Walter paused and waited.
After a couple of seconds of silence, Billy replied. “Same old stuff, huh?”
“Yeah, pretty much, but I couldn’t call you earlier. No cell towers in Hell, you know. So, anyway, if Larry hears anything important, give me a call.”
“I’ll call Bonnie, too. We’ll keep our ears open.”
The connection died, leaving only static buzzing in Walter’s ear. He slapped the phone closed and stepped back to the edge of the hole where Sapphira and Karen stood peering in. “Any sign of Gabriel?” he asked.
Sapphira pointed into the hole. “I think I see something.” A few seconds later, Gabriel’s head appeared, then his wings, flapping hard and scraping against the sides of the pit as he rose. Walter grabbed his arm and pulled him to solid ground.
As he righted himself, Gabriel folded in his wings. “Flying straight up is for the birds!”
“Did you see Ashley?” Sapphira asked.
Gabriel shook his head. “It was too dark to see anything, but since my wings brushed against the walls all the way down, I would’ve noticed if I passed anyone. It’s just a sheer cylinder with rocky sides until you get to a dead end way down below.”
“But how is that possible?” Walter asked. “I was just down there, and there wasn’t any dead end.” He winced. Now they would drill him with questions.
Sapphira pointed at the giants’ footprints. “When the Nephilim climbed the stairs they probably made the shaft really fragile. I guess it collapsed right after you got back and blocked the passageway.”
“That might be it.” Walter finally noticed the chilly air and zipped his jacket. “I guess we’d better try to go back and see if we left Roxil and Ashley behind. We don’t have much choice.”
The cell phone chimed. Walter snatched it up. “Hello?”
“Walter. Billy here.”
“Yeah, Billy. What’s up?”
“Larry says the power grid’s failing in the West, and it’s spreading across the country. Lots of other weird stuff is happening in the big cities, strange creatures stalking the streets, and with no power, there’s panic everywhere.”
“Yikes! That’s not cool!” Walter turned toward the others. “Power grid’s failing. Everyone’s losing electricity.”
Karen stepped close and shouted into the phone. “Tell Larry to switch to emergency power immediately. The solar batteries should hold him for a while.”
Walter pulled away from Karen. “Did you get that?”
“Got it,” Billy replied, “but there’s a lot of static.”
“It’s getting worse. Cellular service might die when all the power goes out.”
“I’ll try to call you again if I find out anything new.”
“You can try, but I have to go back to Hades now. See ya.” Walter closed the phone and put it back in his pocket.
“We might not be going back to Hades,” Sapphira said. “I think you and Karen might have stayed in this dimension the entire time. Since Roxil and Gabriel were in an energy state while you were there, I think the underground realm got shifted to this dimension somehow. But now that Gabriel is solid here in the land of the living, I’m not sure what to think.”
Walter set his hands in front of her, as if bracketing his words. “Look, I don’t care if it’s Hades or Harlem. All I want to know is if you can get us back to wherever Ashley is. The giants are obviously up to no good, so the world needs Ashley and her brains more than ever.”
As Sapphira lifted a hand, a new splash of fire arose from her palm. “I’ll give it a try, but I don’t know where we’ll end up. I thought I’d be able to travel wherever I wanted to, but it feels like the dimensions are playing musical chairs.”
Hanging on to a flickering lantern with one hand, Ashley reached for the trapdoor with the other, just inches away from her fingertips. Her duffle bag dangled precariously from a strap over her shoulder. “A little higher,” she called to Roxil as she stood on tiptoes.
“I cannot stretch any farther,” Roxil said, “and your shoe is pressing against my eye.”
“Sorry.” Ashley moved her foot. “Can you jump?”
“Dragons do not jump well. I can beat my wings to give you a boost, but it will be unsteady.”
Ashley braced herself, keeping her eyes on the door above. “Go for it!”
With a sudden shake, Ashley lurched upward. She raised her free hand and pushed the trapdoor open, and her momentum threw her into the vent tunnel. After rolling and skidding, she jumped to her feet, keeping the lantern upright throughout her landing. “I made it!” she called down.
Roxil’s eyes flashed from below. “Good. I will wait here while”
Ashley leaned into the trapdoor opening, poking her head into the mobility room. “Roxil? Were you going to say something else?”
She waited for a reply, but none came. Leaning down as far as she could, she listened, but the room below was quiet, and shadows obscured the floor. “Roxil?”
Again, no reply. The glowing eyes had disappeared. Ashley sat up and fiddled with the zipper on her bag. Was Roxil okay? Why wouldn’t she answer?
Pushing her hair out of her eyes, she scanned the area. The rope was gone, and there didn’t seem to be any other way to get down. She couldn’t check on the moody dragon even if she wanted to.
She stood and set her hands on her hips. What was she worried about anyway? Roxil was a dragon. She could take care of herself. Besides, she was probably just pouting.
