by Lori Adams
“Dante, where are we?” she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself.
Reality dawned on him and Dante’s face broke into a smile. He couldn’t help but laugh. “Sophia! Finally, you are here. With me.” He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the ground and whirling her around.
“Oh, God, please! No more spinning!” she cried. He set her back on her feet and clutched her shoulders.
“I have kept my word. After all these years, all these centuries, I have brought us home, together. At last.”
Ka stared, her heart pounding with adrenaline. She gave him a cautious smile while her eyes shifted to Vaughn and then to Santiago, just now joining them. “But, Dante, you said you understood. I have very few memories. I mean, they’re coming, but in vague flashes. Disjointed visions that I can’t begin to under—”
“Of course. You have explained. And you agreed to be with me when all your memories returned.”
“Yes, but I didn’t realize you’d be leaving so soon,” she whispered, her voice thin over her nerves. She looked back at the horrific landscape. “I mean, I didn’t even say good-bye to anyone or—”
“It had to be now. As you can see.” He indicated his arm where the chain tattoo still simmered with green smoke. “I am at the mercy of Lord Brutus, for the moment. Besides, I wanted you here when you gained your memories. I want you secure in my chambers and—”
“We need to get through the gate first,” Santiago cut in. His voice was sharp with fear, although the words sounded more like an order. Dante scowled, making him fidget. Now, more than ever, Santiago had to remember his place; he was an underling, nothing more. Fumbling to make amends, he gestured toward Ka. “I mean, seriously, it’s not safe being out in the open like this. Never know what kind of demented asshole you’ll meet who wants to drag your ass down into his pit. I’d just hate for anything to…you know, happen to Sophia now. After all you guys did. So…can we get going already?” He moved toward the bridge but hesitated. As much as he wanted to cut out, there was no way he was crossing first.
Vaughn gave Santiago a friendly shove aside. He chuckled at the kid’s concerns and strolled onto the bridge. Santiago followed cautiously, clutching his backpacks and mumbling curses at the red foam. Dante walked Ka up to the bridge but she pulled to a stop.
“I thought…isn’t there supposed to be a ferry or something? Don’t we have to pay the ferryman?”
Dante worked to hide his smile. He shook his head and guided her onto the bridge. He could hear Vaughn laughing and mumbling something about pathetic bedtime stories.
It was a narrow, treacherous crossing poised a few inches above the bleeding foam. Missing planks kept them alert. An occasional rotting face with hollowed eyes floated to the surface and jolted Ka’s attention. Several times she had to stop and regain her composure.
As they reached the halfway mark, the boom of native drums rose out of the darkness. Deep male voices followed, chanting a raspy rhythm that made her skin crawl. Chains rattled through pulleys. Violent, snapping sounds produced cries of agony. Somewhere behind the gates, lost souls suffered and labored under a Master’s whip.
All around Ka, strange black streaks whirled through the air. They elongated into hideous, screaming faces that made her recoil. Their slurring whispers clung to her ears, tempting her to step into the red foam. They made her insatiably curious about things she knew best to avoid. When she hesitated and extended her foot over the edge, Dante jerked her back. He warned her not to succumb to the cravings. From that point on, he held her by the arm, taking no chances.
The chanting escalated into a thunderous racket that overtook everything else. It rose higher and higher in a passionate crescendo and then stopped in startling silence.
They had reached the end of the bridge and stood on a wide stone concourse. The heavy gray mist clinging to their skin and shrouding the gate dissolved and parted from the ground up. It revealed twelve ancient gravestones standing six feet tall and lining each side of the concourse. Behind the gravestones were piles of bones that went on forever and the occasional skull or fresh head on a pike. A blast of hot air swept in from the bloody moat and suddenly a monstrosity appeared that loomed far higher than the black iron gates themselves.
