Bee-Dee pursed her lips and bit her tongue. She wouldn’t argue…right now.
“Dorian, you will be our most powerful weapon.” Marduk gave a sardonic smile. “You are undetectable and dangerous. I don’t know how long it’s been since you last unleashed all your sorcery, but this will be your chance. I hope you’re in good form.”
Obedience could see her cousin’s eyes glint at the prospect.
“Waylon, How can I ever thank you for putting yourselves in so much danger for us? I accept your offer. All of you will make the trip.”
He turned to Flick with a sigh. “The danger for humans in the Underworld is greater than for any other faction. You have no augury, no illusions, nothing to help you out of a tight spot. I can’t let you all go, the danger of death is too great.” He hesitated, then relented. “I’ll allow two volunteers. Talk and decide.”
Kabta chomped at the bit waiting for Marduk to acknowledge his need to be included. Bee-Dee couldn’t blame him. It was his brother held captive; in danger. The witch held her breath while Marduk finished up.
“And as much as it pains me, Enlil is correct. For me to risk my life, I must risk that of my Chosen, and the same is true for any of our mated gods. It’s also too big of a risk for our yet unmated friends to go. If something happens to one of you, our contract cannot be completed and we all lose. Therefore,” the thunder god turned to the bricklayer, “I will be taking you up on your offer, Kabta. You will be the one wearing the cloaking ore, and our best hope for bringing Kulla home safely.”
Obedience could see the tension Kabta held, leave him in a long exhale. He stood straight and responded in kind.
“I promise that if the ore is in danger of being taken, I will destroy it and myself before it is done.” Silence met his proclamation. None doubted his word.
“I’m giving you ten minutes to weapon up and prepare for transport. Dorian, get a rough map of the area and a bead on the demons from Dagon.” Marduk ended the hush with his instructions. “I’ll confer with Nergal to get the humans into Hell.”
Bee-Dee gleaned that empty amulets acted as free passes in and out of the Underworld for mortals, and the king would have spares ready to go. The group broke up, the gods and goddesses grumbling, but no one challenged Marduk’s choices.
****
Kulla woke with his head pounding. Someone had clocked him good with something hard, that being the first and last thing he remembered upon entering Hell. He opened his eyes and tried to focus. Yup. Concussion, but it wouldn’t last long. It had already started to heal. The big question of the hour? Where in Hell was he?
As his vision cleared, he recognized bars. Not good. He lay on his back in the hard-packed dirt, looking up at the inside of a cage, and beyond that, a rock ceiling. So he had made the Underworld. Just not the spa he’d been promised. Great.
He moved his limbs, one by one, and found they were all intact. Other than his head, he felt pretty good. Footsteps sounded somewhere off to his left and he feigned unconsciousness again. No time like the present to gather a little intelligence on his captors.
“Bel was right. How easy. These gods are very lax.” The voice, unfamiliar to Kulla, droned. But he knew a sentient being when he heard one, this one obviously in cahoots with Beletseri. Bad news.
“Yeah. And now that we have him, what do we do with him?” Another male voice. This one tickled the back of his memory. Doomed humans? They certainly weren’t any of the Underworld gods with whom he was familiar.
“We hang onto him and wait. Although a little sport might not be out of the question. Since we have him captive, I’m interested to know what a god is capable of, and how much he can take. It might be good to know, for later.” The voice paused. “You know, just in case our goddess decides to turn on us?”
Kulla heard a barked laugh. “Just like old times, hey Sal? Use everyone and trust no one. I’m with you on that.”
So Sal, the human soul Candy had dispatched to Hell, headed the cluster-fuck, and the other had to be Nergal’s secretary, Stave; the dead guy Candy had convinced the king would be an asset to his staff. Nergal had mentioned that he’d sent him to spy on Bel’s new friend. So the question remained, could the secretary be trusted, or had he fallen back in with his old boss? Time would tell. Kulla continued to listen.
