Caged by Damnation (18 page)

"Will you take the darkness within you in the name of all that is good?"

Darkness? No one said anything about darkness. "Yes."

Death smiled, making me uneasy.

"It's time for the naming ceremony. Normally I would do it, but you have a soul, which prevents me from seeing your true name. Scrye, on the other hand is talented that way."

The Hellhounds removed themselves from the circle, leaving me alone with Scrye. "Don't worry, this won't hurt." She looked deep into my eyes and grabbed my skull with both hands.

I fell into Scrye's eyes, like Alice down the rabbit hole, and found myself in a place that was most decidedly
not
Wonderland. It felt like I was standing on a precipice; the nine circles of Hell lay beneath, catatonic in its solidarity, the inhabitants maiming and killing one another. Though I couldn't hear the screams of torment, I seemed to have empathic abilities in this vision. Emotions overwhelmed me, drowning out true thought, as I was forced into the minds of tainted souls.

Those below were filled with selfish longing, pain, and anger. I was sickened by their arduous pursuit of their wants, coupled with memories of past acts. The murderers were the worst, replaying their handiwork like their most cherished dreams, only, to any sane person, it was disturbing. Suddenly, I had sunk into those deeds, looking through the eyes of the murderers, feeling their excitement at the chase and the satisfaction of their kills.

Anger spread through my bones, trickling deep into my stomach, making my muscles ache with despair. I wanted to rampage against them; death was too easy, and after seeing the way some of them killed ... they deserved far worse. Although, I  had to acknowledge that some of the Hell dwellers didn't deserve the level of punishment they’d received.

Thrust from the vision, I stared into Scrye's opaque eyes as they crinkled with mirth.

"What?"

Her smile widened, "I've seen your name, it's
Fury
." Electricity coursed through my veins and my skin tingled, as if awakening from a dream. The Hellhounds repeated my name and I was flushed with power.

Death stood, watching me, before stepping from the shadows. Scrye joined the other Hellhounds. A silver aura surrounded Death, leaving me transfixed. I felt paralyzed, unable to react when he leaned forward to whisper, "Accept me within you and this won't hurt."

His lips captured mine, not a kiss, but something that pre-dated sexual affections. He pulled me to him roughly, holding my back with one hand and my face with the other, fusing us as one.

His aura began to blend into a single thread transferring from his mouth to my own, funneling down my throat to reach my core. Gut-wrenching pain took over as my essence was altered and the original part became diluted.

The Fury within me was taking over my Willow aspects, eliminating my humanity. Death grasped my numb lips more firmly when I tried to pull away, but moments later he released me. My voice disappeared as Death examined me and I choked on the piece of Death within.

Each Hellhound took their original space within the circle. Echo's voice lifted into a wolf-like howl. The others joined, and soon I found I was following. My body shook, mimicking a seizure, and I grew worried. Had something gone wrong? The shaking accelerated, bringing a bone-crunching agony with it. I sought the others to find their forms distorted. I screamed and blacked out.

I came to. I was lying on the ground with terrifying creatures standing around me. I opened my mouth to yell for help, but only a whine came forth. When I tried to stand, I slipped. Looking down, I spotted the cause of my problem: I was no longer human. My hands had been replaced with furry paws. Finally, I got my legs beneath me and backed away from the group of creatures staring me down.

Fury, you need to calm down. You're one of us. We won't harm you.

The voice sounded like Echo's. She was an abnormally large creature, resembling a wolf. Her teeth were longer than an average animal’s, her canines protruding from her mouth much like a saber-toothed tiger’s. Her fur was thick, but looked downy-soft in shades of white and black. Her tail was long and curved up and towards her back like an Alaskan Malamute. The rest of the Hellhounds looked similar, though they were various sizes and colors.

Who is who?
I asked through our telekinetic link.

The largest Hellhound answered, the one whose fur was the blackest of black. It was the rich, deep voice of Death.
Scrye is the gray Hellhound, Whisper is the tan one. Poison is gray and white, and is Vixen is the auburn Hellhound.

Are you ready to embark on a wild hunt?
Vixen asked, excited.

I thought that Hellhounds only did that to hunt down escaped souls?
I was confused, but beginning to enjoy my new form.

Whisper took up the mantle.
We do, but we are making an exception since we need to welcome you to the pack. To become one, you must run with us.

