Covenant

by Sabrina Benulis

  Kim struggled to keep his voice lower. “Even your mother sees Troy as a threat. If Troy kills me—then what will you do? So much for freeing the Prince from her cage.”

  “My mother,” Python hissed between his teeth, “is currently out of the picture.”

  “Do you really want to see Lilith dead?” Kim snapped.

  Now Python’s eyes narrowed to deadly slits. He stepped forward, leaning over Kim. “Don’t get personal with me. I’ve already done you more than a favor by turning a blind eye as you took my mother to bed for your own personal gain.”

  “YOU TOLD ME TO DO THAT. You said she wouldn’t trust me unless I—”

  “Quiet,” Python said, grabbing Kim by the mouth. The demon’s fingers pinched Kim’s face with a searing pain. “Quiet.”

  Kim burned to rip Python’s head off. Instead, he looked at Angela who continued to pace cautiously ahead. He trembled and did his best to calm down.

  “Good boy,” Python said. He let go. His snakelike eyes bored into Kim. “When it comes down to it, you’ve grown soft, haven’t you? You’ve changed. That blazing fire behind your eyes, the anger and bitterness that propelled you forward, it’s all fading fast. You’re right. You need all the protection you can get. You’ve grown tired, half-breed. If the Jinn does in fact reach you, there’s no doubt in my mind as to who will emerge victorious from your little battle.”

  Python broke away from Kim and walked ahead of Angela.

  She stepped backward in alarm but allowed the demon to pass without saying anything foolish. Python’s lithe figure melded briefly into the darkness.

  Kim caught up to her, rubbing at the blossoming bruise on his chin.

  “What happened?” Angela said, real concern on her face. “Did Python hurt you?”

  “We had a little argument,” Kim muttered. “Nothing to get worked up about. He knows it wouldn’t be smart to kill me.”

  They paused for a moment. Angela glanced at a mosaic to their left. It had been made with glittering black, purple, and silver stones and depicted a gigantic snake within a shining garden.

  “The Garden of Eden,” Kim said slowly, gazing at it with her. “Before it was tainted by lies . . .”

  Angela stared at the mosaic snake’s orange eyes.

  She then looked down the shadows of the tunnel where Python had gone ahead of them. She resumed walking and her pace was quicker this time.

  “How do you know him?” Angela demanded. Her beautiful face, all sharp angles and large blue eyes, seemed even more severe in the ominous half-light. “What bargain did you make with him, Kim? Was it all about Troy?”

  Kim couldn’t lie to her now. Not with so much already keeping them apart. “Just like his mother, Python promised to kill Troy for me. But in exchange I’m to free Lucifel from her prison.”

  Angela skidded to a halt. Her expression was incredulous. “You can’t do that.”

  “You don’t understand,” Kim said grimly. “I have to. If I don’t . . . so much for helping Sophia.”

  “I really don’t see how the two are connected,” Angela said angrily.

  “It’s very simple,” Kim said. “If I don’t free Lucifel, you can’t kill her either. She will take what is in the Book, Angela, and then she will silence the universe with it. Somehow. All I know is that my adoptive father believes in that insane ideal of hers, and I suddenly disagree. Lucifel knows now you are truly the only one who can open Sophia. She wants you both down here beside her for a reason. This is all one big convoluted trap. But better to take the opportunity while we have it.”

  Angela’s voice grew louder. “Did you write that poem about a Covenant and Ruin and leave it in my dorm house so that I would find it? Stephanie said that was your writing . . .”

  She must have meant the poem Python had forced Kim to write. Kim had felt it was underhanded, but the demon had claimed they could use it to encourage Angela through the door that much faster. He’d also made enough threats that Kim never really had a choice. “Yes, I wrote the poem,” Kim said softly.

  He refrained from saying that he hadn’t been the person who’d delivered it. That had been Python’s responsibility. Kim could only imagine what poor soul the demon had bribed to do it. Probably a student who knew Angela personally.

  But Angela didn’t need to know that just yet. She was already worked up enough, and confronting Python was far from a good idea.

