“Who’s this?” Mona asked hesitantly.
“A ferryman,” Verrine knelt down to him, drawing a symbol on his palm with her finger, “They’re deaf and blind and the only ones who can navigate the river. Thankfully, they have no allegiance to anyone, just to obols.” She held up a silver coin to show them, then placed it in his outstretched hand which he tucked into his cloak. He lifted a long pole from the boat and dipped it into the water, then waited for them.
Verrine was in first and reached out a hand to steady Sophie. She felt Adam’s hands on her back, just slightly, as she stepped in and looked back at him. He pulled away immediately and averted his eyes, instead offering a hand to Mona who only looked at him sidelong, snorted, and jumped in on her own.
The ferryman pushed them away from the dock with his pole and they cut through the haze into the open water. Soon the dock disappeared into the gentle mist that hung over the bank, and they found themselves drifting in open water with just the dim light of the ferryman’s torch illuminating their boat.
Sophie looked out over both sides, but the river seemed to go on forever. She pressed herself down into the wooden hull, wary of the splashing waters, and focused instead across the boat on Mona’s face. The girl, the strigori, she reminded herself, had been staring at her. "That could have been you," she whispered, her eyes heavy and sad. Before Sophie could ask what she meant, Mona turned to the black waters and sighed, “Sophie I'm so sorry.”
“Mona, no, you don't have to say anything. I understand.” She shook her head. She knew the strigori had been given a task, and it was her change of heart that really mattered.
“No, you don't. You don't even know why I'm sorry,” Mona looked back at her, and Sophie noticed something in her face had changed. Mona. of course, always looked young with rounder features, a small nose, large eyes, but now something in her face screamed age, and she looked tired. "I used to really hate you. And it had nothing to do with you being a demon. It was really childish," she laughed slightly under her breath, "But what else would you expect from a child, right?" Her voice had lost its usual harsh tone, "Of course, I'm not fifteen. I never really was, but I’m physically stuck at that moment in time, in that body.
“They changed me almost seventy years ago,” she spoke as though she were realizing for the first time, “I was part of a project with children. When some humans are changed they develop special powers. There’s a sweet spot somewhere in the early teens for that, and I was one of the few lucky enough to get something a little extra special, but others, well, the strigori venom has a different effect, speeds up the aging process and just kills them. My little sister wasn’t as lucky as I was.”
“Mona,” Sophie reached out and put a hand on her arm.
“She didn’t die,” Mona stared off into the waters again, “She would have, but they preserved her. Said if I helped them they could wake her up. It didn’t matter that they’d killed my parents then, only that I could get my sister back. I saw her body a few times, I held onto that, but I never connected with anyone like I did with Michael. He helped me and treated me differently, like a friend. I liked that. Then when I knew what his role would be with you, I got jealous. I hated you. It made things a lot easier,” she laughed and wiped at her face, “but it didn’t last because you had to go and be nice to me, treat me like I was your family. You reminded me of Mary. Sophie, I'm sorry this had to happen to you," Mona broke her gaze from the water and looked back to her friend, "And I'm sorry I was part of it."
"Mona, don't-"
"No, you don't understand," Mona's eyes became glassy and her words ran together, "You could have been changed. When we planned for Michael to bite you, we hoped it would bring out your true self, your buried soul, but you could have become a demon, stayed human, or you could have been turned into a strigori. There is no worse fate, Sophie. Strigori pretend they’re immortal, and to humans, yeah, we seem like it, but the truth is we can't allow ourselves to die. Every creature has a survival instinct, but none is so strong as the strigori's. Every being's existence is dependent on their soul, but a strigori's soul is not their own. When we bite, we can feed, we can poison, we can kill, and we can change. The bite that changes takes the victim to the edge of death, then, just before pushing them over, takes away a small part of their soul and replaces it with...this,” she held out her hands, “But if I die, I won’t have an intact soul. I shouldn’t have made that a possibility for you.”
“You’ve never changed anyone?” Verrine’s voice drifted back from the front of the boat.
