From the outside, Dante's Inferno was easy to miss, concealed by the brownstone façade that opened up only at a single door. Pale light shone through an open window above the door, and Drew paused to look at a wooden sign hung overhead by two brass hooks. It swung softly in the faint breeze, and the print—black lettering with red, orange, and yellow streaks that might at one time have resembled flames—was faded and unassuming.
Drew looked around, ensured she had the right address, and then quietly stepped inside.
The interior was a bit livelier, although it was by no means loud or crowded. A handful of patrons sat at the bar, quietly nursing their drinks. A few twenty-somethings played pool in the back, and by the way they played and reacted to each shot, all of them had clearly taken in generous servings of alcohol. The ambiance was a combination of dejection and drunken cheer—the smells coming from the different groups creating a cross between engine exhaust and fresh salsa.
In the bar area stood a cute young man shaking some kind of mixed drink. Had circumstances been a little different, she might have given him the eye on her way through the dim room, but luckily for both of them, she wasn't looking.
And by the scent of his aura, neither was he.
The sound of a neon sign on its way out irritated her, and she had to make an effort to tune it out. Why choose this, of all places, to meet? Was it the obscure location or the dark, dank atmosphere?
The scent of demon was faint, but the black flicks to her aura made her easy to pick out. She had done a good job disguising herself as a human, albeit an Amazon of a woman. Drew strode to the back of the room with as much confidence as she could muster and slid into the booth across the table from her.
Polly smiled, setting down a tumbler of gin and tonic. "Hello, Drew."
Drew had expected an offer to shake hands, but failed to initiate the formal introduction herself when it didn't come. Demons were fickle creatures, unpredictable and often arrogant when it came to people like Drew. For all she knew, the move would enrage Polly rather than satisfy her ego.
Then again, it could've been a test, and in that case she'd failed miserably. If she had, Polly didn't let on.
Polly eyed Drew's skimpy clothing, amused. "J. D. told me you were a firecracker. You really are just as cute as a button. Michael is going to love you."
"I'm not exactly sure why I'm here."
"Of course not." Polly sighed, then muttered, "Thanks, J. D."
"So, what am I doing here?"
"Well, I have a meeting with an … old acquaintance. We're not on the best of terms these days, and I think he might be more forthcoming if someone a little less conflicting than myself came along as a buffer."
"That doesn't answer the question: Why me?"
Polly considered her words, looked like she might actually give a direct answer, and then turned away with a slight grimace. Her scent shifted a couple of times, going from smoky to sulfurous to slightly metallic. Clearly, she decided J. D. had made the right call by keeping her in the dark. Maybe she'd refuse to go if she knew what would be expected of her?
She shuddered at the thought of being sent to entertain some awful creature, something none of the pimp's fully human girls would be able to handle. It would be his style to send her off to a particularly terrible job to knock her back off the wagon.
Polly crossed her arms, grabbed her chin with one hand, and then gave Drew a sideways glance. "Are you questioning J. D.'s judgment?"
"No—no, not at all." Drew knew better than to continue pushing for a reasonable response. If Polly wanted her going in blind, there had to be a reason. Even more, the choice to send her was not likely a decision either of the demons had taken lightly, even if the rationale made sense to them alone.
"Good. Now, I know you've been teleported before, but this time is going to be much different than your previous experiences. It might be disorienting at first, so try not to puke."
Drew simply nodded. Man, I hope we're not going to pop to the peak of Mt. Everest or something like that. Or a boat in the middle of the ocean.
God, I hate boats.
Polly's cell phone beeped, and she pulled it from a pocket to take a look. "Time to go, kiddo." She stood, stretched, and then led Drew outside and to a dark alley nearby. The smell of sulfur grew overwhelming, which was never a good sign.
Drew felt her heart speed up a little, her palms going sweaty. Wherever they were going, she wasn't feeling good about it. She wanted to back out, come up with some quick excuse as to why she couldn't go, but J. D. would have her hide if she did that.
Polly took a moment to center herself. Was that dread Drew smelled? The demon turned to her with obvious hesitance. "Ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be."
In the blink of an eye, they were transported to … nowhere? Disorienting is an understatement, demon. And yes, it was a bit nauseating.
"What is this place?" Drew surveyed the seeming nothingness that now surrounded them. Other than the vast grey fog that rolled around them, not only in every direction she looked but also above them and in place of any semblance of solid ground below their feet, the only other visible phenomena were little flicks of light glimmering and fading randomly throughout the void. The place was neither warm nor cool, and Drew couldn't smell anything, ethereal or otherwise. While they walked, the illusion of even footing kept her from feeling like she might float away.
Polly didn't look the least bit concerned, so Drew did her best to hold her composure despite the unsteadiness that came with the artificial traction.
"Limbo—neutral ground. We're here to meet with the archangel Michael."
"How will we find him?"
"By will. He'll know how to find us."
As if on cue, a figure as massive as any demon, with silver hair and towering white wings, emerged through the haze. His features were slightly feminine, yet discernably masculine, and his eyes gleamed with what Drew could only imagine was the light of Heaven.
