Redemption of Eva

    Perry picked his way forward cautiously.  The ground ahead bore the scars of an epic battle.  Mighty rocks had been sundered, and wicked iron javelins lay scattered across the earth.

   Something slammed into him and sent him sprawling.  Pain exploded through his shoulder.  His arm went numb.  Perry clutched at the wound.  His hand came away bloody.

    Eva.  Must protect Eva.

   He tried to stand.  Nausea overwhelmed him.  He collapsed back to the ground.  Eva had already dropped into a fighting stance, daggers in hand.  The daggers he’d waited so long to see.

   Out of the gloom stepped Apollyon.  Face of a lion.  Arms and legs of a bear.  Wings of a dragon.  Proud scales.  Smoke curled from his flanks.  His eyes glowed.  Eva was already charging toward him.  She barely reached his thighs.

     Admiration mingled with his dread.  This woman needed no protection.  But this?  This was reckless.

    “Eva, run,” he gasped.  The edges of his vision blurred.  A mighty roar shook him from the haze.  He thumbed the ring on his right hand and struggled to stand.  Just stand up.  A horrible thud.

    His teeth chattered, sweat drenching him.  Just stand up.  End this.  Then you can rest.

    Apollyon towered over him.  He bent, lifted Perry as easily as a child, draped him over one shoulder, then turned and walked away.

    Relief flooded him.  Away from Eva.  She would be safe.  He desperately hoped she wasn’t badly hurt.  She would live.  She would place her invitation into the King’s hand.  The Author had promised.  That was enough.

    Ahead lay an abyss.  A bottomless pit flickering with an orange glow.  Specters drifted through the rising smoke.

   Apollyon leaped.  Perry clutched to Apollyon’s mane, bracing himself.  Apollyon landed on a rocky outcropping with surprising grace.  Perry barely felt the impact.  He turned and leaped again.

    Bridges spanned the canyons.  Campfires dotted the heights, surrounded by goblin legions.  At the sight of Apollyon, they scattered, shrieking in terror.  The drakes circling overhead paid them no attention.

    Again, Apollyon leaped.  And they fell.  And fell.  The air grew suffocating as the orange glow brightened below.  Then it began to fade.  Apollyon spread his mighty wings.  They drifted past a splendid city of shadows built upon a rocky plateau.  Of course.  He knew the Author well enough.  Pandemonium.

    A river stretched before them.  A beast larger than any Perry had ever seen craned its long neck to watch them pass.  Behemoth. He studied it closely.  Its skin was smooth.  Its tail was long and powerful, like a mighty tree.  Its head seemed surprisingly small.  Gentle, even.  The Author would want a detailed account.  Assuming he survived the ordeal.

    Apollyon landed on the far side of the river and set Perry on his feet.  Dizziness washed over him.  He staggered and nearly fell.  The wound in his shoulder had stopped bleeding.  The flaming dart seemed to have cauterized it.

    He turned to face Apollyon, one fist clenched, his other arm hanging limp at his side.  The deep-blue gemstone inlaid in his ring felt cool and comforting against his palm.  No.  This wasn’t what the Author had given it to him for.  

    “Why have you brought me here?” he demanded.

    Apollyon’s burning eyes fixed on him.  He offered no reply.  Instead, he raised an outstretched claw and pointed.

    “Walk,” he said at last.

    Scattered flames rose from the barren landscape, doing little to warm the chill.  Wretches missing great chunks of flesh crawled away from them in haste.  One stopped abruptly.  It began retching violently, its body convulsing.

    The temperature continued to drop as they walked.  Something glinted on the ground.  A golden coin.  Lost?  No. Another lay further ahead.  And another.  They were strewn across the landscape.  Abandoned.

    Corpses lay beside the coins.  No.  Not corpses.  One moved, just slightly.  One moaned softly.  They made no move to flee.  Apollyon stepped carefully over one.  Perry walked around her.

    “Save me,” she whispered, barely glancing at Perry.  Then she closed her eyes and rested her head back against the ground.

    The air grew bitterly cold.  Perry shivered and pulled his cloak tighter around himself.  Apollyon was shrouded in steam.  Ahead stretched a vast lake, frozen solid.  Apollyon stepped onto it without hesitation.  The ice held beneath his weight.  Perry followed.

    Occasionally, Perry caught sight of bodies entombed beneath the ice, frozen in poses of terror.  He lost track of time.  He simply kept walking, Apollyon matching his pace.

    At last, they reached the far side.  Shackles hung from chains fixed to the wall beside an entrance to a cavern of immense scale.  A spiral staircase wound upward without end.  Far above, golden light pierced the darkness.

    Apollyon fell on his face, trembling. 

    “Great Lord of the Dark,” he called.  “Your servant, Apollyon.”

   Nothing stirred.  Apollyon’s breathing came ragged and uneven.

    A golden eye opened in the darkness.  It glowed like a furnace.  Then the head of a dragon emerged.  Perry gasped.

    Majestic horns rose above its head.  Teeth like swords gleamed in the darkness.  Smoke curled from its nostrils.  Apollyon seemed but a child by comparison.

    But that wasn’t what surprised Perry.  It was beautiful.  Unfathomably beautiful.  The distant light from above shimmered across its crimson scales in waves of rainbow color.  Terrifying beauty.  Panic-inducing beauty.

    “Why have you come, Lord Apollyon?”  His voice rolled across the land like deep thunder.  Then his attention settled on Perry.

    A claw emerged from the shadows.  It was nearly as long as Perry was tall.  The point drifted toward him and stopped inches beneath his chin.

    “Ah,” the dragon said.  “Never have I met someone quite so brave.”  His eyes burned with a terrible amusement.  “And yet…” The golden eyes narrowed.  “I can smell your fear.  Held tight.  Buried deep.”

    The dragon turned his attention back to Apollyon.  “Rise.”  Then he fell silent and waited. 

    Apollyon stood.  Forcing himself to meet the dragon’s gaze.

   “Peregrine Greycloak, my Lord.”  Apollyon swallowed.   “A gift from the Dread Lord Beelzebub.”

    Flames flickered between the dragon’s teeth.

   “What use have I for him?”

    “Not him, my Lord,” Apollyon replied.  “But who he will draw.  And the changes it will bring about…” Apollyon straightened.  His chest swelled with pride.  “In Mansoul.”

   Terror gripped Perry.  No.  Not Eva.  Please.  No.

    “Well done, Lord Apollyon.”  And with that, he disappeared back into the darkness.

–

    Days passed.  Or perhaps weeks.  Perry could no longer tell.  The gloom never lifted.  The cold never relented.  He drifted in and out of consciousness, slumped against his shackles.  His dreams haunted him.  Whenever despair threatened to overwhelm him, he lifted his gaze toward the golden light far above and prayed.

    The ring beckoned to him.  No.

    Not.

    What.

    The.

    Author.

    Intended.

    It.

    For.

   Yes collided with No, creating friction inside him.

    At times the dragon would appear, and whisper lies to him about Eva.  About how she’d been burned, crushed, corrupted.  He shut his ears.  He would not listen.

   The Interpreter’s words returned to him.  Are you willing to lay down everything for her, as the Prince did his Bride?

    Yes.  He loved her.  With all his heart.  It was the first time he had allowed himself to admit it.  The thought of dying didn’t frighten him.  Not if Eva was safe.  He had to be patient.  Trust the Author.

   Perry woke from a troubled dream.  In the distance, a lone figure crossed the frozen lake.  He walked with a swagger, glancing this way and that as he approached.  Fine clothes and a sword hung at his side.

    No.  Not he.  It was a woman.  Her hips swayed slightly as she approached.  Her hair was cut short, hanging in uneven strands.  Her face was bruised.  

    “I’m here to rescue you,” she said simply.

    Horror gripped Perry when her steel-gray eyes met his.  There was no recognition in them.  Only a blank, vacant stare.

