Reap & Repent (32 page)

Ruth shuddered. She knew he’d only told the demon a story to get them past it, but she felt more vulnerable than ever. She swallowed down the lump in her throat and looked at Kylen. “Which way now?”

“Forward.” Kylen scanned the shallow horizon as the echoes of screams drifted toward them on a smoky putrid breeze. “We need to find a hiding place where Nate can do his thing.” He turned right and headed toward the red glow of what appeared to be a city or at least a fortress of some sort. Turrets appeared high above the horizon through breaks in the fog. They were walking in the direction of the screams.

They continued on the desolate red desert road, away from the one creature they’d encountered so far. The fog parted before them as they made their way forward, and it closed behind them. It appeared virtually impenetrable to the left and right of the highway. She was pretty sure she didn’t want to know what it was hiding. They walked nearly a mile before they felt comfortable enough to
venture off the road and into the thicker fog so that Nate could attempt his location spell.

She didn’t know if magic sent a signal or left a trace, but she prayed it didn’t raise any alarms. Nate squatted, arranging four blue candles around his body and lighting them. He filled a goblet three-quarters of the way up with water from a bottle out of his pack, then removed a twisted bundle of dried herbs.

“Sandalwood and thyme,” he explained, lighting them with a match. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and began to chant, “Let the water reveal to me the location of Deacon. Let the water reveal to me the location of Deacon.”

He opened his eyes and leaned forward, peering down into the goblet.

“Ruth, give me your hand.” Brandishing a small pocket knife, he drew the blade across the pad of her index finger, letting the droplets of blood fall into the goblet.

As he swirled the water with his finger in a clockwise motion, he repeated the chant three more times. The water settled, and he startled, his eyes wide and excited.

“I see him! He’s in a very plush room. It looks like a suite of some kind. Lots of gold statues and crap. It looks…expensive, luxurious. There’s an open balcony. No other windows or doors.” Nate leaned back and looked up into Ruth’s wide eyes.

“Did you see it, too?” he asked.

“No, all I can see is water. You’re amazing, Nate!”

Gathering up the candles and the goblet, Nate stuffed them back into his pack.

“There’s only one place like that: the Palace…where there are hundreds of balcony rooms.” Kylen smirked. “I don’t suppose Deacon’s grown his hair out real long like Rapunzel?”

“Not hardly,” Ruth said. She was pretty sure her smile wasn’t fooling anyone.

Nate wasn’t even trying for levity. She knew he was ready to get out of there, and the sooner the better. She was in total agreement, but they weren’t leaving. Not without Deacon.

Kylen led them back to the road and they continued on toward the red light. Another half mile and Ruth smelled death.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The closer they got to the source of the light, the higher the ceiling of red and gray fog lifted. Still, the landscape was barren before them with the exception of a red stone castlelike structure that was slowly rising on the horizon.

“That’s it up ahead,” Kylen confirmed as they marched forward. They kicked up small clouds of red dust with every crunchy step, and Ruth felt as though her pores were coated in the toxic stuff. The small breeze died and the only sound was of their shoes on the crushed rock road and the muffled din coming from the palace.

“Is that …” Ruth started to ask, turning to Kylen.

“Souls of the damned making payment on their contracts.” Kylen pushed ahead.

“Lovely.” Ruth shuddered. No wonder Kylen hadn’t wanted Kara to spend eternity down here. She was fairly certain they hadn’t even seen the worst of it, and she was already disgusted and terrified. The entire place emitted a vibe of foreboding and repulsion. Each step forward was protested by her inner voice, which was urging her to turn around.

She looked at Nate. His eyes were huge and bright, searching the horizon in all directions like a wary animal. He was spooked for sure, but he kept moving forward. She knew his courage sprung more from a desire to protect her than concern for Deacon. Suddenly a physical pressure overtook her and her thoughts took a dark turn. What if Deacon wasn’t being held against his will? What if he
had somehow come willingly or changed his mind once he got here and wanted to stay?

What if just entering this place changed you?

She shuddered again.

