Chapter Twenty-One
The impact took my breath away as I landed on my hands and knees, crying out as I struck the cobblestones. Cold rain hit my face, my hands, my neck. Nausea rolled through me as pain-induced stars erupted in my vision. I rolled onto my side, wincing at what I knew would be enormous, purple bruises on my kneecaps. I lifted my eyes through the dark and shadows that pressed in around us to barely make out Fauna picking herself up and extending her hand.
She shouted over the rain. “Come on. Let’s get out of the cold.”
Gone was the smell of bleach, the clean daylight, the white walls, the beige furniture. My mother and her dickhead of an angel were nowhere to be found. I looked around at the enormous buildings that stretched on either side down the long, ancient street. Through chattering teeth, I asked, “Are we in London?”
“Ha!” She laughed, the sound a bright, genuine joy. “No, but you bet your ass I’m going to tell every English person I ever met that you said that. Let’s get moving.”
I grimaced as I took her hand and got to my feet. I took shaky steps, heels wobbling as one nearly slipped into the space between cobblestones. Iron lanterns lined the sidewalks; dim candles flicked within them as if we’d stepped into the past. Against the overcast sky, the silhouettes of Gothic cathedrals and old-world stone buildings intermingled with the glass, marble, and steel of modernity. I grabbed her hand and allowed her to pull me down the street.
“Where are we?” I asked, using my free hand to wipe the rain from my face.
“Welcome to Hell,” she said, grinning like a tour guide.
I stopped so fast I nearly yanked her shoulder from her socket. The floodgates opened as decades of Christian fear filled me. I whipped my head from side to side, searching for Cheshire-cat parasites, gnashing teeth, talons, bats, and venom. Nausea returned as my heart skipped uncomfortably. If it weren’t for the cold, rhythmic rain dripping down my face, I wasn’t sure I would have stayed conscious.
I was going to be sick.
Fauna released my hand and stepped behind me, placing both hands on my back as she forced me toward a reddish, neon glow. The fires of Hell. The inferno. The lava. The lake of sulfur. The humming glow of a crimson sign that clearly read Shadow’s.
I was too paralyzed with fear to do little more than shiver at the door until Fauna reached around me to yank on the handle.
My lashes fluttered as I struggled to understand what I was seeing.
I flinched as she wrapped her fingers around the handle, terrified of the monsters and ghouls and torture chambers within. Instead, she opened the door to reveal a mostly empty pub. Fauna gave me another small shove, as I’d lost all ability to move, to speak, to breathe. I could barely hear the music over the frozen chatter of my teeth but was almost certain “Don’t Fear the Reaper” was being piped in from an unseen sound system. A few patrons cast us looks as we entered, two pausing their game of pool to watch us cross the threshold.
“Gentlemen.” She nodded at the men before escorting me to the bar top. Dark wood floors. Dark wood stools. Dark wood tabletop. The buzz of neon bulbs. Glasses. Music. The lingering scents of some savory snack and spilled liquor. It was…just a dive bar.
She slid onto a stool top as the bartender sidled up to us. My lips parted in silent shock as I stared at the inky silhouette. The man had no face.
He was composed entirely of shadow, as if a black, obsidian void where a person might be. I blinked once, then twice, then a third time. His body reminded me of Silas’s—built and rippling, every muscle visible under his tight, red long-sleeve tee. His messy charcoal hair broke up the darkness, red horns poking up from the hair.
“Looks like someone got caught in the rain,” said the shadow. I had a sudden suspicion as to where the establishment had gotten its name. He leaned against the counter with the same hospitable familiarity I’d seen in every club, tavern, and bar in the mortal realm. “What can I get you ladies?”
She propped her elbows on the countertop and arched forward. Fauna’s lower lip puckered in a pout. “How strong can you mix something while still making it taste like candy?”
“I know just the thing.”
“Wait.” I stopped him. They both stilled, wondering what I could possibly say before I responded, “Nothing candy-tasting for me. Beer? Can I order beer here?”
Fauna giggled. “Of course you can order beer, but I don’t know why you’d want to. I don’t know if you know this, but it tastes like gross bread soda.”
The bartender asked me a few far-too-normal questions about how dark, hoppy, or bitter I liked my beers before selecting something on my behalf and sliding me a glass. He paused as he handed it to me, then looked to Fauna.
“Is she human?” he asked quietly.
“Only kind of,” Fauna responded with the lift of a single shoulder. “She’s one of ours. It is her first visit though, so let’s do our best to scare her.”
“Can do, boss,” he said, offering a two-finger salute before he returned to his duties.