He gave Polly a subtle nod, keeping his distance. "So, you have my attention. What do you have for me?"
Polly shrugged. "I hoped you had a better idea of what's going on. Someone is smuggling angelite out of Heaven."
"Is that so? What would anyone in Heaven have to gain by smuggling out angelite?"
"You tell me."
He glanced at Drew. "Why did you bring a child of Lilith along with you? I thought we were to meet in private. If I knew better, I'd think I was walking into a trap of some kind."
"But you do know better."
Drew looked back and forth between the two. "Excuse me, but I don't really appreciate the third person dialogue. Child of Lilith? What the hell does that mean?"
Michael's wings rose and a deep scowl reflected his disgust. His voice was explosive, echoing all around them, when he responded: "You will address me with respect, or you won't address me at all." He turned to Polly. "What's the meaning of this insolence?"
"Oh, stand down, Michael. She was raised human. She doesn't know any better."
"I don't know any better than what?" Drew suddenly felt small, and growing smaller still, as though she were some kind of insect crawling beneath these two powerful, knowledgeable beings.
"Just be quiet for a minute." Polly stepped forward, in front of Drew. "She doesn't know what she is or what she's capable of. She's completely harmless."
"Someone needs to put her in her place."
Drew fought the temptation to defend herself and demand an explanation. Instead, she watched Polly stand between the angel and her, wishing she didn't feel so much like a third wheel.
"What do you want, Polly?" the angel asked, his voice much less intense.
"Hell has seen a noticeable decrease in incoming souls. Someone else has been claiming them. Lucifer actually thought, for some insane reason, your people might be behind it."
"God has similar suspicions about your boss. I told Him that was ridiculous, of course. How could either of us have anything to gain i
n destroying the other? That would be suicide."
"So you're seeing fewer souls making it to Heaven, too?"
Michael nodded. "We've crunched the numbers several times, and we can't account for the discrepancy."
"Do you have any leads?"
Michael considered her words. "I've paid Earth several visits, and the demonic activity down there is … substantial."
"Hell has had an additional problem as of late. Escapees."
"You expect me to believe anyone could escape Hell?"
"Djinn. A lot of them. Don't ask me how they're doing it. Clearly, it's an inside job. It's obvious to anyone with a brain that there's a connection. We're still trying to figure out what exactly that connection is. Do you know anything that might help fill in the gaps?"
"One of my searches led me to a church," Michael said, then immediately amended, "A religious cult. I tried to infiltrate it disguised as a human, but they wouldn't have me. Someone on the inside had to have recognized me."
"What else?"
"That's it."
Drew could tell Polly thought he was holding back—the trust between them was shaky at best—but she just smiled and nodded.
"A church … that's why I brought the succubus. She can show you what I can't." Polly motioned for Drew to come forward.
Drew meekly stepped up. "I don't have anything to show."
"You have your memories. Your kind constantly draws in the energy around you, which connects with everything you do, everything you see, everything that goes on around you. Your soul records it all as psychic photographs. You can show Michael what you've seen."
"How did you know I was at the church?"
Polly shrugged. "You don't think J. D. gives you that long of a leash, do you? He lets you get away with all he does because he likes you."
Michael stared Drew down, still unsure about her presence. "How can I trust you aren't going to use her as a weapon against me? I'm supposed to take you on your word that she's not going to steal the intelligence I've collected instead of giving me hers?"
Polly crossed her arms, getting impatient. "Either we're going to work together on this or we're not."
"I should have cleared this with God first," he said with a sigh. "I shouldn't have gone behind His back."
"Then go home and pull God into the loop, but make it quick. We're running out of time."
Michael looked between the two women, contemplated for another moment, and then offered Drew a tentative hand. "Show me."
She took his hand, shaking. "I don't know how."
Polly put a hand on her shoulder. "Close your eyes and think about everything you saw when you were at the church. You're going to project your memories the same way you project your consciousness beyond your body."
"But—"
"Relax. Let it flow out of you. Picture your memories like you would a movie in your mind's eye."
Drew nodded, taking a deep breath. "I'll try."
She pictured the cult leader and the darkness flooding his soul, then she thought about the man whose essence appeared to be composed of pure darkness and the tendrils that reached out from him toward every living thing in their reach—including her projected spirit. She thought about the people combing the streets for new members and the congregation she saw in the church proper. Then she thought about the way their leader had looked at her when he'd spotted her sitting in the pews.
She shuddered.
Michael pulled away. "That's enough."
She watched him, knowing based on her sudden fatigue she'd done something, but feeling unsure whether she'd actually shown him what she had intended to. "Did I do it?"
Michael nodded, and yet he looked puzzled.
"What is it?" Polly asked.
"The demons I followed … they're inhabiting a different church. They're not even in the same country."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm certain."
"What's that mean?" Drew asked, feeling a little sick.
"That means we're looking at possibly a global pandemic," Michael said. "Whatever is out there is big. It's highly organized. It's a whole new faction separate from Heaven and Hell, and somehow it's hiding away souls worldwide. Working toward cutting us off. Starving us."
