Soul Bound (18 page)

I lunge at him, throwing my full weight against his meaty frame. He stumbles backward and for a moment I think I have him down, but at the last minute he manages to keep his balance. He grabs my shoulders and I bite back a shriek as his ragged claws dig into my flesh. (Guess manicures aren’t so big in the Underworld.) With an über-powerful thrust, he shoves me backward and I find myself flying through the air, my back slamming against one of the concrete buildings behind me. My head hits hard; I see stars as I crumple to the ground.

As I struggle to stay conscious, I watch as Jareth springs into action, his left fist connecting with the demon’s head followed by his right fist slamming into its stomach. Green blood spurts from the demon’s bulbous nose and the creature grunts in agony as it
tries to hit Jareth back with weakened limbs. But my vampire ex-boyfriend is too strong, too quick, dodging his blows while raining down more of his own. I grin, pride swelling inside me as I watch his technique. Sometimes I forget he’s been a vampire general for hundreds of years. His prowess in battle is awesome.

I feel movement above me and realize Race is holding out a hand, ready to help me to my feet. I take it, pulling myself up and preparing to help Jareth out with the guard—not that he probably needs it. But just as I manage to take that first stumbling step back into battle, the bloody, beaten guard manages to pull a whistle from around his neck and put it to his lips.

Suddenly, five more demon-shaped shadows emerge from the darkness from all sides.

Uh-oh.

The largest of the new demons—a seven-foot-tall monster—grabs Jareth by his shirt and yanks him off the guard he’d been fighting, as if he were nothing more than a pesky fly. I gasp in horror as he locks my ex-boyfriend in a crushing embrace and points a stake straight at his heart. The other guards surround us, spears pointed and ready.

“That’s enough!” the giant guard cries. “Surrender now or he will die!”

I slowly raise my hands and Jareth and Race do the same. What else can we do? One false move and Jareth will become a permanent resident of this place. I let out a frustrated breath. What was I thinking, going after that guy like that? Once again, I’m too brave for my own good and have put people I love in danger.

“Look,” I try, taking a cautious step forward, wanting desperately to atone for my idiocy, “we’re not here to cause any harm. We tried to check in with your boss, but Cerberus turned us away. Trust me, we don’t want to be here, wandering around, any more than you want us to be.”

“And what business do you have with the Master?” one of the other guards demands, grabbing his spear and poking it uncomfortably in my direction. What happens when one gets staked here? I wonder wildly. Do you go back to the other side of the river and start all over again? ’Cause I’m guessing Charon won’t be too excited about giving me another free trip. Especially since he
did
warn me about the patrol…

“We only wanted to pay our respects,” I try. No need to bring up the whole thing about my sister. “You know, bow to him, seek out his wisdom, all that jazz?” I take another cautionary step forward, trying to keep a brave face.

Big mistake.

The guards react, surrounding me and suddenly I have spears pointed at pretty much all my extremities. “Sorry, sorry!” I cry, holding my hands up higher. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You will surrender to us now,” the head guard states in a flat voice. “Or we shall drive you through.”

“But—”

“Rayne!” Jareth interrupts, still pinned by the other guard. His face is white and filled with fear. “How about we do as the nice gentlemen say, shall we?” he suggests in a taut voice.

Right. Of course he’s right. Just shut up, Rayne. For one second, just shut the hell up.

“Fine,” I resign, dropping my hands. “We surrender, I guess.”

The head guard drops his stake from Jareth’s chest and the others retract their spears. Three of them pull out cords of silver rope and begin roughly tying our wrists together behind our backs. The silver burns at my skin in the most itchy, painful way imaginable and I squirm as one of the guards tightens my restraints. “Okay, okay, I’m bound and helpless already. Enough!” I cry. Not that I’m under any delusion that my protests will do any good.

Once we’re all tied up, the head guard barks an order to his men in some weird demon language, and one of them shoves me so hard in the back that I almost trip over my own feet again. Guess that’s our cue to start walking. I shuffle forward, doing my best to keep my balance with my hands tied behind my back. From the windows of the buildings surrounding us, I can see curious eyes, watching the scene attentively. Ugh. Don’t they have anything better to do? And won’t anyone here try to help us?