At first glance, the entire entrance seemed the work of Gothic architecture, as though the great cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris had been gnawed to the bone and left to rot. Lofty towers and high-pitched peaks had been sliced open and gutted, their exposed entrails of human suffering hanging thirty, forty, fifty stories up in the air. Holy spires became jagged spears that impaled sinners. The rich, decorative ornamentation had been transformed into a conglomeration of writhing serpents in dark niches. Flying buttresses had detached themselves from the structure and opened wide as a dozen black iron claws sprouting from the ground, looking like a bear claw ready to slam shut at the slightest provocation. Red and yellow flames pulsated throughout the arrangement while the center of it was the face of a gigantic gargoyle adorned with two enormous horns, serrated fangs, flaming eyes, and black iron wings that stretched hundreds of feet across. The grotesque configuration was a portico above the two massive black doors that officially constituted gate five.
Ka had to crane her neck back to take it all in. She was speechless. Dante couldn’t imagine what she must have been thinking. Perhaps it was a good sign that she hadn’t fainted or run off screaming in terror.
“Sophia?” he whispered, sliding a hand into hers. Her skin was blazing and moist. She turned and looked at him, and for a moment he thought he saw flames burning in her eyes. A reflection, he decided. The red, rolling sky shone in her eyes. “It will be very satisfying the day you call this home.” He smiled and pulled her along the concourse before she could argue.
They had nearly made it to the gates when three guards appeared from behind the last gravestone. They were large, imposing figures in the black and gray liveries of The Order of Reapers. Members of the Royal Guard. Each had a smile and a battle-ax.
“Demon Knight Dante!” The leader called out a friendly greeting. “You lucky son of a bitch! How’d you get back here in one piece?” He marched forward with his arm extended for an embrace.
“Bain!” Dante smiled. But it was Vaughn who went to meet the guard across the square.
“What’s this?” Vaughn chuckled. “A welcoming committee?” They clasped right forearms in the ancient embrace, and then Vaughn shook down the tattoo dagger on his left forearm and plunged it into Bain’s gut.
The man went rigid, his face frozen in shock and his body flickering with a strange green light. With a final grunt, Bain’s left arm sagged and his battle-ax clattered against the stones.
The smile died on Vaughn’s lips and his eyes became black and lifeless. “Sent here to take our heads, were you?” he asked, jerking the blade higher and deeper. Then he leaned his head back and closed his eyes as his demon enjoyed the pleasure of the kill. Sighing with deep satisfaction, he pushed the guard off his blade.
Seeing their leader destroyed, the other guards rushed forward, calling a battle cry and swinging their axes.
Dante pushed Ka behind him and whipped out his tattoo daggers. They slid through flesh and landed in his palms. He met the first attack with ease, severing the man’s arm in one swipe. The battle-ax grazed his leg but Dante spun away and then cut backward, taking the man’s head from behind.
Vaughn toyed with the third guard, ducking as the ax swiped over his head. Then he slashed a shallow groove into the man’s chest. Not a fatal wound, but the fire that accompanied the mystical weapons was a jolt to the man’s system. He staggered and clutched his chest. Vaughn grabbed a handful of the man’s hair and jerked his face around. He didn’t recognize the fool so he laid the blade against his neck.
“Name your Master,” Vaughn demanded in a quiet tone. The guard’s eyes floated and his mouth opened. Blood drooled down his chin. “His name!” Vaughn shouted.
“Fuck you,” the man g
urgled. Vaughn drew the blade across his throat, deep enough to sever the head without much effort. The body collapsed at his feet and Vaughn offered the head to Dante.
“Do we know him?”
Dante’s nostrils flared as he ground his teeth. He should’ve known Lord Brutus would try to intercede when they returned. No doubt the old man had discovered exactly when the tethers would drag them back to Hell.
“Bain’s allegiance will change by the hour, and that one…I have no idea. But make no mistake, Lord Brutus is somewhere behind this.”
Dante retracted one of his blades and took Ka’s hand. She was visibly shaken, reminding him that just hours ago she had failed to destroy the graveyard demons they had conjured to hasten her Awakening. It was Dante’s opinion that Rama Kuan had not proven to be the right Master for her. Something he planned to rectify himself, as the first order of business. He knew she would have to learn to defend herself in Hell as quickly as possible.
