Seven Kinds of Hell

by Dana Cameron

  Shortly after, I got out at Brandenburger Tor. It was a relief to get above ground again. It didn’t take long to see my destination, a large, open space several blocks straight down the shop-lined Unter den Linden.

  I hurried, not knowing how much time I would have before they found me again. I wasn’t so sure I wanted Dmitri to find me either, but I had to see him.

  I hoped to hell I had the heart to do what I was about to do.

  The phone buzzed again as I walked down the historic street, past the restaurants and coffee shops, trying not to look like someone for whom the world was about to end. I answered.

  “Look up. The Hotel Adlon is on your left. Three floors up.”

  I pulled off to the side of the sidewalk, out of the flow of tourists. I was looking in the right direction a moment before I saw it: a hand was waving out an open window above the ground floor canopies.

  I held up my own hand.

  Suddenly Danny appeared.

  “I see him.”

  He looked dazed, his eyes not focusing on mine; he’d been drugged. There was a bandage on his hand, and I could see a bruise on his face, but apart from that, he was alive and intact. The facade of the hotel was far too elegant a setting for a prisoner exchange, I thought. He was pulled back, the curtain falling back into place.

  “Now go straight into the Pariser Platz,” Dmitri whispered into my ear. “It’s the open pedestrian square directly ahead of you. I’ll walk to the far side with you, by the Brandenburg Gate, to make sure you weren’t followed. When I see you’ve given me what I’ve asked you for, I’ll let your cousin go.”

  I glanced down to the square, a wide space surrounded by low, modern buildings, the famous neoclassical eighteenth-century gates topped by a chariot driver and horses. I walked in.

  I stopped just inside the square, found one of the concrete stanchions meant to stop vehicular traffic, and pulled out the figurine. And the cobble I’d stashed in my pocket. I set the figurine on the top of the stanchion and rested my hand on the cobble.

  “Your cousin’s life—”

  “Is about to improve, big time. You bring him down here, let him go, and I don’t smash what you’ve been making me work so hard for.”

  “But—”

  “And you’d better do it quick because Will MacFarlane and his people will find me any minute.” I hoped to hell Gerry and Claudia, with their superior tracking abilities, wouldn’t find me too soon and spoil my plan.

  A large man appeared out of nowhere. How he’d been concealed, I couldn’t have said, because there was no place to hide. And he was enormous, like something out of the circus, dark-haired with muscles that looked like the result of chemical enhancement. Though he was clean-shaven, Dmitri filled me with the same kind of dread I felt as a child seeing Stromboli in Pinocchio. He was dressed like a tourist from anywhere, but I knew he wasn’t as soon as he moved. Everything about him said predator, and there was an attitude that seemed to create a force field around him. People, not even aware of doing it, were giving him a wide berth.

  My Fangborn instincts roused. My fingernails and teeth ached, as if the only thing that would ease the pain would be to tear his throat out. There was a thin, disagreeable smell filling my head, like mustard gas in my brain. I forced myself to be calm. I couldn’t afford to Change, not here.

  And yet…something was wrong. Dmitri was…worried. His type never worried about anything.

  It wasn’t my pitiful attempt to ensure our escape that worried Dmitri. It was bigger than that. But whatever it was might work for me. That gave me courage, and courage gave me control.

  I had about twenty steps before he reached me. He nodded and gestured at the window, and I knew, even as he growled intimately into my ear, that he was only pretending to let Danny go.

  As he approached, I tried the trick of locating people around me. Will was nearby, and though I couldn’t see him, I could just about smell him. He was moving in fast. There were more vague sensory blurs of his team closing in around me from the busy street beyond the gate itself and behind me, on Unter den Linden. This wasn’t what bothered Dmitri, though. He spared two glances, one at the window and one across the plaza.

  Dmitri was confused. Someone was coming, someone he feared.

  He was within speaking distance of me when he held out his hand. “Give it to me now, and I will ensure your cousin’s release.”

  My knees shook, but I straightened my back. “Not until I see him out here.”

  “We don’t have any time, you little fool!”

