The corridor grew silent as the clicking of Eve's heels disappeared into a faint echo, and all that remained was soft panting. Klara stared at the Hounds' fanged smile as their tongues hung from their mouths. The last time Klara had seen them was her last day in Hell, when she'd handed their small bodies to Frendall. Both Hounds had white spots at the tips of their perked ears. Klara raised her arms to protect herself but instead of attacking they pawed at her, whining happily. Klara scratched their ears as they sniffed at her chest, sensing her injury. "Who's my good Hounds?" Klara said stroking their matted black fur.
"Come on, off!" she panted under the weight of them. They whined as she pushed them off and wrapped her arms around their mangy bodies, reassuring them that she was okay.
"Ancient Abadan couldn't turn you against me," Klara said as one of the Hounds barked in agreement.
"Hush, you want to disturb the Ogres!" The Hounds bowed their heads in submission.
"Ready to see the King?" Klara said, resting her hands on her knees and they both sat on their hind legs with their snouts high in the air. Both ready to obey and serve at the mention of the King.
"I'll take that as a yes," Klara steadied herself against the wall as her legs wobbled underneath her. The strain of removing the Hounds' glamour had put more pressure on her heartless body than she had anticipated. "Let's get you a treat first," Klara winked, pushing herself off the wall. The Hounds licked their lips hungrily as they strolled back to the kitchen.
◆◆◆
"Some juicy steak for you," Klara threw it to the floor, and the Hounds both lunged for the meat. Klara separated them as they fought over the last piece. Starvation was a training tactic to keep the Hounds in line, but despite their mangy coats, they had some meat of them. Least their Commander is keeping them healthy, she thought knowing that soon enough she would have to part with them.
The two Hounds tried to get around her to the full pantry. "That's enough you two! Can't return you plump and full, Father and Abadan would throw a fit."
They whined and barked a little, but when she clicked her fingers, they sat quietly on their hind legs.
"Good Hounds!" Klara said scratching their heads and giving them each a wooden spoon of peanut butter from Eve's private stash.
Klara opened the medicine cabinet above the food stores. The brass handles shone from excessive polishing. "Belladonna, laudanum…" Klara read the labels as she searched the many jars of assorted lotions and potions until she saw the silver glow at the back of the cabinet.
A low growl distracted Klara and she looked to the arched backs of the Hounds. "You've had enough," she told them returning her attention to the jars, the Hounds backed up against her legs, and Klara nearly dropped a vial of smallpox. Klara turned to scold them, but the words escaped her as Lilith stood at the door to the pantry.
"Knew you'd go straight for it," Lilith said, tossing something in the air and Klara caught it on instinct. "Abadan will have the Doomed go over the inventory. Arthur, as head of the kitchen, would take the blame for any missing jars," Lilith took a step forward, and a Hound rubbed its head against Lilith not perceiving the Queen as a threat.
"What? I can't help my ward. We can't have you tracking blood all over Hell. You'd have none left by the time you get to your Father."
"I think Abadan was counting on it," Klara said, straightening her back and Lilith smiled at Klara's feigned strength. Lilith's dark beauty surpassed the others. There was a raw strength in her Father's General that Klara respected.
"Why help me? Abadan could punish you for giving me this."
"I answer to Lucifer and no other," Lilith squared her shoulders at the mention of the High Queen. Lilith tolerated Abadan because Lilith followed orders above all else. She once commanded legions and had all manner of Demons and Creatures fall at her feet, and now Lilith was confined to babysitting.
"Shouldn't I be punished for failing to protect myself?"
"I think losing your heart and almost losing an arm is punishment enough." Maybe she is trying to help me. She had been relatively quiet when Abadan and Eve were scolding me. "Are you going to use it or not?" Lilith pushed.
"It's not a poisoned spider, is it?"
Lilith chuckled and reached for the jar. But Klara snatched her hand away. The sudden movement shot a wave of pain down her arm.
"Fine, use the other jar or mine but when Abadan finds out you patched yourself up with the assistance of these two," Lilith paused as she eyed the cowering Hounds. "Don't come begging for my assistance."