    “Eva, dearest.”  Tears spilled down his cheeks.  “What have they done to you?”

    Something flickered across her face.  A struggle.  As though she were trying to remember.

    “Yes,” she said, realization crossing her face.  “That’s who I am.”  She beamed.  “Eva.  Eva the Brave.”  She held up a fang the size of a dagger.   “Eva the Dragon-Slayer!”
    A low rumble came from the dragon’s lair.  It grew louder.  And louder.  Until thunderous laughter rolled through the cavern.

    Eva struck out for the bank, kicking with all her strength.  It accomplished little except to exhaust her.  The river had narrowed, and the current was faster now—far too strong to fight.  All she could do was cling to a shattered piece of the galley and let it carry her.

    The sounds of muskets and cannons faded behind her, along with the cries of victory and the howls of defeat.  The banks rose higher and steeper until the river entered a narrow canyon and plunged into a series of rapids.  Violent currents twisted into whirlpools.  Again and again the water dragged her under.  Again and again the timber slammed against submerged rocks.  She was so cold she barely felt the impacts.

    The river continued downward for miles—or what felt like hours.  Just hold on as long as she could—until she reached the sea she’d glimpsed before.

     The canyon suddenly fell away, and the river spilled into an immense basin.  The water wasn’t as calm as it had appeared, but it was wide.  No banks were in sight.  No shoreline.  Just the sea.  The current had finally loosened its grip.  Eva paddled wearily with her hands and feet, steering the timber toward where the shore must be.

    A ridge caught her eye, rising from the water and growing steadily larger.  It couldn’t be an island.  Or any ordinary sea creature.  Scales covered it like gigantic shields, overlapping and sealed tightly together.

    Then an enormous head rose from the water.  Part reptile.  Part serpent.  It fixed her with eyes the color of the morning sky.  Its jaws opened wide enough to swallow a city gate, row upon row of terrible teeth gleaming within.

    Terror gripped Eva.  The ridge had been only a small part of its body.  Its true size defied comprehension.  She couldn’t take it in with a single glance.

    It began to coil through the water, churning the sea around it and leaving a pale glow in its wake.  A maelstrom sprang up around the creature, seizing Eva and dragging her farther from shore.  Resistance was useless.  Her only option was surrender.

    The current swept her across the sea toward a distant shore bathed in a red glow.  Warmth crept into the water around her, slowly driving away the cold.  Smoke billowed from a river of fire pouring down from the heights.  Steam rose in great clouds where it met the sea.

    The shore rushed toward her.  Eva braced herself, certain she would either be dashed against the rocks or swept into the river of fire.  The water had grown hot now—uncomfortably hot.  But her fears proved unfounded.  The current continued to circle the sea monster, carrying her past both the shore and the flames toward yet another distant coastline.  The speed was dizzying.  She must have traveled miles in a matter of minutes.

     Water boiled where the creature’s tail had passed.  The current hurled her through it.  Agony exploded across her skin.  She cried out.

    Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the creature was gone.  It slipped beneath the surface and vanished into the depths.  The water cooled rapidly.  The sea grew calm.

    A luminescent river flowed from the shore.  It looked as though moonlight had been poured into the water, giving it a pale, milky glow.  Even the sea around her shimmered faintly in the dimness.

    Eva’s teeth chattered even as her skin still burned.  She was tired.  So tired.  She kicked weakly, barely keeping her head above water.  Just a little farther.  Then she could rest.

    The timber had been torn from her grasp long ago.  How she had stayed afloat, she couldn’t have said.  She lowered her head and struck out toward the glowing riverbank.

    Weariness swept over her.  Her arms and legs turned to lead.  Keep going.  Her thoughts began to drift.  She couldn’t move.  She sank.  Weeds brushed against her face and tangled in her hair.  Light flooded through her.  And suddenly she felt… good.

***

    Leviathan?  That was the name of the— Vadna had been reading about.   What had she been doing?  

    That’s right.  She had just been with Anna and the well-dressed gentleman.  Why couldn’t she remember his name? 

    She stole a boat.  The thought struck her as absurd.  Everything looked flat, as though the world had been drawn in lines.  No.  That wasn’t right.  It was more real than reality.  Real in a way her mind couldn’t comprehend.

    She had been in Vanity.  Pillars of men.  Tied at a stake, burning alive.  Anna.  Who was Anna?  A handkerchief.  Boc?  Where had that name come from?

    Kindly Ones.  Eyes like the abyss.  She concentrated.  The harder she tried to remember, the faster the memory slipped away.

    Giants.  Goblins.  Drakes.  And… and…

    Sisters.  No.  Not those sisters.  One.  Two.  Three.  Charity.  She was pleased she’d remembered.  Remembered what?  Something dear.  Someone dear.

    Brisk?  No.  She was perfectly content to forget him.  He’d had her…

    A gray cloak.  A gray cloak.  A gray cloak.  Gentle eyes.  Strong hands.  Her… No.  Not yet.  She wrapped it up tenderly and thrust it down deep.  To keep it safe.

    Lady Wanton.  No.  That wasn’t right.  Madame Wanton of Carnal Policy.  Instructor of dance.  She watched him dance with Inconsiderate.  Dance with her.  She stood alone.  The best and bravest room in the house.  Empty.  Only a cobweb.

    The Interpreter’s face flitted through her mind.  Then it became Innocent.  She cradled a baby in her arms.

    Beelzebub.  Furies.  The Prince.

    It slipped through her mind like sand in an hourglass.  And then there was nothing.

   Just silence.

    Acheron.  That was the name of the river.  At least she thought it was.  Or was it the Styx?  It wound around the false Paradise and Beulah before bending in a wide arc toward the basin below.

    Eva fixed the direction in her mind and set out.  She should be able to descend and, if her luck held, bypass the battlefield entirely.

    The journey to the river took far longer than she had expected, but nothing troubled her along the way.  Hours had passed, yet the daylight remained unchanged.  A well-trodden path ran beside the river.  Posts stood at regular intervals, and thick tow-ropes lay coiled along the banks.

    Up ahead, scattered fragments of conversation drifted down the path.  She slipped into the shadows among a cluster of rocks.

    Long stone piers stretched into the dark water, lined with heavy bollards and iron rings set into the masonry.  Beyond them stood enormous rectangular buildings with narrow slit windows and iron doors.  Numbers were painted on their sides.  Probably storehouses.  For weapons.  Ammunition.

    Men and women lounged in idle conversation, thick leather harnesses draped across their shoulders.  Near a towering counting-house stood wheelbarrows and shoulder yokes waiting to be lifted.

    The constant thunder of the cannons had faded into the background.  Eva started as a trumpet blared somewhere along the river.  She turned toward the sound.

    A magnificent galley glided past.  Its sails were furled tightly against the yards, while a web of ropes stretched from the tall mast to prow and stern, where carved horns curved proudly upward.

    Several dozen oars extended through the openings in the hull, dipping lazily into the water as the current carried the vessel downstream.

    Had they seen her?  There had been no cry of alarm, no sign at all that she had been noticed.

   The galley swung wide, its prow turning back toward Greed.  

   “Heave-ho!” 

   “Ho!”

   “Heave-ho!”

   “Ho!”

    The oars strained against the current.  Inch by inch, the galley eased alongside the pier.  The gangplank dropped and the captain stepped ashore.  He walked with a swagger.  A gilded breastplate gleamed beneath a crimson cloak draped from his shoulders, and a sword hung at his belt, more ceremonial than functional.  His helmet concealed both face and hair, making it impossible to judge his age—possibly even his gender.

    A crazy idea dawned on her.  She tried to push it away, but it wouldn’t let go.  He seemed just about her size and weight.

    A clerk with an ink-stained hand stepped from the counting-house, marking his ledger with a quill.  Then he waved to the waiting workers.

