The prophecy. I’d not considered these obscure lines, thinking they had something to do with the eclipse. But no, the prophecy was already unfolding, even with every step I’d take into the underworld.
Kat lunged forward and gripped me in the tightest hug, the black coat she was holding bunched between us. “Be careful. Go kick some demon ass. And bring Jude back.”
I squeezed her back. “I will.” I fought the tears welling inside, pretending I was fearless when I was scared out of my skin. “I promise.”
“I brought this for you.” She whipped out the coat that wasn’t a coat at all, but a long, sleek cloak with a hood. The material was fine but not shimmery, falling against my skin like silk. “This will hide that fair skin of yours and keep you under cover.”
I’d already dressed in full black leather, according to her recommendation. Not for fashion, mind you, but because it was thick and could withstand an attack with claws or blades better than denim or cotton. And here I thought she always wore leather just because it made her look bad-ass.
“Thanks,” I said with a smile as she hooked the cloak at my neck and adjusted the harness of my sword at my back so the hilt stuck out behind my neck at the perfect angle.
George said nothing. His earnest expression—a blend of determination, frustration and admiration—was all I needed.
“Remember,” said Uriel, his voice rumbling with restrained power, “you cannot save all the lost souls you will encounter, no matter that your human heart wants to do so. Your mission is clear—find Jude and bring him home. If you lose your way, trust your companion to be your guide.”
Mira chirped in agreement next to my ear. I gave him a steady nod. “Yes. I understand.”
“Take care, Vessel of Light. You carry many precious lives in your capable hands.”
He spoke of the fate of the world, should I not return, but also of Jude and our child.
Wrangling my nerves before they splintered into a million pieces, I turned to Dommiel and held out my hand.
“Okay. I’m ready. Let’s go to hell.”
With a bored expression of indifference, he took my hand. “I thought you’d never ask.”
“Hang on, Mira,” I whispered to her at my shoulder. She clicked her beak and dug her talons in tighter. I was glad of the extra padding I’d sewn into the right shoulder.
We sifted in the midst of the Black Forest as I’d expected. Endless, starless night stretched above us. The damp chill seeped through leather to my skin. The eerie naked trees stood lifeless, like sentinels of a dead land, its inhabitants nothing but ghosts and memories and nightmares. But I knew better. This dark woodland spread through the vast levels of hell, connecting one prince’s realm to the next. And I knew whose realm we were in. I recognized this trail, this spot where we stood. Thomas had brought me here. We were in the realm of Damas, the prince who eluded us all but who seemed to be working behind the scenes at all times.
“This way,” said Dommiel, his words echoing in the thick mist. “Stay close.”
“Not a problem,” I replied, my words a rippling echo in this place. There was no telling if and when something might pop out and we’d have to make a run for it.
Dommiel, normally calm and cool, was antsy, glancing over his shoulder too often.
“Would you stop that? You’re making me nervous.”
“Do you have any idea what will happen to me if anyone finds out I brought you down here?”
“No,” I answered honestly. He didn’t reply. “What will happen?”
He faced forward and moved faster. “You don’t want to know.”
As crazy as it sounds, I hadn’t thought about what it would mean for him. So wrapped up in my own selfish needs, I hadn’t even stopped to wonder what demons might do to a traitor, for that was what he’d be considered for helping the Vessel of Light sneak into hell. I stepped faster to keep pace.
He led us along the same familiar path I’d trod about a month ago. Adrenaline pumped fast, quickening my gait even more.
“There is a place up ahead,” said Dommiel. “I know that Damas has a sacred place near here. He’s made some sort of bargain with Lethe to protect it. She will come when an intruder crosses there.”
“I know.”
He stopped in his tracks, his expression sharpened.
“Does this place have a tall, black monolith?” I asked.
He nodded.
“That’s where Jude was taken.”
Dommiel shook his head. “I don’t know how he thought he’d get in and out safely in the first place.” He walked on with me silently behind him.
