23. Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

Belial

Our gondola tore down the Styx so quickly, it caused the crimson current to roll and slosh. We were in a narrow channel, surrounded by stone as we ripped through Leviathan’s realm.

The flames in my eyes raged bright and would have illuminated the tunnel on their own if not for the flaming torches scattered along the way.

I glanced at my oar as I pushed it behind the gondola, urging us to move faster down the river. The blackened remains of Leviathan’s incinerated head stared back at me from where he was speared beneath Asmodeus.

Mammon would be next. When I got my claws into the Lord of Greed, I’d rip him apart slowly. Painfully. Bone by bone.

Nothing less would suffice.

I knew I’d missed Mammon and Rayven by mere minutes.

I could catch up. I would catch up.

“M-my Lord,” Holga’s soft voice could barely be heard over the violent rocking of the ferry and the clashing of the Styx on the rocky cavern as we barreled down it. For her soft cadence, she might as well have been yelling.

The terror shaking her voice told me she wanted me to slow down, but I ignored her. I couldn’t afford any distractions, not when I was so hellishly focused. Above all, I couldn’t afford to slow down.

Rayven was nearly within my grasp.

After a minute or two, the narrow channel opened wider, the rocks spreading and thinning until they disappeared. We were nearing the end of Leviathan’s realm, surrounded by swirling darkness, drifting closer to the fifth layer of Hell, Mammon’s domain.

I was beginning to think I’d made a grave mistake taking time to kill Leviathan. I’d been quick, but maybe the handful of minutes I spared doling out his Judgement had cost me.

My heart sank, and my hope of catching up to them was all but gone when I saw it: the stern of a boat in the distance. It was much larger than the ferries used to usher souls to the lower layers of Hell and looked to be made of iron.

Of course, it would be.

Mammon never missed an opportunity to utilize his iron forge. He’d made numerous things over the years in his fortress, filling his realm with iron constructs. It had already been cluttered when I visited over five hundred years ago—there was no telling how much the greedy bastard was hoarding now.

It seemed he’d made himself a boat. He’d probably fashioned it to get to and from Belphegor’s realm, considering they were fucking. Under different circumstances, I would have laughed, but the thought of my backstabbing brothers only made me row faster.

My muscles burned with the pace I was setting, but I was slowly closing the distance. Holga’s bones chattered as she shook below me, Cecil still doing his best to comfort her. The closer we got, the more violent the water became, choppy waves rolling toward us as the ship cut through the bloody current.

All I had to do was catch up and slaughter the crew, and Rayven would be mine.

Could she see me? Did she know she was minutes from being saved?

“I’m coming, treasure,” I muttered beneath my breath.

A massive stone wall materialized, split in half by a giant archway over the Styx. My muscles coiled, recognizing the entrance to the Lord of Greed’s realm.

“Rayven!” the sound that tore from my lipless maw hardly sounded like myself. It was raw, pained. If the crew hadn’t realized we were on their tail before, they did now.

Mammon’s fiery eyes whipped in my direction, and his flaming wings flexed before he barked orders. The iron boat began to pull ahead, widening the gap between us. A growl rumbled up my throat, and I rowed faster, but it wasn’t enough to close the distance again.

I was so focused on catching up and saving my little treasure that I didn’t notice the massive iron bars dropping from the archway up ahead until they were nearly halfway down. If they closed completely, they would block our entrance into the fifth layer.

There would be no way through with the ferry.

Mammon’s boat picked up more speed, and something jerked in my gut. It didn’t look like they would make it in time. I held my breath, wondering if I would have to jump ship to save Rayven. If Mammon’s boat was destroyed, there was a chance.

They sped closer, the gate dangerously low. I kept rowing as fast as I could, unholy fury fueling every stroke, but the iron boat slipped beneath the bars just before they slammed into the river.

“No!” I dove off the side of the ferry and rushed to the gate, grabbing the bars and trying to lift or bend them. To my surprise—and horror—they didn’t budge. “What kind of magic—”

The question died in my throat when I submerged myself, hoping there was enough room for me to squeeze underneath it, but the bars ran straight to the bed of the river.

I couldn’t get through.

Resurfacing with a roar, I threw my head back, my cloak slapping against the water’s surface. I gripped the iron gate’s girthy bars and tried to bend them again, but to no avail. The gate was several thousand pounds at least—even I, strong as I was, couldn’t budge it.

