Kim shivered. He should have been grateful for Lilith’s protection. But now he knew for certain that it was she who wished to live unopposed. Angela was nothing but a convenient excuse.
Kim was the one who cared, and he would suffer even more for Angela, and lose everything important to him if it came to that. Whatever it took for her to survive. If Lilith knew what he’d planned—and with whom—she’d seal Kim in these walls just like she had his foster father.
Luckily for him, Lilith’s pride continued to blind her. She didn’t seem to have a clue. Maybe it was because what he was about to do was so insane, it hadn’t even entered her thoughts as a possibility.
“As I said,” Lilith continued, “the Archon’s sun has now risen. The old order is finally passing. You’ve noticed Her restlessness, haven’t you? She wants change. But She’s young, and still inept at being forceful and commandeering like Lucifel, and so Her life is constantly in danger.” Lilith stood closer to Mastema, as if sharing the news with him. “And now that a new revolt in Heaven has taken place, I wonder what will happen? Lucifel made her next move. Now it’s Angela’s turn, for better or for worse.”
The dam walling up Kim’s heart burst suddenly. The words were out of his lips before he could stop himself. “And where is my place in all of that change and glory?” he whispered. “That’s what I’m afraid of. What’s the purpose of my life, now that Lucifel is free?”
“You’re a romantic,” Lilith said, laughing softly. “You should be able to see the answer in the Archon’s eyes when She looks at you.”
Kim hung his head. “Angela has the Book—Sophia. And she barely remembers her past moments with me.”
Lilith looked at Kim meaningfully, as if suspicious. As if he had no right to be unhappy that Angela had been forced to lose half of her past. As if he might actually do something about it. Then her face changed. Her smile suddenly looked strange and all too warm on her cold face. “So this all comes down to loneliness?” Lilith said. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Lilith slid a dark arm around Kim, drawing him close. She spoke seductively in his ear. “I must admit, you’re quite the enigma. I never seem to have you figured out. But learning about a person goes both ways. For instance, you never did tell me how you got this precious little human name of yours . . . Kim . . . enlighten me.”
“My mother wanted me to be a girl,” Kim said flatly.
“Well, I’m glad she was wrong,” Lilith said, and her eyes flashed at him intensely. She ran her fingers through his tangle of hair. “If you’re still feeling depressed tonight, feel free to come to my mansion. The Archon doesn’t have to know. And believe me, in one hour I can make you forget the entire world.”
Kim barely heard what she said.
He nodded but continued to examine Mastema sorrowfully as Lilith slunk away. He wasn’t sure how much more time had passed. Kim’s ears still buzzed with her lies and false promises. Lilith knew he was up to something. She just couldn’t figure out exactly what. That invitation to her mansion was just a way to keep him in check. He took a deep breath and stepped away, intent on leaving. Sophia was waiting for him, after all. But a flicker of movement caught the corner of his eye.
As if congealing from the shadows of the wall, a black snake appeared next to Mastema and peered down at Kim with bright orange eyes.
Kim froze. His pulse roared in his ears.
“You’re keeping me in suspense?” The snake’s mouth opened, revealing curved, needle-sharp fangs. “Because that,” the snake said, slithering around Mastema’s neck and stretching out to meet Kim, “wouldn’t be a wise thing to do, I’m afraid.”
“I won’t change my mind,” Kim said. He curled his hands into fists. “Angela needs her memories back.”
“Good . . .” the snake said. It gazed at him more intensely. “Just make sure you hold up your end of the bargain.”
“I’m not a liar,” Kim muttered. “And neither is Sophia.”
Though Sophia hadn’t agreed to anything just yet.
Kim stiffened as the snake stretched toward his shoulder and slithered around his neck. Its cool voice echoed inside of his ear, and its tongue flicked against his skin. “Of course not. You can’t afford to be,” the snake said.
It laughed, and the noise rang through the tunnel like a terrible bell as its reptilian body turned to ash, crumbling from Kim’s shoulders to the ground.