Mona was solemn and closed her eyes, “No.”
The boat lurched as it connected with a dock. The structure had emerged from nowhere, but as the other was twisted and old, this stood healthy and straight, climbing from the waters with an ancient elegance. Their vessel was dwarfed by its size, an edifice clearly made for much larger ships, but did have a small ramp that jutted off its side for small passenger boats. They disembarked and followed the dock, this time with no fear of lapping waters.
Stepping onto the bank, Sophie again admired the ginger sand against the black waters, sparkling despite being beneath a sun and moonless sky. Set off from the bank ahead of them ran a white stone wall, at its center a tall, arching gateway.
“A little more desolate than normal?” Adam questioned as they traveled to the archway.
Verrine nodded gravely, “I don’t like the looks of it. I’ve never seen it like this before.”
The archway poured up into the sky, pale and twisted, and as they moved closer, Sophie could make out figures on the gates, bodies ranging from a few inches to a few feet in height, twisting and climbing upward, some jutting out from the stone and others shrinking back into it. They looked almost like they moved and Sophie wanted to touch them, but what lay at the center of the arch made her stop. In the space between she expected whatever was hidden beyond the wall to be revealed, but instead there was only blackness, an abyss.
"All right, you three," Verrine stood before the black void and addressed them, "Keep in mind that none of your kind, any of you, are technically welcome here, so just,” she eyed Mona, “behave.” She pressed her hand against the gate and whispered in an unknown tongue then turned back to them, “This will take us directly into the hall. I don’t need a horde of guards falling on us because I’ve got strangers with me. Now come on,” she gave them a little smile and stepped into the blackness, disappearing as she went, and the three followed suit.
Inside was immense. A fire burned in a tall cylinder in the room's center and the flames licked at the immeasurably high ceiling, casting a warm glow on the entire room. Cool gray, circular walls made up the large foyer and a separate circle of large stones bordered the flame. A set of wooden doors lay closed on the opposing side of the fire and on either side of the doors staircases gently curved inward to a shared landing above. Sophie's heart ceased pounding and her shoulders slumped, she hadn't even known she was so tense. But Verrine didn't allow them much time to gawk at the grand foyer and hurried around the fire. Adam followed, uninterested, and Mona seemed too anxious to linger.
"So," Sophie spoke with her voice low despite that they were alone, "this is really Hell?"
Verrine turned to her with a smile, "Yes and no. Not what a human would perceive as Hell anyway. There are seven realms to Hell, just like Heaven. There haven’t always been, but as demons have evolved, we’ve had to make the place suit our needs. We’re in the third realm now where your parents govern.”
Sophie’s nerves rattled. She would meet them, here, and she had no time to prepare. She wanted to yell to Verrine to stop, not open the door. She just wanted to stand here for a moment and breathe. Maybe forever. But instead, Verrine walked through the passage with such purpose the others had to follow.
“Lady Verrine!” the high-pitched voice was full of as much tension as it was excitement and was paired with the sound of feet slapping hard and fast on the stone floor, “Thanks be to the night! The alarm ha
d been raised, and I could only hope it was one of you. Please tell me you haven’t arrived alone!”
The creature was short in stature, maybe two and a half feet tall, and very round, yet he moved quite swiftly toward them. His tail, at least as long as his body, slashed behind him as he went and his black, leathery skin glistened in the light of the flames that lined the walls. He came to a sharp stop at Verrine’s feet and stared up at her with bulbous eyes, waiting and tapping his foot, “Well?”
“And hello to you too, Thanatos.” Verrine crossed her arms and furrowed her brow, “Clearly I’m not alone. Now where are—”
She was silenced by the creature as he raised a hand to her, his enormous, misty eyes secured on Sophie. She stared back at him, amazed at the inhumanness of the little critter. He opened his mouth, more a snout really, and whistled, “By Michael’s feathers can it really be?”
“Oh,” Verrine scratched her head awkwardly, “Thanatos would recognize you, wouldn’t he?”