Drew turned to Polly. "I'm not sure I understand. What do the souls do for you? Are they … food or something?"
"Or something. Collecting souls is our purpose. Without a purpose, Heaven and Hell as we know them will cease to exist and everyone in charge will die."
"God can die?"
"It's not going to happen. We're not going to let it happen," Michael said, his hands clenching into tight fists. He turned to Polly. "Keep in touch. I'll let you know if I learn anything new on my end."
Polly nodded.
Michael backed into the mist, fading.
"Hey," Polly called out.
He paused, barely visible. "Yes?"
"Give my regards to the Big Guy, if you would."
Michael paused long enough to roll his eyes and raise a parting hand, then he disappeared into the grey nothingness.
Drew looked around, unsure what else she expected to see. Like images in clouds, short tricks of the mind manifested fleeting shapes through the swirling greyness, but nothing concrete enough to mistake as anything real. Still, she squinted her eyes a couple of times to be sure the apparitions were just that.
"What now?"
Polly stared ahead at the spot where Michael had disappeared, looking lost in thought. "Now I take you home."
Drew blinked, then she staggered when she saw they now stood in her tiny, run-down apartment. The familiar scent of musty walls and grimy carpeting filled her nose, only slightly obscuring the metallic smell of blood and the lingering essence of spite.
Sour apples.
A single lamp filled the living room with a soft glow, plenty of light to see J. D. writhing on the floor, clutching his bloody chest.
He turned. "Drew!"
She stayed where she was, just as torn over helping him as she was shocked to see him in such a weakened state. Part of her wanted to see him die, the part that had—despite any claims he'd given her preferential treatment—brought her much pain when she'd tried to spread her wings a little too far. She had no other protection, though, and while she could defend herself against the average man, she was powerless against the advances of other, more malevolent beings.
Polly crossed to him and knelt to assess the damage. "Who did this?"
"I didn't recognize him. Some kind of lesser demon." He coughed, spraying blood.
Unfazed, Polly wiped away the spatter from her face and brushed what she could from her clothes. She turned to Drew. "Get a rag, will you?"
Drew hurried off to the bathroom to grab a spare towel from the cupboard. Instead of applying it herself, she handed it to Polly.
Polly moved to press on the wound, noticing the dagger, its handle broken off and the blade firmly embedded. "Shit."
"What did he want?" Drew asked, pacing nearby.
"He came for you, D." J. D. pointed with a burned, bloodied finger. "He'll be back."
Drew flinched at the pointed finger. The gesture in itself seemed to hit her in the chest, shooting a heavy jolt straight through the heart. "But you can stop him … right?"
He didn't seem to register the question, saying instead, "I need to get this dagger out of my chest before it kills me." He looked down at the wound then over at Polly, holding up his mangled hands.
Polly took another look beneath the bloody towel. "Maybe with a pair of pliers?"
"I don't have any," Drew chimed in, deciding she did indeed want him to survive.
"Polly!" He coughed again.
"The dagger's made of pure angelite—it's blocking my ability to conjure." Polly reached for the milky blue shard, using a layer of the towel for what Drew first guessed was for leverage. She made several attempts but couldn't get a decent hold on it. Smoke rose in sulfurous curls while Polly dug for the shard. H
er hand slipped, slicing a finger through the material and causing her to pull away. The wound sizzled as though a drop of acid had been flicked across it. Her hands were red and raw.
"Damn!" Polly wiped down her hands using another section of the towel.
A sickening gurgling sound emanated from J. D.'s throat while every muscle in his body flexed. He convulsed, gasped and coughed again, then went limp.
Drew placed a hand over her mouth. "Is he…?"
"Yeah."
An unexpected pang of sadness hit Drew, and she sniffled. When she tried to make sense of her grief, she realized it wasn't so much the loss that upset her as it was the fear of being left alone again on the streets. He might have been crude and controlling, but he was also extremely protective. "I don't understand. I've seen him take a knife to the chest before."
"It wasn't just a knife. The person who did this knew our weakness." Polly held up her wounded hands for emphasis.
"What is it?"
"It's a material that is most prevalent in Heaven, which means the assailant likely came from Heaven or has a connection there. His appearance here is very likely connected to everything else that's going on … and, for whatever reason, whoever is behind it seems to think you're enough of a threat to put a hit out on." Polly moved to stand beside Drew. "I need to get you out of here."
"I don't have anywhere else to go."
"I can think of one place."
Chapter 23
Never in her wildest nightmares did Drew imagine she would ever find herself wandering through the deepest reaches of Hell. The sudden teleport there had been jarring, much more so than her trip to Limbo, and nothing could have prepared her for the onslaught of heat and sulfur that assaulted her the moment she entered. Sounds of torture and anguish surrounded her as an angry, chaotic din. She couldn't distinguish any one cry or device, nor did she see any activity in the immediate vicinity. Still, the sound rattled her profoundly, and it was all she could do not to cover her ears and scream at the top of her lungs to escape it.
Cast In Blood: Revelations Series Book 1: Page 12