by Ted Dekker
The air smelled like an open wound rotting with gangrene, but it was laced with another scent that drew Janae like the sweet smell of water drawing herds after a long, parched season.
“Billy . . .”
He pushed his snorting mount onto the path, then into the forest.
“Billy?”
He smacked his horse’s rump and it bolted. Janae ducked low and raced after him. The darkness made the path nearly invisible, but the horses followed their own guide, hauling Billy and her into the jungle at breakneck speed.
Two thoughts drummed through her mind. The first was that they were rushing toward their deaths. The second was that she didn’t care, because she could smell life in the air, and this was the life she needed as much as breath itself.
The scent grew stronger, and with it her certainty that she had to reach the end of this path, if for no other reason than to find the source of the smell.
She called out his name later, in a moment of unexpected fear. “Billy.” But her voice was weak, and even if Billy was listening, his silence seemed appropriate. The fear lifted, and she hugged her horse’s neck as she rode it into the night.
Into this hell.
How long they rode or where the twisting path went, she neither knew nor cared. She kept telling herself she was going home. All secrets would be laid bare with her queen.
My queen. She whispered it aloud. “My queen. My queen.”
Her horse stopped suddenly and she jerked up in her saddle, eyes peeled. They had come to the bank of a large black pond surrounded by a thick forest. The Shataiki covered the canopy, their millions of red eyes staring in silence, casting a dim glow over the waters.
Janae pulled up next to Billy and followed his gaze. A single wooden platform stood on pylons over the water like a pier. And on the platform, three thick inverted crosses, black against the night.
Crosses. Why crosses?
Janae saw that five or six Shataiki carcasses had been nailed to the crosses and hung like huge dead rats. “Upside-down crucifixions.”
Billy kept his eyes on the ancient symbols of execution.
“Where is Marsuuv?” Janae asked.
“In the grave.”
They were whispering, and even then, Janae wondered what did or did not offend Shataiki. She felt her skin quiver, like the flesh of the mount beneath her. Something was wrong here. All of it was wrong, terribly wrong. All except the scent. And now her body quivered with desire.
“Where’s the grave?”
“In hell,” he said. “Below the crosses.”
“Under the lake?”
Billy directed his horse to a rotting wooden door into a large mound beside the lake. Like a bunker or a root cellar. For long seconds he sat on his horse and stared in silence. The throng overhead watched like a jury, perfectly still, as if what they were witnessing had been anticipated for a very long time.
History was being written before their eyes. But it wasn’t her they were staring at, she realized. It was Billy.
She looked over at him and saw that he was crying. Streams of tears wet his cheeks, and his face was wrinkled in anguish.
“My lover . . .” His voice was raspy, barely more than a whisper. “I’ve made it. I’ve come back to you.”
A knot rose in Janae’s throat. In this moment, she felt such a solidarity with him that she couldn’t hold back her own sentiment. “I love you, Billy.”
But the moment she said it, she knew she meant Marsuuv. She, like Billy, had found her lover. Certainly not in a way humans found lovers. No, this was far more basic, like finding water in a desert. Or blood after being drained.
Life.
Billy slowly gathered himself, then turned to her. “Do you have the strength?”
“Yes.”
“He’ll take everything.”
And give me his power, she thought.
“He’ll take your soul.”
She looked at the door, a rudimentary door bound together with vines in a criss-crossing pattern. “He already has it.”
Billy dipped his head, then reached for her hand. His fingers were ice-cold, but the gesture filled her with a new warmth.
“Thank you, Janae,” he said. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”
“Of course.”
He looked up at the three crosses on their right. “You know, I once thought I had defeated the evil in my heart. I learned something: We can face our demons, burn them up, stomp them into the ground. I turned mine to ashes. But even if you destroy the evidence of evil, you can’t heal your heart. Not by yourself. Only he can do that.”
Billy was staring up at the crosses when he said it, and for a moment Janae thought he was capitulating.
