The Underworld (Rhyn Eternal)

by Lizzy Ford

  Past-Death sighed no longer caring whether or not he was setting her up to be eaten or killed. “I doubt there’s anything there that will surprise me.”

  “I bet there is.”

  “You willing to make a deal?”

  “Yes. I bet something out there will surprise you, in exchange for you getting me a snack.”

  “Is that all you think about?” she grumbled. “Fine. Same small print as before.” She climbed to her feet, drained and miserable.

  With a nod, Jared opened the door to her bedchamber.

  Deidre winced at the sight of the trashed room that had been hers. Seeing the damage didn’t sting quite as much this time, though her gaze strayed once again to the jewelry box. Knowing the soul wasn’t there, she resisted the urge to check again.

  Human doubt. It was worse than pretty much every other emotion she’d learned about so far.

  Jared didn’t venture too far ahead of her, as if suspecting she was going to make a run for the closet and lock him out of it.

  The bedchamber was quiet, the door to the bathing room open. Steam curled out of the door and clung to the ceiling of the bedchamber. The entrance gaped open. There were no sounds of pursuit or death dealers in the hallway outside.

  “What is it?” she whispered. “What do you think will surprise me?”

  “First, do you have weapons up here?”

  She started to answer then stopped and looked around. She didn’t – but Gabriel had kept a small arsenal in a wardrobe. “Actually, there might be. Gabe kept some of that ungodly shit there.” She pointed then started to make her way towards the wardrobe.

  In her path, Jared appeared to be transfixed on something. He didn’t move when she approached or respond to her answer. Impatiently, she drew abreast of him and pushed at him, not wanting to venture from the narrow path through the rubble and debris that remained of her trip.

  He wasn’t moving.

  Past-Death climbed over a few chunks of petrified wood to pass him before she, too, stopped to stare at what had his attention.

  From this angle, she was able to see the bodies in the bathing chamber and how the hot springs now bubbled red. It wasn’t the bloodied corpse closest to the door that caught her attention but the collection of skeletons littering the bathing chamber and even her bedchamber, near the door.

  Puzzled, she walked over to the skeleton in front of the entrance and knelt beside it. The man had been reduced to bone and clothing. “I should know what did this,” she said, mentally battering at the blockade in her mind that kept her memories from her. “But it’s been more than twenty six years ago. I’m not surprised, though, demon.”

  “What?”

  She twisted, glaring at Jared. “What is wrong with you? Help me figure out what this is or go get weapons or something.”

  He was smiling. “You don’t see it.”

  “The bones?”

  “No.” He indicated the bathing chamber by tilting his chin towards it. “You know what tears out a man’s throat like that?”

  She rose and moved to get a better look. One of the death dealers had his throat ripped out, and the deep scratches on his face and arms were visible. “Ugh. Looks like the work of one of you sick demons.”

  “Only two demons in the palace,” he said, satisfied.

  “You and …who?”

  “Deidre.”

  “Oh, no. She’s way too …” Past-Death patted the air, seeking the right word. “Soft. I’d believe me capable of that before I’d consider her.”

  Jared strode forward, pausing by the wardrobe containing clothing. He fished something off the ground and lifted it.

  Past-Death frowned. It was Deidre’s Hell dress.

  “She’s a demon, the mate of the Dark One. I think she’s learning her power,” Jared said, far too satisfied by the discovery for past-Death’s comfort. “Surprised?”

  It was hard to deny the idea, especially with Deidre’s dress in her bedchamber. Past-Death was pensive for a moment, unable to shake the sense of guilt in her. Her actions had turned Deidre into a demon. Was there any part of the sweet, innocent human that would survive Hell?

  Or was it like she was learning: she was still very much herself, just … different in a few ways. Weaker. Less able to control her world. More willing to trust something intangible like hope, maybe even love.

  “If true, yes,” past-Death said. “So now I owe you what, a hand?”

  “Whatever.”

  “It won’t be mine.”

