Covenant (15 page)

Nineteen

I wanted to tell her the entire time—even if you feel as helpless as a mouse in a trap, never stop fighting.
—S
OPHIA

Angela smacked into the tunnel wall, struggling furiously with her captor. The opening into the cavern where Nina, Troy, and Juno had been left behind was now completely blocked by boulders. Angela screamed until her throat hurt anyway. Insane as it seemed, maybe that would make a difference.

But someone had a firm grip on her, and he pinned back her hands and held her tight until she gasped for breath, hot tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Let me go,” Angela shouted hoarsely.

“Not until you promise to behave yourself,” a suave and familiar voice said. “I can't have you trying to scale the rocks again like a rat.”

Angela struggled more, crying and screaming, fighting in vain until she slumped to her knees, weak and gasping. Her captor breathed steadily behind her, at last letting go of her wrists. Angela tilted back her head and let her tears fall, screaming again and again until she almost lost her voice. But she was too weak to move.

Finally, she let silence descend.

“At last,” the voice said behind her.

“Go ahead,” Angela said. “If you're going to kill me, do me a favor and make it quick. But I won't make it an easy job for you.” Angela rubbed at her left hand, clenching it tightly. She would show her captor the Grail and force him to let her go. That was her only option. Depending on the circumstance, maybe she'd let him live, though keeping her from Nina and the others hadn't helped his cause.

“I doubt I'll hurt you,” he said. “Let's just keep our interaction sophisticated and civil so the temptation never arises. Now, Archon—or should I just call you Angela—”

“
Don't you dare,
” Angela said between her teeth. “It's Archon or nothing.” She lifted her left hand.

“As you wish.” The demon Python stepped into the soft glow of the embers set in the tunnel walls, examining her with pity. The cut he'd received from Troy looked raw and wicked in the half-light. He stood over Angela, gauging her more with his bright orange eyes. Up close, she could see all the tiny scales that covered his eyelids down to the finest detail. He glanced askance at her upraised hand. “Well, I'm surprised at your coldness. If it weren't for my compassion, you would be dead. Deceased.
Gone
. Need I elaborate further?”

Angela glared at him, lowering her hand again. Python was suspicious—but now there was no denying that she needed him around. Still, she was angry. “Thank you? You don't need my thanks. You'd already determined on helping me.
I didn't ask
.”

“But you wanted to ask,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her with icy perceptiveness. “All that while, you were calling to me in your mind, hoping to find me again. Looking for salvation somewhere, anywhere. I know you didn't like when that Jinn made your decision for you. Neither would I . . .”

Angela stared at her boots. Gingerly, she prodded the open toe where the stream's acid had eaten away at the leather.

“Ow.
Damn it
.” She rubbed her finger dry on her skirt. More tears dripped down her face.

What could she do now? Nina, Troy, and Juno might still be alive. Maybe there was a way in this labyrinth that would lead Angela back to them—maybe this demon knew it. But there was no guarantee. And if anything happened to Sophia in the meantime . . .

Python watched Angela wordlessly. For someone determined on helping her, his face held a marked chilliness. “Do you feel sorry for them? You shouldn't, Archon. Believe me, the Jinn doesn't feel sorry for you. And why are you mourning a friend who was dead and should have stayed that way? They deserved this suffering for their arrogance. I warned you well enough of the dangers to be found in this maze.”

“Troy was trying to keep me safe,” Angela snapped. “When she refused your help, she was thinking of me, no matter how stupid her decision was. She wasn't just thinking about herself.” Though Angela had no way to prove that.

Troy's loyalty to her didn't seem to go
that
far. Perhaps Juno's only went as far as her aunt's. Yet their actions in the cave said very much otherwise. Maybe Troy was hard on Angela like she was hard on Juno for a reason—to keep them strong.

Wait a second . . .

Angela looked at Python again. “How did you know Nina had died already?”

Python smirked. “I'm a demon, girl. My eyes see many things that yours do not.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “For instance, I can see the signs in this maze, hidden ever so carefully by its owner, that point to the way out. And you will not find the Book unless you find the way out.”

“You seem to know a lot about this place,” Angela said. “Why?”

“I acquaint myself with every high-ranking demon in Hell. I take the time to learn their strengths and weaknesses, their dreams and desires, their fears and joys. Everything. I can slip in and out of the smallest cracks, hear the slightest noises, and perceive the best disguised of all lies. They know I cannot be kept out, or for that matter, contained. So they do not bother to stop me when I enter and leave this place. I am different from the others.”

