Chapter 6
SIMONE
The night before our first solo patrol, I can’t sleep.
I’m tossing and turning, wondering if I tried every way I possibly could to convince Maalik to allow me to sit mine out.
Lana promised to nag him about letting me stay in the keep and help Daniel with healing.
As Elioud, we heal faster than normal humans, and most of us are capable of healing others’ injuries to some extent. I can do more than most.
But Maalik said this is a rite of passage and promised I’d be alright. It’s just one day where my team won’t be covering my back. Just… one day.
Tu peux y arriver, Simone. You can do this.
No matter how much I try to tell myself it’s no big deal, I still don’t manage to shut my brain off, and I give up before breakfast. Instead of chasing sleep that just won’t come, I get dressed in my reinforced leather clothes, strapping on all my throwing stars.
It was Akira who first silently handed me a shuriken after he noticed me struggling with larger weapons. It’s been gratifying to find some form of combat I’m good at.
My favorite type of hira-shuriken—flat, star-shaped throwing weapons—is the Manji shuriken, which looks like a rotating cross.
I pat myself down, making sure I filled all the hiding spaces. Maalik had this outfit made especially for me. It reminds me of an archer’s leather armor, but it has a lot more give. When there’s nothing left for me to do in my room, I take one last, bracing inhale.
Vas-y. Here we go.
At breakfast, my team is chattering around me, nervous and excited about the solo patrol. I’m just feeling one of those emotions—with a heaping dose of dread mixed in.
“Are you okay, Simone?” Lana asks quietly from across the table, her green eyes full of worry. She leans forward and lowers her voice to a murmur. “Do you want me to try and find you once we’re far away enough from Abaddon?”
I roll my lips together, considering her offer. I can’t deny I’d feel a lot safer with her by my side. But what if Maalik found out and just made me do it again until I proved to him I can hold my own?
No.
“I can do this,” I tell both of us. “I’ll prove that I can do this and won’t have to go out alone again. A few years from now, we’ll laugh about it.”
Jess, who’s sitting next to me, grabs my hand and squeezes it. “I’m so proud of you, Simone,” she says quietly.
“So am I,” Lana adds. Then louder, “I’m proud of all of you.”
“Don’t forget to include yourself in that,” Kevin says with a grin. “Our fearless leader.”
Lana scoffs. “Fearless? There’s a reason my pants are brown.”
If anything can get me laughing on a day like this, it’s Lana’s sense of humor. But breakfast is over all too soon, and we’re standing at the invisible border of Purgatory, waiting for it to be our turn to set off.
“Alright, Simone,” Maalik says once I’m up. “Head north, follow The Phlegethon. Don’t go too far and come back in a couple of hours.”
I nod numbly, trying hard to control my breathing. “See you soon,” I say, my voice sounding hollow.
“See you soon,” he echoes, giving me a rare encouraging smile.
My heart hammers wildly in my chest as I take the first few steps into Hell. The sky gradually turns orange, the smell of sulfur and ash invading my nostrils. I feel like every soulless creature within a hundred kilometers can hear my loud breathing.
I reach The River of Fire and follow its bank, taking slow, measured steps, mindful of my footing.
The last thing I need is to tumble down and turn into a puff of smoke.
When I start feeling lightheaded from the heat, I climb up a dune to take a look around, hoping I can find a soul manifestation so I don’t return home empty-handed, so to speak.
“Merde…” I murmur to myself. No life in sight, just orange skies, orange lava, orange dunes, and brown rocks with brown scraggly bushes.
With a sigh, I sit down and open my backpack to fish out my water pouch and one of the granola bars Daniel makes for our patrols.
If I don’t find any targets, maybe I can brunch the day away.
I snort at my silly thoughts. This restaurant’s ambience leaves much to be desired, one out of ten stars.
I’m just packing away my supplies when the bush behind me rustles, followed by a muffled cackling. The hair on the back of my neck raises in alarm—I’m not alone. I quickly scramble up to my feet and take out two throwing stars, ready for whatever monster intends to ambush me.
“Show yourself,” I say, proud when my voice doesn’t shake.
An imp crawls out from under the bushes. It has beady yellow eyes with brown slits, and pockmarked sewer-green skin. Now that it’s out in the open, the smell coming from it makes me wonder how I didn’t notice it before.
I take two steps back, still holding my weapons up. “Stay away from me.”
As if mocking my demand, the vile creature takes three steps closer. Its wide grin reveals sharp, yellowed teeth.
“I mean it. I’m not here to hurt you, but I will if I need to.”
The imp tilts its head, considering my words, then it nonchalantly raises one gnarly hand. A ball of noxious water appears, much like the fire our Fallen have been trying to teach us to summon.
A gasp gets stuck in my throat when he launches it at me. Instinctively, I let a throwing star loose, but it sails wide. I duck and throw the second one, the stinking projectile missing me by inches.
“Putain!” I holler, wiping the side of my cheek where a stray drop landed. It burns!
Still in a crouch, I grab a third throwing star and aim for the imp’s throat. This time, my weapon finds its mark, slicing into and through the imp’s neck. It drops like a marionette with its strings cut, dying with a pitiful gurgle.
I dig out my water pouch and let a few drops spill into my cupped hand before rubbing the water over my cheek.
The burning lessens, and I sigh in relief.
The acid from the soul manifestations would just keep going until it reached the other side.
I need a hole in my head like, well, a hole in my head.
I pick up my weapons, leave the imp behind, and jog down the dune.
Wait… was I going left or right? I hesitate for a moment, turning in a circle. I’ll just go left for a bit and see if anything looks familiar.
Sweat drops into my eyes, and I wipe it off with the back of my hand. Weird. This part of Hell is usually pretty arid. As I walk a while longer, my stomach starts to cramp like I haven’t eaten in hours. But I just had the granola bar. Right?
I rifle around my backpack for another one and find only the paper Daniel wraps them in. Huh, I was sure I had two. I take a few sips of water instead. The water pouch is feeling suspiciously light as well.
I should probably head back to Abaddon. So what if I return without having dispatched any manifestations—the burn on my cheek will prove I at least stood my own in a fight.
Now, where is the Phlegethon? I just have to follow it back, then turn left and…
But this doesn’t look like the area around the molten river. I somehow wandered into a ravine with tall cliffs surrounding me on every side. How did I get here?
I try to bring up an image of Hell’s topography in my mind, the maps Corson has been shoving under our noses for months now.
Did I somehow walk past Abaddon and end up in the mountains above it?
But… no. The sky isn’t dark and decorated with an aurora.
It’s still a dusty orange, though it feels murkier, like maybe I’ve been away from Purgatory for whatever passes as a whole day in the Underworld.
“What is happening?” I breathe, spinning in a circle and taking in my surroundings. “Why do I not remember getting here?”
I wince when the hot wind blows sand and ash onto my cheek, irritating the burn there. My hand goes to it automatically, and I hiss when I find it wet and raised. Quoi? How did I not notice this before? Is it infected or… am I poisoned?
Mon Dieu. I’m lost in Hell with no food and very little water.
I’m going to die out here.