Klara brushed against the Hounds; others had been terminated for less.
Klara stared at Lilith while her shoulder hung on by a thread. Her magic was masking the pain, but it wouldn't last long. The more magic she used, the weaker she would become. There was always a price with magic, no pain but a quicker death. "I'll trust you, but if you tell Abadan about the Hounds. I'll tell her you helped me."
Lilith rocked back on the edge of her heeled boots. "Blackmail? Maybe you do know more than you let on," Lilith folded her arms, leaning against the door frame. "Since you insist on blackmail, how about you tell me who ripped your heart out?"
"Ghouls."
"And why were you in the company of Ghouls?"
"I'll return the Web once I'm done," Klara said, ignoring Lilith's question. "Consider it a gift," Lilith turned to leave before smiling over her shoulder. "Blackmail. I like it."
Klara looked at the Hounds unsure of what just happened. Klara couldn't figure out why Lilith had just helped her. She had shone very little interest in Klara's wellbeing before, and any interest she did show was usually to punish Klara and her sparring Demons for not pushing her to breaking point.
Klara held the jar, hoping her remaining strength would reveal any ill intent, but it remained a simple glowing jar. Gently, she tapped the lid, awakening the small violet spider. Spinning off the cap, a tiny spider crawled out from a bed of cotton wool and silver webbing and onto her palm. The spider's beady eyes stared up at her.
"Get too it," Klara ordered, and the spider travelled up her arm as she opened her jacket. The spider slipped inside the fabric of Klara's t-shirt and circled her torn shoulder. Slowly, the eight-legged Creature hopped back and forth, knitting its silver thread into her skin, and each suture forced her shoulder back together. Klara looked at the shimmering thread and thought of the meat cleaver that had been embedded in her skin.
"Who would have thought a meat cleaver would make such a good weapon?" Klara asked the Hounds, who patiently waited by her side.
Klara's body would heal fully once she had a heart. The sutures would have to hold until then. "Just clean up the edges," Klara said to the spider, and it crawled down her chest slowly weaving the rough edges of her chest wound. There was no use in attempting to seal the gaping hole but suturing the veins and arteries would buy her some time. The spider examined its work and crawled out from inside the hole with its bloodied violet body.
"All done?" Klara breathed, and the spider remained still. Heiress, I've done my best. The shrill voice echoed in Klara's mind as her magic allowed her to see the spider's inner thoughts. "Thank you," Klara said, and the spider moved down her arm and back into the jar.
Klara pocketed Lilith's gift and moved the jars in the pantry back to their original positions. Any sign of disruption would alert the Doomed and thus inform Abadan of her attempt to steal a jar. The only thing Klara risked taking was a small bandage from one of the baskets. There wasn't much need for medical supplies in the Castle as the Queens used spells to heal, and the Doomed were already dead. But when Lucifer ordered Klara to Malum, his paranoia made sure every contingency was covered.
This will have to do. Klara opened the white packet and pressed the gauze directly over her wound. Her chest and shoulder began to tingle as the anesthetic property of the silver spider thread worked its way into her bloodstream. The ease Klara felt revealed the amount of magic her body had been using up to keep her from feeling the pain.
Klara wiped away the hardened blood with a dishcloth by the sink and she noticed the blackened stain that remained. Klara wanted nothing more than a shower, but she needed to get to Hell before Abadan noticed her lingering.
"Let's go pack," Klara said, feeling a chill. Klara climbed the grand staircase to the second floor and walked the small distance to the armoury. Going to Hell without weapons was a rookie mistake. It didn't matter who her Father was. She had allies who praised her as the future heir, but others didn't want to see their King replaced. Like Demons, Klara wasn't born but created from Lucifer. Some Higher Demons couldn't accept a ruler they saw as an equal. Klara had no interest in her inheritance. If those who sat at her Father's table wanted the throne, she would leave it to them to try and take it.