“Then it is?” the creature expectantly ping ponged his head from one to the other.
“Yeah,” a satisfied smile took over Verrine’s face, “It is.”
“Your Highness,” he dropped to one knee and bowed his head.
“Oh, no, no,” Sophie nervously looked around at the others as she motioned at the little being, “Don’t do that. That’s weird.”
“Your Highness?” he wobbled for a moment between kneeling and standing, coming back up to his full height at the urgency with which she motioned to him.
“Ah, yeah,” Verrine poked his shoulder, “Soph is a human now so she’s not used to...all this,” the woman gestured to the room.
Thanatos narrowed his eyes, “Human? How?”
“It’s probably a long and complicated story that we don’t have time for right now,” Verrine shrugged, “Now what I need to know—”
“My Lady?” a soft, feminine voice sounded from the other end of the room. A tall, slender woman had appeared in the doorway dressed in a long, silky, crimson gown that dipped low at its front. She came toward them with her arms outstretched, proving to be even taller than Adam as she leaned down to embrace Verrine. Her skin was the color of cinnamon, her hair dark and straight, pulled tight away from her face. She offered a restrained yet warm smile to the others until her golden eyes fell on Sophie. Her mouth fell open and she whispered, “Oh, my.”
The woman fell to one knee and held her arm out before her bowed head in salute, “Her Highness has returned.” Sophie again fidgeted and pleaded with the woman to stand. She raised her head to Sophie, this time wearing a broad grin, then stood and wrapped her arms around the girl. The embrace felt familiar, loving, and Sophie did not feel the need to shy away. When the woman pulled back, she kept hold of her arms with a firm yet gentle squeeze, “I am so very thankful for this moment.” She had sharp, small features and a thin, slightly hooked nose. She let out a small sigh before releasing Sophie and gracefully folding her hands before her, “Verrine, we must see the others immediately.”
“Exactly what I wanted, Pru,” Verrine noted, following the woman when she turned and lead them through the room to another chamber.
Sophie felt overwhelmed, yet her feet kept moving. Was no one going to ask her what she wanted? If she was ready? If perhaps, at least, she’d like a shower first?
But before she knew, she stood at yet another doorway that was being opened, this time into a room that held two stone thrones on a raised dais. Behind the thrones, long banners hung against the stone wall, bringing color and warmth into the chamber. There were voices here as well, arguing it seemed, as the sounds echoed in the high-ceilinged space. When the woman called Pru stepped to the side, Sophie saw the voices’ owners. Splayed on the steps lay a broad-chested and even larger-bellied man, looking all the more bulky for the metal plated armor he wore. From beneath a horned helmet, ribbons of fiery orange hair spilled, entangling themselves with a long, full beard. Beside him, a petite woman sat, crouched over a bowl that she dug a pestle into. She wore black leggings and a black jacket with a thick belt covered in pouches, and spoke to the large man rapidly, stopping her task every few moments to push back dark strands that fell across her sandy-colored skin.
Three others stood at the foot of the dais, a lanky white-haired man and a muscular woman who both had arms crossed and brows furrowed. They spoke with a man who had his back to Sophie and the others, a longbow slung diagonally across his back. Pru had gone behind Sophie and placed her hands on her shoulders, a strangely comforting gesture, as the rest came into the room and filed behind them. The wiry man saw them first and lost his rigid stance, dropping his arms, the pout on his face replaced with confusion. As his voice dropped from the room, the great woman’s at his side followed suit, and she stared at them in awe. The man they spoke to questioned their sudden silence and then turned. He was strikingly handsome with curled black hair and skin like mocha. When his eyes, emeralds shining from dark hollows, fell on Sophie, he reached for his longbow. Without looking away from her, he aimed at the two still in heated debate lounging on the dais. An arrow materialized just before he shot and it sailed at the others, landing in the stone between them and making them jump to attention.