Five
Kim guided his Kirin swiftly through Babylon, knowing that the night would pass all too quickly, that their time was running out. The snake’s cold laughter echoed in his brain, timed to the burning image of Lilith’s piercing eyes.
One wrong move with either demon, and Angela might never be healed.
Sophia followed close behind on a steed of her own, but the beast didn’t have the same stealth as Kim’s. Its heavy paws thumped against the stone and earth as if they were boulders striking flint. Kim’s breaths erupted ragged and tired already. But neither he nor Sophia could slacken the pace until they were at least outside of the city, and right now its lights still shone like cold yellow stars on their backs.
He’d never become accustomed to riding these creatures. The Kirin resembled horses from Earth, but they were more like Hellish unicorns with a lethally sharp ribbed horn rising from the middle of their head, glowing eyes, and bodies that flickered with phosphorescent blue light.
Kim held the reins tight but winced at the pain in his hands. This Kirin had bitten him in his haste to release it from its paddock beneath Angela’s personal mansion.
Its flanks rippled with the light that signified distress. He and Sophia would be lucky to make it through the city unnoticed.
But so far, so good.
Many of the streets at this hour were deserted. Most demons knew enough not to wander on their own in the more lawless hours of the night. Kim and Sophia weaved through alleys and desolate wastes, they galloped over a bridge spanning the foaming Styx River, and then they were plunging into the lower levels of the city.
Kim glanced up at some guards patrolling the bridge. They noted his passage but didn’t make a move to stop him. Their silhouettes reappeared and disappeared behind grim spikes of obsidian as they casually strolled the bridge’s expanse. The fine mist above them responded to the increasingly chill air, tumbling in little crystals that glittered like diamond dust. Most of the guards weren’t used to any unannounced visitors into the lower levels at this hour, and certainly wiser souls knew enough never to visit at all.
Every demon in Hell knew what to expect here and what to fear.
Sophia and Kim were nearing one of the most gruesome vestiges of Babylon’s customs during Lucifel’s reign.
Kim stared straight ahead and refused to look to either side as the fog began to close in on them. Whenever the mists parted, it was only to reveal mounds upon mounds of skeletons. Some of them were demon skeletons, mostly children Kim assumed were born less than perfect. Others were dead Kirin or other terrible creatures from Hell that—for him at least—would always remain nameless.
Setting his jaw, Kim tried as hard as he could not to concentrate on what surrounded him. The sight of the dead children, or “chicks” as the demons called them, tore at his insides.
The angels hadn’t behaved any better in their past. From the heights of Heaven, deformed or less than desirable offspring had been thrown into Hell to fend for themselves or die. From the few survivors, the Jinn race had evolved. Kim was half-Jinn and he thought he looked normal enough.
That kind of exactness and cruelty had always torn at his soul. Angels and demons considered themselves superior to all other creatures. No, he’d never understand it.
Kim forced himself to keep riding. He and Sophia had almost arrived.
Finally, they entered a tunnel in the deepest reaches of the city.
The silence became absolute, except for the gentle paw strikes of the Kirin. Kim’s Kirin champed nervously as they navigated the narrow strip of stone bordering the Styx,
and he had to use a few well-timed caresses to goad the beast into moving forward. They were down to a slow trot. Beside them, the water churned.
Even the Kirin knew that to accidentally step into the Styx meant at the very least losing a limb to the acidic water.
Yet that wasn’t the only reason he and Sophia had little to fear from spies.
Every living thing sensed the demon who lorded over this part of Babylon. The very smell of the place usually kept any creature from entering. Finally, the Kirin refused to go ahead any farther. Kim slid off his mount and Sophia copied him.
Together, they walked forward into the darkness, following the hieroglyphs marking the stone. Carved serpents and stern warnings glowed along their path. Ignoring both, they continued to march down, and down, and down. Behind them, the Kirin reared but didn’t bolt. They also must have thought their masters would change their minds.
Sophia walked stiffly, barely looking at Kim. The Kirin’s frightened neighing echoed in the background.
