Ascent of the Fallen

by Rebecca L. Frencl

  The pathway narrowed, twisted back on itself, rose from the ground to become the gnarled branches of the Yggsdrasil Tree. Try though he might, he couldn’t hear the tinkle of the fountain of wisdom at its roots. Apparently, Hell was twisting him through a different pathway this time. He patted his chest. The stolen vial of miracles pressed warm against his heart. He only hoped it would still be useful.

  * * * *

  Heaven was definitely not what she expected. Serafina had expected large broad avenues of marble or gold, lofty buildings, a gentle suffused light and... angels. Yes, even if all the rest of it had been childish dreaming, she’d still expected to see angels. After all, Rue stood before the gates of Hell itself and had wings. You’d think that those beings who served in heaven would definitely have them.

  However, she hadn’t seen even the flicker of a feather.

  She’d awoken that morning, or maybe a hundred mornings ago for all she knew, to see a light dusting of snow coating the sidewalk in front of her shop. She shivered and knew, without turning around, who would be waiting for her. He’d been all solicitousness. He’d bowed formally to her, then stretched out one hot, dry hand. She’d always thought Death would be cold.

  She’d expected a jerk, a feeling of disconnection as her soul left her body, but there had been none of that. She’d felt, instead, pulled off her feet as though her entire person had been dragged through a hole. She’d seen the shining glitter of a star studded sky, heard the lap of water at a shore and smelled a hint of dirt and decay before her senses were overcome and she fainted in the angel’s arms.

  She woke, hours, days, years – who knew, later in a lushly appointed bedroom with walls carved from quartz flecked marble. Definitely lovely, but cold when she pressed her hand to the wall. Should she be feeling cold? Her head throbbed a little, distant as if a memory. Maybe such human feelings faded with time.

  She waited.

  And waited some more.

  Was heaven supposed to be so boring?

  She tried the door and found it locked. A tiny niggle of fear began to scurry around her brain. Something felt terribly off about all of this. Perhaps Rue had been wrong and this was Purgatory and not heaven? Maybe she was being sentenced to sit around in boredom for a century or two before actually making it to heaven. No. That just didn’t sound right. Besides, did the church even acknowledge purgatory anymore? She nibbled on her thumbnail. Then again, which church?

  With an exasperated groan she strode back to the door, tugged on its heavy iron handle. Nope. Nothing. She pounded on the dark wood. “Hey!” she yelled. “Anyone else out there?”

  Tired, she sank to the floor, leaning against the door, her nightgown pooling around her, her bare toes cold on the stone floor. Several things started to fall into place. She shouldn’t be feeling cold or weariness or, her stomach gave a growl, hunger. Everyone agreed that you left those problems behind when you died. Therefore, she shoved herself to her feet, tugged down her nightgown, and was positive she wasn’t dead. That blue-eyed blond guy who’d taken her hand earlier that morning, and she was almost certain it was just that morning now, had not been the Angel of Death. She’d been tricked. She was being held somewhere and she was certain deep down in her frantically beating heart, that she was bait for a trap.

  And Rue was the prey.

  She wandered over the tall wardrobe across from the luxuriously appointed bed. Well, they were going to get more than they’d bargained for. She whipped open the doors. If she was going to try and get to the bottom of this she wasn’t going to do it in bare feet in her nightgown. Clothes burst from the wardrobe – a little too over the top, she noticed. Silver lace, golden silk, sparkling stones and detailed embroidery spilled over her hands. It was like a scene out of “Beauty and the Beast.” She snorted, digging down a little deeper. There had to be something practical in here. While she didn’t find jeans, she did find a rather simple dress—silvery in color with very little adornment and the shoes were comfortable as slippers, but with a much more substantial sole. “Well, it’ll have to do.” With a quick look behind the curtains – they covered more rock, not windows – just to make sure nothing was lurking, she dressed.

  She picked a book at random from the tall bookcase and settled into a deep cushioned chair to wait. They’d have to come and feed her eventually. She needed to find out where she was. She needed to find out what they wanted, why they’d taken her and how she could get home.