  “I’m fine with that.”

  “Well, that doesn’t explain the skeletons, unless that’s a trick of Darkyn’s no one knows about that Deidre picked up?” she asked, turning to the wardrobe with weapons.

  Jared shook his head and growled. “No. It makes me think we are better off in the closet.”

  “I didn’t think demons were cowards.”

  “I’m not a coward. A survivor. You seem to forget you aren’t immortal anymore. As a demon in the underworld, I’ve got the same chance of surviving as a puny human, except I can fight.”

  “Whatever, demon. Is this what you’re looking for?” She threw open the doors of the wardrobe. Gabriel kept a plethora of weapons he’d mastered over the years: swords and knives of different sizes and different blades, axes and maces, whips, bos, nun chucks … There were exotic weapons she didn’t know the names of he’d likely found in the fairy realm of Elisia, demons’ weapons in black metal, and a few other ancient human weapons.

  “I’m in love,” Jared breathed. He pushed her unceremoniously out of the way and gazed at the collection, wide-eyed and drooling again. “Most of these are collector’s pieces.”

  “Pick what you want,” she said, unconcerned. “If we don’t make it out of here alive, it won’t matter what those things are worth.”

  He murmured and marveled, needing no audience, as he picked up a weapon to study it, replaced it with reverence demons showed only for tools of killing, and moved to another.

  Past-Death returned to the pile of skeletons. “I know what did this.” But thinking about it made her head hurt.

  She’d seen Deidre run away with a young woman, no doubt a deity. One capable of doing this.

  “C’mon.” Jared gripped her arm and hauled her up. “You need to practice.”

  “Practice what?” she grumbled.

  “Killing.” He pushed her arms up and wrapped a leather belt with delicate filigree around her waist, this one containing sheathes for a few weapons he’d lined up on a chunk of marble.

  There was a time when a single touch caused men to drop at her feet. Past-Death had never feared taking a life; it had been a sacred duty, one she performed up until the day she left. Death was sacred, as was life, though she doubted she was going to like the way demons killed.

  “Short sword, axe, and knife. These are Elisian, made for the fairy warriors who are about your size.” Jared held up each one as he spoke before placing it in its respective sheath. “You’re in luck, cupcake. There are a few dead dealers in the bathing chamber waiting for you to practice.”

  He wore his own collection of weapons, much larger than hers. Sheathing the last, he pushed her towards the bathing room.

  “So barbaric,” she complained. Past-Death stepped over rivulets of blood, disappointed by the amount of blood that tainted the hot springs pink. “It’ll take a lot of work to get the blood out of there.”

  “The Elisian metal is light enough for someone as weak as you.”

  She glared at him.

  “We’ve got a few bodies. Try chopping off arms or something,” Jared suggested.

  “Really? This is your plan?”

  “Listen, cupcake, it’s easier to do when someone is already dead-dead. You can make mistakes here. You can’t when they’re alive.” He drew a dagger as he spoke and bent down, slicing off the ear of a dead dealer. “Lots of skeletons. Whatever did it works fast.”

  “I noticed that, too.” Past-Death took in the death. “Ten
skeletons, four other. Only one looks like a demon did it. These three look like they just fell over dead.”

  “A demoness learning her magic. She can kill with a touch. This one was personal,” he assessed, standing over the dealer with the ravaged body. “Maybe this skeleton-maker was in danger.”

  Past-Death wasn’t certain how to explain it. Until she saw Deidre again, she wasn’t about to assume the sweet girl could do anything like this.

  “Me, however …” She gazed down at the body at her feet. “I think I can.” Death was second nature to her. She understood it differently as a human and had the compelling need not to cause too much pain. She’d never understood the difference between a quick and slow death or why so many begged her for a quick one, when she was a deity.

  It was because humans and Immortals were blessed with the ability to feel the softness of clothing, the warmth of sunlight. Their bodies were sensitive and delicate, the sensations so deliciously intense, like the way Gabriel smelled or how his hands felt skimming down her naked skin.