After tossing the bag up onto the stairs above, Ashley leaped and set the lantern on the edge of the staircase landing, then leaped again and caught the edge with both hands. The crumbling rock made it hard to get a good hold, but, inching her fingers to the side, she finally found a solid place to grab. With a swing and a lunge, she propped her elbow on the ledge, then, grabbing another handhold on the first step, she wrestled her way up, swinging a knee to the landing, then a foot. Finally, she managed to get her whole body up to the stairs and sat heavily on the third step.
Wiping sweat and grime from her forehead, she laughed to herself. That was the easy part. Now several thousand steps into the mountain overhead awaited her already weary legs. She opened her bag and felt for the contents—the gravity brick, a water bottle, her photometer, and her handheld computer—all safely swaddled in her change of clothes. They would probably feel like anchors after a while, but they were too important to leave behind.
Picking up the lantern, she stood and began a slow, methodical climb, counting each step as she went. Based on the approximate average height of the steps and Larry’s earlier elevation reports, she could guesstimate the total number, maybe fifteen thousand or so. It might take all day, but at least she would know when she was getting close to the top.
After a hundred steps, she stopped and leaned against the wall. Maybe it would be a good idea to rest after every hundred and catch her breath. No sense hurrying and getting dehydrated.
Continuing her upward march, she noticed the writing on the wall, the morbid warning about her recent descent into the dark realm. The more she climbed, the clearer the lettering became, etched deeper, each line blackened by shadows cast by the lantern’s flickering glow.
She murmured the words, “Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate,” then translated the phrase, speaking it into the dim, upward spiral as she trudged on. “Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.” It was so quiet, even her whisper echoed, repeating the gloomy words in a phantom voice—her own voice twisted and deepened as it reverberated off the spiraling walls.
The lantern felt heavier, her legs weaker. The shoulder bag seemed to grow in weight, dragging at her like a stubborn child who refused to follow. Even after a scheduled rest, she didn’t feel any better, but she had to go on. Six hundred steps. Seven hundred.
The phrase continued to haunt her mind. Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.
Eight hundred. Nine hundred. Abandon hope, all ye w
ho enter here.One thousand.
Ashley stopped and sat on a rocky stair. A longer rest. That’s all she needed. Every thousand steps, take a longer rest and a small drink. She set the lantern down and withdrew the water bottle from her bag. After taking two sips, she returned it and rested her elbows on her knees, cradling her chin in her hands. As the tiny fire flickered, its light undulated on both walls and the ceiling, perhaps seven feet above the stairs.
She imagined the troop of giants passing through, ducking their heads as they tromped upward, their broad shoulders barely fitting through the narrow tunnel. As she rested, she listened to the sounds of silence—the thrumming of her heart, the rush of blood through her ears, the sizzle of the wick, but now, thankfully, no ghostly echoes.
A soft clump sounded from far below. Ashley sucked in a breath and shot to her feet. Another clump. Louder. Who could it be? No one else was supposed to be there.
It didn’t sound like footsteps, just single thumps, like someone beating a drum every few seconds. But they were definitely getting closer.
She swallowed, but the lump in her tight throat wouldn’t go away. Should she call out? Might it be Sapphira coming back to find her? Why would she make such a strange noise?
She licked her lips and tried to speak, but only a rasping whisper came out. “Hello?” She cleared her throat and tried again. “Hello down there.” Her stronger voice echoed, calling back to her three times before fading away.
“Is somebody down there?”
Clump … clump.
Ashley picked up her lantern and bag and took a step back, rising one stair.
Clump … clump.
She took two more steps, then turned around and tiptoed up as fast as she could. A friend would have answered. A friend would have cried out with joy. This was no friend. She could feel it—a stalker, a hound of hell coming to drag her back to the realm of abandoned hope.
She tripped and banged her knee. The lantern clattered against the stone, breaking the glass, but the wick stayed lit.
Jerking up the lantern, she ran as fast as she could, not caring how loudly her shoes slapped the stone or how desperately her labored breaths echoed down to whoever or whatever followed her. But how long could she run? Her legs ached. Her heart thumped in her throat. Her lungs were about to explode. And she still had thousands of steps to go!
Chapter 13
Heart of a Harlot
Elam crested a bare hill and turned in a slow circle. Nothing but gorgeous greenery and dazzling flowers as far as the eye could see. He glanced at Dikaios, who was munching a mouthful of grass.
“There doesn’t seem to be anywhere to go,” Elam said. “Should I just stay here and wait for something to happen?”
Dikaios swallowed. “Why do you ask me? I am no authority on what humans who seek Heaven’s altar should do.”
“But you have seen others. Maybe a white-haired girl and a smaller girl who was probably being carried?”
The horse shuddered his mane. “Carried by Joseph the grail-keeper?”
“You did see them! How did they get to the altar?”
Dikaios lowered his head and gathered another mouthful of grass. He took his time chewing, glancing up at Elam every few seconds. He grabbed another bite, and chewed, still peering up.