  A terrible bloom of hope rose in her mind. One thing, bright and shiny, floated in front of her. She wasn’t dead. And with that thought, her adrenaline surged.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The book fell from her hand to the stone floor with a thump. That thump woke her. Serafina sat up with a groan. Her neck stiff, her stomach empty and rumbling, her right arm asleep under her. Her head gave a sharp pound and empty stomach roiled. Yep, if she needed any more proof that she wasn’t in heaven, her body was giving her plenty of clues. She sat up and whipped the book at the door which opened at just that second. The tiny woman ducked, but wasn’t fast enough. The book, however, sailed right through her head. Serafina gulped.

  “Beg pardon,” the stranger giggled, a high pitched little sound that sounded slightly off to Serafina’s ears. “I should have knocked, but bodies around here aren’t known for their manners.” She chuckled again and Serafina wondered how she could handle the tray in her hands and manage to kick the door closed behind her if books could sail right through her head.

  “Where am I?” She decided to stick with a safe question since she was beginning to think that she knew the answer already.

  That off-putting laugh again. “Where do you think you are?” She thunked the tray on the bedside table. “Here you go, dear, some nibbles for you.” She gestured to the plates. “A little fruit and some bread. The bread’s from above, so no worrying there.”

  So it was, she could see, a whole loaf of Wonder bread still in its classic red, white and blue packaging. “I’m in Hell, aren’t I?”

  The spirit nodded. “Aren’t we all?” She cackled again, eyes wheeling a little wildly in her head. “Aren’t we all!” She gestured to the tray. “Eat up, need your strength.”

  Not really wanting to, but knowing she needed to, Fina snagged the loaf of bread. The gluey mass stuck in her throat, but she didn’t dare ask for water. She’d read her myths and just in case, she didn’t want anything from down here to pass her lips.

  “So,” the spirit wandered around the room to finger the clothes still spilling out of the closet, “you must be pretty darn important to keep here.”

  Fina swallowed with difficulty. “I don’t know about that.” She ripped the corner off another piece of bread. The spirit ducked into the wardrobe to pull shoes off the bottom, making an appreciative humming noise deep in her throat. Fina reached out to grab the lamp on the bedside table, a heavy twisted wrought iron affair. A shoe sailed over the creature’s shoulder as she continued to scrabble. “Where is here?” Fina asked.

  The spirit snorted, head still in the wardrobe. “One of the newer halls—they just started building them a few decades ago or so.” She sat back, still not looking at Serafina, tugged off a heavy work boot and began wiggling her large foot into a dainty golden stiletto. “Must need the room soon. Only thing I can figure is that the powers that be are going to start some mess and need the space.” She held her shod foot up to be admired. Fina crept closer, lamp in hand.

  “What do you think is going to happen?”

  She shrugged and picked up the other shoe. “Last time we added on so much it was one of the world wars.” She trailed off for a moment, her eyes glazing in memory. “Reminded me a little of when I came down here—Napoleon’s still screaming down in one of the deep holes.” She leaned back, both feet held up in front of her. She began to swivel. “Hey, you mind if I take

  .... ” Serafina lunged and swung. The lamp hit with a satisfying thunk and the spirit’s eyes rolled up into her skull and she cr
ashed over to the side, golden shoes still glittering on her feet.

  “Thank God,” she murmured, dropping the lamp. She figured as long as the creature had been trying on shoes she’d be solid enough to hit. Good thing her speculation paid off. Now, to get out of here.

  She grabbed the loaf of bread, tucked it under her arm, found a Silver Springs water bottle that had rolled sideways on the tray and hidden under a napkin. She headed out into a black stone hallway, threads of white and gold veining through the stone. She could only hope that the corridor could lead her somewhere helpful. Though how helpful could you get deep in the bowels of Hell?

  * * * *

  “We have a problem.”

  Asmoday didn’t really need any more problems. One of his demon doors had just imploded, sending nasty little chunks of bloodsucking demonkin to splatter all over his new tie. Not to mention, he knew that Rue and Azrael were stalking around somewhere down here, looking to tie his neck in a knot. However, the boss needed a little extra time to put the finishing touches on the Labyrinth, so he’d sent a couple of imps to twist the paths a little and slow them down. One of the imps had come back already to tell them that something was helping them. It looked like Asmoday was going to have to take matters into his own hands.