  Having been attacked by a demon, it made sense to her now that pain was as powerful as pleasure to creatures so sensitive to their environments.

  “Elisian weapons are specially designed … to require less … effort,” Jared explained, gnawing on the ear he’d chopped free.

  “You’re disgusting,” she muttered.

  “Better his ear than yours.”

  She grimaced at his display and drew the axe. With a head the size of her palm and delicate designs carved into the staff, it appeared more like a decorative piece than anything else. It was as light as a stick, and she swung it around in front of her face. The blade appeared to be sharpened to the point of becoming translucent.

  “You sure this is meant to be used in battle?” she asked.

  “Positive. Test it. Hack off that one’s foot.”

  Her attention went to the dealer nearest her. She bent over, raised the axe, and drove it downward. Expecting to feel resistance, she braced her body and almost fell over when it sliced through the ankle with no effort.

  “Wow.” Past-Death regained her balance and straightened, hope blossoming. “You’re right. I can defeat an army with this. We may not die here after all.”

  Jared snorted. “If they were already dead, maybe. But you have to not get killed first in order to take out one of your trained killers.”

  “There’s no Elisian armor?”

  “None. Toss me that foot and we’re even.”

  With a grimace, she picked it up by the big toe and threw it to him.

  “How ‘bout its head? I’ll keep it for later.”

  “Chop off your own head,” she snapped. “I’m not supporting your filthy demon habit.”

  “You who shove a whole animal into an oven find my habit filthy?”

  Past-Death replaced the axe at her waist and drew the sword, intent on trying out all her new toys.

  “Someone is coming.”

  Her gaze flew up.

  Jared had gone rigid, clenching the ear between his teeth as he reached for a dagger.

  “Back to the closet,” she said and hurried out of the bathing chamber.

  Whatever Jared sensed, she did not, but demons had the instincts of animals, not humans.

  Jared was quick to follow, and she opened the door to the secret room, leading them in.

  Only when it was closed did she relax. “Did the death dealers find us?”

  “Maybe. I’d rather meet them on neutral territory than risk fighting in that mess.”

  Past-Death returned to the caldron, wishing she knew what was supposed to happen in the sacred place. “I guess we wait them out this time.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Okay, so no one is here,” Deidre stood in the doorway of the cell she’d shared with past-Death and Jared. There was no blood in the air, a sign past-Death hadn’t been eaten before leaving the dungeon.

  He got his fill of the guards on the floor above. She’d stopped to look too long, drawn by the delicious scent of blood and the eerie, nauseating acknowledgment she had the same ability to disassemble a human body as Jared had.

  “I don’t know where to start looking. I could search this place forever.” Troubled, she moved away from the cell. Past-Death had the advantage of knowing the palace, whereas Deidre was easily lost and running on fumes.

  Karma had drifted down the hallway and stood halfway between Deidre’s old cell and her own.

  “Karma, are you ready to go?” Deidre called as loudly as she dared with a worried look over her shoulder.

  The deity’s hair had gone straight, a sign Deidre took to mean she was upset. Approaching, Deidre reached out to touch Karma’s arm.

  “Whatever it is, it’s okay,” she said. “We’ll get out of here together.”

  “This does not worry me,” Karma replied.

  “What’s wrong then?”

  Without replying, Karma turned away and started down the hallway, towards the exit. Deidre followed, concerned as much for her new friend as she was being discovered.

  Or being forced into a position where she had to kill again.

  “Your friend is not here,” Karma observed. “We should leave the palace. Find those seeking you.”

  Deidre’s heart skipped a beat. “Darkyn.”

  “The Great Imbalance and others.”

  “They aren’t here for me,” Deidre said. “But he is. You think we can evade the dealers long enough to reach the forest?”

  “Karma isn’t sure.” The deity studied her. “You are very weak.”

  “I know.” Deidre swallowed hard. “I don’t have a choice though, do I?”

