Soul of Stone (Fallen Angel Book 3)

by Leo Romero

  “How can we do that? We were all separated.”

  “Well, I’ve found you. So that makes two of us. Where are the others? Jagelon? Vlahm? Margaroth?”

  Lothar shook his head. “I don’t know. The last I heard of Jagelon, he was rotting in a Fourth Circle cell on Satan’s orders.”

  Draxil growled under his breath.

  “As for Margaroth, he was captured soon after your betrayal. He was given to a flayer called Killian as reward for his loyal services to Satan.”

  “What’s a flayer?” I asked, although I probably didn’t want to know.

  “A Seventh Circle torturer,” Draxil answered. “The flayers eventually earn the rank of demon once they inflict enough torment.”

  I gulped. “Nice.”

  Draxil shook his head. “I haven’t heard of this Killian.”

  “He’s new,” Lothar informed him. “Only a few centuries old. During his life, he devoted his soul to Satan. Took his daughter, Morbida, with him on a mass murder across Europe. He was placed in charge of the Kennels and handed Margaroth.”

  “What can you tell me about him?” asked Draxil. “Any weaknesses?”

  Lothar shook his head. “None that I know of. Except that he likes to play cards.”

  Draxil grinned. “Cards, eh? Well, that’s just perfect. Stone.”

  My face pinched. “What? I hope you’re not suggesting I go to Hell to play cards with a demonic torturer!”

  “Why not? His defeat is imminent.”

  “Says who?”

  Draxil raised his hand in the air. “This wretched claw was there when you beat the Fae King!”

  I sighed. “Yeah, but I was cheating.”

  “Then we shall cheat again! They’re all cheating scum in Hell anyway.”

  “Draxil. I’m an angel. How the hell can I go to Hell? I’m barred.”

  “You’ll have to be marked. As we are. Then you can make the transition through the gates of Hell.”

  I backed up, showing them my palms. “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Look, having you possess me is bad enough, but there’s no way I’m going to Hell, and there’s no way you guys are marking me. I’m an Angel Enforcer for crying out loud.”

  “We have no choice, Stone,” asserted Draxil. “You can beat Killian and win Margaroth his freedom.”

  “Sorry, Draxil. No can do. You don’t even know this flayer guy will even give up Marga-whatever over a game of cards.”

  “All gamblers are the same,” Draxil grunted. “Since the dawn of time, they can be convinced to sell their own souls or the souls of their mothers in return for a lucky win.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Why don’t you two just go there and break your buddies out and then go and face the horsemen? You don’t need me.”

  Lothar shook his head. “Look at the size of me. How can I return to Hell and be unnoticed? Satan’s legions have me marked. The moment I step back into Hell, I’ll be swarmed upon.”

  I sighed. “All right, fair point. So what about you, Draxil? I take it you’ve got a bounty on your head down there as well. How are you gonna go back to Hell?”

  “I can still use you as a vessel.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”

  Draxil stepped toward me. “If we mark you, you’ll be able to enter Hell in your physical form, and I can hide inside you. Yes, that’s what we’ll do. I’ll hide inside you, Stone, and we will rescue our brothers.”

  I gave him an incredulous stare. “Seriously?”

  “There is no other choice. The horsemen will return to destroy all. If you wish to hold onto everything you care of in this world, then you must go to Hell.”

  I glanced at Aurora. She was staring at me wide-eyed. Her bottom lip was trembling ever so slightly.

  “And what if we don’t make it back?” I asked.

  Draxil lowered his gaze. “Then Aurora dies, and Satan wins.”

  “Oh for Chrissakes! Can’t I go to go Vegas instead?”

  “We all have our burdens, Stone. Think it was pleasant being cut into pieces and those pieces scattered across the planes for centuries? I’ve been in isolation for millennia.”

  I went to speak, when Nigella raced over to us, her eyes wild. “Winter is coming!” she screeched.

  Well, it was October, so she wasn’t wrong there.

  “The Black Death is upon us!” She cackled, her arms raised in the sky. She went off, walking and clucking like a chicken.

  “You know we’ve really gotta do something about her insanity,” I said, cocking a thumb over my shoulder toward her.