Through the gaps in the metal, I could see the boat shrinking, Mammon’s sadistic laugh carrying on the air. I set my flaming eyes on him as they disappeared into the distance, my rage palpable as I harnessed my magic to destroy the hurdle keeping me from my queen.

The explosion of blue magic blew straight into the gate, leaving it unfazed, without so much as a scorch. I tried again, reaching deep into my pool of power, but again, it was pointless.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I growled. My magic wasn’t working on this iron monstrosity, probably because it was Mammon’s metal. Iron was stronger than silver.

Panic hooked in my gut.

“My Lord, let me try,” Holga piped from the ferry.

If my magic didn’t work, I didn’t see hers being able to break through the gate, but it was worth a shot. I didn’t have any other ideas, and Mammon’s boat was drifting farther away with every passing second.

A flicker of magic sparked from her fingers, but that failed too.

I slammed my fists against the enormous gate with a snarl, and dust rained from above. Still, nothing seemed to affect it, which only fanned the roiling inferno burning through me.

Mammon had been busy at work over the last five hundred years, fool-proofing this realm, apparently. If there was no way in, there was no way out.

I punched the metal again with an animalistic roar just as a severed hand grabbed hold of my robe.

“Master,” a head with one eye bubbled. “Please, pass Judgement again. Please …”

A torso without arms bobbed toward me, and several other voices whispered, joining the first.

“Lord of Bones… Lord of Souls, please…”

I growled, swiping my claws at the souls to get away from them before climbing back into the boat. The begging whispers ceased the moment I was out of the water, and I ran a blood-soaked hand down my skull, thinking.

How the fuck was I supposed to penetrate the impenetrable?

Magic and strength had failed me. What other option did I have?

“M-my Lord.” It was Cecil this time, his teeth-filled eye sockets watching me apprehensively. “Perhaps I could assist.”

I glared at him, wondering what the ancient librarian could possibly do that Holga and I hadn’t been able to accomplish. I’d known him for so long, millennia at this point. He wasn’t hiding anything from me; I would have known.

“How?” I tried to keep my patience, but it was an arduous task.

“The library,” he answered slowly, thoughtfully, like Cecil always did. Normally, I appreciated his careful, articulated thoughts, but right now, it made me want to toss him off the gondola. Was he suggesting we return to Limbo to riffle through soul books?

The Library? I didn’t see how that could help us here. “We don’t have time to turn back, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“If magic and brute strength don’t work, an engineer could probably help,” he said.

I glared, anger burning beneath my skin. I was definitely going to throw him overboard.

“Ah yes, because I happen to have one of those in my fucking pocket.” I rubbed the patch of bone between my eyes in irritation since I didn’t have a nose to pinch in this form. I was losing the last shred of my patience.

Cecil trembled and shook his head. “You have a few in the castle library. I could fetch one and see if they can work out the mechanism.”

This ancient sack of dust and bones had officially lost his marbles—if he’d had any to begin with.

Sensing my growing frustration, Cecil cleared his throat and pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up his barely-there nose. “Allow me, Sire.”

Holga and I watched in awe as he produced a dinner-plate-sized portal with a flourish of his skeletal hands. It grew, stretching outward until it was tall enough for him to slip through. Inside it, a sliver of the Library of Souls was clearly visible.

Admittedly, I was impressed.

Cecil had some limited powers when it came to the library, but he rarely ventured from the vast hall, much less the castle. Had he always had this ability and just never had the chance to utilize it?

“So you’re going to bring me the soul of an engineer…” I ventured a guess, my eyes landing on his proud expression, “who will be able to get this fucking gate open?”

He nodded once.

“And if it doesn’t work?” I bit out.

“What do you have to lose?”

“ Everything. ” The fury in my voice was unintentional and made both servants flinch. My voice softened with a sigh that felt every bit as heavy as my chest. “I could lose everything, Cecil.”

“We’ll find her,” Holga assured me with the gentlest tone she’d ever directed toward me.

“Go,” I urged Cecil. My eyes slid from the soul librarian to the portal. “With haste.”

Without another word, the librarian slipped through the portal. It closed a second later, blinking him out of sight.