There But For The Grace (13 page)

“Can you do that for me? It’s important.”

I nodded, shell-shocked, and caught sight of the other three Archangels behind him. Uriel grinned like a fool, Raphael stood speechless, and Michael looked downright tempestuous. I expected him to come charging at us any second, but I couldn’t really tell if he was intent on beating the shit out of me or Gabriel. We were spared any drama by Azrael making his appearance. Gabriel let me go, and I hastily stepped back. Azrael smiled ruefully and shook his head at Gabriel, then looked to me as if to check to see if I was okay.

I nodded, numb, and looked around for my pack. If Azrael was here, then I didn’t need to waste any more time or deal with anymore mind games. Azrael’s voice stopped me from looking any further.

“You have all that you will need, Adelaide. It is best to travel light under these circumstances.”

I nodded dumbly and turned to stare off at the looming but distant gates. This was going to be tough. It looked so far away, and I wanted to go. I wanted to go now, but I forced myself to stop and pull both the canteen from God and my messenger bag off. I knelt and opened up the bag to find that Piorre’s journal remained inside, as did the shirt that was a gift from my friend Mei-Lei. Other things had been removed to make way for protein bars, bandages, the gloves from Famine and other small but useful survival items. All of it packed with care so as to keep the bag’s slim profile.

“Your pack is back at the house, it’ll be waiting for you,” Gabriel said, as if it would make me feel better. I realized I was clean and in clean clothes. I’d been wearing a white tee and lighter jeans but now the tee was black and the jeans the fresh, crisp, dark blue that screamed ‘new’.

I looked at Gabriel and knew it was scathing, arching an eyebrow in his direction. He grinned and winked at me and said, “Wasn’t me,” and pointed over at Raphael. I didn’t believe him, but there wasn’t any bitching about it now, all that would do for me was delay me even further.

“We good to go?” I asked Azrael.

“One last thing,” he said and held out a hand to me. A silver zippo lighter, with a pretty gothic cross engraved on it, rested on his open palm. I blinked.

“What’s this for?”

“Hell can be a dark place. This is to light your way and in some cases… provide clarity.”

I plucked it from his grasp and turned it over in my fingers. Finally, I nodded and looked up at him. “Thanks.”

“Think nothing of it.”

I shoved the lighter in my hip pocket above one of War’s shiny forty-fives and adjusted Tab’s knife so it wouldn’t dig quite so much. I took a moment to draw and replace it a few times, to get the feel for its new position, and, satisfied that it was as good as it was going to get, squared my shoulders.

“Ready then?” Azrael asked.

“Is anyone ever really ready to go into Hell?” I asked with a sad little half smile.

“I suppose not,” he agreed.

I looked over towards Gabriel, Uriel, Raphael, and finally Michael, who all stood together nearby.

“Thanks, for everything so far,” I said, and I was sincere.

They all nodded except for Michael, who stood there all brash and imperious, which made me want to do or say something rude. I kept a lid on it, and Gabriel said, “Remember, you promised.” I blushed and nodded.
Awkward much?

Azrael held out his hand to me, and I took it, turning to the thin trailhead leading down into the ashy gray and scarred grasslands that swept down toward the intimidating iron gates. I swallowed hard and took the first step. Because it was on me, after all, to choose. Free will and all of that.

Christ, what was I getting myself into?

“Hang on, Tab. I’m coming,” I whispered, and Azrael gave my hand a gentle squeeze.

Tabbris

For only a few moments, after the caustic steam and oppressive heat of the caverns, the cold almost felt good. My newest wounds stopped bleeding, the jagged edges of Kasdaye’s more effective strikes becoming coated with frost. Any feeling of relief didn’t last long, as a deep ache settled in. The fatigue of blood loss and exertion was compounded by the gripping cold, urging me to lay down and rest where I was. The wind howled past, driving tiny crystals at my eyes, while my wings grew heavier with ice. Every step was slowed by having to break the crust and then wade through the densely packed snow.

I leaned into the wind and began using my blade to break up the ice ahead of me to make the path somewhat easier. I covered my mouth and nose with some of the tattered remnants of my shirt, easing breathing some small amount.