“Are you certain he knows we’re coming?” she said to Kim.
Kim’s reply nearly drowned in the Styx now roaring past them. “Yes,” he said firmly.
Sophia paused for a moment, a haunted expression on her face. Maybe she was rethinking everything. Kim had to admit, he’d been astonished at how swiftly she’d agreed to this plan. He’d barely needed to coax her into her Kirin’s saddle.
The Styx boiled only a step away from them. Sophia glanced at the water, her eyes glazed and unreadable.
One wrong move and they might fall in, helpless as the acidic water dissolved their bodies and bones to smoke. Kim wrinkled his nose. The vinegary air cut into his throat whenever he breathed. He had to focus to see the arching gateway that marked the end of the tunnel through the thick fog. He strode toward it, offering a guiding hand to Sophia.
She shook her head politely, but stayed close by his side. Somehow the silence between them acted as a chain linking them together.
Fear could be a powerful instigator of new friendships.
Then they at last exited through the gateway and emerged on the eastern border of Babylon, its sky illuminated by faint orange globes. Their eerie light illuminated the far eastern crags of the unthinkably immense cavern cradling the city. Kim and Sophia stood on a tall hill, and a path cut steeply down its sides, rising back up among the stone again to end at the mansion of a Great Demon.
Sophia stared at it, her mouth tightly pursed. But she was the first to take another step forward.
Kim looked at her in surprise. He steeled himself and followed, never taking his gaze off what awaited.
Python’s private mansion sat alone. There were no other dwellings or signs of life near it, but perhaps there didn’t need to be. The building had enough personality to make up for that tenfold. Whereas Lilith’s and Angela’s mansions were cut with smooth elegance, Python’s reared up into Babylon’s fog with reams of jagged pyramid-shaped spires. Obelisks covered in hieroglyphs and grim mosaics flanked its enormous onyx doors. Statues of Hounds and feathered serpents, carved with terrible precision, sat above eaves and windows.
The gothic city of Luz, ensconced on Earth as if in its own little corner of the universe, had held only a shadow of such dark beauty.
Soon, Kim and Sophia stood at the mansion’s entrance, both of them focused on the glittering eyes of a feathered serpent statue near the door. Kim glanced at Sophia. She raised an eyebrow questioningly. There were no guards, or even beasts to warn of someone’s arrival.
Kim swallowed nervously.
“This place is enormous,” Sophia whispered. It sounded like she had to search to find her words. “You’ve never been here before at all?” She turned to Kim for answers again.
He shook his head. “Never. Python hated Mastema. Even when I was a child, it was understood to keep me far away from Python and anything he happened to claim as his own.”
“So I suppose now Python’s making up for the years lost between you two?”
Kim had nothing to say to that. He looked back up at the mansion rearing in front of them, wishing he could see through it. “Trust me, we wouldn’t be here if there was another way to help Angela. But there isn’t.”
“I know,” Sophia said. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She opened them again and her smooth brow furrowed. “I don’t see signs of anyone inside.”
“You won’t. Python keeps his entertainments as secret as possible. All the better for him to do what he likes without arousing suspicion. As if anyone trusts him any longer.” He ended with a laugh. “He judges his mother for her parties, but in the end he’s no better than she is. They simply miss what they lost in Heaven.”
Sophia approached the doors. They were the opposite of the door in Luz that Python had used to lure Angela into his deadly maze months ago. That door had been covered in grotesque carvings of hellish creatures, and its knob had been shaped like a snake. These doors were plain stone and had no knobs or handles. Two twining snakes rested atop the lintel, but that was all.
“Sophia,” Kim whispered in warning.
But Sophia didn’t budge. She examined the doors top to bottom.
Then she touched them.
Six
The doors creaked open so lightly they could have been made of air. Gently, Kim pushed Sophia to the side and peered into the noiseless shadows within the mansion. The building appeared deserted, but they both knew better than that.
Kim beckoned, urging Sophia to follow him.