The unnerving light behind Python's eyes returned.

A chill shuddered along Angela's arms. She rocked to her feet, fighting with the bile in the back of her throat. Angela closed her eyes but could still see Nina screaming on the shore. She fought back her tears, but the scream reverberated in her memories as Nina's leg hit the water. Angela had to keep moving anyway. Sitting in this awful place and doing nothing would only lead to more death and pain.

Certainly at least an hour had passed. Too little time to just leave—but Sophia also might die at any moment.

One more time, Angela tested the barrier between her and the cavern where Nina, Troy, and Juno waited. She pressed her ear to the rocks. Maybe she'd at least catch Fury's cries. Nothing. Only the sound of rushing water met her hopes. Desperately, she tried clawing at the boulders, but even the smallest of them was too big to move. Angela slumped forward, exhausted, her fingertips raw. She gasped and slammed a fist painfully against the rocks.

Python watched her without lifting a single finger to help.

Angela glared at him. It took everything in her not to scream again. “What do you know about the demon who owns this maze,” Angela said. “Is he just helping Lucifel? Or is there more to this?”

Python laughed softly. “There is always more. But as I told you before, he's bored. Boredom leads to all kinds of mischief . . .” His expression turned distantly cold again. “I would love to satisfy your curiosity further, Archon. But the hours of Hell grow late, and we would do well to travel quickly. Many more creatures wait here in the darkness. Not all are as predictable as Hounds.”

This all seemed too convenient. If Python had been following them, it obviously wasn't hard for him to figure out a way to separate Angela from Troy and the others. But Angela couldn't wander around here aimlessly and alone. Besides, if Python proved to be dangerous . . .

Angela flexed her aching left hand.

She glanced at the boulders blocking her path to her friends. Of course, nothing changed.

Troy,
she said in her mind.
Come to me. Please.

They were Bound together, and the unspoken law was that Troy needed to obey to some degree. But not a sound came from the fence of rocks separating them. It was as though the entire attack had been a terrible dream.

Don't worry,
Angela said to her.
I have to keep going. But I also won't give up on any of you. We'll get out of this together. I know it.

“Ready?” Python interrupted coolly.

“Of course not,” Angela whispered. She set her mouth into a tight and grim line as she followed the demon and left the barrier, step by shaky step, behind.

 

Python led Angela in silence past dangerous chasms, around immeasurable abysses, and against what she swore were the edges of cliffs. Finally they emerged into a more civilized part of the labyrinth, where carvings and writing covered the walls anew. The corridors and halls felt frightfully twisted and endless. Perhaps she and Python were encroaching on the demon city Troy had mentioned. But the crude map of Hell had suggested the opposite, and it was clear Angela would have been hopelessly lost on her own.

Angela crushed a dizzy fear battering at her heart and brain. She tried not to think about Sophia and the others too much, concentrating merely on putting one foot in front of the other, but it was difficult. She was thirsty, hungry, incredibly tired, and every echo seemed to carry a familiar voice, and with it a painful memory.

At last, they entered a vast hall where enormous pillars stretched on and on into endless darkness. The ceiling felt more like the sky, and their footsteps echoed eerily.

Faintly, Angela heard the rush and roar of water again.

She glanced at Python, but he continued walking in silence until they reached a gigantic set of solid onyx doors. Like the door to Hell, these doors had also been engraved with all kinds of fantastical and monstrous creatures. Angela recognized carvings of the Hounds, though in the light of the embers and braziers their forms appeared shadowy and indistinct. There were no horses this time.

Angela focused on the shape of an enormous serpent with a plume of feathers crowning its triangular head. It looked almost exactly like the snake that had attacked the Hounds.

“Do you admire him?” Python said softly.

Angela jumped slightly, startled by the sound of his voice. She tried to calm herself, taking slow breaths.

Python gazed at the carving intently. “That is my father, Leviathan. He was one of the feathered serpents who sided with Lucifel in the Celestial Revolution. What a shame he didn't survive the War. Even a boy like me needs a hero . . .”

Angela's skin crawled. Her heart thumped wildly. More fear raced through her like liquid fire. Suddenly, it was a deadly mistake to be on the verge of another door with Python by her side.

“What is this?” she whispered. “Where are we?”

Python observed her indifferently. His voice was smooth and cold as ever. “This is an unavoidable passage. To exit the labyrinth, you must first reach its center or heart. That heart is what we are about to enter.”

Angela's own heart hammered painfully. “What's on the other side of these doors?”