  He really didn’t want to have his tongue tied around his throat, though, so he sent Bezaal and Semoath to slow the angels down. They’d be sliced to gooey little demon bits, but they’d buy the boss time to finish in the Labyrinth and give Asmoday enough time to change his tie.

  He snarled at the spirit in front of him. She was one of the younger ones, somewhere between a hundred and two hundred years old, dressed in a homespun dress with ridiculous gold stilettos on her fat feet. “I said there’s a problem, my lord, with the prisoner.”

  “The guest, Lally,” he corrected, “the guest.” He yanked off his soiled tie and snapped his fingers, letting it burn to ashes. “What’s the problem? I made sure we had some food that wouldn’t lock her in here.” He pulled another tie, this one blood red, from the air. “Might not be fancy, but it’s better than having her stuck around here for months on end meddling in things she should leave alone.”

  “The thing is, my lord,” she said, starting to edge away, “ she... well, the truth is, she got away from me.”

  He froze in the act of knotting his new tie. “She what?” He bit the words off.

  She crept further back. “She got away. She’s loose in the new halls.”

  He took a deep breath, drawing in the scent of brimstone and fear. It usually calmed him. Not this time. As quick as thought, he snagged her even as she tried to ghost away from him. A flex of his will forced her solid, his fingers burning into her throat. “Run that past me one more time,” he grated.

  Around the pressure of his hand, she gasped the story. Asmoday tightened his fingers, a flash of flame and the spirit disappeared, banished back to one of the deeper Hells to pay for her failure. A pair of glittering golden heels dropped to the ground before him. He kicked them out of his way. He did have problems. Serafina Kinnock was loose in Hell. Not only was that a disaster waiting to happen, he no longer had the bait he needed to tempt Ruvan. This was all falling apart around his ears. He needed to do some damage control. Find the girl, particularly before she got into one of the populated Hells and started wreaking havoc. He shuddered. A good soul in Hell – who knew what kind of trouble that could cause? The last time it had happened, over a hundred souls had been released. That would completely piss off the boss, particularly when he had something big in the works.

  With a decisive nod and the fervent hope to deflect the inevitable wrath off of his neck he poked the last demon door into the mortal realm, shoved the first three demonkin through personally, then took off. He needed to get to the new halls before she got out.

  * * * *

  “Another one.” Azrael pointed his scythe at the demon door and sealed it with blazing celestial light. Not only would the door be sealed on this side, but any demonkin trying to get back through from the other side would be fried to a crisp.

  “That makes seven we’ve found.” Seven connections between Hell and the mortal realm. Rue didn’t know where they’d all lead to, and he knew for certain that they hadn’t found them all. Elli was right. Asmoday and his brothers had been busy little bees. He looked up at the spirit flitting ahead. “Are we nearly there?”

  She shook her head. “I think so, but the halls are moving so much.” She gestured behind them. “I’ve never even seen that Hell before.” She shuddered. “What culture came up with flesh eating sea serpents that ate you, spit you back out and ate you again for all eternity?”

  He said what they were all thinking. “Someone’s playing games.”

  She laughed. “Of course they are. This is Hell.” With a roll of her eyes, she continued, “Seriously, are all you guys this naïve?”

  Azrael reached out his scythe, a small arc of power leaping from it to her. She screeched at the zap and, rubbing her behind, whirled to glare at him.

  “Mind your manners, ghost girl, if you want to get out of here.”

  Rue could see her chewing on a retort, and smiled when she swallowed it. “We just need to keep going forward.” She gave herself a shake, fading out for a moment. “Maybe we need to refocus.” She gestured them over to her, taking their hands in hers. “You might think it’s all hippy woowoo, but I’ve found that taking a couple of minutes to really visualize my destination works pretty well.” Rue stopped trying to pull away and she smiled. “All right, now just close your eyes.” She jerked and Rue guessed that Azrael had tried to escape her clinging little fingers too. “Close your eyes, take a deep breath and just concentrate. Let your mind fill with what you want to find.”

