As they moved through the trees, a mist began to descend, and the spy thought that it might be a living entity, with thoughts and feelings of its own. It clung to them as they walked, seeping into their skin and clothes, seeming to speak to them in low, ominous whispers, and the spy remembered what the scholar had told her about bringing a piece of this world back with him.
It was a thought that did not comfort her.
After traveling through the mist for several hours, they found themselves at the edge of the forest overlooking a yawning canyon, its jagged hills blackened by fire. They stood in a row, looking down at the deep crevices in the canyon floor, waiting for the angel to speak.
After a moment, he pointed toward the largest and deepest crevice of them all.
“There,” he said. “The path to Pandemonium.”
The spy looked doubtful. “All I see is a giant hole.”
“It’s the only way in.”
“How do we get down there?” the scholar asked.
The angel turned. “What I’m about to ask you to do will go against your better nature. You’ll have to shed your earthly prejudices and follow my lead.”
“I think I shed my earthly prejudices when the mist started talking to me back there,” the spy said, “so what do you have in mind?”
The angel tucked his weapons in his waistband, then moved to the very edge of the cliff and turned his back to the canyon.
“You must let yourself go,” he said. Then he did, allowing his weight to carry him backwards over the edge of the mountain, his jacket billowing as he fell. The other two watched in disbelief as he plummeted toward the canyon floor-
– then the mist billowed out from his clothes and his skin, slowing his descent until he was merely floating.
A moment later he touched the ground unharmed.
He signaled for the others to follow, but they both hesitated, unable to grasp what they had just seen.
Then the spy shook her head, said, “Ahh, hell …” and moved quickly to the edge before she could change her mind, clutching the shotgun to her chest as she spun around and let herself go.
The scholar watched for a moment, then moved to the edge and followed her down.
They landed without incident, the last of the mist rising from their skin, whispering softly as it evaporated. They were surrounded now by jagged mountains and razor-sharp rocks. A misstep, a fall, and a piece of the earth here would slice through your flesh and bone as if it were nothing more than soft butter.
The large chasm was still a mile away, and they traveled a well-worn path toward it, stepping carefully around the rocks, ever mindful of the unseen creatures who watched them from the shadows.
The spy heard a low growl and turned her attention to her right, where a pair of green luminescent eyes carefully followed her.
“Keep facing front,” the angel said. “Make no move to provoke it.”
The spy snapped her head back around, trying very hard to keep her legs from trembling.
This was, the two humans thought, the longest mile they had ever traveled. As they finally neared the edge of the chasm, however, they felt no relief. They saw a long dark pathway leading toward the glowing light, a pathway that held no promise. No hope.
Several black scorpions skittered up the path toward them, and the angel held up a hand and said, “They will only sting you if you show them fear. But if one becomes aggressive, merely rub a finger along its back and it’ll immediately calm down.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” the spy said, her voice laced with disgust.
“All creatures, dark and light, want to be loved.”
A moment later, the angel again took the lead and they made their way down the path. The scorpions skittered up close, but did not attack, instead turning and following like excited children, as the three continued forward.
They soon passed through the mouth of the chasm, entering a narrow cave with a low ceiling. They all ducked to keep from bumping their heads, and saw roaches and spiders clinging to the rocks, the roaches rubbing their wings together as if ready for flight, their feathery whispers faintly reverberating against the walls.
The spy and the scholar exchanged brief, uneasy glances as they followed the angel into a shadowy tunnel. The angel withdrew his knife, spoke a brief incantation, and the knife began to glow, illuminating their path. Several multi-legged insects that the humans didn’t recognize scattered away in fright, disappearing down a dark hole in the tunnel floor.
The three stepped around the hole and continued on, moving along a curve until the tunnel opened out onto another cave. The angel came to a stop and pointed his glowing knife toward a stone archway on the opposite side.
“The entrance to Pandemonium.”
“At the risk of sounding like a complete idiot,” the spy said, “what exactly is Pandemonium?”
“A city built by the great Mulciber in honor of Satan. We call it the City of Lost Souls.”
They heard a sound and something moved in the shadows of the archway. Then a thing that looked like it should be a wolf or a dog stepped forward and began growling at them.
All three heads.
“A trinine,” the angel said. “It won’t harm you unless you upset its master.”
“Its master?”
As if in answer, a figure slithered out from the shadows behind the three-headed dog. It had the body of a serpent below, and that of an old woman above, her breasts sagging, her hair stringy and gray, her face etched with lines, her teeth crooked and yellow.
“Well?” she said. “Are you going stand there staring, or come inside?”
The two humans exchanged glances again, then followed the angel as he crossed to the old woman.
“What’s the fee today?”
“Same as always,” she said. “Nothing more than a kiss.”
The thought of this turned the humans’ stomachs, but they were soon distracted by movement in the shadows on the opposite side of the archway. The shadows shifted and something dark and menacing moved forward, a shape with no real definition.
Whatever it was, it was watching them carefully.
“Go back to sleep, boy,” the old woman said. “They’ll pay their fee.” Then she looked at the three visitors. “Won’t you?”
“With pleasure,” the angel told her, then stepped close to her and leaned down, kissing her on the lips. The woman snaked her arms around him and held him there for a moment, then finally released him.
“Be on with you, then. Next.”
The two humans once again exchanged glances, neither of them anxious to move forward.
“Come on, come on,” the old woman said, “or I’ll sic my son on you.”
The trinine growled and the shadows on the far side of the archway shifted again. Not one to waste time, the scholar leaned down, giving the old woman a kiss. Again she snaked her arms around him, holding him there, and when she released him, he stumbled back, his eyes wide and slightly embarrassed, as if he’d enjoyed the moment but didn’t want to admit it.
Then it was the spy’s turn, and she clearly did not want to do this. Steeling herself, she tucked the shotgun under her arm, then sidled up to the old woman, crouched down and hesitated, not sure she could go through with it.
“Oh, for Lucifer’s sake,” the old woman said, then grabbed the spy and yanked her close, planting her lips on her. A slick tongue slithered down the spy’s throat and a burst of pleasure flowed through her. Then she, too, stumbled back in a daze and struggled to stay on her feet.
“All right, boy,” the old woman said. “Open the gate.”
A moment later they heard a faint creak as the gate was opened, and the humans took the path toward the City of Lost Souls.
Pandemonium.
48
The place was at once familiar, yet like nothing Callahan had ever seen before. They seemed to be in a canyon of some kind, with dark, cavernous walls, but with no sky to speak of.