by Erin Cain
“Three!”
Dylan jumped forward, dropping into the porthole in an instant and disappearing from view. Grace followed quickly behind, taking a deep breath, closing her eyes and jumping in after him.
Straight down into hell.
~
Grace hit the ground hard, her knees buckling as she tumbled onto the floor. She opened her eyes in a rush, feeling nothing but waves of heat rising up around her and the hard, barren ground beneath her hands. Pushing herself to her feet, she glanced around, trying to orientate herself.
The world around them seemed cramped and barren. It looked like they had fallen into a cave or another secluded corner of hell. That was probably Dina’s intention.
It was hot, a sweltering heat that seemed to rise up around them. It wasn’t the burning heat that Grace had expected, but still too hot to be comfortable, too hot for anything to grow and thrive down here.
“That’s a good start,” Dylan’s sarcastic voice chimed from beside her.
Grace hurriedly got to her feet, her cheeks burning. She didn’t know if the flush was because of embarrassment, or from the heat that radiated all around them.
“So, this is hell,” Grace whispered, her voice low and soft.
Dylan nodded, his own eyes darting around. “We’re in a good spot, safe. But we won’t find any demons here.”
Grace nodded and Dylan moved forward, leaning out from the outcrop of rock to look around. “Clear,” he said, and Grace followed him out into the open.
This place was even worse than before. The scattering of bones that crunched beneath her feet made her feel sick and despite the low hiss of steam, this place was so quiet it was scary.
Grace shivered. For the first level, it was still terrifying.
“So, according to the lore… finding one of their labyrinths is a sure way to find a demon down here, right?” Grace said, keeping her voice low.
“Yeah,” Dylan replied.
There was a change in his manner. He wasn’t being friendly, but he was too focused on the task at hand to get mad at her and take out his frustrations on her. It was a nice change, regardless.
Dylan looked around. “Okay, I think if we head–” he pointed “–that way. We should hit a labyrinth.”
Grace nodded. To be honest, they hadn’t been taught how to find one, only how to recognize one, which was a different thing altogether.
They started walking. “How do you know how to find a labyrinth?” Grace said.
The further in they walked, the more this place started to smell, the stench of death heavy in the air, unwelcoming and choking.
Dylan was quiet for a moment and Grace thought that she’d managed to offend him, to topple the fragile truce. Then he spoke.
“My father taught me.”
“Oh.” Grace nodded. “Was he… good at this?” Michael was good at fighting, Vance had told her, so it made sense for another archangel to excel at this.
“Yeah.” Dylan laughed, a low sound that was devoid of humor. “He’s the absolute best at it. The great demon slayer of heaven.” Dylan looked around, stopping for a second before they walked onward. “How do you compete with that, anyway?”
It was rhetorical, but it was still a glimpse into Dylan’s mind. And Grace saw pressure. The same pressure that Vance felt on a daily basis. Dylan was feeling it too. He had big shoes to fill and this trial really mattered to him. He couldn’t mess this up. Not if his father was a demon slayer in heaven.
“We’ll get the demon,” Grace said.
“Of course we will!” Dylan scoffed and, suddenly, the confident façade was back in place, carrying with it frustration. “As long as you don’t screw things up.”
Grace sighed, the tentative moment between them disappearing. “I won’t, Dylan. Let’s just find that demon, okay?”
“That’s what I’m trying to do,” he snapped back.
Another few moments of walking in silence and Grace saw the towering lines of the labyrinth in the distance: huge natural formations that demons used to hide within the first level. Grace felt a shiver of fear, but Dylan didn’t hesitate, picking up the pace. They ducked behind one of the larger walls and waited.
A few minutes later, Grace could hear the shuffle of something on the other side, something that could have sounded like footsteps, if it wasn’t such a distorted sound. Grace felt the panic flood through her body and she reached backward, one hand on her sword hilt, clutching it tight in her hand.
Dylan’s breathing was slow and calm, but there was a gleam in his eyes. Grace couldn’t tell if he was scared, excited or a bit of both.
Then the demon rounded the corner and Grace almost screamed.
For a second, she was frozen. Sure, they had been warned about what to expect, seen illustrations, but nothing could have prepared Grace for coming face to face with the corrupted souls of the first level.
Red, raw skin looked like it had come off in sheets, leaving nothing but a blistered mess behind, slits where a nose used to be and a gaping maw of a mouth, with teeth that seemed sharpened after decades in hell. Hands that were claw-like and reaching and feet that had hardened into hooves after too much time on the heated floor.
Grace bit back a scream, frantically grabbing her sword. Dylan already had his and he leaped forward, almost knocking her out of the way in his haste.
The creature screamed, rage and darkness in the air, swiping fiercely at Dylan, before turning and running back into the labyrinth.
Dylan was breathing hard. “Damn it!” He ran after it, into the labyrinth, his fever and frustration flooding off him in waves.
Grace hurried after him, trying not to think too hard about the demon, about how these were the best of this place, the easiest to fight. And this was what they looked like, this was the darkness and hate that radiated off them.
“Welcome to hell,” she muttered as she plunged into the labyrinth, running straight into the den of demons.
