Chapter Nineteen
If Dagon figured correctly, there would be three more portals to break through, and somewhere after the next one—which would put him within ten miles of the main level—he should be able to make contact with Enlil and Lenore. Not having mated Holly, it might be difficult to pick up a long-distance mind connection with her. He could hope, but it was extremely unlikely. He fervently prayed that Enlil and Lenore were keeping her safe.
Lavarette and the dozen glowies under her command positioned themselves off to either side of the new portal. They decided to go with the plan that had worked so well the first time, and Dagon brazenly walked up to the carved doorway.
“Demons! I have come peacefully to ask for passage through to the next level. May I enter?”
You may enter, came the screech, accompanied by a blast of fowl air, redolent of rotten eggs. But you’ll wish you hadn’t. The malevolent laugh that followed sounded shrill and tore into the soft tissue of Dagon’s ears.
What the fuck was that? Dagon questioned his glowie allies.
Nothing we’ve ever heard before, came the unsettling answer from Slaggat and Craggar, who had his back. After the last victory, they remained pumped up and waited to dispose of the demons. Dagon wasn’t quite as certain. He faced forward again.
“Show yourself, guardian of the gate. I find it uncomfortable yelling into the darkness. Surely you’re not afraid of me?” Most demons couldn’t resist the need to retaliate against taunting.
Nergal said you are a tricky one. The fingernails on blackboard voice rent the air again. He said you killed the portal protectors on the level below. You will find that we are not quite so accommodating.
Damn. Looks like we need a new plan, Dagon told his cohorts. He was disappointed things wouldn’t go as easily as before, but resigned himself that Nergal would increase the difficulties he faced the nearer he got to his goal. Had Nergal warned these new demons about his band of glowies? They hadn’t been mentioned. Perhaps Nergal couldn’t get a read on Dagon’s new friends and believed he still acted alone. That could aid his cause.
Lavarette broke into Dagon’s thoughts and let him know what she wanted to do. Let us storm the passage, master. It was the move they’d made back when their queen had been alive. It hadn’t worked then, and Dagon doubted if it would work now. Lavarette was brave, but Dagon was about to teach her to be sly.
No, hold back. I have a better idea. The forward group moved stealthily into the shadows to confer.
Once the palaver had wrapped up, Dagon approached the portal for the second time. “Demons! I…wait…uh…aah!” Dagon clutched at his throat and made hideous choking noises. “Nergal, no!” He whipped around in circles and beat at his head in an ineffectual manner. “Stop! Please…I beg of you!” He glanced out from under lowered lids and saw the first of some ugly-assed, bird-like demons taking tentative steps through the doorway.
“Argh! No! Have mercy!” Dagon hacked a few more times and then dropped to the floor, mouth open, tongue lolling, twitching twice before stilling, fifteen feet from the egress he sought.
With eyes tightly closed, he heard the clicking of toenails on rock as one and then more of the bird bad guys approached. His head got nudged.
He’s not dead. I can see the pulse in his neck. The screechy voice was only a little less so up close. Dagon struggled to keep his face neutral.
Good. It’s been a long time since we’ve feasted on live meat. Let’s bring him back to the nest and we can pull him apart for a fine meal.
I say we kill him here. He’ll still be warm enough to satisfy our stomachs and much less trouble. Remember, he looks human but Nergal said he’s a god, so who knows what power he possesses.
Three distinct voices. Dagon wondered if he should wait to see if more would emerge. The decision was taken from him as the first two bird-beings agreed with the third.
All right. Let’s kill and eat him now.
In the split second it took for the trio to agree, Dagon leaped to his feet and backed off, crouching. “You’ll have to come and get me.” He had his big machete out of its sheath where it lay between his shoulder blades, and slicing the air, he tempted them to give it a try.