I wasn’t sure either, but I knew Thomas had set him up. I balled my fists and swallowed the old anger wanting to rise to the surface. I needed to be calm and focused.
He stopped at the oak-like guardians, their craggy branches laced over the path—a twisted crown to mark the entrance.
“This is where I should leave you. I don’t want Lethe expecting payment of me.”
“Of course not.”
I pulled the hourglass vial from my pants pocket, uncorked it and dropped a little in the cup of my hand. “Drink, Mira.” I held it up for her, and she did without hesitation. She understood its importance, which told me once more that she was no ordinary bird. I drank off the rest. Cold fire poured down my throat and licked through my veins, igniting my VS. My skin tingled and burned bright. Even Mira gave off an effervescent glow. “Wow.”
“I’ll say,” said Dommiel.
I tucked the vial back into my pocket. “We’re ready.”
“So it appears,” he said with a lopsided smile, the three studs in his bottom lip curling upward. “Follow this path into the clearing ahead.”
“Right,” I said, needing no instructions. I was only a few yards from my destination. I took a step, then held my hand out to the demon who’d risked much to help me. “Thank you, Dommiel. I won’t forget this.”
He took my hand in a firm grip. “For what it’s worth, I hope you make it out. Even with your hunter, bastard that he is.”
“Thanks,” I replied with a smile and a squeeze of his hand before releasing. That was as close to a fond farewell as I would ever get from him.
Then he stunned me with a genuine, “Good luck, Vessel.” And he meant it. He walked back up the path several yards, then sifted away, a swirl of ashy earth spinning in his wake.
“Okay, then.” I wound my way along the path, rounding the bend toward the clearing drowned in ethereal blue mist. “Here we go, Mira.” She made a tiny squeak.
“Yeah. I’m nervous too.” I pulled her from my shoulder and tucked her into my jacket, zipping it and leaving space for her head to peek out between the sliding flaps of my cloak. She wiggled her tail feathers, tickling my ribs. “Just be still. I know what I’m doing.”
I hope.
I walked into the circle closer to the stone monolith. The yellow parchment holding the centuries-old prophecy was no longer pinned to the stone. The demon prince, Damas, must’ve heard we’d been here. I’m not sure why he’d move it now. We’d gotten the information we needed. Perhaps there were others still looking for it, like his brothers. Then why did he ever keep it here in the open, even if it was protected by Lethe, where demons could find it? It made no sense. But I didn’t have time to examine the inner workings of Damas. Not right now.
The air vibrated. A tremor shook the ring of bare trees, branches scraping. “Come on, you bitch,” I mumbled, my words dying as sound drained from the atmosphere, the telltale sign of a soul eater’s presence.
A flutter of movement at the center of the stone, a fragment of tattered gray billowing outward, the tails of her cloak preceding the ghastly body of Lethe. The hag with ratty hair and obsidian eyes floated into the clearing, her skeletal arms opening wide for my embrace.
Finally.
Her fleshless lips opened as if to moan or scream, but she made no sound at all. She was the essence of bleak nothingness, a promise to sorrow-filled souls who’d lost their way between heaven and hell. She was also the monster in the dark, threatening to suck the unsuspecting into her desolate domain. She was the absence of life, of anything at all. She would make all of them forget, erase the memory of a world that loathed them. She was the balm to the weary, the bitter, the ones clinging to a mortal world that no longer knew they existed. A thrill pumped my heart faster, for I’d waited to see her again all this time. But not to forget. Never to forget.
I sprinted toward the wicked fiend. Four steps, five, six, seven, then a giant leap into her spindly arms with one thought foremost on my mind and one name on my lips.
Jude.