Chapter 8
The labyrinth was dark and, in the dim light, it was hard to make out anything but shapes and impressions. They had been warned against entering the labyrinth. They had been instructed to stand near them, at the mouths and use them to their advantage, but Dylan was charging in and Grace couldn’t let him go on his own.
But labyrinths were dangerous, thick with demons. Grace hoped that they didn’t run into anymore.
Ahead of her, she could hear the low screeching of the demon and Dylan’s triumphant yell. She rounded the corner to find Dylan standing, his sword raised, in what looked like a dead-end.
The creature, the demon, was furious. The screeching hurt Grace’s ears and she could practically feel the malice rolling off it in waves, creating heat and hurt wherever it went. This thing was corrupted, painfully and hatefully dark, taken in by hell and spat back out in a rush of pain and misery.
Misery that it spread to the people living above. To the humans they were protecting.
They had to kill it, right here and right now.
She gripped her sword, feeling the comfortable weight in her hands, glad for all of the training she’d undertaken, day in and day out. The low ceiling above their heads made the labyrinth seem even more claustrophobic and she couldn’t help the anxiety in her stomach.
Dylan didn’t waste any time, leaping forward and lashing out with his sword. The demon dodged it, proving an amazing sense of danger and speed. It shrieked and stepped forward, slicing with its massive claws, dark and dangerous.
Dylan managed to dodge, swearing.
“Damn it, Grace, are you going to help or not?” he snapped.
She was surprised to hear that he wanted her in the fight. Stepping forward, Grace raised her own sword. The demon jumped at her and she blocked, jumping into a role and slicing upwards.
She caught it and it screamed, jumping backward, snarling like a wounded animal. The cut was slight. The demon had moved in time to avoid any major damage. Grace winced at the thick, black blood on the edge
of her sword.
Dylan snarled in return, jumping in and hacking with his sword. His athletic body moved easily, but in his desperation, even Grace could see his mistakes. Sloppy. He just wanted this demon dead and he wasn’t prepared to wait.
Grace backed him up, covering his flank as they backed the demon into the corner. It was spitting and howling in anger, slashing with dangerous claws and dodging with a speed Grace had never imagined.
It was cornered and that made this arguably harder. But she pressed onward, closing the distance backing it tighter into the corner until there would be no room to swipe, but plenty of room for a sword to slide in and make its mark.
Then the demon turned, scrabbling at the wall. The wall itself seemed to warp, to give way.
For a second, all either of them could do was stare as the wall itself seemed to warp and twist in front of their very eyes, until the demon could sink a hand into it.
In an instant, Grace realized what it was trying to do, and the panic shot through her like an arrow.
“Dylan, kill it!” she yelled. “Now!”
He leaped forward, plunging his sword forward. But instead of plunging it into the demon, there was only air where it had been just seconds ago. The wall itself twisted and warmed and glowed dully in the light, an awful parody of the portal they had stepped into before.
Confusion lit Dylan’s face for a moment before fury flooded his features as he realized what had happened.
“A portal, seriously?!” he yelled, anger twisting his features.
Swearing, he sheathed his sword and stepped forward towards the portal. It was all happening so fast, seconds at most passing between the demon jumping into the portal, and Dylan following it.
“Dylan, no!” Grace yelled.
But it was too late.
Dylan jumped into the portal, disappearing through the wall, into the unknown beyond.
For a second, Grace didn’t know what she should do. Should she follow Dylan into the unknown, and danger, or stay here like she was supposed to, find another demon, slay it and be done with it?
She didn’t know. But she found, in a sudden realization, that she just couldn’t leave Dylan to his own devices. She didn’t want him hurt.
So, she had to go with him. Sheathing her own sword, she approached the wall. It was still warping and distorting and twisting, but the ripples were slowing.
She realized that she had only seconds to decide.
Taking a deep breath and steeling herself, Grace plunged headfirst into the portal, her eyes firmly shut. This time, the ride wasn’t smooth and easy. It was like being tossed around a dyer and thrown out the other side, burnt and sore. It was fierce and hot and uncomfortable. It was made for demons and an angel, or Nephilim, wasn’t going to have a smooth time.
When her feet hit the floor, she immediately reached for the hilt of her sword and scanned the area around her. The demon wasn’t in immediate reach, and neither was Dylan.
It took her no more than a few minutes to work out that she had definitely made the wrong choice.
They weren’t supposed to be there. The ice-cold floor beneath her hands was chilling her to the bone. The ceilings above her seemed to stretch for an age and she couldn’t see the top. The air around them felt hard and the world felt cruel.
She had read about this place, been warned about this place, and told that there was no way anyone at the academy was ready for it yet, except the teachers.
They had fallen into the second level of hell, and there was no way they were ready for it.
The demon let out a triumphant howl.
They had really messed up.
~
“Dylan, we need to get out of here!” Grace called across the wasteland that stretched between them.
He ignored her, his sword once against drawn, his focus entirely on the demon that had lured them down into the second level of hell. It was so cold that her body ached from it, but she forced herself to move, to run across the cold, hard landscape.
