Archer had tried to pry information from her rescuer, but each time she’d cut her off. “We aren’t safe here. Soon.”
Archer reluctantly bit her tongue. The stranger seemed to believe the hooded spooks might appear at a moment’s notice and refused to let her guard down until they reached some sort of a haven. Archer couldn’t imagine that such a place could exist in this city of the Damned. She wondered again why the mysterious woman was helping her. Who was she? And where were they going? Being kept in suspense like this was driving her crazy.
Archer lost all sense of time as they continued their descent down the narrow shaft. She honestly couldn’t tell whether minutes or hours had passed before they set foot on solid ground again. Her feeling of disorientation was growing. Maybe it was the air she was breathing. It seemed tainted with ash and sulfur. Her throat felt dry, and her chest itched.
The mysterious woman grabbed her hand again, and she allowed the woman to pull her along. Archer was at her mercy—a feeling she absolutely hated. Her muscles ached from the exertion of the long descent, and she wanted to rest. She wanted a cold beer. She wanted to be home.
The bottom of the shaft opened into a narrow passageway made of black stone, and soon they emerged in a far wider tunnel dominated by a heavy stream of water. Correction: not water but a disgusting green sludge that roared down the winding tunnel system. The unidentifiable substance radiated a spectral light that painted grotesques shadow on the tunnel walls. The place reminded her of a storm drain.
Archer lagged behind, her feet dragging. She was exhausted, scared, and frustrated. The stranger noticed that she wasn’t keeping pace with her any longer.
“We need to keep moving,” the woman said. “The Soulless don’t venture down here, but there are other dangers.”
“I don’t care. I want to know who you are and why you’re helping me.”
“You don’t understand…”
“Then make me understand.” The words came out sharper than she intended, her pent-up frustration boiling over. “I can’t keep following you into the dark without even knowing where I am.”
“Don’t you already know?” The woman’s voice had become a raspy whisper.
Archer’s rescuer stepped closer. Phosphorescent green light washed over her from the slimy river. Archer’s eyes widened. The woman’s long gray coat had parted, revealing gaping wounds in her neck and chest. Archer recognized those injuries, had seen them way too many times. Bullet wounds. And judging from the entry points, they would have been lethal. Blood bubbled from the cratered skin. How could this woman be standing in front of her? Unless…
Unless she isn’t alive anymore.
The woman’s eyes lit up with a red, inhuman light, and Archer recoiled. Suddenly, she wished she hadn’t pushed for answers. Panicking, she drew her Glock.
“You can’t kill that which is already dead,” the woman said matter-of-factly.
“You’d be surprised,” Archer said. “It’s kind what I do for a living these days.”
The stranger sighed and closed her jacket. Archer was grateful not to have to keep staring at the wounds.
“You’re in Hell, and I’m one of the Damned. Does that clear things up for you?”
Archer swallowed hard and somehow found the strength to keep asking questions. At heart, she was still a detective.
“Hell is a city made of bones?”
“One of the many levels to this place, I hear. This city is the only part I know.”
“And those spooks?”
“We call them the Soulless. They feed on the Damned.”
“Christ,” Archer muttered, remembering the screams as the hooded creatures had devoured their prey. “Where did they come from?”
“They were here long before I arrived. If they catch you, they will consume your soul. It doesn’t matter if you’re alive or dead.”
Archer frowned. “I don’t understand. If you’re already dead, how can they hurt you?”
“I lost my life, but I still have my soul. My memories. The parts that make me myself. But every time they feed, they take another piece of who you are.”
The dead woman held up her arms, revealing a series of terrible marks that looked like burns. Archer remember spotting the same injuries on Parker Wang.
The dead woman took a step closer, her voice heavy with emotion.
“I don’t remember my mother anymore, nor I can I picture the face of the man I loved. I don’t remember the good times, only the bad ones. Every beating my father gave me. Every arrest, every moment I spent in jail. The agony of every bullet that went through me when the cops cut me down after I robbed a drug store.”
