At one point, a boat drifted before us, chopping the wake not a foot in front of me as I stared at the huddle of tortured souls in the boat. I didn’t give them my full attention, because my eyes kept darting from the blood I stood on, to the boat cruising right through the same substance, the impossibility of it all making me stumble as the bloody lake shifted up and down, side to side.
We continued on once it passed, and spent the next hour crossing that lake. We reached the waterfall surprisingly fast, and I glanced back at where we had started. It seemed impossibly far away, too far for us to have walked so quickly. I suppressed a shudder and pressed on. Virgil walked under the waterfall, the blood striking an unseen dome that abruptly appeared over his head. He stopped, motioning for us to hurry.
I did, trying to urge my feet faster. That’s when I slipped.
I felt Talon’s claws slice through my shirt as he darted to catch me, but he missed. I struck the bloody lake and sunk like a rock. I paddled and kicked as hard as possible, but it was as if I weighed a million pounds as I saw the surface stretch further and further away.
Mmmmm… a bubbled voice gurgled in my ears. I flinched, spinning back and forth to spot the threat, but saw only crimson darkness. So sweet, a wizard’s blood. Screams so delicious. Bones so crunchy, like shouts of ecstasy in our soul. Sweet spurts of lust and snarls of greed. This one has LIVED, but now he shall die. Forever.
Forever, a new voice agreed.
Forever… A dozen voices this time, all around me.
A crashing sound from up above. I looked up, clawing my hands for the ever-distant surface, and saw a white shape slicing through the depths after me, black fangs extended and snapping like a pale crocodile. Sobek, I thought absently. The Egyptian crocodile God. I flinched, struggling to escape before it latched onto my hair, grabbing a fistful.
Then I was rising with impossible speed, unable to see anything through the swarm of bubbles around me.
Nooooo!
He was OURS! The other voices shrieked, screamed, and roared in those bubbling tones.
I suddenly gasped as I was tossed out of the crimson lake. Strong paws caught me, held me close to a cold chest, and then began jostling me up and down as if trying to shake out loose change. I heard a roaring sound and then I was dumped onto solid ground. Talon stared down at me, shaking me. I blinked at him. “I’m… I’m fine…” I rasped, coughing and wiping at my eyes.
He nodded and then spun. I saw Carl walking calmly towards us, spitting blood from his mouth. He looked more smudged, and not just with charcoal, but with a wine color mixed in.
Talon let out a breath upon seeing the Elder, and when I looked at him, I noticed he had purple smudges around his body and face. I scrambled to my feet and saw Virgil watching us. “We shall rest. We are almost there.”
“If we’re almost there,” I growled, wiping more blood from my face, “then let’s get moving.”
Virgil shook his head. “The door opens in two hours, by your time. We don’t want to wait outside the door. This place is safer. If any place is safe here.”
I considered his words, with nothing about his face to tell me whether he was lying or not. I finally nodded. “Two hours.”
He lay down on the rock floor and closed his eyes. I frowned at him. Why did he need to sleep? Wasn’t he already dead?
A paw gripped my shoulder, gently forcing me down to the ground. I tried to fight it, but something about the touch made me obey. As I sunk down to the ground, even though I was arguing in my mind that I should stand watch this time, I felt lethargy deep in my soul. I finally sat down, letting out a deep breath. I wasn’t sure if I was exhausted from trying to swim or walking across the damned lake.
Talon studied me. I could still make out the scars bisecting his eyes, but much of it was blurred. Like a smudged painting. “Sleep. We need you at full strength. I don’t think – despite our strengths,” he added, glancing back at Carl, “that we can leave this place without you. This man is hiding something, or at least not telling us the full truth. I fear his price.”
“I’ll pay the price and get us out of here. Don’t worry, Talon.”
He nodded distantly, and the smudged face wouldn’t let me determine if he was confident in my answer. He placed a furred paw over my eyes, forcing them closed.
“Sleep, Wylde. Sleep…”
Chapter 41
Memories – like gossamer threads of love, illuminated by starlight, swamped me.