The demon was slashing at Dylan with those terrible claws and the cold air seemed to have helped it move better, easier.
She supposed the painful, burnt skin was soothed by the cold, a brief relief to the torment that demons relied on for life. And now it was moving with the sort of fever that no one could have predicted. Dylan was blocking attacks left and right, his skills the only thing standing between him and a fierce slice to the stomach.
He was panting, out of breath as he moved and ducked and dodged. “Damn… thing!” he spat out, hatred in his tone.
Grace scrambled to reach him, drawing her own sword. “We’re in the second level, Dylan. We can’t be here!” Grace said, raising her own sword as she found her feet, stabilizing on the slick ground.
“We’ll go when this demon is dead on the ground!” Dylan found a gap, leaping forward and slicing at the creature’s arm.
Grace gritted her teeth at his stubbornness and surged forward, swiping her blade towards the demon. He dodged, but she threw herself into the movement of the slippery ground and used it to catapult her around, her sword slicing through his side.
They would need to remove its head first. Only then could they complete the ritual and kill it once and for all. Still, every blow weakened it.
Grace scrambled to get back to her feet, twisting and raising her sword only to have the demon slash at her, screaming and attacking with fever.
The creature, the demon, was furious. The screeching hurt Grace’s ears and she could practically feel the malice emanating from it, sparking heat and pain wherever it went. This thing was corrupted, painfully and hatefully dark, taken in by hell and spat back out in a rush of pain and misery.
Dylan didn’t waste any time coming to her aid, leaping forward and lashing out with his sword. The demon dodged it, proving again its amazing sense of danger and speed, enhanced now. It shrieked and stepped forward, slicing with its massive claws, dark and dangerous.
This time, Dylan didn’t dodge in time. It caught his side and he collapsed onto the ground with a yell.
“Dylan!” Grace panicked. She jumped forward sliding upwards with her sword, driving the demon back as it loomed over Dylan. It wanted his blood, wanted him dead and Grace just couldn’t let that happen.
“Get up!” she screamed, her voice cracking as she drove her sword forward.
It was just like she’d practiced with Vance.
Taking another deep breath, Grace surged forward, turning at the last moment to angle her sword away from the demon, aiming at it instead. The demon blocked easily, taking a step and slashing at her with an upward motion.
The demon howled, shifted its body and turned, raising its claws. Grace had a split second to realize what was happening, before it charged her. Grace instinctively raised her sword. She felt claws glance off her sword and side down.
The tip of his claws brushed against her neck and Grace gasped in surprise. Grace twisted at the last second, skidding on the ice and sliding out of the way. She scrambled to her feet and took a step back, trying to calm her racing heart. Grace raised her sword, moving towards it again.
This time, she managed to land another blow and the creature scuttled back long enough for Grace to glance over at Dylan. He was bleeding, but awake, pushing himself to his feet.
“Keep driving it back!” he called, grabbing his own sword.
In that split second, Grace knew what he was going to do. “Okay, but careful of the slide.”
He nodded.
Grace turned her attention back to the demon, as it rushed at her. She twisted her body, sliding forward steadily, blow by blow, blocking its attacks and stepping forward steadily, pushing it backward, twisting it around, keeping its attention on her.
Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she was breathing heavily, but she didn’t stop, not even for a second. They were so close, so close, so close!
Dylan braced himself, steadying himself. She saw the grimace of pain, the determination i
n his eyes. Then he ran forward, using the ice to his advantage to slide across the ground silently, raising his sword. At the last second, Grace leaped backward, clearing the way for his blade.
He sliced upwards in a perfect arch, the demon’s head flying across the ground, twisted in a grimace of fury. Grace scrambled away from the black blood that leaked across the frozen floor.
The demon's body flopped for a few more seconds, clawing blindly at them, before it collapsed, shriveled and smoking on the ice.
Dylan was panting heavily, clearly struggling to catch his breath, but he crawled across the ice, and kicked its head towards Grace.
Grace thought she was going to be sick. With shaking hands, she found the sacred ingredients that she kept on her belt. Hurriedly, she anointed the demon’s head, muttering the spell that they’d been taught.
Not an exorcism, per se, but a cleaning ritual, so that this demon and this body would never come back to life, never undertake such damage again, or pass it to anyone else.
There was a scream that echoed across the planes, and a rush of the foulest smelling black smoke, and then there was silence.
Grace bit back the bile that rose up in her chest, threatening to come up if she thought too hard about what she’d just done.
The stink was in her clothes, in her mind. She would never forget this.
Dylan looked at her, a mixture of surprise and triumph on his face. “We did it.”
Then he collapsed.
~ ACT 3 ~
Escaping Hell
Chapter 9
“Dylan!” Grace kicked the remains of the demon away, scrambling to his side. He was losing blood, but it wasn’t as bad as she had feared. He definitely needed medical attention, but he wasn’t going to bleed out right here and now.
Relieved, Grace rummaged around for the basic supplies she had packed, finding the bandage. She pulled up Dylan’s shirt, revealing the gash. She winced, and cleaned away the worst of the blood, before bandaging the wound.