    They began hauling sacks and stacking them in a giant cargo net.  A massive crane of black timber and iron bands towered overhead, its chains thicker than a man’s wrist.  One of the workers attached the hook.  Beyond him, men with corded muscles strained inside a tread-wheel, and the bundle slowly rose into the air.  Other workers guided it with ropes as the net descended into the hold.

    The crane swung around and lowered the net to the dock to be loaded again.  Soldiers began to disembark in columns and form ranks.  They wore long blue military coats with high collars, cross belts, and rows of brass buttons.

   “Company!  Atten-tion!”

    The company stood rigidly awaiting orders, muskets held against their shoulders.

    “Stand easy.”

    The soldiers relaxed slightly, clasping their hands behind their backs.  None moved.  None spoke.

    The crane hoisted again.  A bag tore, and thousands of silver coins came clattering to the ground, some rolling across the dock, others splashing into the water.

    The soldiers didn’t break formation or even flinch.  The workers barely seemed to notice.  They simply continued loading, lowering, and loading again.  When the last load was stowed, the officer approached the captain, snapped his heels together, and gave him a sharp salute.

    Several of the workers glanced toward the soldiers, their eyes appraising.  Not in awe or respect, but as though evaluating livestock.

    The officer turned and barked an order.  The column pivoted as one and marched toward the road leading into the smoke.  The captain handed a receipt of purchase to the clerk.  The clerk returned to the counting-house.  And the workers returned to wherever in Hell they had come from.

    The captain turned and began to walk back toward the galley.  It was now or never.  She started to move toward him—then froze.  He turned toward her.

    She remained as still as possible, scarcely daring to breathe.  He hadn’t seen her.  She exhaled slowly and quietly.  He stepped around the side of the building.  Eva’s dagger flashed into her grip, and she darted after him.

    He faced the building, leaning against the wall.  A sigh of relief escaped him as water trickled below.  In a heartbeat, Eva was behind him, her dagger pressed to his throat.  He began to tremble violently.  The splashing became sporadic.

    “Turn around,” she said evenly.  “Slowly.”  She eased the pressure of the dagger.

   He turned.  Then his hands darted down to cover himself.

   “My god, man,” Eva exclaimed.  “You sell soldiers for silver in Hell, and you a worry about me seeing… that?”  She pointed at it with her dagger.  He stumbled backward, stepping into the wet spot.

    “Sword,” she said.

    He fumbled at his belt with one hand.

    “Lose it!” she snapped.

    He scrambled with both hands and dropped the sword.  Eva was not impressed.

   “Your armor,” she said.  He removed the cloak, then his shoulder guards.  And then his helmet.  Eva blinked.  He was just a boy.  Couldn’t be any older than twenty.  Tears streamed down his face.

   “Your shirt.”  

    He peeled it off.

    “Your trousers,” she said.  Then added, “Keep your boots I don’t need them.”

   He glanced down, horrified.  Then a slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

   “You’ve come to the wrong part of Hell if you think I’m wearing your smallclothes,” Eva snapped.

    Then, without hesitation, she thrust her dagger between his ribs and held it.

    “I’m sorry,” she whispered.  She stepped closer and wrapped him in her arms.  Blood flowed down between them, soaking into her dress.  Warmth spread across her skin.

    She held him until his heart stopped beating and lowered him gently to the ground.

    She wasted no time.  She stripped off her boots and dress and pulled on his trousers.  They fit snugly around her hips.  Next came the shirt, then the breastplate.  It pressed tightly against her breasts, but not unbearably so.  She clasped the cloak around her neck and fastened the sword to her belt.

   She slid her feet into the boots, then folded her dress and laid it at his side.

    “You’ll be fine when you wake up,” she said with a soft sob.  She’d watched the dead rise here time and time again.  She lowered the helmet over her head and strode toward the galley.

–

    “You’re not the captain.”  It was a statement of fact.  The helmsman walked toward her slowly.  He was middle-aged, with grizzled hair and the rough muscles of a working man.  His clothes were as coarse as the captain’s were fine.

    “No,” she said.  “You are.  As soon as I get where I’m going.”

    The helmsman’s gaze flicked toward the cargo hold.  His eyes shone.

   “Keep the silver,” she said.  “I don’t care about it.”

    “Welcome aboard, Captain.”  He extended a hand.  Eva ignored it.

   “Never cared much for the little arsehole anyway,” he muttered with a smug grin.

    “Cast off!” Eva shouted, forcing her voice as deep as she could.  The helmsman repeated the order.

    The oarsmen below deck began to row.

    “Heave-ho!”

    Grunt.  “Ho!”

    “Heave-ho!”

    “Ho!”

    “Swing about!” Eva hollered.

   The helmsman drew his sword.  

   “Hold!” he cried.  The galley began to spiral.  Some oars pulled.  Others fell still.

    “How many keys did the captain have?”  Her hand drifted toward her pocket.

   “You’re bluffing.”

   She backed away slowly, inching toward the hatch below.

   “Even if you get to the rowers, they’ll just be chained again, when it’s all over,” he said.

    She drew both daggers, ignoring the sword at her hip.

    “Silver does me no good if I’m dead.”

   “You can’t die,” she said.  “You’re already dead.”

    She didn’t back down.  She stepped closer.

   “And…” she said.  “You will never get this chance again.  Never.”

    “The captain is very persuasive,” he said at last, shrugging.  Then he sheathed his sword.

    “Swing about!” he ordered.

   The galley began to move again.

    The galley sped downriver, the banks blurring past on either side.  The battlefield stretched without end, smoke rising into the darkness while cannons and muskets echoed across the barren expanse.  Ahead, the river twisted ever downward until at last it emptied into a vast subterranean lake—or perhaps an inland sea.

    Eva walked back to the stern.  The helmsman steered with two great oars, one to port, and one to starboard, linked together and working in unison to keep the galley centered in the current.  Very different from the tillers she knew from the Dark Lands, but the principle was the same.

   “What are they fighting for?”

   “The love of God.  Human rights.  Who the Hell knows anymore?”  

   Eva watched the smoke drifting over the battlefield.

   “Why don’t they just stop?”

   He began to answer when a cannon roared.  A plume of water erupted mere yards from the bow.  Eva ran to the rail.  Cries rose from a group of soldiers clustered around a cannon on a stone outpost that nearly blended into the rocky shoreline.

   “Evade!”  Eva and the helmsman shouted the command together.

    The galley lurched to starboard.  But not fast enough.  A cannonball slammed into the hull, sending splinters flying.  The helmsman abandoned his post and sprinted for the ladder below.  Eva followed, ducking on the way down.  

    Water rushed through the gash torn in the hull.  Rowers chained to narrow wooden benches thrashed in panic.  Eva gagged at the stench.  Icy water surged around her legs, and her feet began to go numb.  The helmsman vanished through a door at the stern.

    “Help me!” one of the slaves pleaded.  Eva plunged a hand into her pocket and grasped the keys.   One of them had to release the slaves.  She knelt beside him and followed the chain downward.  There was no way to save them all.  Still, she had to try.  

    The water was unnaturally cold.  She could no longer feel her fingers.  She searched for a padlock.  Nothing.  The chains were attached to… nothing.

    She clenched her fists.  “What the Hell is wrong with you?” she screamed.

   The helmsman reappeared.  The water was nearly waist-deep now.  He was hauling one of the largest bags of silver on his shoulder.

   “Let it go, man—”

    Another cannonball crashed into the hull, and the galley lurched violently.  Eva slammed into the wall.  Water surged through the breach, filling the vessel.  Then it swallowed her whole.

    She drove upward, arms stroking desperately.  Something wrapped around her foot.  A chain.  She kicked free.  A hand grasped her—she shoved it away.  Bodies thrashed all around her.  She fought her way through them.

    She hit wood.  She groped, sliding her hand along the surface.  She caught hold of a splintered edge.  Sharp pain lanced through her hand, but she ignored it and pulled herself out.  At least she hoped she did.

