“What?” I demanded. “What is he trying to say?”
“The food in Hell,” Grams said. “You can’t eat any of it. Can’t drink anything there either.”
“What? Why not? What does that have to do with where he lives?”
Laish tksed. “Not up on your mythology, Gwendolyn? The story of Persephone and Demeter? The way the God of the dead stole the lovely Persephone away and she was forced to stay with him six months of the year after eating six pomegranate seeds?”
“That’s a myth,” I protested. “A story the Greeks made up to explain why we have summer and winter. Nothing can grow in the winter because Demeter, the Goddess of harvests, is grieving for her daughter Persephone while she is forced to stay in Hell. In summer when she’s allowed to go back, the whole world blooms.”
“There are seeds of truth—you should pardon the pun—in every myth, mon ange,” Laish said. “Your grandmother is quite right—you must not eat or drink anything while you are in Hell or you will be forced to stay there which I know you do not want.”
“Well what am I supposed to do?” I asked blankly. “I’m assuming this is going to take more than an hour or two.”
“To journey through the seven circles of Hell will take at least a week—maybe a bit more,” Laish remarked.
“I thought there were nine circles according to Dante,” I protested. “And anyway, how am I supposed to not eat or drink anything for a week? I’ll be too weak to shut the door once we get to the Abyss.”
“Dante was a tourist, sadly lacking in accuracy. And believe me, once you have been there, you will find that seven circles are more than enough for your mortal taste.” He shook his head. “As to the food, do not worry, mon ange. I will provide you with sustenance and drink that will not bind you to my realm,” he assured me.
Grams shook her head. “You’ll do no such thing because Gwendolyn is not going.”
“Grams,” I said, taking her by the arm. “Let me show you something.”
I took her to her bedroom and flipped on the lights. Her eyes grew wide as she took in the enormous sinkhole in the center of the room.
“Gwendolyn child, what—?”
“This is why I have to go,” I said, gesturing to the yawning pit where her bed had once stood. “A Hellspawn did this—a creature from the pit that I let in when I was rescuing Taylor.”
“You should never have done that.” She shook her head, her eyes still wide and sad. “Gwendolyn, if I had known—”
“I kept it from you because I was afraid of what you might think of me.” I looked down at my feet. “I’m sorry, Grams. I, uh, sort of got off track. Way off track. But I couldn’t just leave Taylor to die. I felt responsible for her. And I thought I closed that stupid door. But I didn’t and now…now this thing is loose and tonight it wasn’t coming after me—it was coming after you. If we hadn’t switched rooms…”
Grams looked pale but she shook her head.
“Don’t go on my account, Gwendolyn. Now that I know what to look for, I can manage just fine.”
“You can, maybe,” I said in a low voice. “But what about Keisha?”
“Keisha.” Her eyes grew wide with understanding. “She’s outside my sphere of influence now.”
“Exactly,” I said grimly. “And this thing might go after her next. It’s going to go after everyone I love—unless I stop it.”
“Your granddaughter is quite correct,” Laish said, coming up behind us and making me jump. “I was able to banish it back to the Infernal Realm for tonight but it knows its way back and the door is still open. It will return.”
“But if it’s going after your loved ones, what good will it do for you to go to Hell, child?” Grams was almost pleading now.
“As long as Gwendolyn stays here, you and everyone else she loves is in danger because it would prefer to make her suffer first before hunting her down,” Laish explained. “However, she is still its primary target. If she leaves here and comes with me on this quest, it will follow her. She will be drawing it away from her loved ones.”
“By acting as bait? You’re saying I should let her go to Hell with the thing that did this to my bedroom stalking her?” Grams demanded.
“I’m saying you should let her clean up her own mess,” Laish said quietly. “A door opening onto the Abyss will not only affect Gwendolyn and her family. After it deals with the lot of you, the Hellspawn will look for other victims. Innocents which will have no idea they are being hunted until it is too late.”