Elam scanned every horizon with his enhanced vision before turning back to Dikaios. He watched the horse’s eyes dart between him and the ground. Would this strange animal ever answer his question?
Finally, Dikaios raised his head again. “You are indeed unusual. That is certain.”
Elam averted his eyes. “I’m sorry. I hope my staring didn’t offend you.”
“There is no need to apologize. I was not speaking about your ocular focus.”
Elam sighed and spread out his hands. “The two girls are very precious to me, so I’m hoping to find them and bring them back to the world of the living. Merlin the prophet gave me this task, so I have to succeed.”
“Is that so?” the horse asked with a casual air. “Why?”
“Which are you asking about—why they are precious, or why I have to succeed?”
“Either one. It matters little.” Dikaios reached for another mouthful of grass.
Elam raised two fingers. “I will answer the second, because the first needs no answer. Merlin gave me this mission, and his word is good enough for me, even if I don’t understand the purpose. If it’s important to him, it’s important, period.”
Dikaios nodded. When his mouth cleared of grass, he replied. “Then I suppose you will learn the purpose when you finish your journey.”
“I’m not sure of that, either. I just need to listen and obey.”
Dikaios drew close and sniffed Elam’s face. “Most unusual,” he said, drawing back again. “Most, most unusual.”
Elam again stared at the horse. Obviously he wasn’t going to get a straight answer. He strolled down the slope, heading toward another stand of trees in the distance. As the sound of soft hoof steps followed, he smiled. “Still coming with me?” he called back.
“You intrigue me. I must learn more.”
Elam slowed to let the plodding horse catch up. “I get the impression that you have already learned a lot about humans, otherwise you wouldn’t find me so unusual. There would be no one to compare me to.”
“A wise deduction.” Dikaios now walked at his side. “I have seen many humans tread the fine grasses of the Bridgelands. Some still wander here searching for the altar and its scarlet key, even after centuries of futility.”
Elam’s gaze darted from side to side. “Are any close by?”
“I do not keep track of their comings and goings. I merely see them in passing as they peer under the same stone for the tenth time, or come out of a cave they searched the day before and the day before that.”
“What are they looking for?”
“A clue, perhaps a riddle or a poem that will allow them to deduce the way to the everlasting. They analyze, they pick apart, some even speak the Scriptures, quoting every verse from memory as they sermonize from one end of this sanctuary to the other, yet they never seem to learn the heart of the very words they chant.”
Elam slowed and walked closer to the horse. “And what is that heart?”
Dikaios halted. “Why do you ask this question? You have already given me its answer.”
“I did?” Elam stopped at the horse’s side and looked around. Something felt different … very different. It wasn’t a physical change, more like a spiritual shift. Everything had felt peaceful and at rest, but now a sense of anxiety crept into his mind. A shadow approached, a shadow of mind and soul. He scanned the trees, now only a dozen or so paces away.
Dikaios’s voice became low and serious. “You are troubled, Elam.”
“I sense something … something familiar that brings back bad memories. I hear a voice, a song … sad and forlorn.”
“Does it frighten you?”
“I’m not sure.” Elam stood as quietly as he could. “I think tension is a better word … a curious tension.”
The gentle sound of weeping drifted from the trees, a whimpering sort of humming, soft and feminine, yet filled with the lyrics of poetic verse.
Elam tiptoed toward the woods. As he drew close, the words became clear—a melancholy song warbled in a lovely contralto.
My heart is ice, my prayers are cold,
I’ve lived too long, I’m tired and old.
My sins, their scarlet threads I’ve weaved,
A gown of mourning I’ve received.
O who will wash the stains I bear
The harlot’s mark of sin I wear?
Exposed and shorn of all I prized,
And now I beg for mercy’s eyes.
As the last sighing note carried across the stillness, Elam took another step closer to the woods and whispered to Dikaios. “I recognize that voice.”
“Interesting,” Dikaios said. “I have gra
zed this area a thousand times and not heard it before.”
Elam’s tone grew cold. “I have heard it too many times. She was one of my torturers centuries ago. She used to come to the brick kilns and tempt me to go to her chamber with her, but when I refused, she would have me stretched out and beaten with thorn bushes. She would laugh at my torment, but whenever Morgan, her mistress, came by, she would sneak away and avoid her wrath. I saw her and Morgan together many years after her tortures, but she pretended she didn’t know who I was.”
“Such a wicked seductress!” Dikaios said. “Certainly this sadistic harlot deserves death, does she not?”
“No doubt she does.” Elam listened to the words again as the singer repeated each line. He stepped back toward Dikaios. “Why would a seductress be here? Glewlwyd told me there was evil here, but I didn’t expect to see her.”
“You will learn to expect the unexpected.” Dikaios pawed the ground. “This is a bridge between two everlasting lands, Hades and Heaven, a courtyard where special concourse takes place. Even Lucifer himself once traversed this field when he and the sons of God were summoned to present themselves before the Lord. It could be that she has been brought here for a purpose that you know nothing about.”