“I’ll get to meet them? The Gods?” I can’t keep the intrigue from my voice.
“They’re not technically all Gods, some are Titans. I’m pretty sure you’re part Goddess yourself, though. You certainly have the attitude of one.” He gets in this small dig, but I’m still too stunned to throw back any kind of retort and watch as his face becomes disappointed before morphing back to his default expression of stoic and serious.
We reach a small jutting dock, made of black crystal, which leads out to an enormous charred gondola that bobs atop the river. The wood it’s made from is carved into the shape of bones, as though the entire thing is supported by the ribcage of an enormous dead whale.
Stepping inside, a tall thin woman turns to me and looks out from beneath the deep dark hood of her floor length black cloak. Her hair is white as ash and her eyes pale duck-egg blue as she watches me struggle to keep balance atop the bobbing surface.
I smile at her, but she merely turns from me as Xion steps into the boat behind me, and we begin to move forward before either of us have even taken a seat. I perch myself on the edge of the damp, unforgiving, wooden benches, which are cracked in places, looking up at the ferrywoman who I assume to be Char.
“Hello.” I call to her, wondering why she’s being so rude, and Xion twists to face me with an amused glint in his eye.
“It’s alright, Char doesn’t talk much. Do you Char?” he prompts her, and she doesn’t reply, doesn’t even shake her head.
We’re left, sitting in silence for a few moments before I feel my curiosity get the better of me.
“So, what’s the difference between a Titan and a God? I thought… well I don’t know what I thought. It seems like a lot of how mortals perceived this in stories is wrong. If I am in fact awake and not insane.” I feel my disbelief fading as the wood beneath me remains solid despite the rocking of the boat. There is no wind, only clammy heat, and I begin to regret wearing leather as I start to perspire despite the cool spray of the river at my back.
Xion turns to me, no longer gazing straight out to the river ahead. We pass increasingly sparse forest, which I examine with curiosity from afar as he licks his bottom lip before starting to speak again.
“A God or Goddess, they’re descended from one of the original four forces in the universe. Gaia, Eros, Nyx, or Erebus as he is known in male form, and Tartarus.” I recognise these names. In Greek mythology, they’re the original four powers that came from Chaos, which existed as the sole form of energy in the beginning of the universe. I smile to myself, glad I’m not totally lost.
“And a Titan?” I push him to continue as he opens his mouth to speak again. I’m impatient, but I can’t help it. This is all freaking fascinating.
“A Titan is a mortal soul that ascended to live in the Higher Plains. You have to earn it. Most of the Titans were Kindred souls of one God or another. Some were Martyrs. It all depends on how strong the soul is.” He exhales, like imparting all this knowledge is more exhausting for him than it is for me having to take it in. “The problem is, as many Titans will tell you, there’s not equality between Titans and Gods like there should be. It’s an extremely touchy issue.” He sighs heavily again, and I nod, glad he’s mentioned this. I mean I’d hate to make a faux pas and end up burned to a cinder under some random God’s wrath or something.
“Kindred soul… I don’t get it… what is that?” I ask him, a frown marring my face. I’ve never even heard the term in anything I’ve studied, hence why it stands out to me now. You’d think someone would have written this all down somewhere. Like even on a post-it note.
Xion takes off his coat, revealing a simple black t-shirt about one size too large underneath. I wonder if it’s that big to accommodate for his demon form.
“The Kindred are mortals blessed by the Gods or Goddesses and put in their service. They keep the demons in check, stop them from causing havoc and breaching the walls between the dimensions.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees and looking up at him around a falling curtain of hair as I push it behind one ear.
“I see,” I reply, feeling less and less significant by the minute.
I don’t fully understand; there’s too much information, but as I look out and keep my eyes trained straight ahead on the way the river is taking me, I wonder if I’m supposed to.
“This is just… it’s too complicated,” I admit and he nods.