Eventually, I started having to take more care with the blade, as I started finding the damned souls buried in the ice. Those guilty of the direst treacheries were completely submerged in the frozen wastes, forced to remain conscious and aware of every moment, while I had to keep forcing myself not to give in and rest, lest I end up as buried as they were, until the packs or demonic residents found me. There were few signs of habitation here, unlike the pits and some of the layers that lay ahead of me. The brutal cold was guardian enough, and the borders would have other watchers. Even so, I knew that there were some Demons who called this place home, so I had to stay alert.

In time, I heard it. I first took the noise for a trick of the howling winds. As the noise got closer, I was able to pick out the sound of a pack of hounds against the higher pitched whine of the air here. The combination of the realm, and the sound, pushed me towards running in blind panic. As in the caverns, I fought the urge down, and kept forging ahead steadily, cracking the ice with my blade and forging through the deep snow. I had a destination in mind, but I had little sense of how deep into this layer I was, and thus how far I might have to go. Visibility was limited to perhaps ten feet, occasionally less than that. The wind also distorted and disguised the frenzied howls of the packs, so I couldn’t tell how far behind me they were: only that they were out there.

Trying to move ahead of the hounds brought me right into contact with part of the demonic host of the land. To most, their nature might not be apparent at first, as they appeared to be just men. These, at least, I knew: those whose betrayal had involved bargaining with Demons, gaining in life—at the expense of former allies or family—and as a result, in the afterlife, they bargained away their bodies to use by those same Demons, whether that was part of the deal or not. Now, while the souls were in residence, experiencing whatever fate their master had in store for them, the bodies were like marionettes, under the control of some taskmaster.

As soon as they saw me, they began to shout for reinforcements, and rushed all at once. Even feeling stiff and numb, I still managed to move faster than they, taking an arm off of the first to reach me and the head off the next. Unlike the rest of the Demons I’d fought, though, that didn’t stop them. The demonic puppetmaster kept animating the bodies, which kept moving despite the injuries and missing parts. The severed arm continued crawling towards me, trying to grab for my ankle, while the severed head continued to shout for aid.

I cut through another, then another, and they kept coming, as if the catastrophic damage to their bodies was little more inconvenience than tearing at clothing. They continued shouting, the dozen or so of them trying to restrain me with sheer numbers, even if these forms were weaker and softer than typical demonic flesh. They may not have been able to injure me much, if at all, but they were all too successful in delaying me, while trying to call attention to my location. When they proved unable to drag me down into the snow, they simply swarmed, gouging at my wounds, and at my eyes, seeking any vulnerability to make up for the limits of the mortal bodies.

The whirling wind and ice turned red, and I could only imagine that the smell of blood on the air would be drawing the packs, even while it whipped them into an even greater frenzy. Knowing I needed to get clear of these assailants before the hounds found us, I attacked lower, chopping one attacker off at the knees, then another. While they kept moving, even with others clinging to me, I was able to get some small distance between myself and the crawling bodies. More joined them, as I dislodged those holding onto my wings and an arm, cutting them down, before cutting away arms clinging to my legs.

I left them a mass of crawling body parts and broken bodies. Despite which, they laughed as I shambled away from them into the ice storm, leaving them behind, but having lost far too much time.

***

I don’t know how long I fought through the storm, unsure of any real sense of direction, or if I was moving in circles, as I tried to stay ahead of the howls behind me. I fell more than once, kneeling in the deep snow, trying to catch my breath, tempted to rest. Each time, I found my feet again, but each time, it was a little more slowly. I had to at least find better ground for a fight.

“
Tab, just hang on.”

There was more, but it was lost in the wind. Those words, at least, had been clear. The prayer also gave me a sense of direction again. I pushed on through the snow, breaking through, until at a step, my foot almost slipped out from under me. As I tested the way ahead, the snow thinned, and under it was a thick sheet of solid ice. I’d found at least a part of the vast network of icy rivers feeding into the Cocytus or a part of the frozen lake itself.