Facing this newest threat, Dagon was repulsed by the beady-eyed, blood-red-beaked horrors who sought to kill him. They stood tall and angular, and the feathers that covered their yellow bodies looked slick with grease that made them appear shiny and wet. Stick-like legs, reminiscent of a chicken, stood barbed front and back with lethal looking pincers. A shrill squeal split the air.
Shit, yeah. Dagon howled. I’m ready.
Chicken number one called for reinforcements. Well wasn’t that handy and just what he’d been hoping for, luring as many as possible from within the portal. Excitement and fear gripped Dagon at the same time. How easily would these demons go down?
Ten of the things finally emerged from their hidey-hole, and without hesitation, they circled for the kill. This was it. If they intended to engage, they’d do it now. Dagon gave the prearranged signal and glowies emerged from behind every rock. The battle began.
The demons proved they weren’t as easy to kill as their predecessors, but neither were they the hard-ass demons from the top layer who had bested Dagon again and again. For that, he could be thankful.
He drew his blade neatly through the skinny legs of the nearest avian atrocity, and Slaggat quickly dragged the incapacitated beast’s body away, tossing it into the nearest flaming abyss.
A lovely pungency emerged from the hole. These things smelled much better dead than alive. Hmmm, Dagon wondered, his stomach growling, maybe they’d taste like chicken.
It still seemed far too easy. Not more than ten minutes later, the last of the demons went down under his blade, and he stopped to catch his breath and look around. Two glowies had suffered injuries, but his mind-link told him that their hurts were nothing serious. He looked to where Lavarette and some of her soldiers examined the demon legs that had been severed during the battle.
“What do we have here?” Dagon used verbal language just in case Lavarette didn’t want to disclose something she’d found. On the contrary! She looked excited, and shared in head speak.
What we have here are new weapons…and quite a lot of them. All those who are interested may come forward. Dagon stepped closer, and sure enough, what she said seemed very plausible. Each leg held ten pairs of lethal looking pincers, and the industrious glowie had already taken it upon herself to remove some. She spoke to Dagon and the small crowd who’d gathered around. “If we make a weapon from each individual spur, we can glean twenty new blades per leg,” she said excitedly. She looked over in time to stop Slaggat and Graville from tossing two more of the foul fowls into the pit. Save the legs.
She looked back to Dagon. “Including those two, we have a total of fourteen appendages. That means…280 more of our people will be armed and dangerous.”
He could see the thrill flickering in her eyes. “Put some of your crew on it.” More weapons would be welcome. “While you and I scout up ahead and see if there are any more of these feathery freaks waiting for us on the other side.”
Lavarette nodded her agreement and split her troops in half. One group would procure blades, the others would back up Dagon and Lavarette. There was no telling what they might find, and they needed to be prepared.
Dagon leaned into the portal and took a good long sniff. Yes, promising. No nasty rotten-egg smell. His stomach growled. If there were any more, he’d have to see if they tasted as good as their aroma suggested…although eating something that spoke had never been high on his list of proteins.
“Hellooooo…” He and the head glowie, shoulder to shoulder, made their way into the chamber beyond the doorway. Empty. Just like the last time, only in this room, besides the fire pit for cooking, several nests snugged up against the walls. Dagon walked cautiously to the first. What he saw inside startled him. Bones. Human bones. Not just a few, but piles of them lining the edges, and skulls gri
nning blankly from where they had been decoratively perched amongst the carnage.
Well, how about that. Apparently the bird demons didn’t have his aversion to consuming fellow sentient beings.
Lavarette answered his unspoken question. “Occasionally we see a human on our level. One of the damned who have wandered off from the area where they are kept.” Lavarette peered into the next nest over. “But I had no idea they existed in these numbers.”
Dagon had to agree. On the level where Nergal and Ereshkigal resided, the odd human would pop up, but it was a rare occurrence. He’d never actually been to the part of Hell where doomed souls were sent and he never wanted to. But his wishes had never been anyone’s priority, and this one probably wasn’t going to be either.