Chapter Eight
Her cold, bony arms squeezed me breathless, then a soft pull drew me through a gauzy entry. Was that the veil? I hovered midair, no solid ground beneath my feet. A damp cold seeped into my skin, then I fell like a rock. Hurtling through endless darkness, I flailed my arms for something to hold on to, to break my fall. Nothing. It wasn’t the same sensation as sifting through the Void, a purposeful movement toward a certain destination. It was a rocketing freefall—fast and hard—my hair and cloak whipping behind me, my lungs unable to suck in air. I crossed my arms over the bundle inside my jacket, though Mira had tucked her head under my arm.
Light up ahead. My eyes watered from the rush of wind blurring my vision. A faint gray glow drew closer. My descent slowed gradually, then suddenly, till I was merely floating, weightless and gentle above solid ground. Setting one foot, then the other on hard earth, I glanced ahead to a cave-like opening leading to open space. Blocking the exit was the origin of the gray light—a misty shroud of vapor, silvery light snaking in loops and whirls like a living substance. Lethe’s veil.
“Okay, Mira. Here we go.”
She popped out her head, orange eyes blazing bright. As soon as I stepped one foot into the veil, the rest of me was sucked inside. The vapor caressed my cheeks and hands like silken ribbons, a soft brush, a soothing pull forward. The veil wasn’t thin but a barrier several yards thick. Upon my second step, a seizing pressure wrapped my chest. I cried out at the sudden intrusion, the pressure increasing, moving up to my head. A crushing vise squeezed. I wrapped my hands around my head and stumbled forward, trying to get out. The pressure increased. The tendrils of silver encircled my wrists, my chest. I launched myself the last few feet, stumbling out on the other side. Instantly, the pressure ceased; the veil let me go. I spun around to see no malevolent thing coming after me out of the misty wall. The vapor swirled within the veil, silver ropes entwining and circling in a sinuous, benign pattern.
Mira wriggled out of my jacket to perch on my shoulder. I turned around to face Lethe’s realm—a vast, bleak wasteland of black rock, craggy mountains and cliffs in the distance. Lightning rolled over the mountains. No thunder. Only the
thump-thump, thump-thump-thump
of electricity beating in dark clouds, a storm trying to come to life. Though there was no sun or natural light other than the intermittent streak in the sky, the land was colored a murky gray, and I could see well enough.
No souls roamed the wasteland, but I could feel them—a drifting presence of humanity, absent of any emotion at all. Mira flapped and lifted up into the air.
“Not too far,” I called after her.
Silent as a ghost, she soared higher but stayed above me. Reaching over my shoulder to the harness at my back, I unsheathed my katana and scanned the desolate landscape, wondering where to start.
I closed my eyes and reached out with my VS, hoping to find that connection with Jude. Nothing. I inhaled a deep breath, blew it out and started walking. The ground was solid rock, loose stones crunching under my feet. Rock formations jutted up out of nowhere. There was no rhyme or reason to this place. Mist might hover in one area only to evaporate a few yards away, showing nothing but miles of rock in the distance. I walked and walked, finding not a sign of life anywhere.
After what seemed like an hour, I stopped and sat on one of the rock formations jutting out of the ground. Laying my sword across my lap, I pulled the flask of water from inside my jacket, remembering a conversation with George when I’d interrogated him on all he knew of the underworld.
“What about food and water? It may take me a long time to find Jude.”
“You will need little. I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but you’re a Flamma of Light.”
Laughing, I’d said, “Yes, I’m quite aware of it.”
“What you may not realize is that part of being ageless and in addition to the supernatural healing ability, you can go quite a long time without food or water. If you must.”
“So, pack light.”
“Yes. Bring something for nourishment, but more importantly, get in and out as quickly as possible.”
“I plan to.”
I laughed now as I swigged down the water, my throat parched after only a short time in this place. “I hope you’re right, George,” I whispered to the air.
A sound to my right. I jumped, swishing the water over the top, grabbing the handle of my sword as it slipped from my lap. A woman rested against the rock. Dressed in an old gown, something I might’ve seen on a rerun of
Little House on the Prairie
, she stared up at me from wide, black eyes—no whites at all. She held up bony hands in a protective gesture over her head, trembling.