  I made myself shrug. “I got all the time in the world, now that we’re here together.”

  “We’re both in danger! I’ve been be—”

  Before he could finish “betrayed,” he was tackled from the side. “Tackled” was too strong a word for how it looked as a man nearly the same size as Dmitri slammed into him. It looked accidental, but I could tell it was a carefully choreographed move. The blond American—he could be nothing else with that huge build and Red Sox cap—might have been apologizing loudly, but he was also pinning Dmitri’s left hand.

  Dmitri shoved him with such violence that the second man collided with two other men. Still the American held onto him. These men all looked less like tourists and more like they were here for the same reason the rest of us were.

  Only I was unfamiliar with these new players.

  Dmitri tried to twist away from the big American. Two more men landed on top of the struggling men. My Fangborn senses flared and went wild. Claudia and Gerry were on the other side of the plaza, also scuffling with men I didn’t recognize.

  I froze, not certain what to do.

  Suddenly my eyes fixed on Dmitri’s neck. It wasn’t the killing urge I’d had before; there was something there, claiming my attention.

  Something on a thin gold chain. Something I needed.

  Two of the men pulled Dmitri back. I could see the chain and the small object on it clearly now. Without thinking, I darted in and grabbed it.

  Dmitri roared.

  The big American suddenly noticed me. Our eyes locked, even as I backed away, and he stepped forward. There was an intensity and single-mindedness in him that scared me.

  He believes he’s on the side of right, something told me. He’ll never stop until he gets what he’s after.

  I felt a growl, deep in the back of my throat, and stepped forward.

  Our staring contest had distracted the blond too long. One of Dmitri’s men grabbed him and punched him, hard. One of the other men yelled, “Nichols! Adam, look out!”

  The spell was broken.

  Something drew my attention away from the melee.

  Danny was being bundled into a waiting car.

  I stepped forward to give chase. Someone slammed into me.

  “Entschuldigen Sie!” Police officers had arrived. One grabbed me, set me aside. “Best get out of the way.”

  I nodded, but when I turned back, the car with Danny was gone.

  Dmitri was screaming.

  He was screaming to me.

  He wasn’t speaking English. He repeated the words, followed by something else. “Quadriduum, ad Delos, iuxta cavalli!”

  This time I did understand, barely. He must have seen the light of recognition in my eyes.

  “Go!” He turned his head and bit the hand of the man nearest him. He might not be a werewolf, but I saw blood run from the wound as I turned.

  I couldn’t see Will, but heard a familiar yell. Even then, I could only sense him in the thick of the fray.

  “Damn it, Zoe!”

  The confusion now was massive and getting worse. Civilians were screaming, and I could hear sirens closing in.

  There was nothing I could do here.

  Danny was gone.

  I took Dmitri’s advice and ran.

  As though by magic, a narrow path opened to me through the confusion, and I took it, pelting as hard as I could. All around me I could feel familiar presences, was nearly overwhelmed w
ith the raw emotion spilling out.

  I put all that aside and concentrated on running as fast as I could across the wide plaza.

  The famous Brandenburg Gate was a white blur as I raced through. I seemed to know where pedestrians would be before they arrived. Maybe it was scent? Maybe my newfound proximity sense?

  Traffic was another situation. Maybe it was the lack of human scents. A lack of common sense.

  I dove out onto the busy street, felt the whoosh of a bus go past as I stopped just in time. Three stutter steps and I made it to the other side and the Tiergarten. I went north, using what cover there was, and ran past massive modern architecture. My memory nearly failed me, but I slowed down and saw the massive train station on the other side of the river.

  If I was breathing hard, it was only because of fear. I felt as if I could have run all day.

  The more I embraced the Beast, the closer to the surface it seemed to be. If I was terrified of it, at least it was fast, even when I wasn’t fully Changed. And at the moment, I was more afraid of the men at the Pariser Platz than I was of the Beast.

  I slowed to a normal pace. I couldn’t see anyone following me, couldn’t feel anyone looking for me nearby. Just in case, I got into a cab.