No, he wouldn’t choose this. He’s a good man. Or reaper or whatever he is now. He’s good, not evil. This is a place for evil.

She wanted to block out the growing cacophony of voices crying out in anguish. None were distinguishable, but the sentiment of each was easily recognizable: pain, agony, fear. And the smell…rotten eggs and roadkill on a hot summer day.

“Do you feel that?” Ruth asked. Nate nodded.

It occurred to her they could perhaps shield themselves at least somewhat from this place with their own energy shields. She hadn’t experimented enough with other colors but the orange had always made her feel better before. Maybe with Nate and Kylen’s help, they could create a force of their own to deflect the doom that was threatening to overcome them.

“Stop!” Ruth reached for Kylen’s and Nate’s hands. “Let’s try to create a barrier of energy around us. I can’t stand this place. It’s sickening me. Kylen, can we do that? Create a shield of some sort?”

“No idea.” Kylen closed his eyes, and a faint orange glow began to envelope him and flow through him. Ruth did the same and envisioned that glow emanating from herself. Nate did his best to manipulate his own sulfur and brown
aura to a healthier color. As the orange light surrounded them, the relief was immediate and physical.

“Damn, that’s better,” Nate said, breaking out of his funk.

“Good. Me, too. Kylen?”

“Peachy.”

* * *

They walked on for what seemed like several miles, enveloped in their manufactured auras. Nate maintained his with only an occasional push or touch from Ruth. He was getting stronger despite his reluctance to admit it. His calling was still unclear, but he’d already proven himself useful more than once with the powers he had. Who knew what other resources lay within him, waiting to emerge.

There was nowhere left to hide, and the closer they came to the palace, the more the fog began to dissipate. The place looked like an impenetrable fortress, complete with a moat of what appeared to be flowing lava.

Wonderful,
Ruth thought.

A guard stood post at the main entrance. It was small and toadlike, an imp like the one Ruth had run through with a fire poker in her living room only a few days ago. It seemed like an inadequate guardian for such a tremendous palace, but then again, Ruth assumed that not too many folks were hot to visit this place of their own accord.

Kylen sent them both a look to indicate he would once again do the talking.

No problem,
she thought. She didn’t know if the imp could sense the energy they were generating, but she wasn’t willing to extinguish it. She was pretty sure things would only get worse the closer they came to the source of all the evil and suffering.

Kylen walked forward, indicating that Nate and Ruth should stay behind. They did. She couldn’t hear what was being said but caught enough to recognize that it was in a language she didn’t understand. Kylen apparently still knew fluent imp. The imp stepped aside, and Kylen motioned for them to advance.

Ruth walked forward, and Nate stuck close by her side, clearly intent on keeping his body between Ruth and the imp. The slimy stunted creature was only as tall as Nate’s midthigh, but he kept a wary distance from it nonetheless. They walked in together through twenty-five-foot-high iron gates into the Palace of Hell.

* * *

Once they were well past the lone guard, they made their way down a long black marble entryway toward a spectacular viewing balcony.

“That seemed a little too easy. Where is everyone or…thing?” Ruth asked, glancing around the interior, looking for any sign of life or danger.

“No one uses the front door. See that chimney over the arena? That’s where the official residents arrive from Purgatory, then they drop into the pit. They call it…the meat grinder.”

“And the unofficial residents?” Ruth asked.

“A few levels below.”

“So they aren’t all that worried about trespassers?” she asked, amazed.

“Hotel California,” Kylen said, walking toward the railing. “You can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave.”

Nate rounded on him and jerked Kylen back by his shoulder. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? We’re stuck here? We can’t leave?”

His face was full of rage, and he was clearly ready to toss the reaper over the railing. Ruth managed to squeeze her body between the two men to defuse the situation. “Kylen, tell us that’s not what you mean.”

“Would it have made any difference? Would you have decided against coming? Would you have let me come and look for him alone?”

“No,” Ruth said decidedly. “I would have found a way.”

“Exactly. Stubborn woman.” Kylen scowled.

“Have you managed to trap us here, asshole?” Nate asked.