Fauna wrapped an arm around me, chafing my damp sleeve with her hand to stop my shivering. “I’ll get us a place to stay. But we couldn’t very well stand out in the cold and keep you trembling like a wet Chihuahua while we figured things out.”
I had no idea what it meant to figure things out in Hell.
I looked at the patrons playing pool. One appeared to be a handsome, fully human male. Unlike the bartender’s aspect of shadow, or Azrames’s grayscale pallor, he had rich, dark skin with cool undertones. If it weren’t for the thin, forked tail that snaked up behind him, I would have sworn he had no place being in Hell. Beside him, the neighboring patron looked like he’d stepped off the set of a 1950s mob movie. He did not share the preternatural beauty I’d seen on so many faces but instead sported a serious expression and a portly belly that made his suspenders strain. The only prop he lacked was a cartoonishly oversize cigar.
I sipped my beer, eyebrows lifting in surprise.
“Good, huh?” she asked.
I nodded. “It’s…smoother. Better, somehow.”
“The humans have great junk food, but Hell really nails booze. Maybe if you’re lucky, one of these days I’ll show you what the Nordes do best. So, go ahead.”
“Hmm?”
She gestured to the bar. “You’re in Hell. And all you ever do is ask stupid questions. At this point I’m pretty sure it’s your only personality trait. So do it. Get them out of your system now before we’re in front of someone important and you embarrass me.”
My teeth shattered as the rain chilled my bones, but there was only one thing on my mind. “Hell is evil,” I said.
Her face, posture, and general aura sloughed in deadpan exhaustion. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll humor this question until I finish this drink, because every pantheon is exhausted with the topic. And be warned, I’m drinking fast. So, tell me, why is Hell evil?”
I wasn’t sure what she was asking. There had to be a double meaning. She knew of faiths and religions and angels and demons. She knew of churches and beliefs. It didn’t take me long to offer, “What do you want? Old Testament or new? Weeping and gnashing of teeth. Realm of the dead. Eternal fire. Punishment. I don’t remember any verses about playing pool and drinking beer.”
She squared her shoulders and took a sip. “Okay, church kid, ready for the final word on theology?”
I wasn’t sure if I was pleased or offended that a Norse pagan fae was about to lecture me on church culture, but I wasn’t in a position to argue. I thought briefly of a piece I’d read on a physical burning pit beyond the holy city being conflated with the concept of Hell. “Are you going to make the Valley of Gehenna argument?”
Fauna’s long-suffering exhaustion wore heavily on her as she said, “No, but I appreciate that you’re halfway there. Sheol was the original Hebrew translation, the realm of the dead.”
“You speak Hebrew?”
“I speak everything. You have three sips until I’m done with this topic. Are you done interrupting?”
I bit my lip to keep from interjecting.
“You’re getting your imagery from Paradise Lost and Dante’s Inferno, which is fine if you want to base your worldview around dead white guys who wrote religious fanfic. It was thousands of years after the establishment of the religion you grew up in. One sip to go.”
It felt obscene to argue theology in another realm while speaking over classic rock and clutching a beer, but questions waited for no one. “But the verses—”
“Can I ask you a question?”
I wasn’t sure if I was mad, cold, or confused. I may have nodded, or perhaps it was just a rain-soaked tremble. I was uncomfortable in fifteen different ways and had no idea where to start.
“Cool.” She made a satisfied, smacking sound as she drained the cup. “If your big bad Devil was forced to do things for God, wouldn’t that mean he was still in servitude? Like a prisoner of sorts, doing Heaven’s bidding, serving faithfully by punishing bad guys or whatever? And if he’s a faithful servant, then did he commit treason? Because either you buy in to the idea that he’s a fallen angel because he rebelled and rules his own kingdom, or we believe he continues to serve his original king by faithfully punishing people and continues to be a good little lap dog for the King of Heaven. Have it one way or the other.”
I shivered again and Fauna sighed. She slid the dredges of her candy-apple-green beverage to the lip of the bar and walked to the far side of the counter. I watched her exchange a few words with the shadow before he nodded. He procured a large stone bowl from beneath the bar and walked around to our side of the counter. He set it at our feet and flicked his wrist, setting a controlled, roaring fire ablaze. The heat was utterly delicious. I hadn’t realized I’d still been clenching every muscle until my blood began to thaw.
“Oh!” he gasped, onyx fingers outstretched as if he’d dropped something. I froze, worried I’d done something wrong. I gave him my most attentive concern before he said, “I brought the fire, but I forgot the brimstone. Shall I…?” and though he had no face, I could feel him smile.