    She tore the helmet from her head and let it sink into the depths.  The breastplate was next.  She fought her way free of it and felt its weight fall away.  Her lungs burned.  Starbursts danced across her vision.  She thrust upward with long, desperate strokes.  Time seemed to freeze.

   Up.

   And up.  

   She broke the surface with a violent gasp.  Oily water flooded her mouth.  She flailed until her arms found a piece of shattered timber drifting nearby and clung to it.

   The current seized her and dragged her downriver.  She held on for dear life.

    Eva crouched among the rocks, studying the basin below.  The land was barren and broken.  Great swaths burned, smoke rising toward the cavern ceiling far overhead.  It was the first place she had seen that truly looked like Hell.

    Two great armies stood arrayed against one another.  Gunshots rang across the basin, and men fell.  Cannons thundered, flashes of fire rippling across the battlefield.  Then the lines dissolved into a frenzy of steel and blood, followed by a great cry of victory.

    She had watched for hours, and the cycle never changed.  After a brief reprieve, the dead rose to their feet and returned to the fight.

    Her descent into Hell was becoming painfully clear.  First Greed.  Then Lust.

    “I swear to the Prince,” she muttered, brows knit.  “If someone says, ‘Welcome to Wrath,’ I will stab them.”  Eva sighed.

    She pressed the waterskin to her lips and drank deeply from the Water of Life.  Her ribs still ached, but strength flowed through her body.  The burns from the fire and acid had scarcely left a mark where Alecto had applied the healing leaves.

    But her heart ached.  For the well-dressed man.  She had never even learned his name.  The image of him groaning beneath the weight of the temple of Mammon remained vivid in her mind.

    But Anna was worse.  Eva had said everything she could think to say, done everything she could to persuade her.  It had made no difference.   She shuddered.  Even the image of the well-dressed man paled beside the corpse Anna had held so lovingly.

    Anna’s words still shook her.  Was she truly so different? If Perry had been lying on that bed, would she have stayed there too?

    No.  She didn’t want that.  And Perry wouldn’t want it either.  Their love was true.  Yet the question lingered.  How was what she was doing so different?

    What would Perry have done if it had been her who was taken?  Would he have continued on without her?  No.  She didn’t believe that.  Not for a minute.  But what would he have done differently?

    The fighting never stopped below.  She could see no safe way across.  The damned seemed unable to die.  But she could.  Her fight with Cerberus had proved that.  And she did not know what would happen if she died in Hell.

    But she could not bear the thought of retracing her steps.  Of seeing it all again.  The city of Mammon.  Anna.  Besides, she did not even know whether Charon would ferry her back to the harbor.  Alecto had said there would be no return.

    There was no turning back.  But there was no way forward either.  She looked down at the battlefield again.  Absolutely not.  It was time to stop playing by Hell’s rules.  She would find another way around.

    Eva’s chest heaved.  She drew deep breaths, trying to steady herself.  She had not stopped running until the gates of the city had vanished from sight.  She refused to look back.  It felt as though the whole city were staring at her.

    “Saw ‘em, did you?  Right terrified me too.”

   The woman who spoke wore a brown woolen dress stained with mud and singed in places, carrying a faint acrid smell of sulfur.  Her eyes were soft and brown, full of feeling.

    “Pompous asses, the lot of them,” she continued.  “Especially that fellow talking to you.  Would serve him right if he became one of them”

     “How do you…” Eva stammered.  “How did you get here?”

    “Same as you.  By ferry,” she said.  “I’m Anna.”  She held out her hand.

    Eva took it.  “I’m Eva.”

    Anna bowed in mock sincerity, stopping her lips just short of Eva’s hand.  Then she gave it a quick tug, released it, and started walking away from the city.  “Can’t leave that horrid place behind fast enough.”

    Eva fell into step beside her.  The air was intoxicatingly sweet, rich with the earthy fragrance of the surrounding vineyards and faint traces of exotic flowers.  She searched the distant horizon for the reddish glow and billowing smoke she had seen from the temple.  That was her destination.

    “No,” Eva said.  “Here.”  Surely Anna had to understand what she meant by here.  But she only looked puzzled.  “How did you arrive at the harbor?”

    “I was…”  She scrunched up her nose.  A blank look crossed her face.  She shook her head.  “That’s odd.  I was just…”

    Song drifted across the rolling hills, but not birdsong.  Soft.  Sweet.  Enticing.  It blended perfectly with the distant notes of a flute.  The same music she had heard mingled with the screams of the Abyss.  So much like the song the satyr had played for her, and yet completely different.

    “The dance,” Anna said.  “I remember dancing with Charity.”

    “Yes,” Eva whispered.  “Me too.”

    “She told me I was special,” Anna said.  “That I deserved to be loved.  I’ll never forget her eyes.  Wonderful shade of green they were.  And then there was the mountain.  And the valley.  That’s where I met… him.”

   She sighed.  “I believe in love.  Tell me, Eva, is there anyone you love?”

   “Perry,” she breathed.  It felt good saying his name.  “I am going to him now.”

    Anna’s eyes grew distant.  “This music,” she said, listening intently.  The flute seemed closer now.  “The enchanted creature who played it brought him to me.  We wandered through the bog.  He put flowers in my hair.” 

    Something felt wrong.  Nothing Anna described quite matched her own experience.

    “He laid me down on the grass and we made love.” Anna trembled in memory.  “I’ve never been touched like that before.”

    The vineyards had ended, and petals drifted down around them from cherry trees in full blossom.  It was the most beautiful place Eva had ever seen.  But she would not be fooled again.  She did not know what this place was.  But beautiful or not, it was still Hell.

    “He didn’t care I was from Stupidity.  Wealth and power weren’t everything, he said.  And then…”  A look of confusion crossed her face.  “And then…”

    Eva took Anna’s hand in hers.  “You can tell me, dear-heart.  And then?”

    “He went back to his wife.”  Anna’s eyes glistened with tears.  “And I…”

   “Yes?”

   “I don’t remember.”

    “He promised.”  Her voice trembled.  “He said he would tell her.  That we would be together forever.  Here in Beulah.”

    Oh no.  Eva gasped and squeezed Anna’s hand.  “Turn back.  It’s not too late.”

    Anna pulled her hand away.

    “Charon will take you back.  Cerberus won’t stop you.”  Eva’s voice grew urgent.  “The Prince won’t turn you away.”

    Anna’s eyes flashed with jealousy.  “I know your type.  You want him for yourself.”

    “You can’t stay here.  You can’t go forward.”

    “How are you any different from me?” Anna demanded.

   Eva opened her mouth, but no answer came.  Was she any different?

   Anna pulled her hand free and turned away.

   “Anna, wait.” 

   Eva followed, but Anna slipped away into the blossoms.  Gone.  Perry.  She had to reach Perry.  No.  Anna.  She remembered Perry standing firm before Beelzebub.  He would be fine.

    The song of the sirens had become a lament.  The wind circled through the grass, sending ripples across the hills.  Specters flitted among the trees.

    “Come back, my love,” one man begged, the apparition slipping through his arms.

   A woman clung desperately to a skeleton, kissing him again and again.

    A man leered at her.  Eva ignored him.

   “Hey, pin-box, are you alone?”  She stiffened and kept walking.  Her heart quickened.  Her fingers drifted to her dagger.

    “Has your lover abandoned you too?”

    She made up her mind.  She would find Anna, no matter how long it took.  Then she would bring her back to the surface herself.  Tie her up and carry her if she had to.

    Hour after hour passed, and still she searched.  There seemed to be no end to the horrors.

    A man knelt before a woman.  She struck him with a whip.  His eyes rolled back in delight.  

   “Again,” he demanded.

    A man sat among the skeletons of children.  A skeleton rested in his lap, a faded blue ribbon still tied around her skull.  He stroked the brittle strands of hair clinging to it.