Suddenly, as if in answer, a loud, almost primal cry crashes through the streets. The giant guard looks up in surprise, just in time to have a huge boulder—dropped from somewhere above—slam down hard on the top of his head. He lets out a groan of agony before collapsing to the ground in a dead faint.

As the other guards clamor around him, trying to make sure their leader is okay, I look up, trying to figure out where the rock had come from. It’s then that my eyes fall upon a blond, tanned, total meathead of a man, swooping down from a high hotel balcony, using a clothesline the way Tarzan would have
used a vine. He drops down in front of the other guards and whips a sword from his belt, waving it menacingly in their direction. Ah, now there’s a weapon suited for demon slaying!

The demons—confused and disorganized without their fearless leader—scramble for their spears. But in the chaos, they mostly end up jabbing each other instead of our rescuer. The blond Adonis, who seems to possess the skills of a Samurai and the flexibility of a member of Cirque du Soleil, works quickly, slicing and dicing, and before you know it, there are five bleeding demons piled all around us, utterly incapacitated. Damn, this guy is good!

“Wow,” I cry, looking up at our rescuer, more than a little impressed. “Thanks!”

“My pleasure,” he says, flashing us a brilliant, white-toothed grin. It’s then that I realize he’s different from the others. No purple haze, no green demon glow. He’s alive. Just like us!

With a deft flick of his sword, he breaks through my restraints, then moves on to help Race and Jareth. Once we’re all free, he beckons for us to follow him. “Come on,” he urges. “They’ll be more of them coming. We must get out of here.”

We don’t need a second invitation. When he takes off, we run after him, exhaustion eclipsed by adrenaline. Down the dark streets, through alleyways and back roads, up stairs and down, until we come to edge of a wide black river, with a small rowboat pulled up to the shore. As I lean down, hands on my knees, gasping for breath, the man pushes the boat into the water, then gestures for us to all get in.

“Let’s go,” he says, looking beyond us, searching the streets
with an anxious look on his face. But there’s no one coming. We’re safe for now.

We climb into the boat and our rescuer scrambles in behind us, pushing off from the shore and into the dark, black waters of the river. As we float downstream, the ugly lights from the Way Station fade behind us until they’re only a mere glimmer.

“Is everyone okay?” our rescuer asks, looking us over carefully as he rows.

I nod, then glance over to Jareth and Race. They nod, too, though they both look pretty shaken. “Who were those guys?” I ask.

“The Demon Patrol,” the man explains. “Mercenaries, paid by the Big Ugly to police the streets of Hades. Not that there’s usually much to do—most people are so shell-shocked when they get here, they tend to keep in line. So when these guys come up against a real bona fide threat like the living, they tend to get a little… enthusiastic.”

“And what would they have done to us?” Jareth asks. “If you didn’t arrive?”

Hercules shrugs. “Depends on their mood. If they felt like following the rules, they would have thrown you in prison and allowed Hades to dictate your fate. Or they might have decided to make you permanent residents and take their time doing it. Like I said, they’re pretty bored. And they love carnage.”

I shudder, neither scenario sounding much better than the other. “Well, we really, really appreciate you rescuing us,” I tell him. “You came just in time.”

He flashes me another big grin. “I would have liked to have
found you earlier. Less messy that way. I started hearing rumors of a group of living vampires wandering around, asking questions. I’d been trying to track you down all night before the patrol found you. I was seconds too late.”

“And who are you again?” I ask.

He gives a small bow. “Hercules, at your service.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Hercules? You mean like the legendary Greek god Hercules? Son of Zeus?” Wow. I guess that explains the super muscles…

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” he jokes. “Lucky for you I was down here to pay a visit to my girlfriend. Otherwise, I’m not sure things would have worked out so well for you, no offense.”

“Well, we definitely appreciate it,” Jareth says. “Thank you.”

Hercules waves him off. “My pleasure. So what are you doing down here, anyway? This isn’t exactly a great spot to vacation, you know.”

“We were trying to get an audience with Hades,” I explain. “To get him to agree to release my sister’s soul before she’s judged.”