The woman grabbed the barrel of Archer’s Glock, which was still pointing at her, and pushed it aside.
“I’ve died a thousand times in my mind. The bad memories are all that they left me.”
Archer shook her head. “I don’t understand. Why did you save me?”
“Don’t kid yourself. You’re far from safe.”
Archer’s eyes flickered with impatience. “You know what I mean. Why get involved at all?”
The damned woman cackled. “Maybe I lied. Maybe I still have a few memories. I haven’t turned into one of those things yet, have I?”
Archer chewed this over, realizing the implication. “You’re saying those wraiths are human?”
“They were once like me. Damned souls who washed up in this godforsaken place, who lived every day in terror. The Soulless draw on our suffering, taking one good memory at a time. But there comes a day when everything changes.”
The woman leaned closer, her eyes flashing with intensity. “Once you lose those last good memories, you become like them. A servant of darkness. Part of the unending cycle of despair and pain in this place.”
Archer shuddered. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”
“It’s too late for me. I guess I deserve to be here, so you shouldn’t feel sorry for me.” The woman squared her shoulders. “But you’re still alive, at least for now. You can leave on the next train.”
“I ask you again. Why help me? Is this your way of seeking redemption?”
“That’s one word for it.”
The woman’s eyes gleamed, and she let out a harsh laugh. There was no warmth in that laughter.
“I got one good memory left. One last part of me I can cling to during my darkest hours.” She smiled sadly, revealed blackened, meth-rotted teeth. “I had a daughter. I think she’s still alive. Hard to keep track of time in this place. But I think I would know in my heart if she was gone. Beautiful girl, smart as a whip. I loved her in my way. Which meant I stayed away from her so I wouldn’t pull her down with me. She was eleven when I died.”
Archer wasn’t sure how to react. This woman had been a menace to society while alive, but she was trying to do the right thing now. During her time as a cop, she’d seen a lot of perps like this, and part of her was disgusted. But another part of her felt sympathy for the lost soul.
“I can see you judging me,” the woman said. “Look, I don’t know why or how, but in the last few days, live ones like you have been arriving in this place. I’m not sure what’s going on, and from the looks of it, you’re just as clueless. All I know is that they showed up on the train. And the Soulless have developed an appetite for the poor sons of bitches. I guess the living taste better than the dead.”
More laughter, but this time it seemed forced.
“See, once I caught on what was happening, I paid attention. I saw an opportunity. And soon I recognized the pattern. The schedule.”
“You know where and when the next train will arrive,” Archer said, her heart thumping against her ribs. Could the woman be telling the truth?
“That’s right. And with a little luck, I’ll make sure you’re on it.”
Archer’s eyes filled with understanding. “You’re the one who helped Parker Wang escape.”
“I did. But the Soulless got to the poor girl first. Drained
her almost to the brink. I doubt she’ll be able to keep her end of the bargain. Not even sure if she made it.”
“What bargain?” Archer asked, suddenly wary.
“The same deal I’m gonna offer you. I’ll get you out of here, lady. And you’ll promise to find my little girl and tell her mommy loves her with all her heart.”
10
We were back in the warehouse where Kovan Crull’s flock had chosen death and created a rift between our world and the dimension beyond. The coffin-shaped box now rested on a small table inside the otherwise almost empty space.
After discovering the box, I’d found other occult symbols etched in the train’s undercarriage. A quick search of the car revealed more such engravings under the seats.
I eyed Cyon and said, “What do you make of it?”
“I’m not entirely sure. This is a complex ritual powered by the remains of the demon in this box.”
I nodded in agreement.
“This wasn’t the work of an amateur, that much is certain. I think our old friends at the Crimson Circle were behind this. Probably a survivor of the cult who wanted to avenge his fallen brothers and sisters. The big question, what do they gain by kidnapping people and dragging them into Hell?”