  “I think you’re insane,” Angela spat back at him.

  Kim touched her long red hair. “What will you do then?” he said sadly. “Kill me?”

  Angela stared at him. Swiftly, she slapped him across the face. She breathed hard and fast, her eyes glazed with tears. In stormy silence, she sped off down the tunnel.

  Kim closed his eyes, touching another painful spot on his cheek. He trembled. Angela didn’t understand. He didn’t want this either. But for her own good, there was no turning back. It was his unfortunate destiny, after all. Sucking in a painful breath, he started after her.

  They were both brought up short by Python. The demon stood in front of two giant double doors made of black glass. He crossed his arms, searching Kim and Angela with his eyes by turns. “Have the little lovebirds finished their quarrel?”

  Before Kim could hold her back, Angela strode up to Python fearlessly.

  “What kind of lies have you been feeding me? You told me you wanted to keep Lucifel in her cage—now Kim tells me you want just the opposite?” Angela shouted in his face.

  Kim knew better than to interrupt. He could only pray.

  Python’s expression tightened coolly, but he never lost his composure. “Death is as good a cage as any other. It is probably the only one Lucifel will never really leave. But I’d suggest you keep your voice down and your suspicions better placed. The Prince has spies everywhere. Sometimes the walls literally have ears . . .”

  Python slammed a fist near what Kim had thought was the carving of a spider.

  The insect’s green eyes flared to life. Then it hissed and scuttled like lightning across the walls and down the tunnel.

  Angela watched it go, horror written all over her face.

  “My, my . . . what would you do without me?” Python said, smirking at her.

  Forced to give up on confronting him, Angela peered at the glass doors behind the demon. Kim feared she might try to bust right through them without a thought, but she glanced at him and checked herself for a moment.

  “So what is this? An exit? I hate doors now,” Angela said, still trying to sound angry. “There’s never anything good behind them.” She nearly shoved Python aside, examining the latest obstacle to her freedom. “I don’t want any sneaky half-truths anymore. This had better be the way out of here.”

  “It is,” Python said. “At least—if you can get past the guards. We’ve reached one of the many exits from the labyrinth. Yes, there is more than one way out. That’s the fun of the process, of course. A few ways out, only one terrible way in. After this threshold, consider yourself one step closer to the lowest reaches of the demon city of Babylon, and unfortunately for Lucifel, the Abyss. She’s a smart god, however. The Watchers guard this way into Babylon. Regrettably, there are no shortcuts around them . . .”

  “The Watchers,” Angela repeated. She shivered. “What are they?”

  She glanced around, apparently realizing what Kim had known for a while—that the hieroglyphs on the walls and the mosaics tiled beneath them had been established in sequence, as if telling a story.

  In them, Kim recognized angels. Humans.

  A tall figure with many wings confused him, but Angela stared at it keenly. Even he could see that its face vaguely resembled her own.

  She gazed at it, seeming to remember something as her face grew paler.

  Kim swallowed nervously. He looked to her, trying to remain calm as he explained. “The Watchers are angels who defied God by coming to Earth and interbreeding with humans. But the resulting offspring were either stillborn or died shortly
after birth. Initially, God punished the Watchers by forcing them to guard the gateway separating the Underworld from Heaven for all eternity. However, after Lucifel’s revolt in Heaven, they sided with her, hoping she would be their salvation. She merely moved them into Hell, where they now help guard the demon city of Babylon.”

  “They are beyond reasoning with,” Python said. “Trust me.”

  Angela gazed up at the words hastily scrawled in demonic Theban over the odd doors. “What does that say?”

  Kim read the words aloud.

  One exit of many has been found

  That much nearer to the infernal crown.

  Python repeated the words, and smiled. “It’s such an ominous but clever rhyme.”

  Angela glared at him. “There really is no other way but to go past them?”

