored hair nearly glowing in the moonlight.
“This is as fast as I go,” I defend.
“Then dig deeper,” he retorts. I want to snap back something smart ass or surly, but instead, I try to do exactly what he says. We all dig in for that extra burst like Jerif’s impatience is a whip at our heels.
“Move it,” he orders harshly, implying that we’re just lollygagging along, making me grit my teeth. Even though his demanding voice suffuses me with anger and frustration, those are emotions I can latch onto. Those things, I can mentally handle—and that’s probably why he’s doing it. He’s making sure I’m focusing on him, on the things I can control, instead of letting my mind come up with all the awful possibilities of what we could be running into.
He’s annoying as fuck, but I need the distraction. I hate that I need it, but I do.
I know I signed up for this. I know that this is part of what being a Hellgate Guardian is all about. Defending the Mortal Realm against unauthorized demons is exactly what my new life entails, but even knowing that, there’s still no way to prepare for it. This is happening right now, whether I want it to or not.
“Don’t stop,” Jerif snarls at me, like he knows the directions of my apprehensive thoughts. If I weren’t so focused on not tripping and eating it, I might be able to send him a grateful look for bolstering my confidence in his own special asshole-ish way...or I might have just told him to fuck off. My irritation and appreciation wax and wane when it comes to the scowling lava demon beside me, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
We finally reach the fence line for the cemetery, and all I can think is that whoever created that whole no portaling within a mile of the Gate should be punched in the balls. We all stop, silently observing everything around the wrought iron gate, agitation and worry pushing out of us with each exhale.
Everything is quiet.
“What—”
Echo holds a finger up to his lips to signal silence, and at the same time, I see the dark tattoos on his pale skin start to drip down his arms. The dark wisps coalesce around us, shrouding us in shadows, helping to hide us from view.
Everyone’s eyes are trained on the eerily quiet graveyard. Alarm and unease crawl across my wings, but I don’t see what’s setting it off. This is almost worse than just running head-first into a full blown attack.
Iceman glances over at me, shadows clinging to his form, and then reaches up and places his hand over mine where I’m gripping the scythe. He squeezes once, in both a comforting gesture and a touch that reminds me of what I need to do tonight. I give him a nod, though I’m not sure how much he can see while I’m behind a veil of Echo’s protection.
Wordlessly, the guys move.
In the same formation as Purgatory, I’m covered from all sides as Iceman pushes open the cemetery gate, and we all walk onto the graveyard’s grounds.
We make our way silently, the guys’ steps not making a noise as they walk. Echo keeps his shadows around us, but even so, Iceman makes sure to take us on a weaving path from one large tree or crypt to another, hugging the natural pools of black shadows to add to our camouflage.
I have a hard time seeing the guys, but I can feel them on all sides of me, and that’s what I make myself focus on. Heat at my back. Ice at my front. Shadows to my right. Comfort to my left. My scythe in my hand.
My heart pounds in my ears like a battle drum, and I hate that it’s all there is to hear.
It seems like it takes ages to walk a very short distance. Iceman leads us meticulously, slowly, purposefully. He doesn’t hesitate as he guides our group to pick our way around the jutting headstones, and he doesn’t rush us into making a mistake.
The irrational side of my brain can’t help but think we’re never going to reach the mausoleum. But we do. Just in time for my blood to run cold.
One look at the mausoleum shows me that it’s overrun with dark silhouettes of demons. They’re just...standing there, gathered around it. I don’t know what these demons did to weaken the Hellgate in Hell’s Embrace and be able to make it to our portal, but this once peaceful cemetery is now utterly terrifying.
They look more like carved specters in the night than living and breathing Hellish entities. But it becomes very clear right away that something is wrong.
“They’re not moving,” Iceman whispers, barely loud enough for me to hear.
There have to be at least two hundred of them gathered, and they’re not moving or making a single sound. This isn’t a balls to the wall, blatant attack like what happened in Georgia at Flint and Alder’s portal. These demons aren’t simply trying to bust out of Hell and run rampant through the Mortal Realm, gaining power and earthly pleasures. This is something different. It’s like…
“They’re waiting for something,” Echo murmurs, stealing the words right out of my mouth.