He steeled his companions for the worst. “We may have discovered the level where damned humans get relegated.” Dagon opened his ears, using his superior hearing, and faintly heard what might be the clamoring of cursed dead. “I know that one occasionally escapes to your level or the level I’m familiar with, but most could be stuck here.” Dagon, not one to be easily skeeved, felt an unfamiliar shiver go up his spine. “Gather all your people in a tight group, weaponed individuals to the perimeter. We’ll need everyone massed together before we move forward to see what greets us.”
Slaggat and Minrella had been listening and even the petite glowie—who had been able to put a positive spin on everything to this point—couldn’t find anything good to say about what they might find. “Humans scare me,” she admitted.
Slaggat gathered her close, hiding her tiny face against his chest. “I won’t let them hurt you, my love. Quiet now.” He soothed her the best he could.
This time when the glowies convened, none went out in search of food. Word had spread quickly among the collective of the possible evil they would soon face, and they girded themselves to meet it. Dagon and his core group of glowies held steady, thankful for the new weaponry they had just acquired.
How many glowies would take up a sharpened talon and risk themselves? Most of these kind souls were simple workers, not champions, and didn’t have it in them to wage war. However, what Dagon hadn’t taken into consideration was the basic need the males had to protect their loved ones from harm. Before he knew it, he and Lavarette had far more volunteers than they could possibly use. Slaggat, Craggar, and Graville led the way.
Show us what to do. Slaggat was ready to protect Minrella with his life, and Lavarette looked surprised when Graville came forward and shyly told her that he’d be watching to make sure she remained safe. These few champions were all business.
Listen up everybody. I will explain to Graville how to attach this blade to…Lavarette looked around to see what materials she had handy…to a bone, There were plenty of those. Then we will guide you all through the process until as many of you are armed as possible. As soon as we have our weapons, we will form a protective circle around our civilians, and move as one upward toward the next portal.
Dagon chimed in. I don’t think the dead humans, if that’s what’s ahead, will be dangerous as long as we don’t show weakness. They are used to demons picking them off and will be leery to approach unless we prove timid.
Nods of agreement could be seen throughout the room. Dagon, on the off chance that he could reach Holly and the Blue Hills crew in Hell, gave a mental shout out. Enlil, Lenore? Are you there? He tried two more times, but didn’t receive an answer. It was only to be expected, he consoled himself, and dejectedly settled down for a quick catnap while the glowies got ready.
Dagon dreamed that Holly nuzzled his ear, giggling into its whorls. He sighed contentedly and turned toward her, wanting her mouth on his and the press of her slight weight atop his body. It was a pleasant interlude, but once she started tickling his nose, he silently urged her to straddle his body and rub the heat of her pussy up and down his cock. Forget this teasing shit. He wanted nothing short of full penetration.
When she didn’t stop the torture, he brought his hand up to brush at his face. The tickling stopped for a moment and then became more persistent. Dagon sneezed, eliciting more giggles. This was not the dream he wanted. Slowly, he opened one eye and several small culprits sprung backward, still full of chortles. Glowie children. He’d noticed them before, hiding amongst their elders, and weren’t they just the cutest little things.
Clearly they looked for his reaction, and he didn’t want to disappoint. Dagon searched his mind for some power still available to him—hobbled as he was in the Underworld—and came up with one that would bring instant satisfaction.
Dagon concentrated deeply, and when his abused nose changed into a snout, he knew he had produced the right effect. He rose slightly from his reclining position and pretended to snarl menacingly. His erstwhile tormentors backed off, squealing in terror and glee, waiting to see what he’d do next. Dagon slowly let his lips part and revealed his long, sharp, and sinister fangs. The little ones scattered with a series of shrieks, and he came slowly back to himself, chuckling in delight. Looking around, he received good-natured looks of amused approval from a group of adults.
Dagon shook his head in wonderment. How he liked these glowies. He hadn’t felt as much a part of a group since the early days of being with the gods. If he got out of here, before he even contemplated going back to the earth’s surface, he would make things right with Nergal so that the collective would never have to suffer again.