“Possibilities,” he said unhelpfully. “Opportunities. Will you take them? That is the Archon's decision alone, my dear. Although perhaps it would be good for you to know that I've been keeping a person of interest inside, waiting for you. I think that individual will be of enormous assistance in making your choices. But in the end, time, temptation, and terror hinges on your sovereign word.” Python bowed for emphasis.

“I suppose you're not coming with me?” Angela said. That should have been a relief, but it strangely wasn't. Not knowing what would happen next was the most exhilarating and terrifying feeling. She'd rather share it with anyone than be alone.

“Well,” he said roguishly, “I haven't been invited to the party. But unexpected guests make for exciting company, so don't you worry—I will be near. I've been yearning to see the truth, after all.”

“See the truth?” Angela echoed him. What in the world . . .

She stared at the doors, her vision swimming.

“Well then”—Python leaned toward her ear, his tongue flicking against it—“I'll see you on the other side.”

Angela shuddered. She swatted Python away angrily—and met with nothing but air.

He was gone.

She glanced around the immense chamber, at the columns, the hieroglyphs, and deep into the silent darkness. A warm breeze ran along Angela's arms and teased at her skirt. The Grail beneath her glove felt uncomfortably moist. It was probably bleeding again.

Angela wrapped her arms around her shoulders, fighting her chills. She turned back to the double doors and stared at them. Unconsciously, she clutched the sapphire star pendant on her necklace, whispering a soft prayer to herself.

I'm not giving up now.

She pushed gently on one of the doors, and it cracked open without the slightest resistance. Music flooded out of the opening and into the hall. Light burned Angela's eyes. Laughter followed her over the threshold. Angela gasped at the vision in front of her because it was too stupendous and incredible to be believed.

She had barely taken another step, and the laughter ceased, the music paused.

The door slammed shut behind her and locked.

Twenty

Lucifel did her best to destroy our memories of Heaven, but behind closed doors we never stopped dreaming of the opulence we'd left behind. Some even tried to bring it back.
—P
YTHON

Angela froze. Her brain could have turned to jelly and nothing felt real.

She stood at the edge of an enormous ballroom constructed with onyx and glittering crystals. The black stone of the columns supporting the room gleamed beneath braziers studding their sides. The floor shone as smoothly as black glass. Tables covered with every kind of goblet imaginable lined the far walls, and a large fountain dominated the center of the room. Beneath the red lights, the liquid spurting from its center eerily resembled blood.

She stared openmouthed at the couples who swarmed the room.

Mysterious figures of men and women with grotesque but oddly fascinating masks dotted every square foot of space. Some costumes resembled the same creatures carved into the double doors. Angela recognized the scales of snakes, the sharp teeth of the Hounds, and perhaps more menacingly, horse masks dominated by ribbed horns with tips glistening sharply in the half-light. Every dancer wore phosphorescent paint around the bare circles of their eyes. Most of the couples had paused to stare at Angela, inquiring about her presence with piercing expressions rather than words.

The silence continued. Angela had heard the doors lock behind her. Ringing the room, at least ten other sets of doors beckoned.

An inscription in demonic writing decorated an arch above the nearest doors. The more Angela focused on the writing, the more it transformed into letters she could easily read.

 

Within this room temptation lies. Beware the drinks, beware the eyes.

 

She glanced in panic at the inscription above the other door to her left.

 

Trapped in dreams, one easily sins. Now the unwanted trial begins.

 

Angela's trembling hand crept toward her left arm glove. The Grail burned so badly a scream also burned in her throat. But she didn't dare make a sound. Angela bit her lip hard. It bled and soured the inside of her mouth. She gazed out into the crowd of people—more likely demons—and waited for someone else to speak or move.

Without warning, one of the spectators broke away from his partner and strolled toward Angela. He was dressed exquisitely in black silk with purple lace at the sleeves. He peered at Angela through a mask that resembled the head of a stag complete with lethal-looking antlers. “And who are you?” he asked with surprising politeness.

One of the women regarded Angela with venomous eyes while intermittently sipping at a glass.

What's the use of lying? If this is part of the labyrinth, they already know who I am.

“Angela Mathers,” she said firmly, bracing herself for an attack.

His eyes widened in surprise. Speedily, he knelt before Angela and clasped her hand before she could snatch it away. “The Archon,” he whispered reverently. “Our ruler.”

“Your ruler?” Angela said. Fire shot through her body. Hairs prickled on the back of her neck.

The woman sipping at the glass approached with studied elegance. Up close she was disturbingly tall with unbelievably green eyes. “Our sovereign who will overthrow Lucifel.”