“I contacted the bitch and told her we have him. She wants to stay up above for the day and see how the god’s friends are dealing with it. She’s sure they’ll send a team down to rescue him, and wants to try and figure out who and how many they’ll dispatch to give us warning.”
Kulla could almost picture the guy, shrugging.
“It doesn’t matter to us. We’ve got enough demon power to stop the whole lot of them. And in the meantime”―a nearly cartoonish, sinister laugh responded―”once our friend here wakes up, we can have a little fun. Our only order is not to kill him, and I gather that’s hard to do, so whatever we can dream up for testing his powers should be okay.”
Kulla heard a sound like a slap on the back, and some parting words from Sal. “Stay here and keep an eye on him while I round up some demons to help us with our fun. And Stave,”―a long pause this time―”just letting you know that I don’t trust you, either.” A chuckle followed the guy out of the cavern.
A long moment of silence passed, then the crunching of gravel.
“You awake?” Stave’s voice whispered outside the cage, close to Kulla’s prone body. The architect saw no reason to play possum.
“Yeah,” he answered. “Are you the king’s secretary?”
“You figured that one out fast enough. I take it you’ve talked to Nergal.”
“I have, and he says we can trust you.” Kulla snorted.
“You’ll have to take my word for it. Because right now, I have to follow Sal’s lead.” He scuffed the dirt with the toe of his boot. “You probably heard he wants to play with you.”
Now Kulla laughed. “If you can call what he’s got in mind play.” He exhaled in a huff. “It doesn’t sound like much fun, but I know he’s not allowed to kill me. I should be grateful for that.” He sat up and took a good look at the ex-human. “So what’s your plan?”
Stave grunted. “You heard him. He doesn’t trust me, so I have to be extra careful. Once I’m through convincing him I’m one hundred percent, I’ll find a way to contact Nergal and let him know you’re here.”
“Okay. But if they don’t know I’m missing by now, they soon will. They just won’t have any clue where to look.” Kulla sent his gaze around the chamber. It resembled hundreds of others he’d been in over the centuries. Even if he could use his brain-connection, which he couldn’t because the bars of his prison―which he’d already ascertained were osmium―prevented that power, he’d have no clue where to tell his rescuers to find him.
“Any idea where we are?” he asked his new best buddy.
“I have a good idea,” Stave answered. “Some demons picked me up about ten minutes away and blindfolded me when I first came in. I pretended I’d been lost and wandering for weeks, but up until I let myself be apprehended, I knew my exact location, and so did Nergal.”
That sounded like the best news Kulla could have. Help, if not already deployed, would soon be within a ten minute reach. If the torture went too badly, he didn’t doubt he could almost bellow across a ten minute distance. A pleasant thought. He grimaced and posed another questions to Stave.
“What if your friend has surveillance and is watching your every move right now?”
Stave waved a hand. “Nope. The glowies are the only ones with any computers, monitors, and cameras down below. Beletseri has been promising some equipment for Sal, but so far hasn’t come through. Consider this a technology free zone.”
Another plus, thought Kulla. He still had his cell phone on him. The demons were too stupid to understand its significance, and Sal had sloppily not taken care to frisk him. He wouldn’t share the knowledge with Stave, but he’d stash the thing or use it before Sal
started on his little ‘getting-to-know-you’ party. He couldn’t afford to have it broken.
If what Stave said proved true, the glowies should be able to locate his signal once he placed a call. The modulation in this quadrant would be an anomaly, and they’d know who beckoned. He’d have to choose his moment carefully. His friends needed to be nearby for rescue, because he’d probably have one shot. If he signaled too soon with no cavalry nearby, he’d be screwed. He couldn’t take that chance…and yet if he waited too long, his phone might be discovered and confiscated. He wished he knew if he could trust Stave.
“So what will you do while they torture me?” Kulla asked, making small talk while struggling to his feet. He needed to get ready for whatever the demons would inflict. He stretched out all his muscles and made sure his head remained clear. Stave pondered his answer.
“Probably join in,” the big guy stated. “Or laugh. I have to be convincing. You don’t want me to blow my cover.”