He looked at her again. Smiled. “Call me Judas, Janae. We all have our roles to play. I love him too much.”
Even if she wanted to, there was no way to turn back now. The scent pulled at her like an airborne intoxicant that beckoned her to come and taste. “I want to love him too.”
“He’s waiting,” Billy said. “Marsuuv is waiting.”
Then Billy and Janae slid from their saddles, walked up to the door, and descended into hell.
32
CHELISE LOST track of time as she followed the Roush through the forest, flooded with renewed energy and desire. Even the horse seemed to have gained strength, an almost unnatural stamina to chase this angel of mercy who flew above the branches, in and out of sight.
She knew that the desert would be upon them soon, and then it would be lighter and the path to the Circle more certain.
They are showing themselves again, she told herself. Something is happening. The world is flooded with darkness because it knows something is happening. It’s going to change. The thoughts repeated themselves over and over, and she clung to them as if they were a tether to Elyon himself.
She lost sight of the Roush in a thick section of forest, and with some panic wondered if he’d left her. Then she burst out of the trees and faced the open desert.
The white creature sat atop a small dune not fifty yards from the tree line, watching her.
Chelise walked the horse closer. Up the slope. She stopped twenty feet from the Roush.
“Come closer, my dear,” he said.
Oh, dear. Oh, dear, the Roush was speaking. Chelise couldn’t move.
“It’s okay, I know I must frighten you to no end. Like a ghost in the night.”
“No,” she blurted. “No, I . . .”
She couldn’t find the words to express her gratitude at seeing this Roush after so much fear and doubt.
The Roush looked at her a moment longer, then wobbled forward on spindly legs hardly made for walking. He stopped ten feet from her and spoke in a soft, comforting voice.
“I am Michal, and I’m here to give you courage. I come . . .”
Chelise heard nothing more because she was dropping to the sand, stumbling forward, craving to know, really know that this was no figment of her imagination, but a real, furry, white Roush.
She managed to come to her senses before running him over, feeling suddenly foolish. But instead of backing away, the Roush stuck out its wing.
“Go ahead. Everybody seems to want to make sure by touching these days.”
She touched his leathery skin. Ran her fingers over the fur along the wing’s spine. Then settled to her knees with a sob and gripped both of his wings.
Michal stepped closer, and she embraced his furry body. It was real, so very real. And soft, like downy cotton. Only when he coughed did it occur to her that she might be squeezing the air out of him. She let go and backed off.
“Sorry. Sorry.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, waddling to her right. “It happens.” He faced her. “Yes, dear, yes. It is all very real, don’t lose sight of that. The world is darker now than it has ever been. If you only knew the treachery being plotted in the Black Forest, you would tremble.”
“I already am trembling.”
He a
rched his brow. “Then take courage. If I’m real, so is Elyon. And if he is, so is his purpose.”
“So Thomas will be okay? Samuel, my father . . . all of them will be okay?”
“I didn’t say that. Darkness demands its price—”
“What price?”
“I can’t tell you what will happen. Frankly, I don’t know. But Thomas is no fool. Trust him. Do what you must do. Go with courage; the light is brimming behind all of this darkness. You’ll have to trust me.”
“But why?” She knew she was bordering on sacrilege, being so bold, but after days of fearing the worst without a hint of hope, she couldn’t help herself. “Why would Elyon force us to face such darkness and tragedy? For ten years now we run and die and, yes, we dance at night to forget it all, but still the horror haunts us. Why?”
Michal frowned. His mouth slowly formed a gentle, empathetic smile. “I’m sorry for your trouble, my dear. But aren’t lovers always tempted to find another? You humans are lovers, yes? So you have this awful tendency to reject him who first loved you and follow after intoxicating scents. Evil is a jealous lover who will try to destroy what it cannot possess, so now evil is having its say. But don’t discount the power of a loyal heart. You’ll see. Have hope.”
“How can I hope when evil will charge its price?”