“I have no idea. This is my first trip since the exorcism. All I’m saying is that it’s typically a one-way trip. Most of the ‘people’ who come here are untethered souls, demons or imps. Not visitors. No one is beating down the gate to get in or hadn’t you noticed the scant security? One imp? Guarding the entrance to Hell? They don’t worry about souls escaping because it’s not possible.” Kylen backed away and peered down into the red abyss below.

The orange glow diminished around all of them. Nate seemed to be the most affected by the lack of happy juice. Ruth put her palm on his chest and gave him a push of OJ. “Nate, we’ll get home,” she said. “As soon as we find Deacon, we’ll figure it out. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Nate stepped away from her to peer down from the balcony, as well. “Shit.”

Beneath them was a sea of naked, writhing bodies, climbing and crawling over one another through a flood of red mud and worse things. One face would rise and cry out only to be pushed down into the muck by another creature, over and over again. There was no way to tell how deep the pile of bodies went. The palace curved to the left and the right like a stadium and continued in what appeared to be a circle.

It was so vast that Ruth couldn’t see across to where the circle should be completed. Spaced along the continuum were many smaller balconies like the one where they were standing. Each one had a front-row seat to the first circle of Hell.

After they all watched the sea of humanity for several moments, hypnotized, Kylen shook his head, as if he was trying to clear it from the fog of self-reflection.

“And that’s only the first circle,” he said, breaking into their reverie. “There are eight more. They only get worse.”

Ruth couldn’t imagine anything worse. She certainly didn’t want to see it for herself. She wrapped her arms around her chest and turned her back to the railing, willing the infernal noise to stop.

Kylen led them from the viewing balcony, and Ruth took both men’s hands in hers. Instantly their energy joined together again, shielding them with orange light that lessened the impact of the foreboding pressing against them.

“We need to find Deacon,” she said, squeezing their hands, “and the sooner the better.”

“How do you suppose we do that? Every balcony looks the same. There must be hundreds maybe thousands on each side of us, and that’s only as far as we can see into the red fog,” Nate said.

“Were there any distinguishing features about the balcony you saw? Anything at all that would make it stand out?” Ruth asked, hoping against hope that he would say yes.

“No. They all look exactly the same.”

“Do the spell again. Look for something you might have missed,” Kylen said.

“I’ll try.”

“That’s all we can ask, Nate,” Ruth said. giving him a smile. “Let’s do it…now.”

* * *

Deacon couldn’t rest, but he felt strong and ready for whatever came his way next. He couldn’t even imagine what Ruth was going through, worrying about him. He hated the entire situation for her sake more than his own. And what was happening to all the souls that were piling up while he was detained? Ruth couldn’t possibly reap them with her limited training. Would they send a replacement? What would that mean for them? So much was unsettled and this derailment wasn’t going to make things any easier.

It occurred to Deacon that perhaps that was the whole point of his incarceration. To take him out of the game for a while so Camael could do…what exactly? If Deacon were home with Ruth, he’d be collecting souls as usual, and he’d begin training as a Powers with Grim to prevent demon infiltrations into the human world.

What if Camael was planning something bigger? What if he was planning on unleashing a few dozen or hundred or thousand demons on the earth while Grim was occupied with Seraph duties and Deacon was imprisoned? Who was guarding the border?

No one. That’s who.

Deacon’s heart sank. Of course that was it. The demons could easily find bodies to inhabit. There were plenty of unsuspecting humans ripe for the picking. And once that happened, there would be plenty of souls piling up to harvest while he was trapped here. He didn’t know how long he’d been down here, but with the hit-and-miss job he’d been doing lately, he was at least a hundred souls behind.

Easy picking for a few dozen demons.

Surely he wasn’t the only one who had figured this out. Surely there must be experts and guardians to make sure things like this didn’t happen. Checks and balances and all that crap. The burning pit in his stomach told him something else.

He
was
that check and balance.

He was the one who was going to have to clean up whatever mess Camael planned to make. And the best way to do that was to prevent it from happening in the first place.