Chapter 28
Zogar
For a place primarily populated by demons, the place below is very bright. I squint upon exiting the elevator that transported me down.
I have no idea how far I am below the City of Darkness, but in many ways this place is a mirror image of the city above, full of busy streets and tall buildings.
While none of the buildings is as tall as many above, their height defies what seems possible underground.
Some structures rise at least twenty stories or more.
How did these demons dig a space so deep, never mind build structures inside it?
The main and most glaring difference between the two cities is the light. And I do mean glaring. The sky above the City of Darkness glows red at all hours, and even though the city contains millions of artificial lights to supplement the sky’s eerie illumination, the light remains murky.
Down here, the “sky”—which must be the ceiling of a tunneled-out cave—is painted light blue, and the illumination cast down from it is as bright as that in the Kingdoms of Light at midday.
Wispy clouds drift across this artificial sky, and it all seems very real.
I concentrate to see through the magic but can’t. Perhaps it’s some kind of projection.
Regardless of how all of this was done, the creators of this underground city most definitely modeled their artificial sky after ones seen behind the veil, although the fake sunlight here has more of a yellow tinge than the slightly pink sunlight cast there.
Perhaps it’s modeled after the sky in the world from which these demons were expelled.
The streets are riddled with pedestrians—demons of all kinds—but this city mercifully lacks the motorized vehicles that pollute the air and terrorize the roadways above ground.
Eldrath gave me the name of a restaurant where he thinks I might find Gabreal, or someone who knows how to find him.
When I asked Eldrath how he came upon this information, his answers were worryingly vague, as were his answers when I asked for a physical description.
Eldrath simply replied that I wouldn’t find it difficult to identify Gabreal if I found him.
Given the urgency, I accepted his inadequate answers. The sooner I accomplish my goal, the sooner I can return my wife to the Light.
A demon, one even taller than I, strides toward me. His skin is as black as ebony and horns of red protrude from his forehead. Is this Gabreal? For all I know, any one of the males on this street could be him.
The demon passes, and I shudder. His horns weren’t red—they were dripping with fresh blood.
Despite the brightness, this place gives me chills.
Within a block, I’ve seen a dozen or more types of demons—most of which did not live here, when I lived in the Darkness.
Some demons have bodies which appear part animal—like a Gryphon or Satyr—and many have horns or distorted features, but just as many look entirely human, but it’s clear that they aren’t.
I enter a square at the intersection of six streets that fan out like spokes. All around, bright images flash on screens, carrying messages urging demons to purchase various products. Some of the advertised products or services are so distasteful I turn away.
But I take note of one particular male’s image, which appears in many of these recurring messages. The recurrent male has a human-like appearance, except that he’s more handsome than any human male I’ve seen, and my eyes are drawn to him in a way I can’t fully explain.
He’s got the unnatural beauty of a vampyre but lacks the glow I can easily detect from a vampyre—even the image of one.
The male’s eyes are a very pale green, and his thick hair is white, swooping across his forehead in such a way that seems both purposeful and accidental.
His body is muscular and proportional, and he’s dressed in clothing common to this time.
But it’s his smile, his eyes, that make him stand out.
His expression is warm and welcoming in every one of the images.
Someone bumps me. I’ve been staring at a single image, high above the square, for quite some time. I turn away from it, only to be confronted by another image of the same man. This time he’s dressed in athletic attire and is posed holding some kind of racket with a ball aimed toward it.
Again, I’m drawn by his smile that pervades both his mouth and his eyes—every part of his expression—and projects geniality I’ve never seen captured in a portrait. Not even the photographic portraits I’ve seen here in the Darkness.
“Are you okay?” a female voice asks.
I look down. The speaker’s face is similar to a human’s, as is her form, but her barbed tail flicks behind her as she looks up into my eyes. The dagger heats against my hip—a sign it could kill this female demon.
“I’m quite well,” I mutter. I point up to one of the billboards. “Who is that man?”
She laughs, as if I’ve made a huge joke. “Oh!” Her expression changes. “You really don’t know?”
“If I knew, I would not have asked.”
“Why, that’s Gabreal.”
I try to hide my shock. He is certainly not the type of demon I expected. Nor did I expect to find his image on multiple billboard advertisements. “Do you know where I might find him?”
“Like, right this minute?” She laughs again.
I frown. “It’s imperative that I speak to him.”
She brushes back her hair. Her green locks seem alive, like thousands of tiny snakes. But her hair isn’t comprised of snakes, it just moves that way. “You may be in luck.”
“Yes?” My impatience grows.
“See that billboard?” She points to one I hadn’t yet seen. It’s yet another image of Gabreal, this time wearing a bright red sweater and tan trousers and standing in front of an establishment bearing his name in gold letters high above him.
“What is that place?” I point to the sign. “Where can I find it?”
“Chill, chill.” She shakes her head. “I was just going to tell you.” A smirk paints her face as she folds her arms in a way that accentuates her bosom, ensuring my attention is drawn there.
She’s stalling. Holding me up on purpose. Trying to distract me using her sex appeal. Her shape is undeniably sensual, but the only female I’m interested in is my wife.
“That’s Gabreal’s newest club,” she says. “And you’re in luck. It’s opening day. See?” She points again to the sign. It says, ‘Grand Opening’, along with some numbers which must indicate the date and time, but don’t make sense to me.
“Gabreal is there?” I ask her. “Now?”
“Probably.” She smiles coyly, and a strand of her hair twirls around her finger as if it’s alive.
“Where do I find this club?”
Smiling, she winks and then takes hold of my arm. “Follow me.”