Chapter 10 – Jessica
“S o… that was intense,” I murmur, watching the angel on the ground from the corner of my eyes. I don’t think he’d want me to be staring at him. Though I already got an eyeful. Oh, my.
Ithuriel, still just sitting there, stares into the distance. Is he going to snap? What if he decides this was the straw that broke the camel’s back and leaves to go back to Heaven? Can I trust Sariel to stay?
“Do you want to be alone?” I ask the angel, wringing my hands in front of me. The two angels dry humping was without a doubt the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, but now I’m feeling pretty damn awkward.
Ithuriel slowly shakes his head side-to-side. Not quite sure what comfort I can offer except my companionship, I drop to my ass next to him (but at a respectable distance) and help him stare into nothingness while he digests his once-best friend and now-enemy using his body to get off.
Oy vey .
∞∞∞
I blow the cobwebs I just walked into off my nose. I don’t want to think about what the spiders that made these look like. We are in Hell, after all. I was convinced spiders are demons before I ever learned that demons are, you know, among us.
“Are we planning to stop spelunking in these caves and move into Belial’s territory any time soon?” I ask the angels a touch crankily. It’s just been weeks since we started exploring The Lethe and it’s been one dusty fusty cave after another. Well, one was kind of cool, with a hot spring and flowers and vines. I totally shooed the boys away and took a nice long soak.
Sariel chuckles at my irritable disposition. “Caves are the ideal place to hide a rift, Poppet.”
“I tend to agree with the mortal on this one,” Ithuriel joins the conversation. “If there was a rift in here, we would have sensed it by now.”
It’s remarkable how good the two of them are at pretending the grind and bump the other day didn’t happen. I think it’s a male thing. If they were women, they’d talk it out until they either made up or got into a hair-pulling fight.
“Unless Belial found a way to mask its presence,” I say reluctantly.
Sariel turns around and gives me a broad smile. “One point for angel-lite, zero points for angel.”
Ithuriel rolls his eyes. I feel like he’s humanized somewhat since we first met – his icy edges melted a few degrees. “By that logic, we could be combing up and down Hell for years. Perhaps he even hid it somewhere we would least expect, such as Ashtaroth’s territory. He wanted his consort, Lana, did he not?”
Sariel growls softly. “No, he has too much of an ego to put it in Ash’s ballpark. He tried to frame Asmodai for it. He had to have planned for it to be accidentally found, would want to have a passable excuse if it did. He put it somewhere around the edge of Asmo’s territory, either on his own side or this one.”
I gape at the Fallen. “That’s… actually brilliant.”
“I’m not just a pretty face.” Winking at me, he flicks my chin, then huffs out a laugh before pulling cobwebs out of my hair.
“Ew, ew, ew, ew!” I stomp my feet.
“Relax,” he drawls. “All the critters scattered the moment Holy Elvis entered the building.”
Giggling, I nudge Itha with my elbow and mimic Elvis’ signature lisp. “Thank you, thank you very much.”
The angel’s lip twitches once, and then again, before he finally lets a smile brighten his perfect porcelain features. “That was quite amusing,” he admits, the smile exposing brilliant white teeth. This is what people mean when they say something feels like angels smiling down at them from Heaven. Wowee .
The three of us are standing still in the flickering light from Itha’s torch. Sariel and I gape at the still-gently-smiling angel until he notices our attention, or maybe how close we all are. The smile slips off his beautiful face, and he looks at the ground. Surprisingly though, he doesn’t move away.
Sariel hums quietly before turning back the way we were heading prior to my encounter with the cobwebs. “C’mon,” he says.
A few minutes pass in silence before I feel a vibration starting at my feet. It’s just a gentle buzzing at first, then dust starts falling from the ceiling, joining whatever was still in my hair. Next thing I know, Sariel is yelling my name, Ithuriel throws the torch aside, and they both dive toward me, wings out and extended.
Thudding sounds let me know that the angels are using the appendages to shield me from rockfalls. Just as I think that’s all this earthquake is going to bring, weightlessness hits me for a moment as the floor crumbles, before the boys snap their wings out to slow our fall. Our landing is still rough but at least it isn’t bone-breaking. We roll a few times, the angels taking turns being on top of me, and, as titillating as the thought may be, being sandwiched between two gorgeous Celestials, I’m too scared and hurting to even begin to enjoy it.