I took her hands in mine. “I have to go, Grams,” I said quietly, looking into her eyes. “Please, I have to.”
She squeezed my fingers tightly. “But how can I be sure you’ll be safe? Gwendolyn, child, you’re all I’ve got now.”
“I will attend to Gwendolyn’s safety,” Laish said.
Grams turned to him, her faded eyes blazing with anger.
“Oh, I just bet you will. And what do you get out of all this?” she demanded. “Why would you bother putting yourself out for her in the first place?”
Oh boy, here we go… If Laish told my grandmother about our “agreement” all Hell was going to break loose—and not from his side—from hers. I tried to signal him with my eyes not to say anything about our deal and to my relief, he didn’t. What he did say, surprised me.
“Would you believe me if I said that I want a chance to win Gwendolyn’s heart?” he said quietly. “That I long to spend more time with her in hopes that she might see past my demonic exterior and learn to love the male within?”
Grams glared at him. “No. No. And hell no.”
He sighed theatrically. “I can see you think that as a denizen of the demonic realm, I have no honor.”
“No honor, no heart, and no soul,” Grams emphasized and I knew she was pointing out that even if Laish had been serious about wanting to “win my heart,” he couldn’t have. You can’t form a loving soul-bond with someone who doesn’t have a soul to bond with in the first place.
“Very well then,” Laish said blandly. “I will tell you the true reason. From the moment I answered Gwendolyn’s first call, she became my responsibility. Leaving a door open from the Abyss to the world of men is a serious fault—one which I will be punished for soundly if it is not dealt with. And, as only one with Gwendolyn’s soul signature can close the door that she opened, I must escort her through my realm so that she can resolve the matter before it reaches the attention of my superior.”
“He’s just a minor demon, Grams,” I put in. “He’ll get in trouble over what I did if he doesn’t help me fix it.”
Laish got an amused look on his face. “A minor demon. Exactly.” He raised an eyebrow at Grams. “So are you satisfied?”
“Not nearly,” she snapped. “What assurance do I have that you’ll bring Gwendolyn back to me after she’s done closing that door? How do I know you won’t just toss her aside the minute the matter’s resolved?”
She had a point. I couldn’t help the shiver that went up my spine when I remembered those dark, slimy tentacles slithering over and over each other in the black depths of that vast pit. What if Laish simply decided to push me into the Abyss once he got my virginity and the door was closed? My power would be cut in half if he insisted that we have sex but even at full power, there was no way I would be able to escape that dark place. What if—?
My thoughts were cut off as Laish abruptly seemed to grow larger somehow, his ruby eyes burning like hot coals.
“Now you have truly angered me.” His voice was so quiet I could barely hear it but so intense it felt like a flame, burning me.
To Grams’ credit, she didn’t back down, despite Laish’s scary appearance.
“You don’t scare me, demon—I don’t care if I made you mad or not.” She poked a finger at his broad chest. “Answer the question. What promise can you give that I’ll believe? How do I know you’ll bring my precious girl back to me?”
Laish sighed and seemed to melt down to his normal size—
which was still pretty freaking huge, to be honest. For a minor demon, he was certainly on the large and muscular side.
“If I say I will bring her back because she is precious to me too, you will not believe me,” he said. “And I cannot swear on my soul because—as you have pointed out—I do not have one. Likewise, I cannot swear on what I am—you have made it abundantly clear that you don’t trust me.” He raked a hand through his jet black hair—a very human gesture of frustration, I thought. “All I can do is swear on what I once was.”
“What were you?” I asked, unable to hold back my curiosity. If my knowledge of mythology was correct, some of the major demons had originated in Heaven before the fall. But the minor ones were supposed to have been born the moment Hell was created, appearing like toadstools springing up after the rain. Not a very pretty image but then, most minor demons aren’t very pretty themselves. Laish was a definite exception there.
“I was not always as you see me now,” he answered simply, still looking at my Grams. “I had honor once. Integrity. The capacity for love.”
