Chapter Six #8
We were a silent pair weaving through the dimmed, maze-like corridors. I put half a mind to mentally charting the route so that I could map it in my notebook, but I had to give up after the fourth time we somehow ended up walking back in the direction we came from.
Finally, we came up on a pair of large, double doors. Once again, the dancing skeletons joined hands around the doorknobs—beckoning us through.
Tristan grasped the knob and stopped. “You said you were looking for a couple of guys, right? One with a scorpion tail, one with a lion’s maw, and one with a horned frog head? Plus a snake and a tiger demon?”
I frowned. “Uh, yeah. Why?”
He threw open the door. “See for yourself.”
I stepped out into light—or at least what passed for light in hell.
Torches rimmed the circle of the courtyard, casting flickering, almost warm light on the black cobblestones. Hell didn’t believe in welcoming places to gather, so there were no benches, no water fountains, no spots to kick back and chill in between classes.
There was just a large fountain of the half man, half goat, dominating all that the eyes could see.
He sat atop a throne of intricate beauty, with every curve, groove, and design etched into the stone with unmistakable mastery of craft.
The goat-man held a long sword in one hand, a spear in the other, and an open book lay across his lap.
Water shot through the tip of the sword and spear... or, forgive me, I assumed it was water, but with the bodies impaled on both, the only thing flowing from the statue to the basin was blood.
Something dark, cold, and insidious gripped me as my feet carried me closer—the only parts of me still working after numb fingers let my bookbag and notebook slip onto the ground.
...man-sized scorpion tail attached to his tailbone... a lion’s maw where a mouth should be... a frog demon... a tiger demon... and a snake demon...
My gaze slid over all the bodies impaled, draped, or lying across the goat-man’s lap. All the demons who broke in and kidnapped my sister were here... and they were dead.
“How...?” I whispered, looking into the scorpion demon’s lifeless red eyes. “Why?”
“That’s what I want to know.” Grabbing my wrist, Tristan led me around the basin to the back of the goat-man. Painted on the statue’s back in blood were two crossed bones and a raven.
I squinted at it, leaning closer to get a better look—when a hard, muscled chest blocked my view.
Hard, assessing eyes flayed me from head to toe. “You know what that symbol is, don’t you?”
I tried to speak, but nothing came out. In the end, I shook my head.
“It’s the symbol of genocide, hound-tamer.
” A deep, chilling thread weaved through his voice.
“Before the wolves were banished to hell, my ancestors faced an enemy who would hunt down and slaughter whole packs—women, children, babies, everyone. At the scene of every tragedy, there wouldn’t be a single trace of the killers left behind, except... for this.
“Because that is the symbol of the witches.”
“But what—? Who—?”
“And you,” he plowed on, eyes sharpening, “were looking for those guys, weren’t you? Those dead fuckers oozing and emptying their bowels on that statue right now?”
Wait, what? I jerked, eyes bugging. “Tristan, no, I—”
He seized my shirt, yanking me clear off my feet and smashing his forehead against mine. “So, here’s my question—what the fuck are you and why are you here?”
Out of the corner of my eye, lethal, throat-shredding claws sprung from his fingertips.
“Wait—!”
“Witch-loving scum,” he growled—fangs sprouting. “Because of the people you worship, my people died! Because of them we’re trapped in this nightmare—cut off from the moon!”
“No!” I thrashed in his grip. “No, it’s not—!”
He held me out, his hand rising to deliver the fatal blow. Over his shoulder, a crow flew off his perch and flapped straight for us.
Lucifer? Wait, no! If he steps in, he might kill Tristan, my internal voice screamed. I can’t let that happen!
“BECAUSE OF YOU—!”
“I’m not a witch! I’m mortal,” I shrieked. “A human mortal woman with no trace of witchy powers at all!”
Tristan froze—his claws halting inches from my jugular. His wide-eyed gaping expression might have been funny—if there was anything funny about almost getting my throat ripped out next to the horrific massacre of the only people who knew where my sister was.
“What the— Did you just say— Ah,” he cried out, his hand flying to his head. “Ahh! Is this glamour magic? How did—?” He grimaced, gritting his teeth against the pain as they slowly became regular teeth again. Blinking at me, Tristan’s eyes cleared... and traveled down.
When he hauled me off the ground, he snatched my hem and bra—ripping them up to my chin. Right then, I could see a snake and two boobs clear as day... and so could he.
A furious blush exploded in his cheeks. He spun away, clapping his hands over his eyes, and dropped me.
A short scream, then my head conked against the cobblestones.
I drifted out just as he started shouting.