Chateau Falco stood below me, strong, defiant, a bulwark of hope against a world gone mad.
Roland and Alucard stepped through a Gateway of crimson liquid, like blood.
I stared at the treehouse, a leaf blowing past the white sapling.
Tory placed a hand on the Huntress’ shoulder. They both cried.
Flash.
Flash.
Flash.
I woke with a gasp. It took me a moment to get my breathing under control, to remember where we were. I waved down Talon and Carl. I couldn’t see their faces clearly, but their posture was aggressive. Defensive.
Those… dreams couldn’t have been memories. Not all of them. I’d never hovered above Falco. Well, when I had been falling from Olympus after fighting Athena, perhaps. Or maybe when riding Grimm one day, but I didn’t immediately recall anything like that.
Maybe… I was seeing through another’s eyes. Thinking back, I analyzed the visions. I had felt… taller, as if seeing everything from a different elevation. I blinked. Alex? Was I seeing through his eyes? Had Pandora bonded us somehow? Or maybe the Ravens? Was I seeing through the eyes of Hugin and Munin? They were on my Crest, a part of me, whether I understood it or not. Then again, if Alex’s last name was Arete, he was tied to my crest, too.
Not that it really mattered, but it made me feel… detached. Not knowing the answer left me troubled. Was it a warning? Or a sign? Was it in the past? Future? Present? Or was I simply having bad dreams because I was napping in Hell, high on vaping sulfur?
Whatever it was, I was here for a reason, and whining about dreams wasn’t getting me any closer to leaving. Virgil waited for us to be ready, and then simply turned away.
We didn’t see anything particularly horrifying on our walk. Mostly we just saw tunnels. For a long time. We came out of one – like a dozen others – and I felt as if I was walking in a trance. Nothing changed, maybe different rock walls, but just more of the same, on and on and on ad nauseum.
Virgil chose different directions at forks in our path – I no longer bothered to count how many, reminded of his comment about counting – as if he knew the way by heart.
Then, I realized he had stopped at an open space. I gasped, woken from my daze.
We stood at the mouth of the tunnel, staring down into a cavern of polished obsidian. The steps before us were as ornate as a palace, lined with large bowls of silent black flame that seemed to cast a silver light, leading down into an expansive courtyard. Frescoed ceilings were splashed with hieroglyphics, Greek battles, and Norse runes. Columns of freshly polished, crimson and black marble, easily ten feet in diameter stretched a hundred feet into the air as if supporting the painted ceilings. The floor was one solid sheet of mirrored glass. Or liquid metal, I wasn’t sure which. It reflected the frescoes high above, creating a distortion, as if the place was much larger than it really was – and if any place needed to look larger than it was, it was not here.
In the courtyard, dozens and dozens of Calaveras lined a wide walkway that led to an empty black throne carved with roses. I jolted, suddenly wary of possibly meeting Lucifer himself.
The Candy Skulls watched as we descended, their heads rotated impossibly to watch us without their bodies shifting. They did twitch occasionally, cocking their skulls sideways as we walked between them towards the large, black throne. They didn’t attack, but they looked ready to do so. Many of them were different forms of arachnid-like creatures the size of cows, but I saw a few that resembled the bodies of ogres, trolls, even some
made of rock, not wearing robes. They all seemed to sniff the air as we passed, and a whistling noise escaped from behind their masks as if they were excitedly sucking in breath through their teeth. Or as if their windpipes were too decayed to simply let us hear them inhaling in a normal fashion.
Or maybe they were just fucking whistling in approval.
Behind the throne was a turbulent sea of fiery magma, black spires like oil derricks clawing up from the raging ocean. I couldn’t see the ceiling, but black and green lightning hammered down across the horizon, slamming into the lava. Each strike birthed a new stone spire, but occasionally those forks of lightning would strike an already existing spire, obliterating it into a million pieces of rock that splashed back into the molten sea, then melted back to whence it came.
I turned back to the throne and froze. It was no longer empty.
