Give the Devil His Due (The Sanheim Chronicles, Book Three) (2 page)

The gathering he planned was momentous. I wish I could describe it for you — the food, the music, the dancing. It was a celebration of Robert’s ascendance. For the first time, I stood by his side in public. Many of his closest
moidin
already knew me, of course. I have been with Robert for a long, long time.

But for the new ones, I was a sight to behold. I chose my white silk dress with care. I looked and felt like a Queen. “And you will be one, my love,” he whispered as we walked down the stairway together.

How quickly our dreams turn to ashes.

The ritual was completed flawlessly. The doorway opened and our campaign began. I could not believe what magic I wielded, what I was able to do with Robert’s assistance. In those moments, I truly believed that we were invincible. Sanheim, and Hell itself, would tremble before us.

But we never had a chance.

I will not describe to you what happened, how our glorious assault was so quickly thwarted. Many of our most powerful brethren were torn apart within minutes.

Sanheim was waiting for us. His eyes are everywhere. He knew what plans Fara had planted in Robert’s head. He knew what my husband was going to do. I now wonder if he had it planned from the very beginning. What plots and schemes lurk in the Devil’s heart? How must he spend his days, but in building elaborate traps for us to die?

I have been sent back as a warning, but I cannot linger long. My Robert lies on a table of stone, stretched limb to limb. The Lord Sanheim has promised him a quick death if only I will deliver this message.

Read closely, those who would follow in Robert’s footsteps. Lord Sanheim knows you envy him, sees your greed for his realm. But he will brook no pretenders to his throne.

All who attempt to destroy him are doomed to fail. All who stand against him will be driven to despair. The Lord Sanheim is as eternal as the sun, as furious as the maelstrom.

Lord Sanheim rules forever.

—Lilith Crowley, 1873

Chapter 1

“The universe is change; our life is what our thoughts make it.”

— Marcus Aurelius

The man lay on his back, struggling to remember his name. It felt like it was just on the tip of his tongue, a word he had momentarily forgotten.

He stared up at the sky, a stretch of black void that seemed to extend for eternity. In the distance — very far away — he could make out a single pinprick of light. He was dimly aware that it was moving toward him, growing larger. The man’s confusion didn’t particularly bother him. Instead, he felt calm and serene. The answers he sought were important, but he knew they would come in time.

You are the love of my life.

The words rose up through his mind, but he couldn’t remember who had said them, or why. An image came to him of a woman with blond hair that fell to her shoulders, gazing down at him with eyes the color of sapphires. He sensed great sadness in those eyes. Had something happened to her? Had she died? No, that seemed wrong, the man thought. But it was close. Someone had died, someone close to her.

The light above him was growing bigger and brighter. What had been only a tiny spot was now a sparkle of white.

The man realized the light wasn’t coming toward him — he was moving toward it. He had no sense of how or why he was moving, only that he was flying through a tunnel at incredible speed. The light above him grew brighter and he could sense its presence. It glowed like a living entity, radiating warmth, love and compassion.

The man forgot his search for a name and the memory of the blond woman. Instead, he reached his hands toward the light, willing himself to move faster. He wanted nothing so much as to reach the light and bathe in its radiance. He knew without being told that it was the answer to all his questions.

It was so close it was almost overwhelming. The circle of light now blocked out everything else in his field of vision. He breathed a great sigh of relief as he felt himself flying out of the tunnel, being enveloped in a warmth he had never known.

That was when he felt the hand on his leg.

Just as he was about to enter the light, something started to hold him back. No, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t holding him in place, it was dragging him down.

The man fought to see what was holding him, but could see nothing. He kicked violently, trying to shake it off, but it was futile. The grip was like iron, solid as a vice. It no longer felt like just one hand, but many, pulling him back into darkness.

He struggled one final time to reach the light, saw his fingertips near the tip of it, but then the force yanked him downward. As fast as he had flown toward the light, he was pulled away even quicker. The man held out his hands in a pleading gesture, but he had no hope of freedom.

The light seemed to fall away in the blink of an eye, rapidly becoming just the pinprick he had seen at the beginning. He forced himself to look away from it, turning toward whatever force was now dragging him downwards. It was then that he noticed something in the distance. In a panic, he realized what it was.

The light was small and red, barely noticeable amid the encroaching blackness. But even from far away, he could smell the smoke. What lay below him was a pit of fire, vast and incomprehensible to him — a funeral pyre for billions of lost souls. It was the flame at the end of the world.

As the red light grew brighter and hotter, he saw he was no longer in the void. Instead, what had been a sea of blackness had given way to an earthen tunnel. Along its sides he could see faces contorted in anger, hatred and madness. Some of them had arms that jutted out of the dirt and were screaming soundlessly as he streaked past.

The man screamed then, begged whatever was pulling him down to let go. He frantically beat at his legs and tried once more to fight. But the flames grew larger and soon encompassed all he could see. In a few moments it would be too late. The heat was overpowering.

As the fire seemed about to consume him, he saw a face in the dirt and arms reaching out to him. He couldn’t remember the name, but he recognized that face and could see it was calling him.

“Quinn,” it said.

He fought with all of his strength to move toward the stretched out hand, pushing himself through the air. For a moment he thought he would fall past it, hurtling into the red abyss below him. But with one more push he reached out and grasped the fingers of the hand tightly. He was still being pulled down, the flames licking his legs.

But the arm dragged him into the earthen wall. He plunged into it — was absorbed into — and pushed forward, crawling through the dirt, desperate to escape the scene behind him.