  Karma shook her head. “And if you die-dead, Death or the Great Imbalance are the only who can raise a soul.”

  “So we need to find them no matter what.” Deidre chewed on her lower lip. “What about my friend? What if she’s in trouble or worse?”

  Karma rested her hands on Deidre’s shoulders, and her hair instantly tightened into spirals. “You are in trouble now. You will not live long enough to help her. We must go to the forest and save your life.”

  Deidre managed a smile. “Why do people hate you? You’re so sweet.”

  Karma’s eyebrows quirked. “I am sweet because you are. I reflect those around me, remember?”

  Deidre nodded, not wanting to think about how Karma was going to react when she ran into the Dark One.

  “We will fix you then come back. Come!” Karma took her hand and took off at a quick trot, jarring Deidre out of her spot. “It will be dark soon. We can escape then.”

  “Really? It looked like noon to me.”

  “I has been here long enough to understand how time passes. Night is coming.”

  Deidre said nothing, focusing her remaining energy on fleeing.

  “Once we leave the palace, don’t let go of my hand, until we reach safety. No matter what.”

  “Okay,” Deidre replied. Reluctant to leave past-Death behind, she also suspected she wasn’t going to last long enough to make a difference in helping her quasi-friend, if she didn’t find her mate in time.

  The idea he’d come to the underworld to find her – that Gabriel let him – filled Deidre with an emotion so happy, it gave her strength when she feared hers was almost gone.

  Together with Karma, she ran.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Gabriel checked the sky once more. The two suns were up in the position of midday, but the forest animals had grown quiet, preparing for the night they knew was coming.

  Calculating how long he had before someone noticed the scouts missing on the eastern side of the palace, he determined he had enough time to await nightfall. There were hundreds of death dealers in the palace. He didn’t need to go in, just make it to the wall where he knew there to be an entrance to one of the secret passages past-Death taught him about.

  He settled back into the brush and withdrew a rag to wipe the blood from his weapons. Steadying his breath, he focused on g
rounding himself in the short period of time he had between day and night.

  “Are we not charging full speed to take the palace?”

  Tensing, Gabriel twisted to face the speaker without raising his weapons.

  Fate crouched a few feet away, dressed as if for a safari, down to his round hat and the binoculars dangling around his neck. The stunning deity was lean and toned, his eyes swirling every color and no color at all. Brown hair peeked out from the hat.

  Gabriel wasn’t entirely certain how to take the deity’s visit. “You come when no one wants you and don’t come when I could use insight. You are brilliantly inconsistent, Fate.”

  “As are you, Death.” Fate smiled, flashing white teeth. Ostensibly open and friendly, he was nonetheless devious in the way of a powerful, bored god. He settled onto a stump near Gabriel. “But I’m happy to say you’re getting better.”

  Gabriel continued with his weapons, debating what to say to the deity who had proven to be both the best mentor he’d ever had and the greatest liar he’d ever dealt with.

  “Did you figure it out?” Fate asked at his silence.

  “Figure what out?”

  “What’s wrong with the underworld. Why it locked you out.”

  “You locked me out.”

  “Semantics. It would’ve done the same if it could. A domain is vulnerable to its master, even if he doesn’t intend to hurt it.”

  Gabriel eyed him. “Maybe I did. It was broken, because I came close to breaking two of the three original laws, thanks to human emotion.”

  “Terribly romantic, isn’t it?” Fate grinned. “The great deity Death suffers from heartbreak and turns away from his destiny, and the universe crumbles.”

  “Terrible, yes.” Gabriel sheathed his weapons. “What’s worse: why you couldn’t just tell me what to fucking do.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “No it’s not. Just say, hey, Gabe. Stop being an ass and be a good Death.”

  “I think I did try that approach.” Fate grinned. “I told you a lot, Gabriel, but you weren’t ready to hear it or didn’t understand it, if you did.”

  Gabriel shook his head, sensing it was probably the truth.