“You’re terrible,” Fauna said, offering a starlit grin.
“Holler if you need anything else,” he said. I allowed the flames to defrost the rain and cold, marveling at the magic that caused the fire to hover within the bowl without any observable source aside from the bartender’s will. I listened to the music with the beer to my lips and choked at a repressed memory.
“What?” she asked, eyeing me over her bright-green music.
I shook my head, “I just…my mom was right. She thought rock music would send me to Hell, and she was right. They’re playing Kansas. I expected ominous orchestral music, heavy on the organs.”
“Well, you can find that here, too. But you can also find that on Earth. Preferences are preferences wherever you go. I bet there’s a cute demon cowboy listening to country while doing the two-step somewhere in the city. Honestly, all our kingdoms thrive on their diversity, like anywhere. Maybe not so much in Heaven. They’re a lot stricter. They keep their ducks in a row and all that. Don’t get me wrong—there are still some cool guys there. And some good music. It’s not all bad.”
“You’d said Silas wasn’t that bad, and he ended up being the biggest prick of them all.” I glared over my drink, distracted from Fauna only long enough to appreciate the tacky, illuminated art behind the bar. The neon-red outline of a pinup-style devil lit half of the wall, setting the entire bar aglow. Save for our fire and two dim, naked bulbs dangling from the ceiling over the pool tables, her crimson light was one of the only things separating us from shadows.
Fauna shook her head as she laughed, damp hair already drying as we enjoyed the firelight. She made a curious face, mouth quirked between hushed conspiracy and amusement as she said, “Silas isn’t a total prick. We went on a date once.”
I had to set down my beer to keep from dropping it to the floor. I banged on my chest, coughing so hard that it drew the attention of the other three in the room.
“Oh, don’t be dramatic. He took me to a nice place in Heaven. He paid and was a perfect gentleman. But talking about kingdom conversion on the first date? So uncool. I did not take him up on his offer for a second, but honestly, he wasn’t a dick about it. We run into each other occasionally, and he’s usually friendly. He even apologized for coming on too strong. It’s fine; I can’t blame him. I’d also want to lock this down.” She clicked her tongue and shot finger guns at me.
“You can switch kingdoms?”
She gestured broadly to the bar.
“I knew Hell had a lot of fallen angels and—”
She slurped loudly enough to cut me off. “They didn’t just go to Hell. Some defected to other realms, too. A handful of pantheons have former citizens of Heaven.”
“I just can’t believe…”
“What? Is it the realm-conversion thing? Or is the look on your face over angels dating and marrying? It’s even in that Bible, right there in Genesis. Maybe more book of Enoch. Pick your poison. They even wed humans from time to time, which might be part of why Silas is less of a prick to you. You’re cute. Pretty privilege and all that.”
“That’s what you consider being less of a dick?” I gaped, consciously sidestepping her implication.
Her lips pinched to the side. “This was our first time interacting in a business capacity, and I will admit, I like him a lot less when he’s on the job.”
“On the job, being, coercing me into a bond by involving my mother?”
She swirled the tiny straw in her drink. “He doesn’t get a lot of say in what he does. They have real hierarchy issues over there. His master is a really controlling guy. But I have a theory.”
I looked at her expectantly.
“Maybe he’s doing you a favor by insisting he’s the one on the job. Any angel could have showed up to talk to your mom. There was no reason it had to be him, unless he’s requesting the task. And if he is…”
“If he is, is it a good thing or a bad thing?”
She chewed her lip. “That depends on his motives for doing so. It’s certainly curious. Then again, he’s a curious guy. Like, I admire his balls for asking me out, but he had to know I’m not angel material. Nymphs, fae, deities, and demons, though…” Her eyes drifted to the bartender. “Well, love isn’t out of the cards for us, but…”
“You’re going to say something gross, aren’t you.”
“We fuck.”
My exhale was heavy with amused exasperation. As ridiculous as she was, I was fond of her particular brand of nonsense. “I don’t know why you bothered finishing your sentence.”
She smirked into her drink and made a come-hither expression to the bartender so he’d bring her another. The muscled shadow looked up from whatever he was doing and acknowledged her beckoning.
“How are we paying for this?” I asked. “I doubt they take credit cards.”
“You paid for things in the human realm. I’ll take care of things when we’re out of the mortal kingdom. Now, go ahead, ask your next stupid question. I can see a few more clanging around in there, and I can tolerate them while getting drunk. But I think I should get a few questions in return.”
