At last we came to the sanctum God had gifted my uncle. The cavernous entryway was like the mouth of a mythical dragon gaping wide, waiting to swallow us whole. Its upper lip disappeared into the shadows that hovered near the roof. Jagged rocks ran the length of it, each a sharpened tooth, circling down to a point that sunk into the floor. Only a narrow corridor running down the center was clear of the teeth, the flooring stained a deep crimson giving the impression of a lolling tongue. The almost imperceptible scuffling of my companion’s feet, which had shadowed me the entire way, ceased suddenly as they looked up in awe at the doorway. I laughed inside. I’d done the exact same thing the first time I saw it.
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Taking advantage of the pause, I focused my attention beyond the entryway. From within, a rhythmic thump could be heard, a deep droning beat that was focused by the door and reverberated out toward us. Guttural moans drifted along on the undercurrent of the sound. I could hear the misery and torment in their raw cries, their groans a dirge. I had an idea as to who one of the voices belonged to-Glorius-but I was hard pressed to imagine who the other might be. I figured I’d find out when we got inside.
Seeing no point in delaying the inevitable any further, giving my doubts time to fester and sound the retreat, I crept forward, waving Scarlett and Katon along. At the back end of the tongue, I was glad to see Asmoday had set no guards. I thanked my uncle for having the foresight to keep his lieutenants in the dark as I inched closer.
I reached the edge of the door and peered inside, only a tiny piece of the room visible from where I stood. I was shocked by what I saw.
Embedded halfway into the stone wall was The Gray, Henry McConnell. Upright, spread-eagle, and naked at approximately ten feet from the floor, the entire back half of his body was missing as though he had melted into the rock. His face was contorted in agony, mouth and eyes frozen wide with horror. His bruised face, beard, and body were caked in dried blood, which broke off and fluttered down in dark flakes as he squirmed. Wisps of light drifted up from his eyes, nose, and mouth, to fade away within the obsidian cloud that rumbled just above his head, vibrating the walls. His was the other voice I’d heard as we approached. I took a closer look, immediately regretting my morbid curiosity. Sickened, I turned away, trying to expunge the image from my mind. The drifting lights came not only from his face, but from every visible orifice of his body. Tendrils of illumination also leaked from his ears, his nose, and even oozed from the tip of his dick as though he were orgasming a sunbeam in slow motion. Even worse, it was obvious the light had substance, his flesh shifting and stretching painfully to accommodate its passage.
As much as it would upset me to see anyone suffer such horrific torture, I couldn’t find in it in me to feel sorry for McConnell. He’d known this was coming and if he’d had his way, it would be Rahim buried in the wall, in his place. Sad as it was to admit, that thought made it just a little easier to stomach what I’d seen. I still didn’t like it, but it couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.
Scarlett, anxious to get on with it, went to look around me. I stepped in her way.
“You don’t want to see it. Trust me,” I whispered. The look in my eyes must have been convincing. She stared at me for a second, backing down without argument. Katon didn’t even bother to try.
After I steeled myself, I moved even closer to the edge of the door so I could see further into the room. I purposely avoided looking at McConnell, my eyes half closed as they swung past, ignoring the nearby shelves with my uncle’s belongings piled atop them. Once all that had moved to my peripheral vision, McConnell out of sight, I peeked once more.
What I saw was even worse.
Stretched out inside a silvered pentagram etched onto the floor was a man who I could only presume to be Glorius. Like McConnell, he was also naked. His muscular arms and legs were bound to the rock floor with the magic-nullifying manacles, the cuffs glowing bright white like they’d just been removed from a blacksmith’s forge. I could see tiny drops of something leaking out from inside the cuffs, dripping slowly to the floor. A small puddle of the waxy substance coalesced on the rock beneath him. I remembered the other sites and a shudder ran down my spine as I realized it was his flesh that was being melted away from his wrists. Unable to bear the sight, I examined the rest of his body. I immediately wished I hadn’t. One of these days I’ll learn to keep my curiosity in check.
Pustulant boils sprung up all along his skin, each easily the size of a quarter. They rippled like a churning storm-driven ocean, bubbling up with vile, blackened pus that seeped from their bursting heads. For each which spewed its repugnant load, tiny volcanoes of sickness and rot, another rose up to take its place in an endless parade of gurgling putrescence. Unable to stomach any more, I looked to his face. Though hard to see beneath the wild mass of his blond hair, I spied the misery carved there in deep lines. Yellowish-gold tears streamed from his narrow eyes. They trailed down his cheeks in waves, staining his flesh in bright streaks. His face was scrunched as he fought against what must have been excruciating pain. His teeth were bared, snapping together in a frenzied staccato. Though he seemed to be screaming, little sound came from his throat. I had no doubt he’d screeched it raw, the vocal chords so damaged they could only produce a senseless groan. His head thrashed about, swaying from side to side without rhythm, squirming to be free. The muscles beneath his boiling flesh rippled with strength as he fought against his binds. I didn’t care what Gabriel had claimed, one look at Glorius’s tortured face made it clear to me he wasn’t accepting his fate peacefully. He was fighting his bondage with all of his might. There was no way Glorius was a willing accomplice in Asmoday’s plans, he was a victim.
I sighed. That was a twist I hadn’t foreseen coming into this.
As if to reinforce my presumption, I heard Gabriel’s voice call out to the angel.
“Be still, Glorius. Put aside your anger and accept your fate. Your struggling changes nothing. The end is at hand. Let us finish the ritual without distraction so you may find your peace.”
A shimmering white light settled over Glorius, the manacle cuffs flaring up. The angel’s head snapped back and slammed into the stone floor with a dull crack and lay there as though being held by some unseen force. His squirming arms and legs struggled against the light, yet they too succumbed, sinking to the floor to twitch helplessly. Though pressed down, Glorius still fought. Every muscle in his body surged as he strained against the restraining magic. For several seconds it looked as though he might win out, his limbs lifting away from the floor, battling the pressure to stay down. Then, I heard a muffled snap and saw his arm bend back at an awkward angle. Mouthing a scream, his resistance crumbled. His body slammed once more to the floor and he lay shivering, writhing. Behind me, Scarlett gasped. Having snuck up alongside me while I was distracted, she had seen Glorius’s arm break. Her agonized voice carried out into the room.
Any chance we had of catching Asmoday and Gabriel off guard died on the vine. All eyes in the room turned to us.
Gabriel sneered, rage burning in his cheeks. “I should have known you’d fail me, Asmoday.” His hands Page 267 glowed with shimmering white light, yet he didn’t move to attack. He did, however, throw up a spell. The air around Glorius twisted and warped, vomiting color like a demented kaleidoscope. The space between him and us was instantly distorted, so much so I could make little out of the entire back half of the room. My stomach tightened into hard knots as I recognized what he’d cast, its magic altering the very nature of the affected part of the room. So much for my guns.