Kulla nearly choked at the deadpan delivery. Two could play at that game.
“Fine. I’ll make sure you enjoy yourself,” Kulla gibed, and they both sat down to wait.
Chapter Twenty-One
Bright azure blue eyes, freckles sprinkled across a pointy, upturned nose, pink nipples on breasts as soft and ripe as the velvet skin of a peach—Kulla struggled to keep those images in his head while the demons did their work.
They’d begun by inflicting dozens of small cuts on his body, stopping when Sal ordered them to back off before watching to see how quickly he healed. The slices had gotten progressively deeper, and now, two-inch furrows were being scored across his chest as his body lay prostrated before them, bound at the hands and feet by osmium chains.
Sweat poured off Kulla’s body as he refused to show signs of weakness, and he turned his mind from Bee-Dee’s attributes, to his phone, hidden behind a pile of gravel in the corner. This was all his own fucking fault.
He’d settled down in his cage shortly after he and Stave had exchanged pleasantries, and disgustingly succumbed to sleep. Irked over his lack of control, his lapse wasn’t entirely without justification. He’d been up for more than twenty-four hours straight, and had been depleted performing a dedication ceremony. As vexed as he remained, nothing could be done about it now. By the time he awakened to his surroundings again, Sal and a half dozen gore-ridden, spit-dripping, fanged demons stood above him and yanked him from sleep. They’d had him trussed and chained down before he could react.
Now they worked him over. Something he’d been looking forward to this visit, but instead of a nice ritual cleansing by gentle hands, he’d become the recipient of a lurid blood-letting.
When the gashes were complete, Kulla breathed slowly through his nose. The wounds would take time to knit. Fuck. He nearly moaned. The coming together of the offended tissue proved almost as painful as the original cuts, but at least he didn’t have to smell the foulness of his abusers when they moved away to keep watch.
Kulla wondered what came next on the agenda, and pondered how long he could hold out. Sal would find that once he started digging into organs, the healing process took much longer. Kulla swallowed. He tried to find a bright side. At least the delay would give him more time between violations.
“Nine minutes.” Sal had managed to procure a stopwatch somewhere. What an odd thing to have filtered below. The gods often speculated that the dead brought items with them that were then set adrift once the souls adapted to their new environment. A watch would quickly become superfluous. One had little need to tell time when riding out eternity.
“That’s twice as long as it took for the one inch gashes.”
Thank you, Stave, for that enlightening piece of information, thought Kulla. Four and a half minutes per inch of depth. Kulla had never figured that out before, but he had a bad feeling that the numbers would be getting exponential from here.
“Let’s try something a little different.” By the sound of Sal’s voice, the drug-lord loved his fun. Tones were lowered to a point where Kulla couldn’t hear what would come next. Almost thankful, he rued his complacency the next minute, when hot breath hovered over his hip without time to anticipate.
Fangs descended into his upper thigh, ripping into his flesh, tearing muscle and sinew. This time Kulla could not hold back. He roared as the pain burned through him, straining against his chains at the blinding agony of barbed teeth laying him open. He felt the satisfaction of the yellow-eyed fiend snuffling against his flesh as blood poured from his open flank, and still he howled. As the hellion backed off, ordered to do so by Sal before it ate right through him, Kulla tried to stop the noise spewing from his throat, and bit back sobs as he attempted to take deep breaths against the torment.
He’d done this before. Many times he told his beleaguered brain. Over the centuries, he and his friends had battled demons in Hell, torn apart to fight again the next day. The difference being he usually had the satisfaction of taking the offending demon down before succumbing to the blackness of his injuries. Being at the Hell-spawn’s mercy produced a different feeling altogether, and the helplessness of his situation washed over him.
He looked up through sweat and tears to see Sal consulting his watch. Bloody fucking bastard. He counted the minutes again. Kulla would enjoy seeing how much time it took to rip the asshole’s head off when he finally escaped.
He took in more air. He needed to calm down and think. Nothing good came to mind.