  The feeling of foolishness faded and Rue settled, his wings drooping behind him, as he let Serafina’s face fill his mind. Her dark eyes, the smattering of freckles you needed to be really close to see, the tangled riot of red hair. She was alone down here. Probably scared. He needed to find her and take her home where she belonged. The warmth from the vial of miracles spiraled through him. Take her home and save her.

  “Well, well, well, are we getting in touch with our feminine sides?” The sneering voice made Rue’s eyes flare open. He felt Elli’s fingers freeze in his hand.

  “They’re already halfway there, Bezaal.” The leering demon raked them over from head to foot. “They’re in dresses, for Satan’s sake.”

  Azrael growled deep in his throat, his scythe flaring diamond bright for a moment. Several things just out of eyeshot screamed and dove for cover. Puffs of greasy smoke marked places where those little things didn’t get out of the way fast enough.

  “Put the flashlight away, Az,” Bezaal snarled. “We’re not wussy demonkin to run away from some light.”

  Rue willed his own sword to the fore. “You will die nonetheless,” he promised.

  Semoath grinned, triple rows of needlelike fangs glinting, and rose to his full height, all seven slimy purple feet of it. “This is going to be fun. Haven’t pulled the wings off a butterfly in an age, eh, Bezaal?”

  Bezaal laughed, harsh scraping laughter that made Elli shudder in and out of visibility. “Been a while, Semoath, been a while.” He flexed his huge shoulders, his knuckles dragging the ground.

  Azrael swung. Bezaal ducked, losing only one sharp horn. “You’re the ones gossiping like old women.”

  With a snarl, the demons attacked, wielding iron- studded clubs the length and width of a man’s leg. Rue backwinged, lifting off the ground, gaining the advantage of height on Semoath. “Get back here!” the demon howled, dodging a shining bolt of celestial light. “I’m going to stuff my pillow with your feathers!” A painful shudder rippled through him. He remembered too well not having his wings and the demon’s foul threat shot a bolt of pure anger through him.

  Almost as though his body belonged to another, Rue dropped to the ground, furled his wings tight to his back, willing them back to ink an
d faced the demon on his own poisoned ground. He ducked, he whirled, felt the painful burn when Sem’s nail-studded mace grazed him. He felt sweat or blood slide down his brow. He scored the demon in a dozen small places. A nick here, a swipe there. Ichor, thick and black in the shifting light of Hell, gleamed slipping into the demon’s eyes.

  He heard and saw Azrael out of the corner of his eye, driving Bezaal back. The scythe, gleaming silver in the uncertain light, made the demon flinch whenever it whirled too closely to his head.

  Rue danced back, his feet slipping on the uncertain rock surface. Thin sticklike fingers, strong despite their seeming fragility, wrapped around his ankle. He stumbled. Semoath’s glowing violet eyes widened in triumph. The club rose. Rue vanished his blade, wrapped his hand in pure power and grabbed the demon’s throat, pouring all his righteous anger and fear into the figure. The demon’s hands spasmed on the club’s handle, his eyes gleaming, flashing from sickly purple to pure white. Light poured from his mouth and the creature’s entire body began to pulse. He stumbled back, dropping his weapon, weeping tears of shining light. Willing his weapon back into his hand, Rue strode up to the writhing demon’s body and drove the sword deep into its back. Semoath melted into a smelly pool that oozed through the cracks in the floor and disappeared.

  “Speak!” Azrael ordered. Rue turned to see that he’d backed Bezaal against the wall, the shining scythe burning blisters into the demon’s neck. “Show us the way to the Labyrinth.”

  Bezaal spat, his spittle striking a hole in front of Elli’s floating feet. She ghosted up a little higher. “You’ll scatter me anyway, Angel of Death, so do it now.”

  Rue could see Azrael calculating. He looked over and Rue knew, without hesitation, what he asked. He nodded.

  “We will release you if you show us to the Labyrinth.”