“You did?” I wondered if this was all an act just to placate Grams. If so, he deserved a freaking Oscar for it—it was that convincing.
“I did.” Laish nodded at me briefly and then looked back at Grams. “For the sake of what I once was, I will keep your granddaughter safe and bring her back to you. No harm shall befall her that does not first go through me.”
“Is that right?” Grams still sounded skeptical. “You’re saying you’ll protect her with your life?”
Laish looked at her seriously. “Not a drop of Gwendolyn’s blood will fall unless every bit of my own has first been spilled. All right?”
Grams looked at him for a long moment and then, grudgingly, she nodded.
“All right. I guess I’ll trust you because that’s all I can do. But you’d just better bring her back. And I mean, bring her back intact.” She gave me a look when she said it that made me blush and look away. I knew exactly what she was talking about but I couldn’t make any promises. Especially not when I’d already agreed to let Laish take what Grams would call “liberties” the entire time we were in Hell.
“Very well.” He rose from the couch and inclined his head to me. “I’ll give you a day to get ready. I’ll be back for you at the stroke of midnight tomorrow. Be prepared.”
“The stroke of midnight? What am I—Cinderella?” I demanded. “Why midnight? Is it the only time you can get into Hell or what?”
“No,” he said mildly. “It just has such a nice, dramatic sound. After all, if you’re going to Hell, mon ange, you might as well go in style.” He gave me a devilish grin and before I could reply, he vanished in a puff of cinnamon smelling smoke.
Chapter Seven
Gwendolyn
“Now, have you got everything, child?” Grams looked at me anxiously.
“I think so.” I looked down at the bag she’d packed me. It was a plain leather satchel with a long shoulder strap I could wear across my body for security. Inside was a plain plastic water bottle—a Zephyrhills bottle to be exact, because that’s my favorite brand of spring water—as well as a faded plastic sandwich container. It was yellow and blue—an old Sponge Bob holder, left over from when Keisha was in grade school.
It always amazed me how Grams kept everything but in this case, I was glad. Sponge Bob’s cheerful, goofy face would remind me of home while I was traversing the seven circles of Hell.
“Now the bottle is spelled to never be empty,” Grams told me, even though she’d already said it twice before. “No matter how often you drink from it, you’ll still have clean, fresh water every time you put it to your lips.”
“Thanks, Grams,” I said, smiling.
“And the sandwich container will always have food. I only had time to spell it to have one kind of sandwich, though. Chunky peanut butter and my homemade strawberry jam. I hope that’s okay,” she said anxiously.
I hadn’t had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in years—it’s one of those foods you give up as an adult when you realize how incredibly fattening peanut butter is. But I recognized this was just Grams trying to take care of me—it was the same sandwich she’d packed me when she sent me off to school as a little girl. I was probably going to get pretty tired of it before my trip to the realm of the damned was done, but right now it sounded perfect.
“That’s my favorite,” I told Grams gently. “Thank you so much.”
“Oh, child…” She shook her head, her eyes sad. “I can’t believe I’m letting you do this. I can’t believe I’m letting you go.”
“We’ve been over this, Grams,” I said softly. “I have to go. This thing is relentless, and while you and I might be able to protect ourselves,” (although I had my doubts about that,) “If it came after Keisha…”
“You’re right. You’re right…” She shook her head. “If only she would have listened to my warnings. After all she’s been through, I doubt she’s got even a hundredth part of the natural power she was born with left.”
“That’s Ray’s fault,” I said angrily, the old, helpless rage rising inside me.
“Not all of it. She went wrong long before she met him,” Grams said. She frowned. “Just like you went wrong when you started seeking to do that spell to get vengeance on him.”
“It’s not just a vengeance spell,” I protested. “If it works—”
“It’s not going to because you’re not doing it.” Grams glared at me. “You’re already putting your soul at risk enough. If—no, when you come back from this trip—I want you to put it all behind you. Keisha made her choice and she’s just like your mama was—stubborn.”