  “We will. I still need her body,” said Lothar.

  I watched her in bemusement. “How long have you been possessing her?” I asked Lothar.

  “Nigh on a thousand years,” Lothar answered with a sheepish look.

  “Nigella’s a thousand years old?” I nodded in appreciation. “She brushes up well.”

  “Stone!” Draxil growled. “Stop procrastinating. We need to go to Hell.”

  I met Aurora’s concerned stare. What choice did I have? Draxil was adamant I go to Hell and rescue his buddies. The longer I held it off, the closer we got to Armageddon. And there was no way I could have that on my conscience! With a sigh, I caved. “All right. Let’s get this over with.”

  “Good!” Draxil growled. “Lothar was the most learned of my brothers in arms. He can mark you with the etchings.”

  I looked up at Lothar. He gave me a sure nod and a wink.

  “Give him your arm,” Draxil ordered.

  Lothar crouched down ahead of me. I removed my jacket and held out my forearm for him. “I want you all to know I’m doing this under duress.”

  “Enough whining!” Draxil grunted. “Lothar.”

  Lothar held out his pinky, carefully aiming the black talon on the end for my forearm. He dug it in, breaking the skin.

  I winced. “Ow!”

  “It’s just a scratch,” said Draxil.

  I glowered at him.

  Lothar expertly cut an arcane symbol into my arm. He went on to add more, eventually turning my forearm into a throbbing, bleeding totem pole. I gazed down at my forearm in disdain. It hurt like hell and looked like hell as well. The things I did for the world.

  And it got worse. Lothar spat on my freshly carved forearm, his goober black and gooey. I flinched in revulsion as he rubbed it into the cuts. “Ugh, you demons are disgusting.”

  Lothar gave me a stern stare. “We’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “He’s an intolerable wretch, isn’t he?” Draxil asked Lothar.

  Lothar nodded. “Hmm-hmm.”

  His saliva sank into my flesh with a sizzle, burning across my arm. I clenched my teeth. “Always wondered what getting a tattoo would feel like.”

  Lothar rubbed away the excess, and the etchings were complete. “It’ll take a little while for the magic to form,” he said.

  I stared down at my forearm in repulsion and fear in equal measure.

  Draxil slapped me on the shoulder. “Welcome to the team!”

  I gazed at both the twisted, deformed faces leering at me, the stench of brimstone in my nostrils, the sound of their guttural breathing in my ears, and I thought to myself, what the frickin’ hell have I done?

  Nigella raced over again, her bug eyes gleaming madly. “Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall!” she shrieked. “Humpty Dumpty had a great fall!”

  “Is there a way to make her shut up?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Lothar said and reached out a massive hand. He grabbed Nigella and pulled her over. She went with a yelp.

  “Unhand me, monster!” she yelled.

  Lothar got on his haunches and squatted over her like a giant squid. “Good luck, brother,” he said down to Draxil before he spectral walked and visibly shrank. As he did, he vanished into the back of Nigella, who was thrusting out her huge chest, her arms splayed to the sides. In seconds, Lothar was gone, and Nigella’s body flopped for a brief moment.

  She staggered, reg
ained her balance, and shook her head. “Where the hell am I?” She focused in on me first. “You!” Her eyes darted left and right. “Tarron! We have to stop him.”

  “You already did,” I told her.

  She gazed around in a daze.

  “See?” I said.

  Her eyes fell on Draxil, and they widened in fright.

  “It’s all right,” I told her. “He’s on our side. At least, I think.”

  “What’s going on?” Nigella asked.

  I let out a sigh. I quickly explained everything that happened from the moment Lothar appeared in Tartarus to battle Typhon, up to the horsemen appearing, and then us reviving Lothar and as a result, herself.

  “Lothar says he’s been inside you for a thousand years. Is that true?”

  She rubbed her head. “I can’t remember. I know I’m old, but not exactly how old. I remember a time long ago. I was practicing necromancy, and I ripped a portal to the Netherworld. When I was there, this giant demon coaxed me into letting him possess me. He said he’d been hiding for centuries and needed a host. He said, in return, my powers would be supercharged. Well, he was right on that score.”

  “So old Lothar tricked you,” I said with a nod.