And right then and there, I know exactly what that something is.
Me.
21
A million things race through my mind all at once. Who are they? Are they here to kill me or collect me like before? Why? But the one question I can reach out and get a hold of, the one that makes all of this even more alarming is, how? How did they come through our portal? I thought my induction was supposed to stabilize the Hellgate and help stop this from happening. I thought that as a Nihil, I’d be just what the Gate needed and we’d be protected.
But as I stand, shrouded in shadows and confusion, staring at demons who look calculated, organized, and determined, it’s clear...something has gone terribly wrong.
Iceman looks back, giving each one of us a loaded look. When his icy blue eyes settle on my face, I know what he’s saying without him having to speak it. I know what they’re all saying, as one by one, their gazes lock on me.
Be careful.
Stay alert.
Swing like hell.
And don’t you dare fucking stop.
Iceman moves, and we move with him.
In the span of a breath, two long swords made entirely of ice appear in each of his palms as he calls to his power. He tosses one each to Echo and Crux, before making a third for himself and gripping the icy hilt. A flicker of light behind me draws my eye, and I see flames moving over Jerif’s hands. I exhale a deep breath and banish the trepidation in my chest as I face forward, ready as I’ll ever be for what’s next.
The second we all step onto the path that leads to the mausoleum where Hell’s portal awaits, that eerie, unnatural silence finally shatters.
Two hundred demon heads swivel in our direction, and then shrieks rent the air. The noise is so loud and so sudden, I would’ve involuntarily pissed my pants if anything had been in my bladder.
I cringe as the terrifying noises seem to bounce off every headstone and crypt.
“Get the Scythed One for the Ophidian! Kill the rest!” My head whips up at the shouted order, and I see that the voice came from a demon perched on the roof of the mausoleum, skulking like a gargoyle.
“Stay in formation,” Iceman orders, and that’s all any of us have time to say, because in the next instant, all two hundred of the demons rush at us.
Flames erupt from Jerif’s hands like a volcanic eruption, and Echo’s shadows that were once shrouding us from view form into angry tentacles, ready to snatch the attackers in their tendrils and snap some necks. Crux, Iceman, and Echo grip their icy blades, and I’m in the middle of them all, clutching my scythe like my life depends on it, because it absolutely does.
I don’t even know at what point my terror activated my scythe’s blades to come out, but I stroke the smooth wood, thankful for the wicked, gleaming, demon-ashing weapon. I pray to whatever the fuck I am and the blood flowing through my veins that this will be enough to see us through this. That I won’t fail
my guys like I did last time.
I don’t understand why this is happening, but we’ll have to figure it out when this is all over. It’s like these demons tracked me here to this portal, and that thought fills me with dread.
We’re surrounded in seconds.
The guys try to tighten their formation around me, because I know without a doubt, that their unspoken agreement is to not let these fuckers take me. It’s my own unspoken agreement too, just like I’m determined not to let anything happen to them.
I feel more than see the first wave of demons hit. It’s like a tsunami of black slamming into us, and all four of the guys stagger into me at the same time. But it seems my guys were waiting for that. Like they’ve somehow planned this, Crux makes a fist beside his head, and the circle of demons closest to us burst into blood and sinew as their bodies turn inside out. Before the corpses even finish falling, Jerif makes flames engulf each body, protecting us in a ring of fire.
Iceman lifts a hand in the air, and right outside of the flames, he starts raining down viciously sharp ice. The frosted needles hit the demons’ bodies with a sickening noise, slicing through bone and muscle, puncturing organs and taking them down with agonized shrieks and gurgled grunts.
When something dark catches my eye above me, I look up and realize that some of the demons can fly. They have dragonfly wings that look like they’re edged in small pointy metal shards with teeth to match, but Iceman is somehow two steps ahead of me. “Echo!”
Immediately, my shadow demon looks up, and his tattoos rush skyward, leaving his skin bare as the shadows converge into a massive, moving sphere above our heads. As soon as every inch of shadow has come together, they split up into several different formations and then snap up, lashing out at our flying assailants. His shadows work quickly. It’s not pretty, but it is effective. Necks are snapped and wings are too, making my own press tightly against my back in their own form of a cringe.