As the world slows its spinning, I come to the realization that I can see the world spinning. “Uh, boys? Why aren’t we underground anymore?”
Sariel pushes off me with a groan, then wipes off silvery blood that got in his eyes from a cut on his forehead. When he takes in the wide, desolate trench we’re in, a dark and muted orange sky illuminating the scene, he groans louder.
“Fuck. We’re in The Malebolge,” he growls lowly, making Ithuriel hiss. It feels like an angel cursing.
I get my shaking legs beneath me, hoping to make the nausea stop. “Why does that sound familiar?” I ask them.
Ithuriel eyes the dirt on his once-pristine white cloak with distaste. “Likely from Dante’s Inferno,” he replies.
Sariel scoffs. “The pompous psychopomp,” he mutters, Itha harrumphing in agreement.
My eyes flit between them. I can’t even appreciate them being in agreement right now. “Wait, Dante Alighieri was a Celestial?”
“Is,” Sariel corrects. “He’s still around here somewhere, moralizing.”
“He’s a Nephalem,” Ithuriel explains. “One who decided to take on the role of a guide to the afterlife.” The angel very nearly rolls his eyes. Guess neither of them like the poet.
“Remind me, what was the purpose of the bolge again?” I rub my arms with my hands, trying to ward off the shivers.
“According to Dante or according to me?” Sariel asks with a huff.
“Uh, both?”
“Ostentatiously, it was created to punish the fraudulent. Those souls who deceived others for their own gain,” Ithuriel begins.
“And according to me, ten bored archdemons got drunk and made a bet about who could make the sickest torture zone in Hell,” Sariel finishes.
“Oh, lovely,” I quip. “Let me think, stay in the labyrinth of doom or fly out of here?” I brace my chin on my hand in the classic Thinker pose. “I know!” I exclaim. “I’ll take ‘leave’ for five hundred, Alex.”
Sariel grins irreverently. “As much as I’d love to have your sweet ass pressed against me again, poppet, the aforementioned archdemons cursed this place against flying.”
I gape at him. “Cursed? How?”
“Well, if we’d take off, giant hellfire balls would fly out from the ether to incinerate us. And I don’t know about you, but I’m hot enough already.” His grin turns wicked. “What am I saying, you’re definitely hot enough, darling.”
I see how he tried to lighten the mood, really, but the situation is too dire for cheap jokes. “Are you telling me we need to pass the ten trenches of torture on foot?”
“The denizens of the Malebolge would not dare cross us, Jessica,” Ithuriel tries to comfort me.
“Ten trenches of torture…” Sariel mutters pensively before speaking up. “Tots!”
Ithuriel shoots him a look that’s a mix of disgust and disappointment. “You are an infant.”
The Fallen steps between us and throws an arm over each of our shoulders. “I’m also pretty sure we’re gonna find what we’re looking for at the end of the Tots,” he says as the angel tries to escape his clutches in vain.
Ithuriel freezes and eyes Sariel with interest. “Why do you believe that?”
I bite my lip, my mind going to completely inappropriate places. They just look so good together, side by side. A contrast of colors, factions, and personalities. Sariel is the Yin to Ithuriel’s Yang. And I’m within touching distance of both gorgeous angels.
“I believe that because Belial is a crafty motherfucker,” Sariel answers the white-haired male, making him cringe at the cuss word. “You can bet your firm little tush that he had some shortcut to the void.” The owner of the firm little tush blushes furiously at the Fallen’s words. “But putting it here makes it super protected,” the fallen angel finishes.
“It makes sense,” I chime in. “We’re technically still between Asmodeus’ and Belial’s two territories and I bet not a lot of demons bother to come here.”
Sariel shakes his head. “Not unless they’re meant to be here, torturing souls.”
Cringing, I look around me again. “Speaking of tortured souls. Where in the Malebolge are we? How come no one’s here?”
“Ah,” the Fallen winces. “I think we’re at the very start.”
“So, this would be the one for…?” I let my question hang.
“Panderers and Seducers,” the angels reply simultaneously.