  “He did what he felt he had to,” Draxil said. “For his survival. He couldn’t walk Earth without being hunted by the horsemen, so it seems he hid in the Netherworld until a suitable host appeared.”

  “Is that what I am?” I asked. “A host?”

  “We aren’t given choices,” Draxil said. “We must do what we can to ensure survival. This is what the pit teaches you.”

  “You’re just a bunch of gangbangers,” I said.

  Draxil scowled at me.

  I turned to Nigella. “We need to get to Hell. Know the way?”

  “Well, we’re in the Dark Underworld, so we can get there from here.” She looked around. “That’s the River Styx.” She nodded toward the molten lava flowing to our left. “At least a tributary of it.”

  My brow pinched. “That’s a river? Doesn’t look like one to me.”

  “This is the Dark Underworld, darling. What were you expecting, crystal-clear waters complete with jumping salmon?”

  “She’s right, Stone,” Draxil said. “The River Styx connects all the areas of the Dark Underworld, including Hell. But demons perish if they attempt to traverse it.”

  I glared down at that flowing lava. “So how are we gonna get to Hell without melting?”

  Draxil rubbed his chin. Nigella pondered for a moment before her eyes widened. “Got it! Summon Pegasus and fly along it until you connect with the main body. I’m pretty sure that’s where you’ll find the ferryman.”

  “The ferryman?”

  “Yes. Charon.”

  “Sharon?”

  “No. Ch-Ch-Charon. Only he knows the secrets to traversing Styx to reach the various parts of the Dark Underworld. He will take you to Hell’s gates. And then from there, it’s ‘hail Satan’.”

  “There’s gonna be no hailing Satan from me!”

  “I really don’t like the thought of Gabe going to Hell,” said Aurora with a shake of her head.

  “I’m not exactly jumping for joy either,” I retorted. “Look, I’ll be fine. My best buddy will be looking out for me.” I stared at Draxil.

  Confusion was embedded in his face. “Oh! You are referring to me!”

  “Yeah, Drax. You’ll be looking out for me, won’t you?”

  He jutted his chin in the air. “Of course.”

  “Well, tell her!”

  “Oh yes!” He faced Aurora. “I will guide him through that pit of treachery and misery, my dear. And we will return with my brothers to battle the horsemen.”

  “I hope so,” Aurora said, but her eyes brimmed with apprehension.

  “Relax, Aurora,” I said. “I’ll be back before you know it. Just hang out with Nigella until we get back. Do some female bonding, just ignore the ancient demon residing inside her if you can.”

  “Ha ha, Gabe,” Aurora said dryly.

  “We’ll wait here for you,” said Nigella.

  “You better take this,” Aurora said, handing me the Fleece. “Might come in useful.”

  I nodded. “Good idea.” I slung it over my shoulder. “Okay, no time like the present.” I fished out my Deck of Death and found the seven of diamonds. I threw down the card and uttered the name, “Pegasus!” A door to the Void opened, and the white stallion entered Tartarus. He rose up on his hind legs and kicked the front two on the air. I went and patted him on the side. “Easy, boy.” He got back on all four.

  “A steed fit for the gods,” said Draxil as he stood and admired.

  “Yeah, well he’s mine now,” I said. “Okay, Draxil, get in and let’s go.”

  Draxil stood behind me, gripped hold of my shoulders and tore his way into me, my body jerking in pain. When he was in, I faced the other two. “God, I hate the way that feels.”

  “Enough whining, Stone,” Draxil said to me. “Let’s go.”

  I jumped on Pegasus and faced the girls. “I’ll catch you two later. Nigella, I’m putting the safety of the Dark Bearer in your hands. Don’t let me down.”

  “As if I would ever do that,” she said with a wry grin.

  Aurora stepped forward. “Be careful, Gabe.”

  I gave her a solemn nod. “I will. Now, I better get going before I lose my nerve.” I turned Pegasus around to face Styx. I took a final glance back at Aurora and Nigella. Aurora’s anxiety-riddled face was doing me no favors. I didn’t like the thought of going to Hell either. It was the one place I didn’t ever want to go. But there was no other choice. I was about to become a real Hell’s angel.