  “Only if you don’t mind turning back and retracing your steps,” Python said, regarding her with curiosity. “But that’s up to you. If it were me, I don’t think I would be that optimistic . . . especially considering your circumstances. But that’s the mystery, isn’t it? What would happen if you were to turn back and choose another path? Perhaps we’ll never know. I suppose it’s just another part of what makes a maze so much fun.” He said those last words licking his bottom teeth and staring at her. “Mazes and stories are a lot alike,” Python said. “So many twists and turns. And you never quite know if they’ll end happily.”

  “I’m not turning back,” Angela said. But the look on her face showed how much her heart was sinking.

  Kim knew how she felt. What if that wasn’t the right choice? And yet . . .

  “Oh, I know you’re not turning back,” Python said to her. “That’s what makes you so much fun. You’re far from boring, Angela Mathers.”

  Kim turned aside this time. It was hard to look at Python because he found himself hating the demon more by the second. “Let’s get on with this,” he muttered.

  Angela glanced at Kim, seeming to think. She turned back to Python. “Should we expect your help in there?”

  “Must I do everything for you, my dear?” Python said. “Indeed, I’ve done too much already. Very few make it this far through the labyrinth at all. Considering the trouble I’ll now have with my mother, I should go back and console her for tragically losing the troublesome Archon. At the very least, I’ll slow down her progress as she sends the Hounds of Hell to sniff after you. In short—no.”

  Purple mist billowed around the demon’s feet and torso.

  “But if you want my advice, make sure the Watchers don’t get into your head. Those former angels are always too curious for their own good . . .”

  The fog drifted away, and Python was gone.

  Kim looked at Angela, his eyes meeting hers. He still felt her gentle kiss on his mouth, and he warmed inside despite the chill running across his skin. Angela didn’t say anything, merely set her hand on the gnarled handles of the doors.

  Her face steeled with resolve.

  She stood like that for a minute or longer, seeming unable to take the next step. Her fingers shivered. She closed her eyes.

  Kim could only watch as she held the handles firmly and pushed.

  Thirty

  Angela couldn’t know it—but because Luz was the linchpin connecting the Realms, everything in the city mirrored Heaven and Hell to some degree. From Luz’s shape, to its festivals, to its watchful statues—everything the Archon would be forced to endure had already passed in some way before Her eyes. —SOPHIA

  Angela had expected yet another tunnel, hall, or corridor. But when the doors opened, she found herself gazing into a cavern that was so immense, it seemed to have its own sky. A completely flat and silent world spread out before her. There was no breeze and the air smelled stale. Great globes of light glimmered high above, like dim suns behind a haze of clouds.

  Directly ahead in the distance, enormous obsidian pillars soared upward into the fog. They crowned a large but low hill of ashy sand. Was this the plain she had seen on that crude map of Hell? But the word plain seemed too small for something so incredibly vast.

  “Careful,” Kim whispered as Angela stepped forward.

  Angela walked slowly through the ashen sand. She pulled off the arm glove on her left hand. Kim froze for a moment beside her, staring at it.

  “Do you have a weapon?” she whispered to him.

  “Of course I do,” Kim said. He inclined his head at her. “You.”

  “If you say so,” she said, sighing heavily.

  “And these.” Kim slipped one or two crumpled paper wards from his coat pocket. For the first time since Lilith’s Ball, Angela realized he was still wearing part of his crow costume. “But they won’t do much besides stop them for a moment or less. Lucifel wouldn’t use the Watchers as guards if they were that ineffective.”

  “All right. Stay close to me then, and I’ll do my best.” Angela looked away, remembering her cold slap to his already bruised face. She still found it hard to look Kim in the eye. The feelings were there, but their ideals clearly diverged. The rift between them just grew by the minute. For so long, Kim’s face and touch had tormented her memories. Now he was even more handsome than Angela remembered, despite his wounds. But the resolve behind his eyes shook her nerves badly. It was clear he had no intention of turning his back on what he saw as Angela’s true destiny. “It’s too quiet,” she whispered, trying to fill in the awkward silence.

  Kim nodded, staring ahead.