“But if—”
“You can’t save those that don’t want to be saved, child,” Grams said softly. She sighed. “Besides, she has no power of her own left anymore and you know she was always so proud of what she could do…before. Such potential and all of it wasted…” She sounded sad.
I thought about the fate of my little sister and shivered. Every time a witch has sex without forming a soul-bond, her power is halved. After the life that Keisha had led, being passed from man to man…her power waning with each loveless encounter…Grams was right. She wouldn’t be able to help herself, even if she wanted to.
Was that going to be my fate too? Would I lose myself and my power to Laish as he seemed so certain I would?
No, I promised myself firmly. He’d said that he wouldn’t force me to have sex with him. Instead, he seemed to think I would want to at some point. Want to badly enough to not mind losing half my power and all my self-respect.
Well, he was wrong about that. No matter what else happened or what else I let him do, I wasn’t going to let him do that, I promised myself. No matter how hot he was or how it made my stomach flutter when he touched me. I wasn’t going there. I just wasn’t.
“If only your sister had waited for the right man,” Grams said, interrupting my fervent promise to myself. “I knew when I met your grandpa, you know. I knew he was the one I’d been waiting for. And on our wedding night, when I finally gave myself to him—”
“Grams,” I said uneasily.
“No, listen to me, Gwendolyn. On that night, when I gave myself to him body and soul, I felt the bond form,” she said. “It was like…like a golden cord, binding us together. It was so beautiful, so right. I just knew we’d be together forever.” She sighed. “And we would be, too, if his heart had held out.”
“Oh, Grams…” I put an arm around her shoulders. My grandfather had died when I was just ten but I had plenty of memories of the big, smiling man who used to ride me around on his shoulders and tell corny jokes to make my Grams laugh. Grams still grieved for him, all these years later, and she had never even considered marrying again, though she was still a very nice looking woman for her age.
Just then the grandfather clock in the hallway began to chime. This was it—my time was up and it was time to do what had to be done. Grams and I looked at each other and
her hand slipped into mine. I squeezed it tightly as we waited together. Bong…bong…bong…bong… the clock chimed on and on.
Right on cue, on the last chime, Laish appeared in a puff of smoke. He was wearing another one of his expensive, tailored suits with a crisp, blood-red shirt open at the throat. I couldn’t help thinking that the color suited him. It was just a few shades lighter than his eyes and it made his inky black hair even blacker. The shoulders of the jacket draped over his broad shoulders impressively—he looked like a Fortune 500 businessman.
I couldn’t help looking down at myself, contrasting my own outfit with his. I’d had no idea what to wear but since we were going to be traveling through a strange region, (major understatement, I know) I had decided to dress like I was going on a long plane trip. Accordingly, I had on a pair of jeans, a dark green t-shirt, which I had tucked in, and some comfortable black ballet flats I knew I could walk in for hours without pain. Not that I thought we would be hiking through Hell—at least I certainly hoped not. But I was prepared if I had to.
I had an extra shirt and a pair of jeans as well as a lined windbreaker stowed in my leather satchel under the water bottle and Sponge Bob sandwich container. I know Hell is supposed to be hot, but Laish had made a comment to me before, that parts of it were terribly cold and lonely. So I had made sure to bring the jacket along with a change of clothes.
In the pocket of the windbreaker was one more thing I thought I might need—two antique silver coins from Grams to pay the ferryman. After Laish had accused me of not being up on my mythology, I had done a little research. I had no idea if the river Styx and its skeletal ferryman, Charon, were real or completely mythical but I wasn’t taking any chances. To the best of my ability, I was prepared.
I hoped.
Laish’s eyes flickered over me—was that a look of disapproval I saw on his face? Or something else? He said nothing, however, except to ask if I was ready to go.
“As ready as I’m going to be,” I said. I gave Grams one last hug. She held on so tightly, I was afraid she wasn’t going to let go.
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