“Do not worry,” he said, smiling with reassurance. “Just Lord Brutus sending his calling card.”
“But how did you know they were sent to kill us? Aren’t there always guards at the gates of Hell?”
Vaughn scoffed and hurled the head onto the bone pile behind the gravestones. “Getting into Hell’s not the problem, sweetheart. All assholes are welcome. It’s getting out that’s tricky. The guards were on the wrong side of the gate.”
Ka took a moment to let this new understanding sink in. “So if they know you guys escaped the Death Bunker and they know we’re here now, how do we get in and stay safe?”
Vaughn armed himself with both blades and surveyed their surroundings. “Hey, kid.” He motioned Santiago forward. “You underlings are always sneaking around back corridors. Can you get us to our chambers unnoticed?”
“Yeah,” Santiago croaked and then coughed to clear the stress from his throat. He hated violence and had been unnerved by the attack. “After we get through the gates, we’ll go below and cut around the main hall. But we gotta hit the gatekeeper. Julian’s expecting us.”
“Let’s get moving, then,” Vaughn ordered. He looked back at Ka and grinned. “Welcome to Boca del Infierno.”
With Vaughn and the two mystical daggers leading the way, they cautiously approached the gate. The two iron doors began to open on their own, drawing inward in welcome. The air inside was muggy and hot, pulling at their clothes and hair like a black hole. This was followed by tendrils of incense that seeped from crevices in the stone slabs. It soothed any desires to turn back. Vaughn was right, getting through the gates of Hell was easy. Leaving would be another matter.
Vaughn and Santiago entered first. And then Dante and Ka, hand in hand, walking through the massive doorway with nervous eyes cast in every direction. Vaughn ordered them to stay close as he moved to the edge of the main hall. The barrel-vaulted ceiling was the color of dried blood and seemed alive from the glimmering heat waves rising from pillars of fire around the room.
The main hall was a gathering place where nobles roamed and displayed their stature with colorful liveries. It was here that they hatched plots or prepared backstabbing deals around the five massive hearths.
Dante warned Ka to keep her eyes averted to avoid drawing attention, as they hurried along the fringe and down stone steps leading to the lower level. There were too many familiar faces he was not prepared to meet. Not until he determined how he would be received by The Order. Most members would be furious at his disobedience, again. No doubt Lord Brutus would demand that he be sent directly to the Nether Region to begin demonic fading that would extinguish his existence in the most painful way. But there might be a few rational lords who would see the wisdom in his actions. Dante had done something no one else ever had: He had brought a live soul—in the midst of an Awakening—to Hell.
Once again putting his trust in an underling, as much as he despised doing so, Dante followed Santiago down into the catacombs. They traveled through a maze of crude stone corridors lined with blazing torches, down and around, backtracking, and then up again to another level. As they approached a door hidden in a sidewall, it was thrown open and Julian Wexler, gatekeeper to gate five, stuck out his head. He wore a black cowboy hat and clenched a blackened cigar stub between his teeth.
“Could you be any slower?” he demanded in a harsh whisper. He checked the opposite direction, waved them on, and then ducked back inside.
They moved into the room where Julian shut and locked the door with an electronic chirp from the remote in his hand. He pocketed it in the ratty red robe he always wore and then rushed to his desk. The wall above was covered with multiple flat screens and monitors that displayed various chambers, corridors, dungeons, alleyways, villages, the main hall, the gallery, and the Death Bunker. Every place but The Order’s inner sanctum. Julian tapped the center of the touch-screen monitor and then entered important codes into several nearby monitors by flicking them with his fingers. Like a spider working a web, he sent Intel in every direction through several receivers. Then he turned back to his guests.
Santiago gazed around and let out a whistle. “Man, you got jacked.” He dropped onto Julian’s bed and removed the two backpacks. The dormlike cave had been stripped of all extraneous paraphernalia; no more Einstein posters, Game of Thrones shot glasses, intergalactic bobbleheads, or Tardis minifridge. “They even took your Star Wars sheets. That’s harsh.”