  I took a deep breath. “Yah!” I shouted, and Pegasus took off, spreading his wings and flying up into the air. We swooped down from the cavern and toward Styx, the heat from the lava enveloping me, the hot glow turning Pegasus a dark-pink shade as he galloped over the river.

  “I better not regret this,” I said as we left Tartarus and the others behind to begin our journey to Hell.

  Chapter 10

  We followed that river of bubbling lava for what felt like an eternity. It flowed upward, then straight, then downward, then straight, and then upward again. The intense glow emanating from it was doing funny things to my eyes while the heat was on the brink of unbearable. Pegasus made sure to stay as far away from it as he could, my head inches from the cavern roof.

  The river leveled out once more and ran off into the far distance. “She’s led us on a wild goose chase,” I said to myself, but aiming my words at Draxil.

  Pegasus let out a small neigh in agreement.

  “Keep going, Stone,” Draxil said. “I’m sure she was right about this being Styx.”

  “Styx? More like Stinks! The sulphur’s getting up my nose!”

  “Think this is bad? You wait until we get to Hell. There you will know and fully understand sensory misery.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  We passed by more molten lava. I looked up ahead; the river vanished into an endless distance. Inside me, I cursed Nigella and her scrambled brain. Would I even know how to get back? Man, I could be stuck in Tartare Sauce forever! I’ll wind up being served with fish, condemned to smell and taste of mayo and capers. A fate worse than Hell itself!

  Holy moly, I was going delirious!

  My retinas burned with purple and green blotches from staring at lava for too long. I closed my eyes. I needed to take my mind off what was going on. That’s where the voices in my head helped.

  “So, if Jehovah is the Big Kahuna of everything, where does Zeus come into play?” I asked my inner demon.

  “Pah, he was a front. So was all of Olympus. Jehovah wasn’t ready to reveal Himself to man, so He created false gods and made them believe they were the almighty.”

  “So how do we know Jehovah isn’t a front for another god?”

  “Heh, we don’t.”

  I shook my head. Was any of this worth it?


  “So where’s Zeus now?” I asked.

  “Dead? Alive somewhere? Who knows? Who cares? He had his day.”

  We passed by more River Stinks. Still no sign of any ferryman.

  “How do we know if this ferryman is even here?” I asked. “He’s another oldie. He might be dead too.”

  “Hmm, the witch was adamant.”

  “Necromancer, not witch,” I corrected.

  “Pah, same thing! Dark sorcery. Whichever way you slice them up, they all bleed darkness.”

  “What about white witches?”

  “Don’t be pedantic, Stone!”

  I pulled up my jacket sleeve to check my newly tattooed forearm, the talk of dark sorcery prompting me. I raised my palm up and focused on it. Usually when I whipped up light magic, I got a surge of positive energy, a brief feeling of strength and vibrancy, life shooting through my veins from my mind down to my hand. I couldn’t get light magic up in that palm no matter how hard I tried. Instead, something else was happening.

  Anger was brewing inside me. As it intensified, the etchings lit up a bright cyan. I felt my top lip curl up as a moment of spite joined the anger, and the etchings glowed harder. A surge of rage bolted from my mind down to that hand and a dark, shimmering mist swirled out of my palm. Some of it coagulated into a globule of dark energy that swelled the angrier I became. The negative energy was bloating that thing, turning it into a nasty ball of pure spite and disease.

  It was like a handful of shitty emotion, a shitball, ready to splat in someone’s face and turn their day from bad to worse.

  It began to pulse like an extracted heart. I slung it away in disgust. It shot through the air like a tennis ball and splattered across the cavern wall where it sizzled and hissed, tendrils of steam rising from its center. I was kind of intrigued to know what it would do against flesh.

  “How do you like your new skill?” Draxil asked.

  The wave of anger subsided, and the etchings dimmed and stopped glowing entirely.

  “Not much. Need to get angry to use it.”

  “Anger can be an ally if used correctly.”

  I looked back at the stuff still sizzling on the cavern wall. “What exactly does it do?”

  “Burns, withers, decays. Dark magic is destructive. Just one thing, Stone. Don’t combine it with your light magic as I did back in Bone Tower.”