Michal eyed her for a few moments, then, without any answer, he began to turn.
“Hurry, Chelise. The world waits for you.”
To do what?
“They will come for you in the desert. Wait for them.” And then he leaped into the air and glided into the night.
“Wait!”
“Courage, Chelise!” he called back. “The world awaits you!”
Who would come for her?
STANDING BEFORE the queen Marsuuv was like standing in the presence of God.
The vast underground library was lit by three torches that illuminated thousands of ancient books along the walls; the ceiling was covered by a black moss. But Janae felt only intrigue at these observations.
Marsuuv put out another scent, stronger even than the mucus, and it drew her like clover draws a bee.
They’d descended a long flight of stone steps in silence, then entered one of several tunnels cut horizontally under the lake. Flames illuminated the passage’s well-worn walls, interrupted by iron gates that closed off smaller rooms: a storage room filled with artifacts that Janae couldn’t place, a smaller study with a writing desk overgrown by roots, an atrium leading into another tunnel.
But Billy took them deeper still, seemingly drawn by a force beyond him. Perhaps his connection to Ba’al.
In the library, the four lost books sat on a large stone platform, a desk of sorts, flanked by two tarnished silver candlesticks fashioned to look like upside-down crosses.
Marsuuv sat on a large bed of red vines beyond the stone desk. The carving in the mossy rock wall behind him explained the crosses on the lake platform. Three hooked claws dug into the cross’s inverted beam—a display of dominance. The talons were so long and hooked that they resembled sixes. Their tips looked to have pierced the wall, coaxing forth small rivulets of a dark fluid.
The queen Marsuuv sat at the edge of the bed with his own long talons hanging nearly to the ground. His black fur looked manicured, not bare in spots like the other Shataiki they’d seen. Quite beautiful, actually.
His head was large, like a wolf ’s or a fruit bat’s, with pink lips loosely covering sharp fangs. Red eyes stared like marbles, shiny, without pupils. You could look at this creature and find it magnificent, Janae thought. Absolutely stunning.
She stood next to Billy before the beast, aware that she was trembling. The mix of emotions coursing through her mind made her legs feel weak. The queen was wonderful, but not even someone as enchanted as Janae could look at this sight and not fight off waves of terror. She was unsure which she should pay more attention to, her longing or her fear.
“Hello, Billy.” The queen’s voice purred, soft and seductive. “Welcome home.”
Billy lowered himself to one knee and bowed his head, speechless. It struck Janae that Marsuuv was fixated on Billy, not her. His eyes had been on Billy from the start.
Billy found his voice. “I am your servant. Your lover.”
“Are you sure?” a voice rasped. The dark priest Ba’al stood in a doorway to their right, arms folded into a loose black cloak. He walked in and stood before them all, looking even more emaciated than Janae remembered. “Are you sure you know what you’re getting into, feeble human?”
“He’s mine, Billosssssss,” Marsuuv said.
The priest stared at Billy for a long time. Slowly his face contorted into an expression of pain and sorrow. A tear glistened on his left cheek, and he buried his face in his hands, weeping now.
The sight was so unexpected that Janae felt a tremendous flood of empathy for the poor soul.
Ba’al lowered his trembling hands and stumbled forward. “Please, I beg you to reconsider. What did I ever do to deserve this? You’re throwing me away for this albino?”
Marsuuv just looked at him.
“I defied you once, I know, but look in his history and you’ll see the same. We all defy you once before embracing the darkness.” Ba’al words came out in a breath-starved flood. “You bound me and you whipped me, and I still learned to love you! You gave me reason to live as your only lover. ‘Bring me the books, bring me the books,’ you said. Now I’ve brought you the books and you’ll throw me away? I cannot live with it.”
“Billossss,” Marsuuv said. “Always so impetuous.”
“I am not Billos!” Ba’al screamed. His face was a mess of mucus and tears. “I am Ba’al.”
“What life you have as Ba’al came from me. You have my blood. You are mine.”