  “Tegel Airport, bitte,” I said to the driver.

  He grunted, “Ja, Tegel,” and we were off.

  I slunk down in my seat, ripped off the wire and the tape. The pain was sharp, and the tape left an angry red mark. Another wrench, away from Will. I stuffed it in the seat cushion, pulled a map from my backpack, and tried to organize my thoughts.

  Some of the men had been Dmitri’s—now I knew what they looked like. Some of the men I could have sworn I recognized from the airport in Boston.

  The ones who’d caused the most confusion were led by the giant blond guy. “Adam Nichols” someone had called him. The fact that he went straight for Dmitri, then me, made me wonder.

  For all the secret creatures and societies, I seemed to be the only one on the entire planet who didn’t know what was going on. Or what to do next.

  The traffic started to clear, and we made good speed. I exhaled hugely. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath.

  I hadn’t understood what Dmitri had said at first because he had been speaking Latin. I didn’t understand all of it, like when he’d said something that I thought was a noun, cavalli? Something about horses? Or like the designer’s name? But I had understood “Delos” and “in the space of four days.” Four days would be Monday.

  For some reason, Dmitri needed me to find out what “cavalli” was, and then be on the Greek island of Delos by Monday.

  Chapter 16

  Why did “cavalli” sound so familiar? And why was Dmitri, a vicious criminal, appearing to help me? If he really wanted to help, where was Danny? And why was he busting out the dead languages?

  He didn’t want the guy attacking him—Adam Nichols?—to know what he was saying, or he didn’t want to make it easy for him. It sure wasn’t easy for me; I got through my two years of Latin mostly by the skin of my teeth, picking out the cognates, using rote memory, and peeking at the back of the book.

  And yet the word “cavalli” seemed familiar. It was a new memory, but try as I might, I couldn’t place it in any of the conversations I’d had recently. Maybe I hadn’t heard him right or maybe I hadn’t translated it properly. I didn’t understand and it would have to wait. I had a destination.

  When we arrived at the airport, I paid the driver, then looked around for potential pursuers. Inside the long, curved stretch of terminal, I was suddenly lost. I was hungry, hunted, and had no idea where Danny was.

  Delos it was. It made a kind of sense: Delos was one of the sites Grayling had mentioned to me back in London.

  Thing is, a little web search revealed an ancient Greek truth: you can’t get to any of the Mediterranean islands quickly. Delos, in particular, seemed unusually awkward: I’d have to travel to Athens, then to Naxos or Mykonos, then take a taxi or a tour boat to Delos. Part of the problem was that Delos wasn’t actually an inhabited island—it was a holy site, an ancient sanctuary and temple to Apollo. No hotels, no airstrips, no nothing, besides the ruins and a little museum. Apart from the archaeologists living there during work season, no one else was supposed to be there.

  It looked wonderful. The more I saw of the tiny pictures on my phone’s screen, the more I longed to be there. I wondered if they were hiring.

  “Zoe!”

  Spell broken, I whipped my head around.

  It was Sean.

  “Zoe, wait up!” He pushed his way past a woman wrangling two trolleys, a toddler, and a mountain of luggage. She shouted something angry at him in German. He nodded and waved without turning around.

  “How did you get here?” I glanced past him. She was still shouting.

  “What do you mean? I was out for a walk, I saw you go running past. I yelled. You didn’t even hear me.” He shrugged. “I had a hard time keeping up with you, but I saw you get into the cab, I followed you in another.”

  “What about Will?” His story was a little too pat for my taste. “Claudia, Gerry?”

  “What about them—wait! Will’s here? Will MacFarlane?”

  “Yeah.” Maybe Sean didn’t know Will’s real job and why he might be on the wrong side of the world with me. “Uh, you didn’t see the fracas in the Pariser Platz?”

  “I saw a crowd there, but it’s always crowded. Then I saw you. You sure it was Will?”

  “Um, long story.” I turned back to my search. This time I tried searching for “Cavalli,” capitalized and paired with “archaeology.”

  “Well, wherever you’re going, I’m coming.”