She knelt down in something resembling a curtsy.

Angela's world spun. The other women hastily copied the first, their wave of curtsies rippling outward. Some of the demons unfurled wings that were little more than bloodied bones and stringy muscle. Others obviously had none left to unfurl, and some were luckier, with ratty wings in shades of black or blond. Angela sniffed and frowned at the acidic taint in the air. It must have been the same acidic fog that Troy had said destroyed the demons' sensitive wings over time.

The demon in the stag mask held Angela's hand high. “This is the one who will sit on the Throne of Lucifel. This is the new Prince of Hell.”

Angela looked around awkwardly, unsure of what to do next. The entire scenario was so odd and incredible. It all felt like a terrible dream.

Too many demons filled the room for Angela to fight them one-on-one. There had to be another way out of this. Python had mentioned opportunities of some kind.

Though he'd more likely been referring to Angela's role as Lucifel's rival.

Why did he really lead me here? There had to be a way around this place, despite what he said . . .

Certainly his crazy talk about “seeing the truth” had something to do with it. But what did that even mean?

Angela thought of the inscriptions above the door concerning temptation, and shivered. Her mouth had dried to the consistency of cotton, and her stomach bubbled painfully whenever she glanced at the drinks on either side of the room.

“Who will dance with our new sovereign?” the male demon said, presenting Angela once more to the crowd.

There were many murmurs, and then a tumult of shouting. Many of the demons glanced at one another. Finally, another male with an emerald mask stepped toward Angela. “I will dance,” he said, stretching his hand toward her demandingly.

“
I OBJECT,
” a feminine voice echoed powerfully across the room.

Frigid sweat blossomed on Angela's forehead. Her heart raced and galloped like mad.

Now the dancers of all descriptions parted in waves, revealing a woman who sat on an obsidian throne at the other side of the room. She was taller than the other female demons and wore a simple mask glittering with purple and green gems. Feathers with red tips crowned her cascading waves of black hair. She slid from the throne, revealing an alien-looking yet beautiful dress with a high collar that sloped dangerously low from her shoulders. Her skin was strikingly dark.

“I object,” she continued, “on the grounds that I myself have already chosen her partner in this gracious dance.”

She spread her arms out to Angela.

“Welcome, Archon, to this festival, which is but one of my many celebrations day and night. But who has delivered you to my secret corner of Hell? Or have you come to us by your own power?” She smiled at Angela, though her honey-colored eyes held a familiar coldness. “No answer? Then I suppose a black bird dropped you here by chance on the way back to his nest in Babylon.” She laughed softly and nodded at a tall but shadowed figure standing behind her throne. He stiffened but said nothing.

“Who—who are you?” Angela finally said. Unbelieveably, her words were carried from demon to demon, all the way to the woman speaking to her.

The woman smiled ingratiatingly. “I am Lilith, my dear. Though I have many other names . . .”

Lilith! Python's mother? Why would Python bring Angela to her of all people? He said they weren't working together—that he hated her. Did Lilith know what was going on?

No wonder Python hadn't been able to openly enter this room with Angela.

Angela tried to swallow the nervous ball in her throat. She clenched her hands.

“In any case,” Lilith continued, “I'd been looking forward to your arrival. It is sooner than I'd expected, but perhaps things are not going well for you on Earth. No small wonder, considering the great danger that threatens the Realms. But as it is, you've arrived at an opportune and rather appropriate time.” She looked to the demons arrayed near Angela. “This place is hidden from demons who are not my servants and friends. It is a privileged place of revelry and idle delights. A place where reality reflects dreams.” She stared intently at Angela. “And dreams reflect desires. Archon, let this be a taste for you of the pleasures to come if you choose to rule over us in Lucifel's stead. You don't need to worry. Rely on my support.” Lilith lips spread into a beautiful and terrifying smile. “One hundred percent.”

Lilith waved a hand, and the female demons to either side of her drew away into the shadows.

The tall man who'd been standing behind her stepped into the flickering light beneath a brazier. His skin was pale, an even more striking contrast to Lilith's dark beauty.

He wore a mask resembling a crow's face with a pointed beak, and his beautiful black coat had been decorated with ebony feathers at the shoulders.

“Here is your partner, Archon,” Lilith said. “Enjoy your time among us. Forget the terrors of the world for a while. Here—time passes differently.”

Lilith laughed, and the dancers closed around her again, making her vanish as if she'd never existed. Meanwhile, the man with the crow mask advanced on Angela until he was steps away from her. Slowly, he knelt down before her and then he stood with his hand outstretched. His amber eyes peered at her with a burning and wordless plea.