All too soon it was time to forge on. Lavarette approached and told him they were ready. Everyone had their weapons and their orders. Dagon insisted upon going first.
“If anything happens, I know you have me covered,” he explained to his immediate group. “You saw my little display for the children. When we get near the lost souls, I’ll change entirely. Not just the little bit you saw. I’ll become much bigger, broader, and more fierce. Understand that I’m still in control of my behavior, and I won’t mistake my friends for foes.”
All around him heads nodded, and without further discussion, the large entourage moved off through the nearest tunnel as one.
As agreed, he had taken up the pole position and transformed. For the first time, he was as unselfconscious of his serpent persona as he had been with Anshar as a child. He felt free.
When they encountered their first large, stalactite-ceilinged chamber on the journey upward, a lethargic group of doomed humans watched them pass without so much as a raised hand. It went easier than he could have imagined. Their soulless eyes had obviously seen much in their years underground and they weren’t about to ask for trouble.
The next group wasn’t quite so remote. They obviously hadn’t been below for as long as the previous bodies and played off each other’s bravado to see if they could provoke some kind of a reaction from the upward travelers. But when none of their enticements worked, they gave up without a fight. It was no fun when there was nothing to win and everything to lose.
The third group was the most disturbing. In the largest cavern yet, thousands of damned bodies packed the space, milling about, perching on rocks, packing into hollows high up on the walls. More souls abided here than in any of the other chambers they’d seen in hell thus far. And hell it was. Because far from attacking Dagon and the glowies, they surrounded them instead, dragging their cold, blistered hands over the group in entreaty. Dagon felt like he had been thrust into a dirt-poor, Third World country where urchins crowded around asking for food or coin, but what these dead looked for was far more difficult to provide. They sought comfort in the form of warmth or kind words. Whatever the crimes that had landed them here, they had long ago forgotten their digressions and scrambled for scraps of anything good.
Many of the glowies couldn’t help themselves, bestowing hugs and murmuring platitudes. But they quickly found this slowed them down so much that they became swamped by more and more needy souls. Dagon sadly had to put a stop to it and urged the glowies to forge ahead.
The group then picked up a significant train as it wended
its way through the third Underworld mantle. By the time Dagon and friends felt comfortable enough for a rest, hundreds wandered on the peripheries, watching curiously to see how the collective behaved.
Lavarette, ever cautious in her role as protector, did not let her guard down. We’ll take shifts sleeping, and only those who are armed will search for food.
Her precautions were not necessary. Once the damned understood that the glowies were hungry, and saw the bugs they ate, piles of them started appearing as the dead appointed themselves hunter-gatherers for the living.
Dagon had not imagined anything like this to be possible, and he was astounded all over again. Obvious these souls desperately looked for good deeds to perform in an atmosphere where very little ever changed, hoping to reverse their fates.
We’ll come back and see what can be done for them. Dagon assured the troubled glowie collective. The loving little opaque beings were so used to seeing everything in a positive light, that these doomed humans bothered them.
Funny, how in such a short time, Dagon had become a great believer in second chances. Here was something else he’d have to talk with Nergal about. The god of the Underworld would not be pleased with what Dagon had to say, nor was he going to be happy with the way Dagon had changed. But fuck him. If he appeared as pathetic as these lost souls, then so be it.
Some time later, after walking a few more miles, Dagon held an interesting conversation with Minrella on what these hell-dwellers would have done on Earth to doom themselves to this existence for eternity, when he thought he heard his name called.
“Minrella? Did you hear someone call me with the collective mind?”
“No Dagon. I did not,” the glowie answered.
“Huh. I must be imagining things.” He shrugged. “What was I saying?” Dagon heard the call again.
Boss man? Can you hear me?
“Oh my gods!” he exclaimed. Minrella’s eyes widened, instantly infected by his excitement.
“Minrella. I hear Lenore!”
Going Deep Page 16