    “My sweet girl,” he murmured.  “You’ll be old enough soon.”

    Eva’s temper flared.  She wanted to pummel him with her fists.  She turned away in disgust.  The bastard would probably enjoy it.

   She came to a bog so strangely lovely it hardly seemed real.  Trees draped in silver moss.  Flowers blazed with impossible color.  Their perfume drifted on the breeze.

    In the middle stood a booth, its walls hung with rich tapestries and its posts twined with carvings of cunning workmanship.  At its center stood a bed draped in fine linen, and Anna reclined upon it.

    Eva gasped.  In Anna’s embrace was a corpse.

    The air was heavy with fragrance—myrrh and aloes, sweet oil and clove.  Beneath it lingered the smell of decaying flesh.

   “Oh, Eva,” she gushed.  “I’ve found him!”

    A worm crawled from an empty eye socket.  Anna brushed it away gently and pressed her lips to the gray lifeless flesh of his cheek.

    Eva’s eyes stung.  “Oh, Anna.  Oh, Anna.  I will walk with you.  Just come with me.  Perry can wait.”

    Anna stared back at her, no trace of blankness on her face.  She knew she was in Hell.

    “No, Eva.  I’d rather be damned than leave him behind.”

   No blow from Cerberus had ever landed harder.

    A hush fell over the crowd as Charon docked the ferry against a marble pier.  Waterfalls vanished soundlessly into the mist before reaching the waters below.  Icy fingers crept down Eva’s spine.  The stillness was unnatural.  Not even birdsong disturbed the silence.

    The well-dressed man stepped off the ferry, his voice ringing clear.  “Come.  Even now these… people… hang back.”

    One by one, the people shuffled off the ferry toward a magnificent archway formed from a single iridescent pearl.

    This was not the sort of place Apollyon would have brought Perry.  Still, it was the only way.  And perhaps it led deeper.

    She passed through the arch and into streets of marble winding between stately mansions overlaid with gold ornamentation that put the estates of Carnal-Policy to shame.  And yet, up close, the city no longer seemed magnificent.  Only gaudy.

    At the center of the square towered a statue similar to the one in the City of Destruction.  But unlike Apollyon’s copper monument, this one was forged from solid gold.

    Even at its exaggerated proportions, it was clearly the image of a massive man—both in stature and girth.  He leaned forward with a hunch in his neck and shoulders, one hand extended.

    Several of the passengers gasped, and one turned away in disgust.  The well-dressed man looked on with unbridled admiration.

    “Now there’s a man who’s not afraid to reach out and grasp what he wants!”

    At the foot of the statue reclined women adorned with gold collars and silver chains.  Two clung to each of its legs.  A third lounged among cushions gathered around the base, slender and beautiful in dazzling garments.

    “Oh dear-heart,” Eva exclaimed.  Then her gaze followed the chains.  They led to the statue yet were attached to nothing.  

    The woman shot Eva a look of contempt, the haughtiness in her face diminishing her beauty.

    Eva did not know exactly where she was.  But this was no Paradise.  Relief mingled strangely with her disgust.

    The well-dressed man’s face bore the same blank expression that had become so familiar to Eva.

    “This is truly Paradise,” he murmured.

    Eva shook her head, turned, and continued down the street, leaving the well-dressed man behind.  From the ferry, she had glimpsed a lower basin beyond the city walls.  That had to be the way to Perry.

    At the end of the road stood a library with pillars rising stories high and alcoves filled with statues of Olympians.  They had been painted in such exquisite detail that they almost seemed alive.

    What was this place?  If she could answer that question, perhaps she could understand the path forward.

    People passed carrying great sacks over their shoulders, groaning beneath the weight as they moved in and out through a gate to her left.  The sounds of argument and haggling drifted toward her.  Eva peered through the gate.

    It was no mere marketplace, but a vast bazaar filled with unspeakable wonders.  Booths of marble, limestone, and alabaster displayed jewels of every kind, alongside sacks spilling over with gold, silver, and copper coins.

   “My soul is worth far more than that!” one shouted.

   “Do you know who I am?” demanded another.

    Across the bazaar, the well-dressed man stood in animated conversation with a vendor.  He drew a deed from his coat and laid it carefully before him.

   “Yes, indeed, you have been diligent,” the vendor said, his voice carrying above the din.  “This will fetch a very handsome price.  You are guaranteed the finest position.  And the finest view.”

    No.  This was not the way.  Perry would not be here.  She turned and headed up the street climbing a gentle rise.  It too was paved in marble.

    On her left stood a bathhouse, its entry flanked by statues supporting the balcony above.

   Movement caught her eye.  These were no statues.  Men stood shirtless beneath the balcony, bearing the weight of the building on their backs.  One man’s knees trembled.  A thin trickle of blood ran down another’s chest.

   “Are you trapped?” Eva asked. 

   “Of course not,” the man replied, sweat trickling down his face with the effort of speaking.  He moaned softly.

   “Just let it go,” Eva whispered.

   The man’s expression hardened.

    A grand stairway climbed toward the higher levels.  Perhaps from there she could get a better view.  It was impossible to find her bearings among the towering buildings.  And there was no Bear above her.  No Hunter at her back.

    As she ascended, she passed terraces lined with benches and tables.  A man counted and recounted a sack of gold coins.  A woman held a diamond aloft, mesmerized by its beauty.  Eva paid them no mind.

    At the top of the stairs stood a temple like those Eva had seen in paintings of Athens.  Across the entrance, bold letters of gold proclaimed:  MAMMON.

    Conspicuously, the corner pillar was missing, the surrounding nooks unfilled.  Below, the city spread in all its splendor—endless edifices of marble and gold.  From the balcony, Eva could see beyond the city walls into the lower basins.  Trees with soft pink blossoms swayed in the breeze.  Gardens and vineyards formed a patchwork across the land.

    A reddish glow lit the distant horizon.  Smoke billowed upward into the underground sky.  Fire and smoke?  That had to be the right direction.  Eva traced the shape of the ceiling with her finger, committing it to memory.  She would follow that.

    At the top of the stairs, Eva encountered the well-dressed man again.  Another man followed behind him, also elegantly dressed, though of obviously lesser station, carrying a heavy sack at his shoulder.

    “You see, my lord?  The very best a soul can buy.”

    The well-dressed man strode toward the temple with purpose and stopped beside the missing pillar, while the other man set the burden at his feet.  One by one, he removed objects of great value and placed them carefully within the empty nooks.   A jewel-encrusted chalice.  A golden figurine.  Slowly he emptied his treasures.

    A giant lumbered into view at the top of the stairs, similar to the one Eva had encountered near the Abyss.  Eva’s hand drifted to her daggers.  But there was no sign of hostility.  Cradled in the giant’s arms was an enormous pillar base forged from solid gold.  With a grunt and a heavy thud, he set it into place at the corner.

    The well-dressed man reached into his sack, withdrew a silver chain, and pressed it into Eva’s hands.  For a moment, something seemed to return to his eyes.  Eva turned the chain uneasily between her fingers.  

    “Ah, Paradise,” he sighed.  The blank stare returned.

   The giant lifted the support beam holding the roof aloft, and the well-dressed man stepped onto the golden base.

    “Wake up, man!” Eva snapped.

    He did not respond.  His eyes fixed across the city on an unhindered view of the idol of Mammon.  She wanted to slap him.  Anything to snap him out of it.  But she knew it would do no good.

    He raised his arms above him.  Strain crossed his face as the giant released the weight.  The well-dressed man stiffened and groaned.

    Eva turned away and lowered her head.  When she looked up again, she saw it for the first time.  A man supporting another building.  A woman in yet another.  A spire upheld by a dozen people.  A coliseum with tier upon tier of living souls.

    Every building had one.  Some had many.  Men and women alike.  Thousands of lost souls.  No.  Millions.  