Janae’s belly tightened.
“Please . . .” Ba’al leaned against one of the pillars for support. He lowered his voice. “Please don’t throw me away. I’ll . . . I’ll do anything.”
“Will you join me in hell?”
Ba’al rushed around the table, grabbed one of Marsuuv’s talons, and fell to his knees. “Just say the word, my lover. Say the word so that we can be together in eternal hell.”
The queen uttered a soft chuckle. Then purred. He lifted his claw, pulling the man to his feet. Ba’al clambered onto the bed, clinging to the beast’s talon with both hands now. Casting a glance up to be sure he was being accepted, not rejected, Ba’al settled against the beast’s furry underside and curled up, weeping softly.
Billy was still on his knees, weeping with Ba’al as Marsuuv watched him. Janae believed he understood Ba’al’s pain more than she could know. Billos had been held and tortured until he’d slowly become the wretched man named Ba’al. Billy had felt that pain when the two were one.
And what of her? Was she here on a fool’s errand, stranded in a foreign dimension, another victim of this hideous beast’s insatiable appetite? Heat washed down her neck. She’d made a mistake? She’d willingly entered this hell and would now pay for it like Ba’al had?
And Billy . . .
The sap was just kneeling there, weeping like a baby.
“What?” Billy groaned “What do you want? I can’t live like this. I can’t! I’ve seen the light; I’ve tasted the good; I don’t deserve to live.”
Marsuuv absently ran his claws over Ba’al’s body. “Such a tormented soul. But you’ve come to me. I will ease your pain and fill you with a new pleasure that you’ll crave. Nothing will be the same now, Billy.”
Billy gripped his hands to fists, leaned his head back, and cried at the ceiling in anguish. His voice echoed around the room. Janae wanted to tell him to stop this embarrassing display of weakness, but she knew her advice meant little here.
She was the disposable one in the room.
Billy finally ran out of breath and calmed. Marsuuv nudged Ba’al, then pushed him away. “Leave us.”
“My lord?” Ba’al was aghast. He began to cry again
. “Please!”
“Leave us!” Marsuuv’s snarl shook the room, and Janae took a step back. Her pulse quickened. There was something about his jaw, his pink tongue, his fangs that excited her. The scent of blood . . . Could it be coming from his mouth?
Ba’al spun, hiked up his cloak, and hurried from the room, trying to hold back his cries of regret.
Marsuuv watched Billy. “Come here, Son of Adam,” he purred.
For a moment, Billy did nothing. She could imagine the fear pounding through his veins.
“Let me take away the pain, Billy. Let me give you pleasure.”
Billy pushed himself up and then walked slowly around the stone desk where the four books were stacked. He stepped in front of the beast.
Marsuuv lifted his claws and stroked Billy’s wet cheeks. “Why do you cry, my love? You’ve been chosen for a task that is the envy of the world.”
“What?” Billy breathed.
“Teeleh will tell you. You’ll be going back soon. We only have a short time together. We should treasure every moment.”
Billy was shaking from head to foot, and Marsuuv seemed pleased. His talons touched Billy’s head and arms and neck as if they were made of a delicate membrane that would break with the slightest pressure.
She knew Billy and Marsuuv shared a special bond that she did not. This was the devil, and Billy had welcomed him into his head a long time ago.
The truth of this began to eat away at Janae like a flaming cancer, and she began to fear for herself. How could she stand before such a terrifying sight and feel such jealousy? She should be on her knees, showing respect. Her anger would end badly. She would say or do something that triggered this beast’s fury.
But he hadn’t so much as acknowledged her yet. In fact, now that she thought about it, even back in the clearing, Marsuuv’s eyes had been on Billy, not her. She was sure of it.
She was nothing more than a rat caged for the next meal. She’d crossed into this nightmare to be food for this dreadful beast!
And yet, there was nowhere else in the world, or in her mind, that Janae wanted to be but here, facing the truth, the scent, the source of her own desire.