“Status, for one,” Cyon said. “Most people who end up in the dimension of fear deserve to be there. They’re the Damned. But feeding demons living humans, innocent mortals? That’s a delicacy not even Morgal could resist.”
I studied Cyon, sensing that there was more to the story. Why was the demon holding back?
“What aren’t you telling me?”
The demon paused for a fraction too long. “I think whoever did this was hoping to widen the existing breach.”
I balled my fists. A similar thought had crossed my mind, but I had hoped it wasn’t true. “So by having this train cross over every night, it was expanding the rift?”
“Precisely. I think we stopped it in time, but if it had continued unchecked…”
Cyon broke off. He didn’t have to finish the thought. This train could have made things a lot worse for the city.
After a moment, he continued, “Unlike the ritual that created the breach in the first place, this was a much slower process. It would’ve taken weeks, perhaps months to punch a real, permanent hole between our worlds.”
I shook my head. God, I hated fanatics. They were worse than monsters. How could anyone in their right mind turn against their own kind and want to see this world overrun by demons? At least the supernatural threats I faced followed basic rules. People did some crazy shit.
“Do you have any good news?” I asked.
“I’ve been working on a spell that will allow us to cross over. With the remains of this demon as a power source, I think I can pull it off.”
Hope flared up inside of me. I tempered it with a healthy dose of caution. “How long before we can do this?”
“A few hours at most.”
There was one more thing I needed to know. “And how do we get back to our world once we’re in Hell?”
“The spell on the subway train allowed the car to transition for approximately one minute. With a little luck, I can extend that time to an hour.”
One hour to find Archer and Skulick’s soul. And take out Morgal. It sounded like an impossible feat.
“This just keeps getting better,” I muttered.
“Have a little faith, Raven,” Cyon said.
I took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, what do we have to do?”
“The runes inside the subway are the map which will lead us to the Bone City.” Cyon nodded at the new runes and glyphs he had painted all over the warehouse. “I recreated these symbols, so we should end up in the same part of Hell as the missing people. It should be relatively simple to locate Miss Archer and bring her home.”
If she is still alive, I mentally added and hated myself for the fatalistic thought.
“You do remember what happened to Parker Wang? She burst into flame after escaping that place. Even if we break Archer out of Hell, will that happen to her?”
Cyon shook his head. “Wang was trapped in Hell for over ten days. Returning to our world was too much for her system after all that time. It is not dissimilar to the fate of deep-sea divers who surface too quickly.”
I stared at him. “You’re saying the bends killed Parker Wang?”
“In a manner of speaking. If we get Archer out of there in time, she might still have a chance. That’s another reason we shouldn’t overstay our welcome once there. We go in, do what we have to do, and get out before anyone is the wiser.”
I nodded even though my gut had clenched up.
“Anything else I need to know?”
“This won’t be like any place you’ve seen before, Raven.”
Tell me something I don’t know.
Cyon eyed me blankly, and I remembered the demon couldn’t hear my thoughts anymore.
“I get it. Hell is a bad place,” I said out loud.
“You follow my lead, do as I tell you, and you’ll be able to live through this.”
“Okay. How do we find Archer once we’re in Hell?”
Cyon pointed at the Witch Whip Benson had returned to me.
“With the help of some magic, it will act as a beacon. The whip will point us in her direction.”
“And how do you expect to find Archer, Skulick and Morgal in a single hour?”
“I wouldn’t worry about that. I have a plan.”
That’s what worries me.
I watched in grave silence as Cyon continued his preparations, painting more occult symbols on the walls. He talked as he worked. “The idea is to transport this whole structure into Hell. This warehouse will represent the border between the two worlds. Everything within its walls will cross over into the dimension of fear.”
I tilted my gaze to the Equus Bass which I had parked inside the vast storage space.
“Are you saying I’ll be taking my wheels with me to Hell?”