“It is. We’re talking the entire history of our universe here. I could tell you a lot more, but for now, I really suggest you just go with it. You’d need a diagram to explain everything that contributes to the way the different dimensions interconnect and affect one another. Only the oldest entities truly understand it. I don’t even know half of what there is to it.” He looks at me and there’s a hint of pity in his eyes.
“So, what’s the most important thing for me to know?” I ask him, wanting to make sure I’m armed with at least some knowledge.
“Honestly, Demons and Demon Lords are bad. The Nexus are trying to do good. That’s about it.” He smiles, proud of himself for creating the equivalent of Hell for Dummies.
“But you’re a demon…” I can’t help it, I’ve been quiet and meek for too long, dwarfed by this new information, and I need to get a dig in somewhere. I can’t let him have total power after all.
“Oh, I know. There’s no need to remind me. I’m no hero. You’d do best to stay clear. That’s my other bit of crucial advice,” he smirks at me but his eyes are sad. I don’t see the reply coming and so fall silent. I expect him to defend his honour or make a case for nobility, but instead, he simply admits he’s rotten inside.
Why does that make him more attractive, I wonder?
“You really think I could be half God or something?” I ask him, feeling my entire world tilting on its axis like it’s had far too much to drink. I’ve always known deep down that my mother and father had a troubled marriage, but could my mother really have fallen in love with the Haedes? It doesn’t seem likely, but then the fact I’m floating atop the real River Styx is completely insane too, and apparently that’s happening.
“I really do. You wielded The Eternal Flame. That doesn’t just happen. Not to mortals,” he enlightens me and I shrug, not knowing how to feel.
Adam Sinclair is my father, he raised me, he loved me, and he took care of me. Regardless of what deals he made with anyone else, I’m still his daughter, and he’s still my dad.
“Look… I just… Even if I am Haedes daughter, he’s not my dad. Okay?” I reiterate, and Xion looks surprised.
“I understand. Blood doesn’t make you family,” he agrees and I smile at him, gazing into his eyes as I realise that he really does understand.
“I guess one of your parents must be a Demon?” I ask, knowing it’s a personal thing to ask, but also knowing that we’re way past pleasantries at this point.
“My father actually. He’s a Demon Lord. Abraxis,” he spits out the name, his voice full of hatred.
“I see.” The atmosphere between us becomes awkward, so I decide to turn my curiosity onto someone else.
“So, what’s Char’s sin?” I ask him as the ferrywoman turns to me with a glare.
“You know it’s rude to ask… but seeing as how you’re new here, I guess Char can let you off.” Xion gives her a return glare before continuing, “Any of the transport workers, ferrymen or women, carriage drivers, that kind of thing, usually fall into the sloth category of sin. They’re not allowed to step off the river, or dismount their vehicle for more than a few minutes. They are sentenced to a life of constant motion, never stopping, if that makes sense.” When he explains it this way, it does make sense; it makes perfect sense.
We turn a bend in the river and Xion and I tilt slightly in our seats. Silence falls over us, and I take in the surroundings.
In the distance, a rising jagged shard, with sharp edges that cut into the bright red sky behind it, ascends. It’s surrounded by other tall buildings, that wind like some kind of spinal cord, do
uble helix hybrids. The architecture casts unique silhouettes, making me want to explore more, but as we near the outskirts of this urban settlement we turn yet again and begin heading in the opposite direction.
Xion watches my face, and even though I don’t turn to acknowledge him, or ask any more questions, I find his gaze unwavering. He offers me a hand at one point, draping it across my knee in a subtle act of comfort but I turn from him, not wanting comfort at all. I just want to get this over with.
I think about what he’s said about The Courts – that it’s where people go for sentencing – and swallow hard.
What happens to me if I am Haedes daughter? Will they keep me here? Will I be allowed to leave? I know that my lineage makes little difference to me, but what will it mean to them? Will I be a prisoner here, without my expensive cars and manor house to protect me?
“There, you can see The Courts coming up just over the horizon.” Xion points ahead, and I lean over the side of the boat, trying carefully not to think about the fact that the water I’m close to is filled with mortal souls. Or so I’ve been led to believe, based on the myths anyhow, not that this seems to count for much of anything down here.