He couldn’t breathe, could only feel the pressure of rock and dirt all around him. The hand kept pulling him forward until finally, blessedly, he fell into an open cavern. He fell to the ground, dimly aware of the figure in front of him. He breathed in the air. It was rotten and stale, but it tasted glorious. He gulped it down, panting. He felt like he had crawled out of a grave.

“I didn’t think you were going to make it for a minute there, mate,” the other person said.

The man tried to acknowledge him, but could do nothing but continue gasping for breath.

“I mean, he told me it would be difficult, but what an understatement,” the figure said.

The man lay with his head on the ground, uncertain of what his companion was telling him. He understood the words, but their meaning was elusive. Who had told him it would be difficult? The man heard rocks falling in the cavern.

“We have to get out of here,” his companion said. “Get up.”

But the man couldn’t move. All he wanted was to lie there and breathe, knowing he was safe from that fire.

“Now, Quinn!” his companion said. “You’ve got to get up now.”

Quinn. The word was an answer to his puzzle, and the man realized it was his own name. With that thought came a flood of memories and emotions. He saw a rush of images — galloping through the darkness on a horse, fighting a horde of beasts, and finally the girl he had seen earlier. His name was Quinn. Her name was Kate. She was the love of his life.

There were more sounds of rocks tumbling. The cavern walls around him seemed to groan and shake. A stone landed on Quinn’s hand, hurting him. From far away, he heard another noise, one he didn’t immediately recognize. It sounded like something was scratching in the earth nearby. And whatever it was, it was getting closer.

Quinn looked at the dirty and blackened face of his companion, who had stretched out his hand to help him up.

“My name is Quinn,” he said, still vaguely uncertain he was right. So much was coming back to him, but it was too much information delivered too quickly.

“I sure as hell hope so or I just wasted a lot of damned time,” his companion said, and reached down to pull Quinn unsteadily to his feet.

Quinn looked into the face of his companion and remembered his name.

“You’re Janus,” he said.

His companion smiled.

“In the flesh,” he said. “And we’ve got to get moving before whatever lives down here comes after us.”

Quinn remembered something that bothered him.

“But you’re dead,” he said.

“Takes one to know one, mate,” Janus replied. “We gotta go.”

The sound of scratching was louder, and whatever was making it seemed extremely close. Rocks came crumbling down all around them and the earth below them lurched violently.

Janus grabbed Quinn and pulled him forward. The cavern was lit by an eerie green light and Quinn could make out a small pathway, so narrow the two of them had to squeeze themselves through rocks on either side to proceed. The sharp rock walls scraped his flesh as he passed.

The scratching sound was now unbearably loud and Janus had to shout to make himself heard.

“We just have to get outside,” Janus said. “I hope it can’t chase us out there.”

“You hope?” Quinn managed.

“It probably can’t,” Janus said. “I think.”

“Way to inspire confidence.”

“Try not to think about it,” Janus said.

Though he was more tired than he had ever felt in his life, Quinn kept moving, desperate to keep up with his best friend. They ran through narrow tunnels, slowing down only when they needed to squeeze through a small opening.

But the creature behind them was getting closer. As Quinn squeezed through another rock formation, he was momentarily stuck. The walls around him began shaking and he heard something large digging through the cavern wall. It was almost on top of him. Janus helped pull him out on the other side.

“We’re almost there,” Janus said.

Quinn turned to look ahead and could see a pale light in the distance. Janus sprinted toward it, but Quinn found it hard to keep up. Every part of his body ached. He moved as fast as he could, but his legs felt unsteady.

He heard the cavern wall collapse behind him and he turned to look back. The monster that emerged was hideously white, its large body writhing out of a hole it had eaten in the rock. Quinn couldn’t see all of its body, which crawled like a worm through the earth and stone. He couldn’t see any eyes either, but he watched as its mouth opened, showing rows of sharp teeth like a circular saw. Behind that, he saw another mouth open, and then another and another. All of them had teeth like razors.

“What the hell is that?” Quinn asked.

He didn’t get an answer. Instead the creature lurched forward, its multiple mouths opening and closing as Quinn stood there, transfixed. He dimly remembered a story he had read long ago about something called a Wyrm.

The monster tunneled its way forward and Quinn could see greenish ooze on its white body. The stench of the thing filled the cavern, almost making Quinn gag. He watched as it came for him, opening its many mouths as if to swallow him whole.

He felt a hand on his shoulder yank him backward.

“What the hell are you doing, mate?” Janus yelled.

Quinn’s head cleared and he began running as hard as he could. He and Janus sprinted toward the opening at the end of the tunnel. The creature was right behind them the whole way — Quinn could feel its hot breath on his back. He heard its outer mouth open and a screeching sound that came from inside the monster’s body.

Then suddenly the two of them burst outside, emerging from the cave opening at the same time and tumbling down a hill in front of them.

When Quinn rolled to a stop, he looked back to see if the Wyrm had followed them. All he saw were rocks caving into the tunnel. He heard another screech and felt another rumble in the earth. Then there was nothing.

“Looks like you were right,” he said, still panting for breath. “He couldn’t come outside.”

There was another earthquake below them.

“You know what?” Janus said. “Let’s not test my theory. I heard that thing doesn’t like the outside. But I’m not sure he might not pop up for a bite.”

But Quinn was no longer paying attention to the tunnel behind them. He looked around as he stood up and dusted himself off. The landscape was like nothing he recognized. Beyond a small path, there were rocks in every direction. He could see nothing growing out of the earth. It looked like he was staring at the surface of the moon.