Hercules nods knowingly. “Ah, yes, the old soul-release attempt. We get people down here at least once a decade trying to get their loved ones out.” He gives me a sorry look. “I hate to break it to you, but Hades is pretty stingy with releasing them these days—ever since his little frenemy, Lucifer, knocked him out of the
Guinness Book of Hell Records
for number of captured souls. He’s been desperate to catch up and very stubborn about releasing any he’s already gathered.”

I bite my lower lip. That doesn’t seem good. “But it’s still possible, right?” I ask, not ready to give up hope.

“Anything’s possible. You have to go in there with something he wants,” Hercules explains. “Oh, and get an appointment to begin with. That’s tough in and of itself.” He drags his oar down on the ground, slowing the boat. “So where would you like to go in the meantime?” he asks. “Any friends or family that might be able to take you in while you’re figuring things out? Otherwise the Demon Patrol is going to find you again. And this time I won’t be there for the rescue.”

I draw in a breath. “My father,” I tell him, showing him my hand with the address. “Do you know how we can find him?”

Hercules studies my hand for a moment, then gives me an impressed look. “Nice location,” he tells me. “Over on the outskirts of the Elysian Fields. He must have been a pretty good guy on Earth to score such a killer address.”

My mind flashes back to my father, on the ground, dying of iron poisoning after saving my life. “Yeah,” I agree. “He was.” From the corner of my eye, I catch Jareth shooting me a sympathetic look.

Hercules releases the oar and the boat starts floating down into a dark tunnel, under a sign that reads: E
NTERING
T
HE
C
IRCLES
.

“Circles?” I question.

“Not up on your Dante, are you?” Hercules asks. “Well, no matter. These are the Circles of Hell. Depending on how you sinned during your life, you might end up stuck in one of these for eternity.” He shudders. “Trust me, once you see them for
yourself, you’ll never want to sin again.” He points over to a small island on the port side of the boat. “See that? We’re passing through Lust right now. A neighborhood dedicated to those who couldn’t keep it in their pants.”

I lean over the side of the boat to look. At first glance, the place looks like some kind of Grecian fantasy island, with beautiful, angelic-looking creatures sashaying around with barely any clothes covering their perfect bodies.

“What’s so hellish about that?” I ask.

“Look closer,” Hercules directs as we glide by. “Do you see the souls?”

I take another look, this time realizing there are purple-tinged spirits also wandering the island. Each spirit is chained up with a nasty looking collar around their necks. When one of the spirits happens to glance at one of the goddesses passing by, he jerks violently, then crumples to the ground.

“Was he electrocuted?” I ask in horror, watching the man writhe in apparent agony.

Hercules nods. “Afraid so. The punishment for those who give in to their lust on Earth is to be stuck with unfulfilled desire for eternity. If these poor schmucks even dare look at one of the beautiful ones, they’re given a healthy zap for their troubles.”

“Bloody hell,” Race says with a grimace. “If I ever get out of here, I’m becoming revirginized for sure. No groupie is worth that.”

I turn away, not wanting to watch anymore. As we round a bend, a few raindrops splash on my head. Hercules reaches into the boat and hands us some umbrellas.

“It gets a little wet around Gluttony,” he apologizes, pointing to the opposite shore. I turn to look, not sure I want to see. My eyes fall upon a group of obese, anguished creatures, stuck in deep piles of gooey sludge, moaning miserably as the rain pours down on their heads. All around them are banquet tables piled with mountains of food, but not one of those stuck in the mud can reach any of it.

I grimace, turning away. “So they have to stare at the food for eternity and never eat?”

“Enough to turn you off Twinkies for life, right?” Hercules jokes. “Or, you know, blood.” He gives us a pointed look, then gestures to the shore. There, I catch sight of a group of vampires surrounded by a lake of blood, but none of them are able to take a sip. Their mouths drip with saliva and their fangs look dry and brittle. They moan and cry as the bloodlust consumes them endlessly.

I swallow hard, remembering the scene in the alleyway. I’d come so close to stealing innocent blood. Could I have ended up here, too? Hungry and alone for eternity? I shiver and Jareth reaches out and squeezes my hand, making me feel a little better.

“So what’s up next?” he asks. “Circle of Greed, if I remember right?”