The building is enormous and looks like the most morbid courthouse you can imagine. The entire exterior is constructed from stark, monochrome stone, with white columns that look like a giant’s bones forming the skeleton of the building, and black stone filling the spaces in between. Once again, the roof looks like some kind of sick ribcage, and I wonder who the hell has been doing the architecture for this place. It’s grim to say the least.
We approach faster than I’d like, making me realise that I’m growing nervous. I haven’t felt this way since my first day at boarding school after the death of my parents. It’s a feeling I try to stay clear of, so used to making a decision on the spot and just going with it, the knowledge that I can easily buy myself out of any trouble always in the back of my mind.
Here though, money probably doesn’t mean anything, and I’m suddenly left feeling bare and exposed.
We pull up to The Courts, the height of the building dwarfing me. As we reach a jutting dock and step out onto the ruddy earth once more, Char leaves without so much as a goodbye.
I turn away from the river, casting my back on its eerie flow and looking up at the silhouette of the Courthouse. It takes me a few minutes of staring, but eventually Xion manages to get my feet moving, one in front of the other.
As we turn the corner to the front entrance of the building, which is adjacent to a road which looks to be paved with bones or something equally as morbid, I see it.
A snake like line, unending, of people dressed identically in black jumpsuits. They all look tired and drained, dead even. Then it clicks. They are dead. They’re waiting to be sentenced. To serve their penance.
“I hate this place. The queues are always absolutely awful,” Xion curses under his breath, and I sigh.
“And I thought I’d never see lines worse than at the DMV. I guess this place really is hell after all.”
Chapter Nine
True Colours
SEPHY
I don’t know how long we’ve been waiting, mainly because the sun doesn’t seem to fall or rise in the sky, giving no indication of time lost, but I know it’s longer than I can take.
“This is getting ridiculous. We’ve barely moved an inch, and it’s been…” I wish I had a watch, anything to help me measure the time.
“It’s only been about twenty minutes, Sephy. You’re just anxious.” He lets me in on the horrific truth of our standby experience and I gape at him.
“Are you kidding me? Twenty freaking minutes?” I cross my arms over my breasts, feeling beyond irritated.
I hear horse hooves and groan, hoping beyond anything that it’s not more people to add to the line. There’s enough bodies squished into this small muggy courtyard as it is.
Heads turn as a large, black, gothic carriage approaches, pulled by two Percherons that look almost identical to Nightshade.
“Who’s that?” I ask, turning from the scene unfolding on the road and looking back to Xion, who is smiling.
“I think our wait is over.” He steps out of the line, and I follow him hesitantly, mainly because I’m going to be beyond pissed if I have to start again all the way from the back.
The carriage driver, who sits with a whip in one hand, is dressed in a worn-looking black jacket and loose slacks with shiny black shoes. He doesn’t turn to look at us as we approach.
The carriage door opens as the gilded black handle turns, pushing out from the antiquated vehicle. A small flight of steps descends, unfolding in smooth time, and an elegant woman’s foot, surrounded by yards of black lace, protrudes into the timeless humidity of the outside world.
“Lucifer!” Xion exclaims, and I feel myself do a double take.
Did he just say Lucifer? As in…. the devil Lucifer?
From within the shadow of the plush looking carriage, a woman at least six feet tall steps onto the ground. She’s even taller than that though, because as she straightens, elongated silhouettes make themselves known upon her head. I stare, watching her neaten her skirt as I realise that nestled among white locks are two enormous horns like that of an impala.
I watch her with interest, wondering exactly how powerful she is. I mean, if she really is the devil, that’s one hell of a reputation to live up to.
Her gaze immediately finds mine, and our eyes lock as she steps forward, her body towering over me. Her heels and horns add extra height to her already intimidating silhouette as she comes closer, causing me to raise my gaze further. I straighten my spine, not willing to be underestimated.