They stepped into the building carefully. The place truly appeared abandoned. Webs of fine dust littered the furniture that had been left behind. More dust filtered through the air and choked off Kim’s breath. Most of the furniture pieces looked like faded relics, and their construction was too odd and opulent to be made by demons. Kim walked down the long hall with Sophia strolling cautiously behind; he was unable to keep from feeling that most of what he saw had been taken from Heaven as a remembrance of days past, long, long ago.
It felt like journeying through a cathedral. The hall seemed endless, the ceiling was far too vast and shadowy, and there were too many stairs and doors.
Finally, they paused in a circular room that connected to at least five other doorways.
“What is this nonsense?” Kim said bitterly. He wanted to scream. Did Python agree to this deal or not? Why would he waste time toying with them like this?
“Hold on,” Sophia said, stepping toward one of the doors. “Listen! Can you hear that?”
Kim sidled next to her.
Sophia nodded. “It sounds like . . . chanting. But I can’t make out what they’re saying.”
Kim’s lips parted. His face blanched as he listened. He stepped back and stared at his feet, questioning what he’d thought he’d heard. Surely, he was wrong. But he found himself setting his hand against the door anyway and, despite his better judgment, pushing it open.
Sophia clasped his arm with an iron grip. Kim knew they both expected the same thing to greet them—an immense crowd of chanting demons.
The door swung wide with a powerful creak.
A long hallway met them. Its arched ceiling appeared as distant as the sky, and large crystal pendants hung along its length, casting a dull red light everywhere.
There was dead silence. No crowd. Kim and Sophia stepped onto the red velvet carpet that stretched along the floor toward a dais and a chair on the far side of the room. The onyx chair was smaller than Angela’s, but somehow more menacing, carved with serpents and shadowy beasts with rubies for eyes. Upon it, the demon Python sat sideways with his legs slung over one armrest and his head tipped back lazily against the other. He appeared to be sleeping, and his pale face appeared almost peaceful. His thick black and violet hair hid his fearsome reptilian eyes.
Sophia seemed unable to let go of Kim’s arm.
He turned and examined her carefully. She nodded at him.
Together, they strode side by side up to Python and his throne. Kim fe
lt like he was dragging his feet through quicksand. Each step became harder than the last. Finally, they were at the foot of the stairs leading up to Python’s chair.
The demon opened one scarred eye, his snakelike gaze focusing on Kim in particular. A smile spread slowly on Python’s handsome face. He swung his feet to the floor and settled back in his seat again with his legs crossed. The jewels studding his dark coat glittered in the dim light. Even from this distance, Kim could see the scales on Python’s eyelids and bare feet. A chill shuddered through him.
“Well, well, well,” Python said in his suave voice. “Look who kept his part of the bargain, after all. I was beginning to worry about you, half-breed. The hour is late. I almost fell asleep waiting.”
That was clearly a lie. Demons like Python never slept at all. They schemed.
“We’re here, and that’s all that matters,” Kim said. “So, now what? You said you can restore Angela’s memories, but you didn’t say how. Or what you want in return.”
At the sound of Kim’s voice a strange hissing noise echoed throughout the hall. It sounded like a gigantic animal.
That sound was familiar. It echoed in Kim’s nightmares constantly.
“What is that?” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.
Python smirked. “Never you mind,” he said. He stood and sauntered down the stairs to meet them, appearing to glide more than walk. “What I want? Oh, I’m a demon of simple needs, Kim. Some might even call me transparent. No matter, I think we can both agree it’s refreshing to wear one’s heart on one’s sleeve. How else would I have known to approach you? Even a blind man could see how much you love the Archon. How much it hurts you to see Her suffer. It hurts me as well. It’s hard to see the ruler of Hell so infuriatingly weak.”
Python snapped his fingers, producing a crystal decanter with a red liquid inside. He tipped back his head and took a long drink, licking some ruby droplets from his mouth with a forked tongue. Then with a sudden vicious glare he tossed the decanter at Kim’s head.
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