The portraits on the stone walls watched as Klara pressed her thumb against the pitchfork emblem that sealed the armoury door. A thin needle shot out from the emblem and pricked Klara's skin before it drew itself back into the pitchfork. The emblem shield crackled and hissed as it tested Klara's blood before a loud clunk echoed, and the high doors opened. The pitch-black room filled with light as the ceiling mirrors twisted and beamed moonlight into the armoury. Klara raised her eyebrows in surprise. She had thought Abadan would have revoked her access as part of her punishment. Klara figured Lilith convinced Abadan to show some lenience.
◆◆◆
On the stone walls hung daggers, swords and arrows of every length and material. Most of the weapons belonged to Abadan and Lilith. They were necessary to maintain order in the Forest. Many Creatures couldn't be killed with a simple blow. It would take weapons of specific materials to cut down an uprising, and Abadan had searched to the ends of the Earth and other planes to have more than she needed to maintain power. Weapons meant status but the Demons preferred their trickery as they patrolled the River Styx and the Ogres held an affinity for their batons. No one dared rise against Abadan, but there would always be an excess of weapons and potions chained up in case of an invasion. The one thing the treaty ensured was that the Kalions stay to their borders and the Dark Creatures stay within Malum.
For the citizens of Malum, weapons were too expensive. Each Creature carried varying levels of magic and strengths of their own, which made most weapons redundant. If the Lycaons kept to the caves, the Witches to their hovels and the Vampires to their underground settlements, there would always be a certain level of order.
Klara pulled her double-headed axe from the wall, feeling its delicious weight in her hands as she twisted the short handle and from the bottom shot a glimmering dagger. The Hounds backed up afraid of the purity of the silver dagger. The axe was a gift upon her completion of Lilith's combat training from her Father, and the silver dagger a separate gift to protect her when she left Hell. Lilith had combined the two for ease of use. The silver dagger was lethal to Demons and Hounds and an Angels' weapon of choice. The silver would also come in handy if she happened to run into any Dark Fae banished to Malum. The Kalion Fae forged silver blades for the Angels but Dark Fae having traded their Light would evaporate at a single touch.
Twisting the axe's handle, the dagger slipped back inside. Klara walked across the training square in the centre of the room, a raised circle of sand and gravel to the far wall lined with trunks full of training equipment. Klara knelt beside her trunk and opened the gold latch. She removed a crisscrossed leather harness that would secure the axe to her back.
"Out of it," Klara said as the Hounds tried to pop their heads inside the trunk. They backed off as she found a container of rock salt. She popped open the ruby at the centre of the axe and poured in the rock salt to banish any Doomed souls should they get too close.
Klara checked the corridor for any onlookers, and closed the door as quietly as she could, but the sound of the bolts sealing would alert any Ogres on the second floor.
The maggot covered portrait of Dorian Grey led Klara to her sky room in the west wing tower. Stepping through the portrait was a much quicker route since she didn't have the strength to climb twenty flights of stairs. Without her heart, her energy was dissipating, and she still needed to get through the Fall to Hell.
Candles lit as Klara stepped through the portrait into her bare room. Klara eyed the wardrobe desperately wanting a change of clothes, but it was only full of the dresses Eve had tried to bribe Klara with that Klara had never worn. Klara laid her axe on the small standing desk by the door. There was no chair because Lilith said that slouching over books would destroy her posture and affect her training. The restless Hounds jumped onto her large bed and lay watching her. It was getting late in Hell, and they were probably eager to return to their siblings. Klara slipped off her clothes and reefed open a floorboard to find the clothes she had stolen from Lilith.
Klara tossed her ruined dungarees to the corner of her room and pulled a pair of black trousers over her toned thighs, thick from hours of training. "Sweet Judas," she cried out as she pulled a jumper on over her bloodied t-shirt.
She needed to fit in once she got to Hell, and bright colours even red would give her away as someone important. Klara crisscrossed the harness over her jacket and slid her axe into the straps at her back.