“You must be Sephy,” she assumes, her gown of black lace swaying around her as she moves, elegant as a ballet dancer.
“And you are?” I try to act cockier than I feel, looking up into her flawless white skin. She’s definitely not mortal, because nobody human has pores that immaculate.
“Lucifer. You can call me Luce.” She holds out her long fingers, with nails lacquered in a bloody hue, and I take her hand in mine, shaking it firmly. I hate a limp handshake. Limp handshake, limp everything else if you ask me.
“Lucifer… as in?” I want to be sure I’m not just meeting some woman with the same name. Now I think about it though, it totally makes sense that the devil would be a chick.
“The Devil, Satan, Beelzebub… yep, that’s me.” She looks down her nose at me, and I shudder slightly from the chill of her pale stare. “Why are you two waiting in line with these losers?” she asks us as I turn to look back at the crowd. They’re watching her with sunken, anxious eyes, and I wonder if she’s really as nice as she seems. They all appear terrified by her presence alone.
“Come along. I’ll get Yama and Muerta to bring your case to the front of the queue. We haven’t got all damned day,” she tuts, taking long legged strides past the line as Xion and I follow in her wake.
The eyes of the dead follow us, envy filling their souls, which I’m sure will be one more thing they’ll be paying for down here, and I shudder, not wishing to be in their shoes. Then I remember that my father should be here, my mother too, and pity fills me in an unexpected rush for their suffering.
Luce steps up exactly three black steps, slamming her fists into the high double doors, one black and one white, pushing them back from her as two sinners, guarding the entrance, step aside like she’s dangerous.
“Are Yama and Muerta… are they Gods too?” I ask Xion, nervous as we walk past black jumpsuit after black jumpsuit, sullen face after sullen face.
“Yes, they deal with justice and sentencing. Muerta can see sins, kind of like auras, and Yama is the judge… they used to be married, but not any longer.” He adds this little bit of underworld gossip in, as though we’re no more than two co-workers chatting over a water cooler.
“Oh… right.” I reply, scowling and feeling claustrophobic despite the size of the place. I’m hot and flustered fr
om the humidity outside, and I can’t help but wonder why nowhere here seems to have air conditioning. I mean, the stone walls and floors are certainly sapping the heat, constructed of what I assume to be marble in monochromatic hues, but I can still feel sweat rolling down the back of my knees beneath the leather of my pants. The walls are lined with torches which glow blue, not electric lights, so I’m also sure that’s not helping, even if they do emit a cold glow.
We reach the end of the long entrance hall, and Luce wastes no time in getting yet more sinners, standing guard, to step aside. Xion looks back over his shoulder to where I’m lagging behind, lacking my usual speed as I try to take everything in.
“You alright?” he enquires, and I nod, not having the words to articulate what I’m feeling, perhaps because I don’t even know how that is.
Following in the wake of Luce’s black lace train, which trails along the chequered black and white floor with a certain dark grandeur that causes her presence yet more influence, we move into a small waiting room with chairs made from charred twigs.
They look uncomfortable, though I’m sure that’s the point, and Xion directs me to take a seat as Luce disappears with him down a long hallway to my left.
I sit in the waiting room, the only thing absent the insanely irritating ticking of a clock. I look around for a magazine to read, but I guess they must be all out of Sinner’s Style Weekly, and so settle for trying not to focus on what’s about to happen.
After ten minutes, Luce and Xion return, looking triumphant in joint contented expressions.
“Come with us,” Luce demands, holding out a hand. I don’t want to move, so just sit, staring at them both blankly.
“I… I don’t know if I want to.” I feel more unsure than I have in my entire life, and that’s not something I’m used to at all. Luce looks down at me, but then lowers herself, kneeling in her dress so she’s on eye level with me like I’m a toddler. Her expression morphs into one of kindness and an almost child-like innocence, something I wouldn’t expect from someone with her reputation, comes over her.
The Opal Blade (The Ashen Touch Trilogy Book 1) Page 13