Kulla held onto the pain, and willed his body to slow the healing process. His only thought now? To waste as much time as possible between tortures. Maybe he could limit the number of assaults before the posse came to the rescue. Only one thing felt certain. Sal, with his bloody timer, would make each torture session progressively worse.
****
Obedience looked around. She hoped her first trip to Hell would also be her last. She knew everyone else except Dorian felt the same way. Her unflappable cousin had visited the Underworld for cross-species council meetings before, and didn’t seem at all shaken by the endless bleak caverns and dirt floors. He also seemed to have a good idea of his destination. Besides Dagon’s cliff-noted version of a purgatory tour he’d been given, the dozen glowie guards at the arrival portal had pointed them in the proper direction. It looked like the king had beefed up security since the abduction of her mate.
They hadn’t walked far before they were met by Nergal, who without preamble, draped an ore necklace around the neck of Kabta, then donned his own idol which had been cut from the same stone. Good news. It looked like he had every intention of joining the team. He turned to lead them down a pathway to the right, but Ereshkigal chose that moment to mist in.
“Not a chance, my love.” She came over and put the king’s hand at her stomach, on top of the smallest of belly-bumps. “If you think our baby is going to grow up without a daddy, think again.” She looked around. “There are nine perfectly capable immortals here, and two fine looking humans. She eyed JP and Flick with appreciation. “You don’t need to help. They’ll be okay.” The stubborn set of her chin let the whole group know that Nergal wouldn’t be budging from the throne room any time soon. The king dropped a kiss on the top of his wife’s head and promised to see the group on its way without him. She took him at his word, smiled, and popped out.
“My reputation is going to suffer for this,” he groused to no one in particular, but he had not argued the point with his queen. With a cough, he got back to business. “Now let me tell you how to find Stave’s last known location.” He squatted down at everyone’s feet, and drew a quick map in the dirt.
As he finished up, the glowie Slaggat jogged up and elbowed his way in. The bluish, opalescent employee bent down next to the king, holding a couple sheets of paper, then saluted, much to everyone’s amusement.
“I’ve tweaked that new program I’ve been working on, your grace,” he chirped. “I’m going to call it Inner-Earth.” He placed the sheets in the king’s hands. “Here’s a ma
p to Mr. Stave’s last position, and a layout of all the tunnels on the levels below. I hope it helps.”
Nergal looked at what he now held, and down to the crude drawing at his feet. Sighing, he stood up and with a huff, scuffed out the scratches. “Things are changing too damned fast down here.”
Obedience could see his pout.
“Pretty soon the frigging computers are going to be taking over.” He shook the papers out at arm’s length and handed them off to Dorian. Downcast, he turned to go, then thought again and looked back to Kabta.
“I’m a head-call away if you need me, regardless of what my wife says,” he assured the god. “And if you require any additional man power,” he addressed King Waylon with a smug once over that puzzled them all, “just call for some glowies.”
The blue king looked as confused as Obedience felt. “And how am I supposed to do that?” he questioned.
Nergal snorted. “Just look at my security forces, man. You’ll figure it out.”
The large blue immortal canted his head and scanned Slaggat from the top of his bald crown to the tip of his little cerulean toes. Waylon’s eyes narrowed.
“No. It’s not possible,” he denied, shooting a bewildered glance at Nergal.
“Oh, it is.” The Underworld king clearly felt better after being publicly reproved by his wife, having one upped the large sea-dweller.
Nergal turned to his glowie worker-bee, “Open things up, Slaggat, and see if King Waylon can get the whole picture.”
Slaggat gave all the blue-men a large, happy smile and although Bee-Dee sensed nothing, each of the six suddenly grabbed their heads in what appeared to be pain and confusion.
“It’s a little overwhelming at first,” the glowie soothed the group. “Just take a few deep breaths and it will soon become background noise; as comforting to you as the crashing waves of your home.”
Obedience watched the half dozen carefully. She could see them taking Slaggat’s advice, as their hands dropped and their eyes opened even wider. Everyone not in the know, waited for an explanation. The Lauernley king supplied it.
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