"Get off you mangy mutts," Klara said as the Hounds tried to lick her face as she sat on the floor and pulled her boot laces taut. They barked as Klara lifted the corner of another floorboard revealing a small collection of silver coins, should be enough to keep me covered. Klara placed the small pouch in her pocket, knowing she wouldn't be able to get back to her gems at the crossroads for a while.
The long mirror on the wall mocked Klara as her slick straight hair shone in an array of colours exposing her failing magic. "What should we go for?" Klara asked the Hounds, and they tilted their heads in confusion. She ran a hand over her hair, and platinum white cascaded from root to tip. Her Father hated white hair; only Angels wore such a colour, a colour he had mudded.
Klara could feel the Hounds’ unease, "think I'm playing with fire?" She asked, and one of the Hounds placed a paw over his snout, and Klara knew that meant yes.
"Good!" Klara knew the risk was too high and stripped her hair to black.
I think we have procrastinated long enough, Klara stared out the empty archway that sat in the stonewall. At this height, the mountains and ocean seemed peaceful. Klara turned her back and rested her heels over the edge of the drop. The wind hit her back, as the Hounds watched Klara take a deep breath and raise her arms. She pictured the gates of Hell, rusted iron rods each coming to a sharp point. She remembered the scorching heat and took a step back, embracing the Fall.
~4~
Blood red clouds appeared as the Fall burnt the air from Klara’s lungs. The closer she got to the ground, the slower she fell until finally landing with a thud. “Glad to be back,” Klara groaned, looking at the lava trying to break through the bed rock.
The hot stones burnt Klara’s palms as she came face to face with the gates to her Father’s Manor situated above his Kingdom. The searing heat below her tired body forced Klara to her feet. Klara heard the scrape of nails and drew her axe only to see her Hounds padding over to her, both unfazed by the Fall to Hell.
“Glad to see you made it,” Klara huffed as they joined her side.
Klara walked towards the spiked gates, hesitating as the crackling lava beneath the rocks reminded her, she was no longer in the Forest. The gates towered above her, and to touch them would burn through a few layers of skin. Only those granted access would pass through unburnt.
The heat crawled through her layers, so Klara removed her jacket and tightened the buckles at the front of the harness, securing her axe in place. It had been years since Klara’s last visit, and even that felt too soon. The sky rumbled, and Klara felt her hair change. “Should have brought a wig,” Klara said, running her fingers through her new red lengths.
Klara thought she would have enough magic left to stop her hair from changing until after she had seen her Father. Klara paced back
and forth as she found the energy to strip it back to black.
“Maybe Father won’t be too mad?” Klara asked the Hounds, and they turned their gaze to the gates.
Klara thought about the pile of gems waiting for her, accept his punishment, get back and run. Soon there will be no more Hell, Queens, or inheritance. Hell’s air was pungent and thick as she tried to take a deep breath. At the centre of the bound gates sat her Father’s emblem, a pitchfork embedded on a shield identical to the one that bound the armoury doors in Malum together.
The Hounds sniffed the air for enemies, clearly nervous about being without their invisibility glamour. Klara considered restoring the glamour, but she needed to know where they were in case, she needed them.
“Sorry guys,” Klara said as the Hounds searched the outskirts of Hell’s Maze surrounding them. Klara placed her hand against the shield and hissed as the metal froze her palm while an enemy would have been burnt.
Klara kept her hand still as a thick needle pierced her palm, without her heart, the pain shot up her arm. A small whine came from one of the Hounds as they checked she was okay. Klara offered them a stiff smile as the hole in her palm struggled to heal.
The gates to the Manor opened with a series of clanks and screeches. As soon as she set foot onto the property, Demons appeared in a cloud of smoke. Klara opened her mouth to speak, but pitchforks shot to her throat. “Easy,” Klara said as her Hounds growled at the sudden threat.
“Nice to see you too,” Klara said, holding up her hands. “Not the welcome I was expecting.”
The Demons looked to one another as Klara showed no signs of fear.
“You might want to put those down, who knows what the Heir is capable of after all this time.” The circle of Demons broke apart as Klara saw a head of slick-backed hair.
Crowned A Traitor: A Hellish Fairytale Page 4