    This was a city built from the damned.  Eva dropped the necklace and fled in horror.

    Eva stood near the front of the ferry, scanning the horizon.  Something was wrong.  The mist had gradually cleared.  The stars had begun to fade.  The sky had brightened.  No.  She was still underground.  And yet light streamed from high overhead, bright as day.

    One of the passengers approached and came to stand beside her.  She turned to face him.  He was dressed like the men she had known in Carnal-Policy.  He stood straight, carrying himself with confidence.

     “You are different,” he said.

    “How?”

    “You’re not like them.”  He gestured toward the other passengers huddled at the back of the boat.  A few were engaged in a lively argument.  “Charon noticed.”

    “You know Charon?” 

    “Of him,” he corrected.  “You and I… we’re different.  We’re aware.  Not like those sleepwalkers.”

“How do you know this?”

    “I didn’t at first.  But little things didn’t add up.  I was in my bed… and then I wasn’t.  Things felt… off.  I’d always been here.  And yet I knew I hadn’t.”

    Eva studied him, tensing slightly.

   “Little by little, I woke up.  Everything seemed so real, and yet I realized…”

   “Realized what?” Eva asked.

   “That I was in Hell.”

    Eva started.

    “It all made sense.  The bickering.  The fighting.  The pettiness.  Everyone acting mechanically.  Unaware.  And yet we remain in Hell by our own choice.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “Some people have been in the Gray Harbor for centuries.  But they always find a reason not to cross over.  Not you.  Not me. We’re different.”

    “How so?”

    “They wait,” he said, with emphasis.  “But I’ve never waited for anything in my life.  And I’m not about to begin here.”

    Eva opened her mouth to speak, but the man either didn’t notice or didn’t care.  He didn’t care.  He kept talking.

    “These people…” the man said, nodding again toward the other passengers.  “They stumbled into it by chance.  But we know.”  He smiled with easy confidence.  “We know where we are bound.”

    Eva could not believe her eyes.  Before her, on the distant shore, lay a grand city.  Sublime.  Vast.  Beautiful.  Marble glistening in brilliant light.  Domes and spires rising above waterfalls and calm, reflective water.  This matched nothing she had ever heard about Hell.  Ever.

    Her world turned upside down.  No.  This could not be happening.  Had Alecto tricked her?  Everything she knew—everything she believed—seemed to come crashing down.  

    “And where is that?”  The words caught in her throat.

    “Why, Paradise, of course.”

    The waterskin containing the Water of Life lay where Alecto had left it.  Eva stooped, picked it up, and slung it over her shoulder.

    Eva did not know why Alecto had left it behind.  It did not matter.  Perry did.

    The tail she had severed lay nearby in blood and venom.  It was as thick as her thigh, the serpent’s eyes clouded, its jaws slack, fangs exposed, still dripping black venom.  One fang had cracked during the fight and hung at an angle from the others.

    The tail was far too heavy to carry.  Even the serpent’s head would be cumbersome.  She would take the tooth.  Perhaps use it as a weapon.  She wasn’t sure why.  She just wanted it.

    She sliced a strip from the hem of her dress.  Planted her boot against the jaw.  Wrapped the cloth around the fang and gripped it with one hand.  Slipped her dagger between tooth and gum with the other.  Then twisted.  It came free with a wet, awful crack.  Nearly as long as her dagger.

    Movement caught her eye.  Cerberus was not dead.  He whimpered.

    She turned to face him warily, staying just beyond the reach of teeth and claws.  She held up the fang for him to see.  His ears flattened, and he lowered his head.  His tongue flicked toward her.  Not in hunger.  Not affection.  Submission.

    The brutality of it all stunned her.  What is happening to me?  Who am I becoming?  She shoved the thought aside.  All that mattered now was Perry.

    She carefully wrapped the fang, taking extra care with the tip, then slipped it into her belt.  And walked into the fire.

    She placed each step with care, avoiding the flames and pools of lava.  Beyond the smoke and burning sulfur stood a stone archway leading into a narrow tunnel.

    The heat lessened.  The air grew cooler.  Still.  Wet.  Stale.  The roar of the fire faded into distant water.  Echoes.  Murmuring.

    The passage widened, and the light changed.  The red glow faded, replaced by a gray-blue gloom.

    Eva’s breath caught.  She stepped out onto an overlook above a vast subterranean expanse of unfathomable proportions.  Stars twinkled overhead—but they could not be stars.  Beyond them, barely visible in the distance was a solid ceiling of rock.

    Below lay a town of twisting alleys and uneven streets.  Doubt surged.  Was this even the right way?  It looked less like Hell than some forgotten underground city.

    But beyond the town lay a mighty river, its far side shrouded in fog, invisible in the dim light.  This had to be the river Alecto had warned her about.

    A staircase wound downward toward the town—and the river beyond.  As she descended, Eva strained to hear screams, but there were none.  Only conversation.  Complaining.  Arguing.  Even coughing.

    The houses here were built of soot-dark brick, weathered stone, and timber framing.  Slate roofs.  Warped wood.  Everything just a little damp.

    The people looked exhausted.  Some paced.  Others stood motionless, blank-faced.

    “I’m going to cross today,” one voice said.

   “The line is always too long.  No room on the ferry,” whined another.

    Eva beckoned to a man leaning against a greasy oil lamp, smoking.

    “What is this place?”

    “This place is…” he replied confidently.  Then he frowned.  “Is… here.”  He stared at her as though she had asked something absurd.

    She made her way past long rows of storage buildings, turning down one street after another, always angling vaguely toward the river.  She passed what looked like a custom house.

    At last, she reached the river.  It was black, slow, and heavy.  Almost oily.  Deeply unsettling.

    A group of people stood on the dock, waiting in line.

    “Fine!” snapped one woman.  “I won’t go at all.”  With a huff, she stormed back toward the town.

    Out of the mist glided a magnificent vessel.  The wood was ancient yet solid, dark as though it had been soaked in salt water for centuries.

    At the helm stood an old man, grim and rough, his skin like leather, a wild gray beard framing a face carved by time, his eyes seeming to blaze in the twilight.  He guided the vessel deftly with a long pole, sure and practiced.

    Eva tugged at the sleeve of the man in front of her.

    “Where does this go?”

    A blank stare.  “Across.”  He turned away.

    Ahead of her, a fight broke out.  Two more people left the line.  Then a third.  A cheer went up from the crowd.

    No sooner had it docked than people began pushing and shoving, struggling to board the ferry.  Eva was the last one left.  Yet there was still plenty of room.  The vessel had barely filled halfway.

    No return.  That was what Alecto had said.  But this had to be the way to Perry.  She would cross.  Then she would find him.  Eva stepped onto the ferry without hesitation.

    “You,” said Charon, fixing her with his gaze.  “You don’t belong here.”  But he made no move to stop her.  He turned away, dipped his pole deep into the water, and shoved off.

    The ground shook beneath Eva.  Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.  Must stay alive.  It was the only thought in her head.

    “God—!” she gasped, dropping into a fighting stance, ready to dodge at any instant.  Her daggers were already in her hands.  Out of the corner of her eyes, she caught a glimpse of tattered wings.

    She slashed at its paw—it was the only part of the beast within reach.  Cerberus growled, and wicked teeth lunged toward her.  She threw herself aside.  Jaws snapped shut where she had just been.

    She scrambled backward—straight into the open maw of another head.  She gagged at the stench of rotten, decaying flesh and jerked away.  Its teeth gleamed in the darkness, as long as her arms.  No place to strike. 

    Fast.  Too fast.  Too large.  Too dangerous.

    Her foot caught on something, and she went down hard, catching herself with both palms on the stone floor.

    Evil eyes blazed, fixed on her.  Flames spewed from one mouth.  She rolled—just in time.   A third head loomed over her, black venom dripping, hissing where it struck the stone beside her face.