Scrye walked forward to sniff me and licked my neck. Had I been in my human form, I would have been disgusted, but I understood that in this form I followed a different set of rules. This was a kind of affection and acceptance. I butted her with my head and walked to the others.

Have at it.
I wanted to get out of this room and see what I could do.

Death sounded the call. It was a mixture of song, howl, and pure emotion, which we all answered. He took the lead with Echo directly behind him. Vixen stayed in the back with me.

Where were we going to run to? There weren't a whole lot of possibilities within the lair. Racing up the staircase, we made a beeline for the threshold. Once we were through it, I realized that Death had brought us to the Divine, where we could have free reign.

We ran until our bodies dripped sweat, and laid down in a clearing beside the water. Belly up with my paws
stretched to the sky, I looked sideways at the others. They were content, and I felt free. For the first time in my life, I didn't worry about everyone else. I was just me.

The others stood, ready to walk back, but I held still.
I think I'm going to stay for a while, if that's okay?
Death's head bobbed up and down in what I took as permission.

Poison Ivy sat back on her hind legs.
I'll stay with you. I'm not anxious to embrace my natural skin.

Um, sure.
I was astounded that she was choosing to remain with me. Poison Ivy avoided others. It was her thing. She tended to be a loner and disliked everyone.

The rest of the pack left, with Death and Echo leading them. Poison Ivy and I remained behind to watch them be swallowed up by the vortex.

Come on,
Poison Ivy sounded
.

Huh? Come where? I'm still a little confused about why you would want to stay with me in the first place.
I was beginning to think that there was an ulterior motive involved and I had no plans to delve into the craziness that was her life.

She rolled her eyes, allowing attitude to seep into her inner voice.
Please. I just want to show you around.

Where?

She ignored me and began pawing through the tall grass. I followed.

CHAPTER 12

Savannah's Journal

Blood had always been a conflict within me, both a source of life and a source of death, reminding me of the sacrifices my parents dealt out, but also that it coursed through the veins of all. It was what kept us moving, focused, and as it pumped it would provide a path to our future or demise.

Many people falter with queasiness if they spot blood, but I had grown immune to it. Being exposed to it many times throughout my life gave me a bizarre perspective on the milky red substance. I wouldn't enjoy seeing it pooling beneath a loved one, but I understood that it told stories that the ears couldn't hear. In a sense, the world was deaf unless they examined it beneath a microscope. It had the ability to keep secrets for a lifetime that may not be revealed until death.

SAVANNAH

It took a while to descend to the ground, but we were soon immersed in the bloodshed. I shied away from the bodies littering the ground, afraid for them and for myself. Our group, with Maloc at the head and Liam guarding our backs, made its way through the haze of the battle. It was as if the blood spatter and cries had morphed into fire and smoke. Deep down, I knew lives were being lost, but I walked in shock. The only conscious thoughts in my mind were to escape, and to find my family.

The attackers varied, from those who looked human, to dangerous creatures out of a Stephen King film. Defense of the Ether had been abandoned. The guards had taken to leading innocents to safety. I hoped Ash and Maye were in one of the groups that had made it through the collision of Hell, rather than the causalities covering the ground.

Liam whispered from behind me, "It's going to be okay." Turning, I saw the flashes of worry in his own eyes. He had loved ones here too. We all did.

A man with patches of leathery skin hanging from his face came at our group. His eyes sought me out, but Maloc intercepted, parrying a blow I knew was meant for me. The man held a deformed club against Maloc's sword.

Maloc may have been a weathered soldier, but he was ready for battle. The club descended, but Maloc sprung backwards and deftly cut off the club with a backwards thrust. He pushed the attacker towards his front, away from us, and took a defensive crouch in front of our group.

The rest of us gathered with our backs to one another, waiting for others to notice us. I stood facing Maloc in the safest position. However, I would have rather been on the opposite end. If one of the others were injured or killed, it would weigh on me for the rest of my life. Though, given my current predicament, I wasn't sure how long that would be.

The four of us grasped hands and bowed our heads, calling on the elements to protect us. My power raged against my control, demanding to be set free to consume those around us. I couldn't allow it with the innocents still in the mixture of fighters. If I gave in to my darker side it would ravage everyone without consideration for those who did not deserve to be delivered to Death.

Reining in the part of me that wanted the wild abandon of magic, I pulled on the lessons I had been taught. Focus could make or break a spell. Right then it was the difference between life or death.