A tall bare-chested man sat gripping a bronze staff with alternating stripes of blue glass, obsidian, and gold, the top of the staff a flail of sharp, glass beads that seemed to absorb the silver light from the bowls of black flame on either side of his throne. Light, athletic muscles were obvious under his oiled, bronze skin, similar to my build. Okay, maybe bigger, but not by much. White wraps of gauze covered his abdomen and he wore a shimmering golden kilt with sapphires sewn into the knee-length hem – unless the skirt was actually metal, like chainmail.
I couldn’t see his face because he was wearing a tall black mask that almost anyone could have recognized, regardless of their faith – a black jackal.
The mask had two tall pointed ears and a long thin snout. Where his eyes should have been only a dark, almost indigo flame, like I was staring into the deepest part of the universe, a black hole devouring a star. He bowed his head slightly and thumped the butt of his flail into the floor. The Calaveras crashed to their knees, if they had them, doing that odd whistling sound.
“It’s so good to see you again. Call me Lord. Or Anubis,” he said, staring into my soul.
I replied with a slight dip of my jaw, wondering what the hell he was talking about. Again?
“Anubis…” I replied formally, surprised to find him in charge. I may not be an Egyptian scholar, but even I knew there had been a change in leadership – that Osiris had stepped in as Lord of the Underworld at some point.
“Of course it’s a fucking dog. Hell is run by a fucking canine!” Talon breathed, barely audible, not sounding the least bit pleased.
Anubis barked at him and Talon flinched, fur puffing out like a blowfish all over his body as he fell to all fours, arching his back. He hissed instinctively, hopping sideways a few times.
I blinked at Talon in astonishment.
Anubis roared with laughter, his face unchanging. “Oh, this will be so much fun. I hardly get out anymore…”
Chapter 42
Anubis studied the three of us, still chuckling as Talon stood back to his feet, licking his fur dejectedly, pretending none of us had seen anything amiss. I let it go, because the fact that Anubis hadn’t taken offense to it removed all shame. Well, some of it.
“When you made that sweet, magical decision, I want to go to Hell… I was quite satisfied, you might say. Odin – against his will, I might add – was forced to make good on a favor he owed me from way back. You remember now, yes?” he asked.
I tried to hide my surprise. “You were the guy in the hood…” The mysterious guy that Odin had brought before me, asking if he was satisfied after they watched me for a few moments.
He held out his hands dramatically. “Couldn’t stay long, you understand. Can’t leave this place unguarded. The residents get… uppity. But I sent my wardens to keep tabs on you in my stead.” He pointed at the Calaveras. “I still had to wait for Death to arrange the meet. Formally. Pity the Calaveras never caught you. Your trip would have been so much easier, and less costly.”
I blinked, opening my mouth and then shutting it. The Candy Skulls had been… trying to give me a ride? And I wouldn’t have had to risk… I took a deep breath, not even wanting to hear the details or I would do something drastically stupid. I followed Othello’s advice.
“Anubis…” I said instead, shaking my head. “I honestly didn’t see this coming.”
Anubis leaned forward. “Anubis gets all the chicks.” I guessed he was technically right, being Lord of the Dead. He got all the chicks and dudes, in the end. Just… sloppy seconds. I very wisely didn’t voice that thought.
“What about Osiris? I thought he took your place?” I said, hoping he couldn’t read minds.
He waved a hand. “With Isis giving him that new golden… confidence-booster and then ditching him after she got what she wanted – her son, Horus – he found other ways to occupy his time. I discreetly took back the throne to leave him to his… hobbies. It’s amazing what a woman will do for a bar of gold.” He winked at me. “Or for a son. Like Horus.” His eyes flared for a second. What the hell was that supposed to mean?
Talon and Carl shared a look, not understanding the conversation in the slightest. Their faces, if anything, were almost entirely smudged now. Like greasy, black stains.
Anubis scratched at his ear absently and I swore I saw his foot quickly tap the floor as he did. No, I thought to myself. Did he just… like a dog when someone scratches his ear?
“Well, what is your request? May as well get on with it. No use burning daylight.”