“We have to get around somehow.”
I shook my head. This was by far the weirdest thing I’d ever done—and I hadn’t exactly led a normal life before now.
“You think my insurance will cover us out there?”
Cyon flashed me a plastic smile, not amused. He finished one rune and drew another, his movements fueled with tireless energy.
“Once in Hell, we’ll be able to step out of these walls and navigate the Bone City inside your vehicle. But we must get back to the warehouse within the hour if we plan to return to this world.”
“Got it. One hour. We’ll skip the sightseeing”
After a few minutes, I grew bored watching Cyon and checked all my gear in anticipation of our little field trip. Demon Slayer remained strapped across Cyon’s back. He’d taken ownership of his old sword, which was only fair. I would have to make due with Hellseeker, the Seal of Solomon, and Archer’s Witch Whip.
My attention shifted back to my jet-black muscle car. I made sure the tank was full. You didn’t want to run out of gas while joyriding around the dimension of fear. They probably didn’t have gas stations in Hell. Or maybe they did—what did I know? I was still having a hard time wrapping my mind around it all. This was really happening. We were headed to a place that had haunted humanity’s collective consciousness for millennia. A place where no one in their right mind would dare venture.
Nuts.
Reassured my ride was in good shape, I stepped back while Cyon finished his art project. I wished I could have helped him more. Unfortunately, I wasn’t Doctor Strange. So I kept my mouth shut and let Cyon do his thing. Once he finished, the demon instructed me to take a seat. He positioned himself in front of the urn containing the slain demon’s ashes.
“So what happens if you screw this up, bud?”
“Do you really want to know?”
I wisely shut my mouth and observed the demon in silence. Cyon chanted in a strange tongue. At first, nothing happened. But soon air hummed w
ith electricity, an invisible power building. As ozone filled the air, each breath grew more challenging
I swallowed hard and gripped a nearby steel column in the warehouse. I didn’t know what to expect. Maybe subconsciously I figured the whole warehouse would lift off like Dorothy’s house in The Wizard of Oz. Interdimensional travel was a first for me. Holding on to something solid felt prudent.
Vibrations passed through the structure’s walls and stone floor, confirming my instinct. The tremors built in intensity as Cyon’s guttural chanting grew louder. One by one, the three copies of the Daemonium lit up, filaments of crimson light shooting out like laser beams into the demonic urn.
The runes carved into the surface of the wooden box ignited and went super-nova. A web of red light shot out from the devil’s coffin into the occult symbols on the walls and floor. The magic was expanding, growing outward, an ever-intensifying light show. Each symbol formed a part of a greater magical network that was coming alive, humming with power.
The warehouse shimmered and stretched before my eyes. I looked at the Equus Bass and saw my beloved ride losing substance. It seemed to be melting. I held up my hands and realized with naked horror that the flesh seemed to drip off my bones.
Nothing had prepared me for this. Had the demon made a mistake? Or had Cyon tricked me again? The humming in my ears grew deafening, yet it failed to drown out Cyon’s incessant chanting. Each word he uttered cut into me with the force of sharp barbs.
I whirled back toward the three books of magic. Blood dripped from the covers, the red liquid bubbling and steaming. And then I saw the red-robed members of the Crimson Circle. Like ghosts, they hovered in the warehouse, figures frozen in time, cursed to relive their mass suicide for all eternity.
Understanding filled my mind. The life force of the dead cultists had created the breach. The circle of fanatics formed the gateway to Hell when they’d doomed their souls to remain trapped between two worlds for all time. Their leader, Kovan Crull, wasn’t among them because my bullets had taken him out. I hoped he was suffering, wherever he was. The spirits of his misguided followers were stranded in limbo. The elation they’d shown during their sacrifice was gone, replaced with despair and horror.
Shadow Detective Supernatural Dark Urban Fantasy Series: Books 7-9 (Shadow Detective Boxset Book 3) Page 30