After a moment of silent awe, the five rushed to Sophie and dropped down in salute, just as Pru had done. It was too much for her and she covered her face, feeling redness prickle across it, this time too embarrassed to request they stand. Instead, Verrine urged them up and tried explaining that Sophie was not exactly herself.
“Your Highness,” the handsome, dark-haired man stepped forward, taking up one of her hands in both of his, “Your safe return is more than any of us could have hoped.” He brought her hand to his lips before releasing it.
“Reym,” Verrine said, naming the man as she came to stand next to Sophie, “He and the others are the elite guard in this realm. You’ve met Pru,” the tall woman gave Sophie’s shoulders a little squeeze, “And this is Buer and Carabia,” the rotund man dipped his head down once again, his face obscured by the mass of red hair save for a bulbous nose, and the small, sprightly woman repeated his action, her heavily-lidded eyes squeezed shut, and small mouth stretched into a grin, “and Aeshma and Ose.” Sophie had never seen such a muscled woman before, but there was no mistaking her feminine features, wide hips, and even her skull, shaved on both sides above her ears, was beautiful. She wore very little, her bronzed skin glistening under the flames of the room, and her black hair raised up like a horse’s mane, running down the center of her head and the length of her back. In striking contrast, a scrawny man stood at her side with white hair, pale in complexion like Verrine. He had large, gray eyes and a turned up nose with high cheekbones and pursed, thin lips. He bowed deepest with perfect poise.
“Sophie’s memory is...foggy,” Verrine explained delicately, “so this is all very new to her. We need to go out of our way to make her feel at home.”
“No, no,” Sophie kept her head down, “Don’t worry about me.”
“Nonsense,” Aeshma spoke in a throaty voice, “We exist to protect our kindred, and your family. You are our greatest concern, milady.”
Sophie’s eyes widened; it was such a strange thing to hear.
Pru spoke from above her, “And that includes your guests.”
“Yes!” Sophie quickly turned, happy to direct attention away from herself, “This is Mona,” she pulled the small girl by her arm in front of her, “She’s a strigori, but don’t worry because she’s good.” Sophie noted the unnerved look that passed amongst the demons, and grabbed Adam’s sleeve, “And this is Adam.”
At this, the demons narrowed their gazes slightly, and Carabia audibly gasped, but the truest look of abhorrence was on Reym’s face.
“They saved my life in the Material World,” Verrine spoke up, “As well as Sophie’s. We all owe them a debt of gratitude. But for now I was really hoping we could speak with the king and queen.”
“Oh, she does not know,” Buer’s deep voi
ce resonated in the chamber, “Of course, she was gone before they left.”
“Excuse me?” Verrine looked a bit wild in her ashy eyes.
“The king and queen are gone. They are traveling deeper within the realms. They spoke very little of the mission, but requested we did not accompany them,” Reym spoke with a low, rumbling tone, “And the prince has also gone.”
“Troi?” Verrine sounded distraught, “Where? Why?”
“I was last to speak with him,” the little creature, Thanatos, offered, “Or rather, to be berated by him. He was enraged, as usual, but did not mention plans to leave.”
“As far as we know, the prince has never been outside these walls,” Carabia piped up in a flighty, breathy voice, “We have been...discussing what to do.”
Verrine turned to Sophie, Adam and Mona with an anxious half-grin, “I really expected them all to be here. I’m not sure what to do.”
They were quiet.
“We’re safe here,” Sophie reminded Verrine, “We have time to figure things out.”
Chapter 12
A thin beam of light cast itself between the blinds and crept across the floor onto the adjacent wall. Michael sat on the foot of the bed staring at the light, like a scar across the darkness. He traced the lines on his face absently then dropped his hand into his lap. His mind refused to work right surrounded by the rest of them, and he’d come here to be alone, but his thoughts were still too jumbled to sort out.
The door cracked open and the silhouette of a woman appeared in the light streaming in from the hall. He blinked a few times as she closed the door, sealing out the light again. "You seem out of sorts," Rose's voice was heavy and throaty as she made her way to his side.
Michael hung his head and said nothing.
The Nephilim: Book One Page 12