“The Order thinks boredom is code for torture,” Julian said offhandedly. He fixed his gaze on Ka, and then, as though remembering his manners, pulled off his cowboy hat and held it against his stomach. Disheveled brown hair fell into his eyes and he quickly brushed it back with his free hand. “I been heads down, making sure you guys made it back safe. But I didn’t know about Bain and his men until…well, I’m glad you’re safe.” He offered a crooked smile while he fidgeted with his hat. “So you’re Sophia St. James? The one everybody’s been talking about?”
Ka tilted her head with interest. “Everybody’s been talking about me? Down here?” She pulled her eyes from Julian and looked at Dante. He was assessing the gatekeeper with suspicion.
“Tell me what’s been happening here since we’ve been gone,” Dante ordered. Despite Julian’s help, Dante didn’t fully trust him. Then again, Dante didn’t fully trust anyone. Could be his nature, or it could be that he’d been betrayed one too many times. Being in Hell since the fourteen century could do that to a man.
Julian smashed the hat back onto his head and then wheeled out a chair for Ka. Seeing that she was comfortable, he tossed the cigar onto his desk and gave Dante his full attention.
“Well, things got megabad right after you guys were discovered missing. Lord Brutus went ape shit. Sent men to every chamber, tearing the place apart looking for you. He was sure one of his enemies had you stashed somewhere. He sent two legions to invade the third kingdom and was calling up his Knights to head into the fourth when your tattoo daggers were activated. Like I told Santi, the minute the weapons went live, my alarms went off and—”
“You’re the one who told that son of a bitch we were topside?” Vaughn demanded, but Julian was quick to shake his head.
“I didn’t tell them shit!”
“Then how did they know?” Dante asked.
“ ’Cause Lord Brutus had guards posted outside my door in case you tried to leave. He had no idea that those extensions on Isatou’s branded tattoos were really tethers. He’s not a guy for details and didn’t pay attention to the extra links that ran down your arms. He didn’t know you could leave Hell. When the guards heard my alarms go off, they busted in here and put it together.” He shifted uncomfortably under Dante’s hard glare.
“Go on,” Dante said.
“Well, they couldn’t be sure how far you got with the tethers. It was a real debate, at first. The nobles started gathering like a pack of emojis, wagering all kinds of shit. You know how they’ll bet on anything. Anyway, things got worse when that spy reported back to Lord Brutus. They knew
you’d made it all the way to Haven Hurst.”
Dante and Vaughn looked at each other. They had failed to detect the spy among Sophia’s friends.
“Anyone know who the spy is?” Dante asked.
“Negative. Nobody knows and old Lord Brut isn’t saying. Anyway, things were heating up. The spy said Sophia had nearly completed her Awakening. Some nobles were betting you’d turn her dark. And, of course, they went into a frenzy last night.”
“What do you mean?” Dante asked, and Julian flinched in disbelief.
“What do you mean, what do I mean? Last night. When Sophia killed Wolfgang.”
Dante’s eyes cut to Ka, sitting as still as a statue. At first she appeared just as shocked as he was. He watched her eyes widen with wonder.
Vaughn started to argue that it was impossible for a human to destroy a monster like Wolfgang, but something in Ka’s expression stopped him.
“Sophia?” Dante said. “Do you know what he’s talking about?”
Ka inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. She clasped her hands and frowned in deep concentration. The moment stretched long and uncomfortable. Dante grew nervous. Then she opened her eyes with a smug expression.
“Yes. I killed Wolfgang,” she said lightly. It was as though she felt silly to have forgotten to remember something so important.
“When? Where?” Vaughn demanded in a callous tone. He stepped toward her, but Dante’s hand shot out.
“Let her speak.” He nodded to Ka and so she offered the details, with slight variations, of what Sophia had done last night. She told them how humiliated she’d felt after leaving the mansion unable to protect herself from the graveyard demons. She drove to the barn for a workout and then went home. But she hadn’t wanted to go inside, afraid that her dad would question her dark mood. So she walked around the town square, through the Winter Carnival decorations. Everyone had gone to the dance so the place was deserted, or so she’d thought.