Tendrils of Griffin’s power trailed through our connected fingers, and through me was absorbed into Liam. I could feel Isis's consciousness in her magic. She attempted to hide it, but she was terrified of the iron scent, of the cries of agony surrounding us, but mostly she feared the ones who begged for death. I felt her flinch as a hand
grabbed onto her ankle, felt her shame at kicking him away from her.

Connected by our power, we removed all individual thought, centering ourselves as one. Liam burned with fury, Isis was drowning in terror, and Griffin drew gusts of air to calm our minds. I was grateful for the reminder that we needed to use the elements as protectors, rather than allowing lack of judgment to cloud our use of them.

Without intending to, the others had each named an element: Liam for fire, Isis for Water, and Griffin for Air. I had been left with the weight of earth, maternal in nature with a wrath unlike all others. I would ground Liam's anger, absorb the worry emanating from Isis, and sway with the soothing nature of Griffin. Each of them looked to me for guidance, leaving me as the spirit of our circle.

I screamed as they all funneled their energy into me. I hadn't expected them to wield so much, nor did I think that they would provide me with utter control. It was too much, but I didn't have time to beg them to evenly distribute the responsibility.

Normally, as a circle is built on trust, it would be a matter of equality and a singular task, but it wasn't the case. They did trust that I would make the right decision, but had given up their rights to a voice in the matter. The urgency of the situation had made them panic, but I didn't blame them.

Using their fuel, I created layers of barriers between us and the war. Each layer was fused with a separate element and the last was tied to my lifeline. If anyone managed to get through the other layers, my existence would bar them through my sacrifice. The others would go on, but I would perish.

Maloc was still fighting the man with the hanging flesh. It looked like his skin was half melted off and it sickened me. He drew his club back, hefting it, and brought it back in a rush that collided with Maloc's stomach, drawing a grunt of pain from the guard. He seemed to be losing the battle, curled in fetal position, as his opponent came to deliver the killing blow. When the club raised above his head, ready to slam down and rip through Maloc's skull, I realized that appearances were deceiving. Maloc straightened, flipped onto his back and thrust his sword through the stomach of the demon.

Intense relief rushed over me that Maloc wouldn't be joining the others who had fallen.  It was quickly squashed when he disappeared into the melee. Where had he gone? Was he abandoning us?

My body jolted as I felt someone incinerated by the first layer of our defense. Their life was taken away on the wind and I could only hope that they were an enemy, rather than someone seeking aid. Seconds later, another jolt happened, followed by a frozen wasteland. Someone had made it through the first layer and now perished, as the second laid claim to their existence. It quickly became obvious that the enemy had outsmarted us. They were sending demon after demon, attacking the same location until they reached the next layer. When they reached the last I knew I would die, but also the others would then be vulnerable.

My eyes opened to search out the mastermind. Suddenly, they were thrown into the anarchy, along with all the others before and after their path. I was confused until I followed the cleared area to find Maloc holding the club of the thing he had killed. Apparently, it had the ability to be thrown and return to the user.

I saw the threat at the same moment that the others did. Several of the creatures attacking the compound had spied our group and were now making their way towards us.

Maloc had acquired a way to push through the crowd, but not with the danger approaching. He reached out his hand to me, offering salvation, the chance to live. At what price?

Four of us were braced for the coming battle but there was only enough time for one to escape. The logical choice was me since I was nearest to the way out. However, I couldn't bring myself to drown in such a selfish decision.

Linking my arms with Isis, with her back pressed to mine, I leaned forward to take her weight and swung around in a fluid movement. I now resided in her previous position, forcing her to draw the straw that would see to her safety. She was now the only one who could be saved.

Isis screamed as Maloc pulled her away. "No!" I turned to watch, my eyes locked with hers. She held a wild determination in her eyes, begging me to turn back time and switch places.

I had exchanged my life for Isis's without giving her a choice. I had known that there wasn't a chance in hell that Griffin or Liam could have been saved, but Maloc was strong enough to force Isis to safety. She had always seemed selfish, but the survivor’s guilt etched in her face told another story. She strained against Maloc, refusing to leave us.

We hadn't died yet, but there was no doubt in everyone's mind that this would be our last stand. Death didn't terrify me, I was at peace with my last act. Isis was the last person
that
I thought I would give my life for, and yet, I had.