“Fine.” I was only halfway through my beer, but Fauna was well on her way to finishing her second green drink. There was something remarkably normal about the tit for tat of two friends exchanging questions over drinks. It put me at ease, even if the topics did not. I hedged for a moment before asking, “The horns?”
“Oh, that’s a pretty good question. So, when the kingdom split, it was the whole brother-fighting-brother thing. Or like, what do you do in human sports, when hot men get sweaty and half-naked?”
“Shirts versus skins?”
“Yes! That’s the one. Anyway, it’s just easier for the rebels to spot one another if they’re out and about. Maybe in the human realm, maybe in battle, whatever. The war is asinine, and at this point it’s most comparable to your Cold War. Lots of espionage and covert operations. No one has the time or energy for horsemen and swords and blood.”
I chewed my lip, considering the information. “Okay, and that cat-child that Silas killed? He was a demon, right?”
“The kiddo? Ew, no. Like I said, he was a parasite. Nothing to do with demons, though to be honest, parasitic entities are what most humans think of when they hear the word. Every realm has them. We’ve got them with the Nordes. The Hindu realm has them. They’re big in toteism. Malevolent entities are like rats in the age of bubonic plague—”
“You don’t have to relate every example back to a human experience.”
“I am being a good teacher and you’re being ungrateful.” Then to the bartender, she turned and said, “Sweetheart? Can I have one more for me, and another beer for my friend?”
“You’re putting them away a little fast, aren’t you?” I adjusted my body so the fire warmed a new side.
She nodded, sliding the empty glass toward the man. “Liquid courage, babe.”
“Courage against something scary?”
“Yes, something terrifying.”
I shifted uncomfortably, wondering what precisely could be unnerving enough to put Fauna on edge.
“It’s my turn now,” she said. She propped her elbow firmly against the bar, gesturing until her drink sloshed as she asked, “You never suspected?”
I slumped in my seat, frowning.
She elaborated. “All of this. Even Lisbeth knew she was seeing something real. She’s oversimplifying things, but at least she’s acknowledging what she’s seeing. I’m sure you’ve been noticing shit your entire life. You didn’t at least think you were psychic? Or experiment in witchcraft? Or…?”
It took me a moment to gather my thoughts, and she didn’t rush me. After a while I said, “Maybe I would have, if my mother weren’t who she is. Maybe she’s fae or psychic or whatever, but she’s also cruel and crazy. And it’s a lot easier to put it all in the same box, you know? If she’s nuts about five things, it tracks that she’s nuts about the sixth, too. Does that make sense?”
Fauna considered this. “But you saw Caliban in spite of her, not because of her. He didn’t—”
“I think it’s my turn to ask another,” I said. The lyrics to “Wanted Dead or Alive” wove through the bar, filling the space as she smirked. She raised her glass for me to continue.
“Okay…is it always dark here? In Hell?”
She guffawed. “It’s nighttime, dumbass.”
“Hey!” I grumbled. “It was daytime when we left Earth. Or is this not Earth? Oh my god, I’m getting a headache.”
She shook her head, damp silver and copper tendrils reflecting the firelight. Even the little white freckles were brighter somehow as they caught in the flame. “Time moves differently in every realm. Next one.”
“Fine,” I sighed. “Electricity?”
She frowned. “What’s the question?”
“I…I just didn’t expect…”
“Oh! Yeah, that’s a really stupid question too. Oh my god, Marlow. We’re immortal beings, and you think we want to stay in the stone ages? Life is long! When we see something nifty, we incorporate it. You humans have decent ideas sometimes. Half these demons are traditionalists. You could probably pop next door and find someone sitting in the dark who only makes his calls through silver bowls of fresh goat blood. Life, joy, and adaptability all go hand in hand.”
“Then why do you come to the mortal realm to watch TV?”
She giggled into the bright-emerald drink. “You think we’re going to debase ourselves by doing the dumb shit you do on your shows? No, that’s uniquely human. It’s marvelous. I hope people never stop. Okay, so, we covered modernity, hopefully? I knew some of your questions were going to be brick-brained. I think that earned me at least two in return.”
“Fine,” I grumbled.
She flashed me her most dazzling smile. “On a scale from one to ten, how breathtaking am I?”
I gave her my most deadpan stare. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Is that because I’m an eleven?” she asked.
I wanted to fire back with something clever, but it was a night for transparency. “Honestly? You’re gorgeous.”
She wiggled with delight.
“But you’re also an enigma. You are equal parts king and clown.”
It was her turn to interject. “Hey!”