  Angela continued, more and more shaken by the immense quiet. Now that they were closer to the pillars, it was easier to see the strange hieroglyphic writing carved along their sides, all the way up to their triangular peaks. These pillars were actually obelisks, and there were hundreds of them, in hundreds of parallel rows, with each row a width of forty feet at the least.

  Their geometric precision was only interrupted by rectangular indentations carved into their middles. Angela halted, her breath sighing out of her. She probably looked goggle-eyed with wonder.

  Kim bumped into her and cried softly in surprise. His hands gripped her shoulders. Their warmth was comforting enough in the eerie silence that she didn’t brush him away.

  Slowly, Angela glanced around, her heart yearning to burst from her chest. Fear raced like fire into every corner of her being.

  These obelisks held the most realistic angel statues she had ever seen. In comparison, the statues that had disturbed her outside the Grand Mansion in Luz suddenly looked like primitive lumps of rock.

  Worse yet, the effigies were almost too detailed and natural. Some were male and some were female, their double wings were weather-beaten and portions of their bodies had been swathed in bandages. They wore coats of dazzling green and blue with thread glittering like silver. At any moment they appeared ready to move, sigh, or speak. An unexpected breeze whipped through the corridor, blowing sand into the air. Yet their glassy eyes never even blinked.

  It was like some ghastly wax museum.

  A creeping sense of being watched picked at Angela. She followed her instincts and dug her nails into the Grail. The Eye began to bleed and blue warmth dribbled down to her fingers.

  Kim stepped back hastily. He stared as the Glaive formed between Angela’s fingers and the blade crystallized. The weapon’s haft and pole stretched in the opposite direction, settling to rest in her other hand.

  Angela closed her eyes and listened to her heartbeat. Blood pulsed and throbbed through her hand, mixing with the Eye’s as the Glaive sucked gently away at her life force. She would have to be careful and not waste too much valuable time here.

  Angela couldn’t afford to be weak now.

  Though she couldn’t help hoping maybe—just maybe—the Watchers would let them pass.

  Angela walked slowly until she was in the middle of the great row of watchful angels and obelisks. She stopped.

  Nothing’s happening.

  Whispers erupted around her. They seemed to hang in the air and then disappear like dreams.

&nb
sp; Angela looked at the statues. The world spun as she held up the Glaive, her arms shaking. Kim breathed beside her, a cold sweat trickling down the side of his sculpted cheek. The whispers grew louder. His amber eyes widened. “Now,” he said grimly. “Get down.”

  A hefty gust of air beat down on Angela from overhead. A long shadow darkened the sand.

  She slammed to the ground beneath a hurricane of beating wings, and Kim fell with her, covering her as best he could. Sand blew into Angela’s eyes, nose, and mouth. Her head rang from the force of her jaw snapping shut. She clawed at the sand, unable to bear being pressed blindly to the earth.

  Just as quickly the wind ceased. The storm of plumage disappeared with it. Trying not to flail or scream, Angela spat the grit from her mouth and rubbed the sand from her face. Beside her, Kim knelt in a protective gesture, his face even paler.

  A circle of curved wings now blocked every escape route.

  Two of the statues, obviously not statues at all, loomed on either side of Angela. The same coats that had appeared so dazzlingly affluent from a distance had actually been faded by exposure and time. Long tattered bandages covered half of the nearest angel’s plumage, and a thread of light stretched from its head to the inner nook of an obelisk. Like Python had warned, these angels were literally guard dogs on chains.

  The Watchers’ voices erupted in incessant, maddening whispers. But their lips never moved.

  Intruders . . .

  The word echoed and returned again as if from a million mouths, assaulting Angela’s senses. She touched her ears, hardly able to believe the strange echoing effect in her head as the words reached down into her consciousness and plucked at it painfully.

  Are you the one I love . . .

  Where were you, beloved? Have you come back to me . . .

  Each voice competed with the next, some crying about lost love, others about loneliness and punishment.

  An intense pain shot through Angela’s head. She screamed, only slightly aware of Kim’s cry as he clutched at her, shouting her name. Angela hit the powdery sand beneath her. The Glaive threatened to collapse into a pool of liquid.