Maloc and Isis faded from sight.

The imminent danger approached; the drums of war drowned out all thought and my stomach settled with the gravity of the situation. Moving closer to my companions, I searched the ground for a weapon, anything that might put a dent in their army.

At first, I saw nothing, but then I noticed a glint of steel a few feet away beneath a corpse. Gauging what time I had, I ran for it, sliding the last few feet until I reached the dead man. As I turned him over, I realized that the blade was still embedded in his ribcage.

Tears stung my eyes. "I'm sorry." Grasping the hilt with both palms, I pulled. My efforts brought forth the sound of suction as the dagger slid from its prison and resulted in a steady stream of blood from the wound.

I dashed back to my original stance and tried not to balk at the blood staining my hands. I saw that the others had armed themselves as well. Liam now held a talon large enough to belong to a small dragon, while Griffin had created a spear of ice. Looking down, my weapon seemed pitiful until I noticed the hooks in the blade itself. This weapon was built to gut an opponent. If thrust inward, when I pulled, it would deliver a fatal blow. The difficulty would be getting close enough to injure anyone.

I sought my gifts, calling to earth, and I sang a song of regret at the lives torn tonight, but also a song for the aid I needed. Moments later, my dagger was dusted with pure poison. I doubted it would kill the demonic sort, but it might slow them down long enough for me to get my hooks into them.

If I managed to eliminate a single foe, at least I would be avenging some of the lives stolen. It would mean that some of them could rest in the afterlife. I hated the thought of them moaning in agony while they awaited justice.

Griffin held his spear before him, while Liam tossed his talon between his hands in a waltz born of a righteous anger. Our hands were no longer linked, but the swirling emotions emanating from each of them held determination, acceptance, and fear. Like me, they believed this would be the death of them.

Hysterical giggling, like that of a psychopath on laughing gas, startled me. It came from a twisted creature that was all sorts of wrong. From the welts on its back to the open sores spreading across its face and dark olive skin, it resembled something born from nightmares.

It smiled, displaying rotten teeth, and examined me with crossed eyes. "What have we here?" It spoke in a high-pitched voice. "Is this the little Anakim herself? Have you come to play?" As it spoke, the welts strained against its flesh, trying to burst.

Its widened smile allowed me a glimpse at the rows of hidden teeth. The jaw detached from its skull, elongating the way wax did as it dripped down the side of a candle. It reminded me of a snake. "You've been a very naughty girl. You've brought our wrath down upon you." It nodded towards Griffin and Liam, who were embroiled in heated battles. "Their blood is on your hands." It laughed, furthering my disgust and irritation.

"Let's skip the small talk and move straight to the slap in the face at the end of the date. Shall we?"

"Don't worry. You shall have your date, you will be the main course." Its mouth widened further and snapped in a display of exactly how I would be devoured. My stomach plummeted.

Moving away from the others, I circled the creature and vowed to take him out. No one deserved to die a slow, painful death, aware of this demon’s innards, as they were digested – the undulating of its muscles, the tense quiet that would be amplified as bile scalded away the flesh. Though the prey might be lucky enough to die more quickly from the rows of the teeth, which could easily impale before swallowing.

My dagger faced off against the creature’s wicked-looking claws. Liquid oozed from beneath them, leaving me to believe that I no longer held the upper hand in the poison department.

He slashed a hand towards me, as a cat would when threatened. Only this was not a cat, this thing was a monstrosity that could easily pull me into Hell along with it. I barely managed to dodge backwards as it began its assault. If I didn't have the courage to use it, my dagger would be useless.

Calling on Kit’s instincts, I delved into the knowledge that all wild animals were born with, the instinct to survive at any cost. I searched inside myself for them, but came up empty. Holding my dagger in front of me, my hand shook, betraying me to the predator, who would take any weakness he could get.

Its mouth opened wider and an obnoxious odor encased me.

It said, "Do I detect fear?
Tsk, tsk. That will do you no good here. I have no sympathy for weaklings."

Dizziness came over me, making it difficult to focus on what was taking place. I turned to focus on Liam, realizing he was much farther away than I’d thought. Griffin was lying at his feet. I couldn't see if he was moving, much less if he were alive.

I couldn't lose anyone else. It was true that Griffin and I had been at war for a long time, but in recent months I’d learned to regard him as a friend.