I made a show of relaxing into my chair. “I’m just shooting you straight. You have no respect for anything, you have the taste buds of a four-year-old, you’ve dated an angel, apparently you seem to have no problem taking a stand against Heaven, you—”
“I get it. I’m mysterious and cool. But mostly I’m pretty. Now, I had another. Try to make your answer interesting.”
I wondered if she was still being playful or if something I’d said had truly struck a nerve. I looked into my bubbles and waited.
“Caliban.”
My eyes shot up. I looked from left to right, panicked that someone might overhear.
Fauna was unbothered by the disinterested crowd of distant patrons. She set down her drink and looked at me seriously. “You didn’t even believe in him. Now you’re on this vigilante mission to find him. Why?”
I made a weak attempt at deflecting. “You mean other than because he’s even hotter than you?”
“Beauty is subjective,” she mused, “but yes, I’ve heard he’s a fox.”
Fox.The word set me on edge. It was like swallowing a burning coal. It scalded going down as I considered her question, then sat heavily in my stomach, roasting me from the inside out. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Is it cliché to say ‘the beginning’?”
One corner of my mouth flicked upward for the barest of moments, eyes returning to watch the slow climb as carbonation escaped my beer and popped. “Yes,” I said quietly. The writer in me was mildly amused, but the wounded child in me was stronger. “Because he’s the only person who’s ever truly seen me. And fuck, I’ve been so madly in love with him, even when I didn’t think he was real. I’ve fought it so goddamn hard. To learn I could have given in long ago? That I didn’t have to make my life this difficult? It’s torture.”
Copper waves tumbled to the side as she tilted her head. “You have friends. You’ve dated. It’s not like you’re alone.”
I shook my head. “It’s not like that. He understands me so well that it was easy for me to convince myself that he was a projection of my subconscious. He gets my sense of humor. He’s so fucking clever. But I thought he was the part of me that loved myself, you know? Like, my self-loathing was so palpable that I had to create an external figure that didn’t judge me, that helped me think through things without making me feel bad about myself. He was the part of me—well, what I believed was the part of me—that thought I was worth keeping alive. And he did.”
Her expression changed.
I kept my eyes on the bar top. “My sense of self-preservation has been…low.”
I felt her soft fingers before I realized I was about to cry. She gave my hand a squeeze.
I bit my lip to keep in the emotions until the first wave passed. Then I said, “People have seen my value for what I can do for them. My parents saw me as an extension of them—a chance to do better where they’d failed. When I was an escort, my value was as an accessory. I was professional arm candy. One who could keep a conversation going, who could read moods, who could offer an experience so that someone might get to feel that high of dating and lust for a night. Now that I’m successful, so many people see me as a sort of feather in their cap. But with Caliban, I was just me. And he never pushed me to change, you know? My journeys were mine to go through, and also mine to reflect on, with his support. And sometimes that support was just being held all night while I was convinced I was crazy. The only thing he wanted amid all of it was for me to be happy. And I just want him back. I want him back so much it hurts.”
“Who knew you were such a sap?” She squeezed my hand once more before releasing me. “Being sane is so boring. All the coolest people are crazy.”
I breathed a half-laugh.
“Plus, he’s a demon. The sex has to be—”
I jerked to alertness, looking around with far more intensity. “Can you not?”
She gave me a tired look. “Riddle me this: sharing drinks with an escort who is too much of a prude to discuss a good lay.”
“Maribelle did that,” I said quietly. “I have very distinct boxes for the personal versus the professional.”
She softened ever so slightly. She balanced her chin on her fist and regarded me. “Fine. I think it’s your turn. Any other inquiries you need to get out of your system?”
“Two more,” I said with some certainty. “The first is, now that we’re here, how do I find Caliban?”
The shadow slid two more glasses in front of us. I wasn’t sure if he’d anticipated our needs or if Fauna had signaled him while I was lost to my reverie. She thanked the bartender and took another long sip before saying, “We’ll go to the palace and look for an audience with the King. We’ll do it tomorrow once we’ve cleaned off your rain-smeared face, and we’ll get you some clean clothes. Now, last question. Hit me with it.”
“What are you so afraid of?”
She sighed. “I’m working up the courage to call us our ride. We need somewhere to sleep for the night, don’t we?” Fauna abandoned me to talk to the bartender. He offered her what was unmistakably a cell phone—or at least the black, glassy equivalent of what one might have in Hell—which she accepted. Fauna turned her back to me while she made a call. She thanked the bartender and rejoined me on the stool.
Her anxiety was contagious. I flinched against the question before whispering, “Who did you call?”
“Azrames.”