Anubis was apparently very lonely down here in Hell. Like he had been saving these jokes for eons, and we were now his captive – double entendre intended – audience.
“Surely, you already know…”
“I don’t get much conversation down here. Humor me, Hope.” I stiffened as his eyes locked onto the necklace at my throat. “Unfortunately, you won’t find much use for that down here,” he said, suddenly pointing his flail at my necklace. “I must take precautions, you see, to keep my… citizens safe. Like any good King. Always looking out for their best interests,” he said, waving a dismissive hand, as if mocking the words. But the way he said them hadn’t sounded dismissive at all. “Even when they don’t always realize it.”
I hesitated. With my friends looking so… distorted, had my priorities changed? Was he subtly hinting that it was more important to take care of them than my personal ambition in speaking with my parents? Or he was trying to derail me from talking to them. Frighten me.
I realized Anubis was staring at Virgil, frowning, as if I had missed a conversation. Then those indigo black eyes latched onto the Candy Skulls and I saw them all wilt, practically lying prostrate on the floor.
Talon and Carl were both fingering their weapons nervously at the sudden tension.
“You were attacked on your way down here?” Anubis snarled in outrage. I frowned. How would he have not learned this until now? Was he playing a game with me? Trying to see if I would buy such a weak lie? He shot them another withering glare. “This should not have happened,” he warned them in a low tone. As I watched, I began to think that he really might be annoyed, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to witness the Calaveras punishment. If life was torture down here, what constituted punishment? “They must have been so interested to see you appear during the inmates’ recess, that they forgot their job. I can’t just kill them, though. Obliteration is the only exit from this place, and only a god can do that. And I won’t grant them that mercy because good help is so hard to find down here.” He finally turned back to me. “That being said, I now owe you repayment in addition to the original agreement you made.”
I pondered the conversation, ignoring the topic of punishing the Candy Skulls. Anubis would hold to the original agreement and grant me repayment. Perhaps the repayment could be to not pay for the request. I doubted he would go for that. Probably why he openly stated that the original agreement still stood.
Maybe I could ask to heal my friends as this repayment. But one thing at a time. I had come here to talk to my parents, risked our lives for it. That came first. The fact that my parents had been stashed down
here in the first place, so hard to reach, pretty much guaranteed they knew something important. And judging by several of Anubis’ comments, I felt mildly confident that I could negotiate the safety of Talon and Carl as this repayment. I locked eyes with Anubis, doing my best to look confident and in control as I faced the Lord of the Dead.
“I want my parents.”
“To take them back home?” he asked in a wry tone. I shook my head. Anubis watched me, curious. “Interesting. To see or speak to them?”
“Both.”
His fingers tapped the arm of his throne thoughtfully, as if considering the dangers. “Hmm… Well, let me see your satchel,” he finally said. “You obviously aren’t carrying anything else useful, and you mentioned gifts. Unless they are the gifts,” he said, pointing at Talon and Carl. I shook my head quickly before they could agree. Something in his tone had sounded almost… eager at mention of my satchel. Could he sense the things inside? Not having much of a choice in the matter – because I could sense Carl and Talon didn’t have long if the smeared look was any indication – I handed it over, keeping my face blank.
As I did so, I discreetly focused on my satchel. Anubis unceremoniously upended it like a bag of trash before his throne. Nothing valuable came out. At least… nothing that I didn’t want him to see. Instead, a stream of weapons, blades, bandages, clothes, and food fell to the floor. I winced as I saw a thick glass vial fall, landing on a pile of silver chain Talon had wanted to bring – a cat-o’-nine-tails, ironically – a whip of sorts.
I let my face flush with guilt as he slowly looked up at me. Oh, he didn’t look pleased. Nothing about his face had changed, but his aura suddenly seemed furious. “Quite a few… weapons. Does this imply you wished to attempt force? Against me?” he chuckled dryly, but his attention shifted back to the pile. He toed some of the items with a boot, grunting at the vial. “A sample from the River Styx… Interesting. Is this your gift? Water?” he spat.
Nine Souls: A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 9 (The Temple Chronicles) Page 22