Snow still carpeted the ice, making the footing even more uncertain, but at least it was easier moving forward, as long as I kept my balance. Eventually, the snow disappeared, leaving bare ice ahead, at least as far as I could see through the windblown ice and snow. I dug my sword tip into the ice, to aid with balance with each step, and proceeded with as much caution as I could while maintaining some kind of speed. While it might be easier progressing for me here than in the deeper ice, if they caught me out on the lake, I was doomed. The four-legged creatures would have better balance and better grip here with their claws, and there was nothing remotely like cover or a way to guard my back.

The wind was probably no worse here, but it felt it while trying to move across the slippery ground. Much as I wanted to keep moving, at times, there was nothing for it but to dig my blade into the ice and drop to one knee to weather particularly bad gusting, before pushing myself onward.

The situation changed for the worse when one of the efforts to dig the blade in for better purchase in the ice resulted in cracks snaking out along the ice. There was an ominous creaking and groaning, and at the sword’s edge, water bubbled up to the top of the ice, freezing within instants, leaving the ice uneven. The ice held, but now I had to watch my step and be more judicious in where I dug the blade in—and the force with which I did so. I pushed on as soon as I could, but fell, sliding along the ice the first time I tried to avoid using the sword when the wind picked up. Where I fell, more cracks spider-webbed along the ice, threatening to break and drop me into the frigid waters of Cocytus. As supernaturally cold as it was, there was no way the ice should have been so thin, or any unfrozen water at all, but if it meant providing more ways to torment those trapped here, the realm didn’t have to follow any rules. Just as there were countless souls buried in the snow behind me, I was certain that if I broke through the ice, I’d find plenty of people trapped in the waters as well, forever trapped in a state of freezing and drowning at once, without ever quite perishing.

After a couple of failed attempts to stand, amidst the wind, and on the difficult ground, I pulled myself along, trying to get away from the cracked ice before it broke away. I managed eventually and rose again, only to be threatened almost immediately with another gust of wind. This time I managed to keep my feet, if barely, and stumbled and slid onward. Sounds of groaning and cracking grew more frequent, mostly in the distance still, but sometimes all too close. Just as worrying, the howls and baying were unquestionably louder now. The winds and shifting ice weren’t throwing the packs off of my trail, and from the volume, I was becoming certain that this was the largest pack of hellhounds I’d encountered yet.

I had little warning when the first of the hounds caught up to me. I knew the sounds were close, but the winds continued to distort them. The lead hound just came out of the blowing ice at a full run, catching onto my wing in a leap, dropping me to the ice, and sending us both sliding along it in a tumble of snapping teeth and attempts to fight it off. I finally managed to elbow it in the head, getting it to let go long enough to put my sword through it. I hadn’t even pulled the blade free when two more were on top of me, grabbing onto one arm, and one leg, tearing at the flesh. I kicked the second away, and wrestled the first down, smashing it against the ice, only to notice the ice cracking rapidly under the impact.

The howls and snarls as more hounds rushed to get a piece of their prey were joined by groans from the ice, and a sharp crack. Heedless, the pack came on in a frenzied rush. The next to catch up got my sword put through it, and I briefly managed to use its struggling body as a shield, letting it be savaged by the next attackers. My numb fingers almost lost their grip on the sword in the process, but I managed to pull it free, in time to take the head of another attacker, battering another aside with a backhand from my other hand. I still couldn’t get to my feet, and it wouldn’t be long before I was crushed under sheer numbers, and torn apart, if the sound was any indication. At least if the waters didn’t claim me first, since the cracks were spreading faster, and each time I, or a hound, hit the ice, new fractures appeared, and the already slippery ground grew worse as more water bubbled up from below.

Managing to get up to one knee, at least, for a little more leverage, I managed to batter aside two more hounds, and cut down a third. One of the hounds I’d knocked aside, but not killed, earlier, pounced on me from behind, almost knocking me over, and sent me sliding further towards the oncoming pack while it tried to drag me to the ground. I fought off two more, only to end up with another tearing at a wing, while the one who’d jumped on my back shifted its grip, trying to get to my neck. More and more bright, savage eyes appeared at the edges of the storm, and the howling grew louder as the fastest hounds signaled the pack that the hunt was almost at an end. Metallic sounds against the ice told me there were Demons or fallen somewhere in the mix, but I couldn’t see any of those yet.