Angela considered her options, which weren't very good.

Sophia—I'm coming for you.

With a deep breath, she slid her hand into his.

 

They danced interminably. Angela knew better than to touch any of the drinks to either side of her, but she often glanced at them with longing.

Her partner was very skilled and very graceful. He was also completely silent. Angela tried to peer beyond the confines of his mask and came away with the vague impression of a handsome face with sculpted cheekbones and a slim nose. The costume and the bad lighting kept her from taking in better details.

It couldn't be just a coincidence that Angela was once again at a masquerade ball. Her mouth set into a tight line. Camdon must have been inspired by whatever demon controlled this labyrinth to send her that midnight blue dress. Lilith spoke of Angela's desires being reflected here, and now that she had a moment to think, it struck her hard: Why
had
Angela really gone to the ball in Luz? It wasn't like her to give in so easily to peer pressure, even if she felt guilty about something.

Maybe I'm just trying to be normal. It's what I've always wanted, after all.

The elegant music paused.

Angela watched as most of the other demons clapped and laughed. On the surface they appeared to be legitimately happy, but their faces and eyes remained cold. The fountain of red water also disturbed her, and Angela tried not to look at it too much. She was about to let go of her partner, fascinated by a row of crystal flasks filled with liquid as red as the fountain's water.

He held her hand tightly, pulling her back. “Angela,” he said softly, “don't you recognize me?”

She recognized his voice. Angela stared at him, frozen yet again.

He smiled and lowered his crow mask. It was Kim, as strikingly handsome as in the days when she'd first met him in Luz. That sculpted face, and those thin lips—Angela gasped as every detail came flooding back. His black hair was longer now, and the red streak dyed into his bangs had started to grow out. But he was a far cry from the vision Angela had of him entering the door to Hell. There he'd been a complete wreck. Right now, he was clean and certain of himself, as elegant as a prince.

Angela understood his choice of costume as a grim irony. The crow was the symbol of his cousin Troy's Jinn Clan.

“I'd been hoping you would recognize me before I needed to take off the mask,” Kim said quietly. He stared at her with the intense and searing eyes of her memories.

“You're not dead,” Angela whispered. Despite her relief, she didn't have it in herself to smile.

“Not yet,” Kim said grimly. “But if Troy has her way, it's only a matter of time.” He regarded Angela darkly. “Have you seen her at all?”

Angela nodded slowly, unable to stop staring at him.

Kim's breathing quickened, and his face paled more, but he kept calm otherwise. “Is she in Hell?”

Somehow, it didn't feel right to answer that question just yet. “Where have you been all this time?” Angela said instead, aware of a pathetic pain creeping into her voice.

He motioned to her to continue dancing. As she slid into his arms again, his warm whispers touched her ear. “After the battle with Lucifel in Memorial Park, you fainted. Israfel rescued you and left shortly after. That left me alone with Troy. I was sure she was dead. I was also wrong. She attacked me, and I was forced to use a blood crystal to try and escape. But”—his tone lowered—“the unstable portals kept me from traveling far enough. I was forced back to Earth. As soon as Troy realized this, she started hunting me with double the ferocity. I gave her trouble, but she almost caught up to me when I managed to escape into Hell. I was desperate, Angela. I had no choice. I needed to see you again, even if there was only the smallest chance of that happening.”

His story matched Troy's version of events. But Troy had also said Kim was firmly on the side of the demons.

Angela closed her eyes, unwillingly remembering kisses in the dark as Kim whispered in her ear. Her heart ached. It was tired. She was tired. Angela fought the urge to collapse against him.

“The authorities in Luz are suspicious of you anyway, Kim. You can't go back. The Vatican police will arrest you now. Maybe worse.”

Kim laughed. “They were suspicious of me from the start. Despite what I told you, I'm not really a novice, Angela. I had the knowledge of one. But I'm no priest. Only a pretender. But I forged the proper document and fit in with them well enough to learn what I needed over the years. Indeed, by now I know much more.”

“But you are Troy's cousin,” Angela reiterated.

Kim made a sound of disgust. “That is unfortunately true. Everything else is the truth, Angela.”

“Even your name?”

Kim sighed. He held her closer. “Yes, I do owe you that at least . . . My mother didn't exactly love me as a mother should. I had an older sister who died shortly before I was born. My mother gave me her name, bitterly wishing I was someone else even from the first day of my existence. There—now you know . . . and I'm sure you of all people can understand.”