    Three heads.  Three enemies.  Not one. 

    Silver lightning streaked toward Cerberus.  Alecto charged through the air, wings spread wide.  Her scourge cracked down across the middle head, the sound echoing through the chamber.  Cerberus staggered back for a moment—then swung a massive paw at her.

    A barrier sprang up between them, and the claws struck it in a blinding flash of silver.  A silver cord sprung from Alecto’s hand, binding Cerberus’s paws.  Alecto backed toward Eva, pulling at it, straining.

    Cerberus stopped abruptly with a choking sound, followed by the sharp twang of chains pulled taut.  The middle head roared and lunged for Alecto.  She did not retreat.  Her scourge cracked down.  Cerberus’s head slammed against the stone.

    This was the moment Eva had been waiting for.  A vulnerable target within reach.  Eva sprang forward, driving her dagger with the full weight of her body behind it, straight for Cerberus’s blazing eye.  Heat seared through her hand the instant metal struck—and the flame went out.

    The roar was hideous.  Cerberus reared up.  Eva went sprawling.  Pain flared across her back, and her vision blurred at the edges.  Chains snapped.

    One head bit down on Alecto’s wing, dragging her down.  Another seized her in its jaws.  Silver light flared around her.  Her scourge clattered to the stone.

    Eva sprang to her feet and charged Cerberus.  The nose.  She raised her dagger overhead and drove it down with all her strength.  Cerberus darted back in a blur—she missed.  She stumbled, nearly pitching into a burning pit, smoke billowing upward.

    Cerberus continued to retreat, Alecto still firmly clasped in its jaws, dragging into the flames beyond.  Eva followed.

    Alecto clawed at the stone frantically.  Her silver shield flickered out.  She screamed as the jaws clamped down.

    “Eva!”

    With no thought for strategy, Eva struck wildly, again and again.  Some blows landed.  Cerberus dropped Alecto and turned all three heads toward her.

    Alecto moaned and dragged herself away from the flames.

    Cerberus’s claws grazed Eva.  Blood began soaking through her dress.  She dodged one snapping head, then another.  Fire. Venom.  Claws.  Teeth.  Her breath came ragged.  Her ribs throbbed.  She could barely stand, much less fight.

   “Back!” Alecto yelled.  “Bring him back—over the threshold!”

    Eva turned and ran for the threshold—where Alecto’s authority held sway.  Thundering footsteps and savage growls followed.

    Silver light flared around Alecto, her scourge once again in her hand.  She stepped past Eva and struck viciously.  Eva doubled over, gasping for breath.

    One head spat venom at her.  She jerked away, barely avoiding it—only to nearly step into the searing flames from another.

    Cerberus knocked Alecto down and began dragging her back toward the threshold by one foot.  Nausea surged through Eva.  She ignored it and advanced.

    Cerberus paid her no attention, spinning Alecto away from her and leaving his backside exposed.

    Eva stabbed, then stabbed again.  Some blows landed against its massive legs.  She slashed upward, trying to reach his body.  Too high.  Cerberus did not even turn to face her.  Its serpent-tipped tail lashed against her chest.  She went down.

   The serpent’s head leered at her, forked tongue flicking.  Its gaze pinned her in place.  She could not move.  Could not think.  Then it struck, clamping down on her hand, fangs sinking deep.

    Terror seized her.  Her arm went numb.  Someone screamed.  Was it her?  Was it Alecto?  She could not tell.  She writhed in agony.  Rib broken.  One arm useless.

    She clenched her teeth.  Squeezed her eyes shut.  Cried.  Prayed.

   The leather pouch had slipped from her pocket.  Herbs lay scattered beside her face, glowing faintly in the darkness.  Do not take many.  The satyr’s words.  They make you less.

    Less than dying here in Hell?  She did not hesitate.  She reached out feebly and dragged the pouch toward her.   Tilted it.  Let the remaining contents spill into her mouth.  She did not know how many she swallowed.  She did not care.

    They tasted like honey in her mouth—but bitter going down.  Everything went quiet.  Muted.

    The moans and screams of the tormented faded.  Her vision narrowed.  The pain was still there—but it belonged to someone else.  Not her.  Clarity washed over her.

    Alecto’s scourge lay nearby.  Three braided lashes studded with sharp fragments of bone, stone, and glass.  It was an instrument not of death, but punishment.  Eva picked it up.  The handle clung to her grip as though it belonged there.  As though it recognized her.

    Cerberus lashed its tail at her again, but Eva stepped aside and brought the scourge across its leg.  It crashed heavily onto the stone.  She struck again, tearing a chunk of flesh from its haunch.  Cerberus yelped in pain and spun to face her, releasing Alecto.

    Everything slowed.  Step by step, she backed away.  Closer to the threshold.  She made no attempt to dodge.  No attempt to hide.  Terror still coursed beneath the calm.  One misstep, and she was dead.  All three heads watched her warily.  Cerberus lunged.  Its face came within reach, jaws beginning to open.  Eva leapt, swinging the scourge overhead and bringing it down.  Cerberus recoiled.

    Her daggers lay on the stone before her.  She struck again, then sprang left.  Again.  Then again.  Beyond Cerberus, she caught the silver glow.

    Just one more step should do it.  The dagger would be within Alecto’s reach.

    Cerberus reared back, howling in rage, then spun.  The dagger jutted from the base of the tail, blood spurting around the blade.

    The serpent tail reared back and fixed Eva with its gaze, hissing.  She felt the pull of it—terror, paralysis, something deeper—but it seemed to be happening to someone else.

   It struck.  She caught it just below the head, inches from her face, and held fast with an iron grip.  Silver flame flashed.  Cerberus crashed to the stone, the tail wrenching free.

    The dagger was within reach now.  She dashed to it and tore it free.  She seized the tail in one hand and cut with the other.  When steel struck bone, she bore down with all her strength, slicing clean through.

    The serpent writhed in her grip, spewing venom.  It burned her skin.  She did not care.

    Blood spurted from Cerberus.  It howled in agony—growling, barking, and whimpering all at once.  Cerberus thrashed, its cries echoing through the infernal halls of Hell.  Alecto stepped to Eva’s side and retrieved her scourge.

    “Lady Evadne,” she said.  Her eyes were dark as the void, but respect still glimmered there.  She placed Eva’s other dagger in her hand.  But the fight was not over.

    Cerberus attacked, more furious than before—if that was even possible.  Alecto battered him with her wings and silver lightning.

   “Stay to my right!”

   Eva obeyed.

    Alecto shielded the left and held the middle head at bay.  Eva’s clarity held.  She slashed, her dagger grazing its throat.  Warm blood splashed across her hand.

    She aimed for the remaining eye.  Cerberus dodged—straight into her other dagger.  The flame went out.  Cerberus jerked.  And she finished the job.  Both eyes out.

    Alecto’s scourge caught the middle head’s jaw, and she hauled down.  Cerberus thrashed wildly, berserk with rage.  Alecto was dragged forward, her knees scraping across the stone, the scourge slipping from her grip.

   “Now!”

    Eva froze, horrified.  The herbs were wearing off.  Pain came crashing back—along with the numbness in her arm.  Terror gripped her heart with icy fingers.  Black saliva dripped onto the stone.  She hesitated.

    Alecto strained against the scourge.  “NOW!”

    Perry’s face flashed through her mind.

    She drove the dagger deep into the open maw.  Deeper than she would have thought possible.  Her arm brushed against the teeth, snagging her sleeve.  Alecto slipped.  The jaw began to close.  Alecto cried out in desperation, hauling down with all her strength.  Eva thrust upward until the blade struck something soft.  Something ruptured.  Hot blood sprayed in crimson streams.  She twisted the dagger and drove it deeper still.

    Cerberus convulsed in choking spasms.  Eva lost her balance and pitched forward.  Alecto caught her and pulled her clear.