  His insistence surprised me. “OK.” I looked up from my phone. “Just give me a minute.” I glanced down: I got a more reasonable result and realized I’d seen the name of a scholar named Antonio Cavalli in Professor Schulz’s article. I struggled to dig out the article and not get crushed by the growing crowd. I flipped through the pages.

  I found the footnote. Antonio Cavalli had written an article on Hesiod and the myth of Pandora’s Box, which had been cited by Professor Schulz. Dr. Cavalli was based at the archaeological museum in Venice.

  I did some quick calculations and figured I could make it to Venice and Dr. Cavalli before I left for Delos. I could still make it to Delos by Monday, if I timed it all perfectly, if there were no flight problems, none of the famous Italian strikes, no bad weather…

  What were the chances of that, with my luck?

  On the other hand, if I found something to help me, it would be worth it. And Dmitri could call me anytime he wanted if I was late.

  “Come on, Sean. Let’s find a flight to Venice.”

  I have to admit, I thought about ditching Sean a couple of times. He seemed out of it, a little dazed. Fine, I was exhausted, too, but there was too much to explain, and I wasn’t certain he’d believe me if I did tell him. If he could extricate himself now, at least he’d be safe.

  He never gave me a chance to slip away. The long line of ticket counters was confusing enough, but the crowds didn’t allow a quick exit.

  But as I paid for our two tickets with Dmitri’s credit card, I admitted I still wanted Sean around. He kept me from feeling so incredibly alone.

  The flight was short but late in the evening. In Venice, we found a tourist hotel by the Grand Canal on the far edge of San Marco and got two rooms. Hey, if Dmitri could order me all over the world, he could spring for a little privacy. I was starving and we managed to find a restaurant still open. We ate in a leisurely fashion, not out of manners, but because the waitstaff were moving on a schedule that had no regard for a young werewolf’s appetite.

  “You gonna tell me what happened back there?” Sean gestured with his glass of limoncello. “It’s not like there’s anyone to overhear us now. I really want to know.”

  “It’s simple. I went to meet Dmitri. Some kind of fight broke out, and before I knew it, Danny w
as whisked away.” I shrugged, chasing a last bite of gelato around my plate. “I’ll go to Delos because Dmitri told me to, but I think I might find more information about…the figurine I have from Dr. Cavalli.”

  “Oh.”

  I was glad it made sense to Sean. I could barely keep up with the number of lies I was being forced to tell.

  A shadow crossed Sean’s face. “But you said that other guy was beating on Dmitri. How do you know he’ll even be able to get to Delos by Monday? He might be arrested, or dead even. I think you should stay here until you learn more. Safer that way.”

  I shrugged. “You may be right, but until I hear otherwise, I’m going to keep the appointment.”

  Back in my room, my hunger temporarily assuaged, I studied the map. I located the Museo Archeologico on San Marco plaza and figured I’d try tomorrow, early enough that I could leave for Athens and get to Delos without delay.

  But what was I supposed to do once I found Dr. Cavalli? Dmitri was too busy getting his head pounded in to elaborate. I guess Dr. Cavalli might tell me something more about Pandora or what my figurine might have to do with the myth.

  Thinking of my figurines, I pulled them out to make sure they were intact. All was well, but when I cleaned out the rest of my backpack looking for my toothbrush, I found the gold chain I’d snatched from Dmitri’s neck.

  What had drawn me wasn’t the gold chain, but the object hanging off it. Three slender bands of gold held a fragment of pottery, like a porcelain doll’s arm. I worked the bands off with a pair of tweezers and examined the fragment more closely. It was an outstretched arm, holding some sort of wand or staff.

  I removed the figurines from their box and unwrapped the one my mother had taken from my father. The one with the arm missing. Dmitri’s fragment matched perfectly; I could have repaired it if I had any glue. I held the two pieces together; the wand now suggested the male figure was a priest of some sort. Maybe a general? That wand was definitely a symbol of some kind of authority.

  I still didn’t know who or what the figure represented, but it raised more questions.