    Cerberus writhed before her.  One paw covered its blinded eyes.  One head hung limp.  The other let out a ragged scream.

    Eva trembled, her whole body shaking uncontrollably as pain wracked her.  Burned.  Poisoned.  She collapsed to the stone.

    Alecto knelt beside her.  Eva wanted to make another joke about the Kindly Ones, but she could not form the words.

    “Rest, Lady Evadne,” Alecto said.

    “Please call me Eva,” she muttered.

    Alecto pressed a waterskin to Eva’s lips.  The gentle flow of life spread through her.  The same gentle fingers as before laid the gold-tipped leaves from the River of Life over her injuries.

    “I wish you could come with me,” Eva said.  “I can’t do this alone.”  But she knew.  She had seen what the threshold had done to Alecto.

    “Come back with me,” Alecto said.  “There is a river ahead.  Once you cross, there is no return.  No one ever has.”

    “No.  I will still go to Perry.”  She rose unsteadily.

    Alecto stared at her for a long while, searching her.

   “May the King’s favor be with you, Eva.”  The words were so soft Eva almost missed them.  Then Alecto turned and walked away.

    After drinking a cool handful of water, Eva washed in the river—first carefully scrubbing every last trace of dirt and blood from her face, then her hands and arms.  At last, she slipped off her boots and washed her feet.  She watched the blood swirl away and drift downstream.  When she rose to continue her journey, Alecto already stood beside the stone bridge spanning the river.

    Alecto did not move until Eva stepped onto the bridge.  Hollow footsteps sounded behind her.

    The river followed the path for a short distance before veering sharply around a small chain of mountains.  The way ahead was rough.  Eva’s ankle twisted when she stepped on a crooked stone.  Beside her, Alecto walked as though the rocks did not exist.

    To her left ran a split-log fence, separating the path from a pleasant meadow.  Not a single stone marred the grass.  It was as though someone had dug up every rock long ago and thrown them onto the path ahead.  Leave the hard way, and the ground will take you.

      “What does Beelzebub want with me?”

    Alecto continued walking in silence, as though she had not heard.  A sharp rock jabbed through the sole of Eva’s boot.

    “Why?” Eva demanded.  “Why are you here?”

    “Many things are in motion,” Alecto said.  “You play your part.  I play mine.”

    Eva placed each foot with care, but it did not seem to matter.  A loose stone shifted beneath her, and she nearly lost her balance.  Alecto did not reach for her.

    “Who is the Daughter of the Moon?” Eva asked.

    Alecto stopped.  She stared at Eva for a brief moment—then turned and kept walking.  This was going nowhere.

    A set of wooden steps climbed up and over the fence into the meadow.  Beside them stood a rough stone pillar.  Inscribed upon it were the words:

    Over this stile is the way to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair, who despises the King of the Celestial Country and seeks to destroy His holy pilgrims.

    Doubt keeps Despair.   Hope stirred in Eva’s chest.  This had to be the right way.  Eva climbed the steps, expecting Alecto to stop her.  She didn’t.  She simply followed.

    The path was smooth, a relief to her tired feet.  It ran alongside the Narrow Way, but little by little—almost imperceptibly—it drifted away.  The Narrow Way tugged at her.  She should have been walking it with Perry.  Well… not this path.  The rocks would not have mattered with Perry beside her.  She was sure of it.

    Alecto caught Eva’s arm.  The sun was nearly down, and the way ahead had grown dim. 

    “Walk with care,” she said.  “There is a deep pit ahead.”

    Eva scanned the horizon.  The sun was half-hidden behind a castle of cyclopean proportions, hewn from rough stone.  Castle Doubting.  Other than scattered bones and lengths of chain, there was no sign of the giant.  Eva hoped it would stay that way.  It didn’t.

    “Who trespasses on my grounds?”  Giant Despair bellowed.  He stood directly in their path, towering above them.  A cap of steel covered his head, iron shoes shod his feet, and a breastplate glowed as though fire burned beneath it.  Six fingers curled around a mighty club fashioned from an entire crab-tree.

    “You will let us pass,” Alecto said.  The giant stared at her without moving.  “By order of Dread Lord Beelzebub.”  Menace edged her words.

    Confusion crossed the giant’s hideous face.  He shifted the club from one hand to the other.

    Alecto’s eyes darkened to ink, and her hand went to the whip at her side.

    “Your command, Mistress,” the giant muttered.  He bowed slightly, then turned and lumbered toward the castle.

    They made their way around the deep pit, Alecto’s whip still in hand.  Ahead, men wandered among the tombs in the gloom—grasping, stumbling, pacing without purpose.

    “Help me,” one groaned, his empty sockets fixed on Eva.  Alecto nudged him aside with her whip.  Almost gently.

    Despair takes the eyes… Feet walk among the dead.   This had to be the place.  But where?

    Mountains loomed ahead, steep and jagged, their crooked silhouettes barely visible in the darkness.  There was no way through.  No way over.  The ground rumbled beneath Eva’s feet, and sulfur thickened the air.  There was no mistaking the moans of the tormented here—the same anguish she had heard in the Abyss.

    Words drifted toward her—tortured fragments of broken sentences.  “Curse my father…”  A shriek.  “…torn in pieces…”  Wailing.  “…lost my soul…”

    Eva could not decide whether Alecto’s presence comforted her… or terrified her more.

    Set into the mountainside, in impossible stone, stood a massive black iron door.  Inscribed upon it were ancient words:

–

ABANDON ALL HOPE, YE WHO ENTER HERE

–

    Eva let out a sharp, breathless laugh.

    “What is it?” Alecto asked.  

    “The Author,” Eva said, quickly regaining her composure.  “He’s been reading Dante.  The vicar’s son snuck me a copy of Inferno.  It was worth the chores.  Gave me nightmares for months.”

    The door was pitted and scarred, streaked as though by centuries of heat and tears.  Slowly, it began to open on its own.

   Eva stepped forward hesitantly.  Alecto didn’t move.

   “You will not return,” Alecto said. 

    “I will go anyway.”

   “Why?”

   “Perry.” Eva offered no further explanation.

    “What my sister showed you was not merely a vision.  It will come to pass.  Lord Peregrine will die.  You cannot change it.”

    “Then you know.”  Eva’s lips curled with bitterness.  “I was there—with him.”  Her mouth refused to form the next words.  She forced them out anyway.  “When he dies.”

    Inferno.  It was hard to breathe.  The smoke choked the air, but there were no flames to light the descent.  She followed the footsteps ahead of her.  Down and down the path led, seemingly without end.  The occasional red fissures scarring the walls did nothing to pierce the inky darkness.

    Eva’s breathing quickened.  She could not draw enough air.  Terror clenched around her heart.  She froze.  Screams echoed off the walls around her.

    The footsteps ahead of her ceased.  A finger snapped.  Alecto stood before her, silver flame dancing in her palm.  It cast harsh shadows along the tunnel walls.

   “Follow.”

    Wretches lay sprawled across the ground, hiding their faces and recoiling from the light.  None seemed aware of her.  None made any move to approach.

    The way widened before them.  Ahead, a scattered infernal glow bled through the darkness.

    “I cannot go much farther,” Alecto said.  “Up ahead is the threshold of Hell.  Beyond that, I cannot cross.  If you go, you must walk alone.”

    Eva’s heart sank.  She nodded.  “I understand.”

    The cave opened into a vast cavern, flames scattered across the floor.   Guarding the threshold to Hell waited a three-headed dog.  Teeth the size of swords.  Three tongues from each slavering mouth, dripping deadly black venom.

    It snapped at them—close enough that Eva could have touched the mane of writhing snakes.

    “Stand down, Cerberus,” Alecto ordered.  “By command of Dread Lord Beelzebub.”

    Without hesitation, Cerberus slammed into Alecto with a massive lion-clawed paw, sending her flying.