How dare Dùbhghlas take that from him and how dare the godsallowhim to do it? What had Nox done to deserve that kind of disloyalty? He had done everything he could to spread their legends and their teachings and to inspire hearts and minds while fighting the darkness wherever he found it. His own dogma was good and based on service and love, because that was the will of the universe.
Nox could not believe that he was being punished by a will greater than his own and his suspicions once again turned towards those closest to him. It was far easier to believethat Dùbhghlas had corrupted one single entity—someone Nox trusted and who knew him intimately—or was somehow using them to get inside the townhouse.
Could Dùbhghlas have somehow orchestrated a conspiracy around Nox so he was blindsided and to keep him in the dark? How was it possible thatno onenoticed anything out of the ordinary or sensed that they were being watched or followed prior to Nelson’s abduction? How could there be no trace of Dùbhghlas or a single clue about what had happened to Nelson? Both had vanished and neither Clancy, Merlin, or Smoak, with all their combined contacts and powers, seemed capable of summing a solitary scrap of intel to locate them.
That alone seemed almost intentional but Nox couldn’t fathom whyoneof them would do it, let alone form a cabal, or what would possess them to work together against him.
Possession?
Nox’s eyes narrowed as he considered it. Could Dùbhghlas have possessed one or more people close to Nox? That seemed incredibly unlikely and Merlin would surely detect it, if one of their friends was under the influence of a demon. Unlesshewas the one who had been possessed…
“Stop!” Nox pinched the bridge of his nose, attempting to stifle the ache and the storm of hideous accusations and theories brewing in his head.
Hefelt like an enemy and was betraying the good, loving souls and Smoak who had rallied around him and Nelson. Noxknewthis and that it was all part of Dùbhghlas’s design, yet he was already slipping into bitterness and confusion. Tired, but far too anxious and upset to sleep, Nox went to the window and opened his heart.
Please help me find him or return him to me. I’m lost without Nelson.
Chapter Nine
According to Nox, the thing most belief systems got wrong was the concept of Hell. There was no fiery subterranean realm where a devil held dominion and tortured the souls of weak and evil men. Hell was anywhere a demon chose to do his work and it wasn’t reserved for the wicked and the dead. In Nelson’s experience, it was the innocent who suffered the worst that Hell had to offer.
For Nelson, a barn in New Castle and Julian Sherwood’s basement had been his first glimpses. Those had been brief but now, Nelson was trapped in his own Hell. The damp heaviness of the hood made whatever prison he was being kept in suffocating and all the more terrifying because he had no idea what was around him. He could be in a simple cell or surrounded by snakes or dead things Dùbhghlas had yet to reawaken.
The only air that reached Nelson through the hood and whenever he shifted enough to lift it was thick with the smell of dusty, moldy corpses and the rancid, rotting flesh of more recent kills. There was alsoa lotof sulfur. They had to be far from civilization because people would have noticed and complained to the authorities.
It seemed safe to assume that the creature that attempted to choke the light and the life out of Nelson was Dùbhghlas’s valkyrie. Hehopedit was because Nelson didn’t want to think about what else it could be or if an undead valkyrie might be worse than what he had already encountered. The creature hadn’t spoken and made few sounds beyond some pleased grunts and chuckles.
Their first visit had lasted for hours. Or it could have been fifteen minutes. Nelson couldn’t tell because every moment had been excruciating and felt like an eternity. His tormentor seemed to be assessing Nelson’s character and his limits and testing them. Nelson had said nothing in return, refusing to make the creature’s or Dùbhghlas’s lives any easier.
That didn’t mean he hadn’t screamed his head off and cried like a baby. Nelson considered himself to be a strong, stoic person with a high threshold for pain but this wasdifferent.His skin felt like it was burned but the worst of it was on the inside, like his soul had been scorched by the creature. In the aftermath, Nelson’s spirit was raw and blistered, much like his neck and the skin on his chest and arms.
He prayed to all the gods and the Badb, hoping that Nox was safe and nowhere near Dùbhghlas or the creature. Their friends in Georgetown had to know by now that Nelson was missing, but had anyone else been taken before his absence was discovered? Even worse, had Nox rushed out to find and help Nelson and fallen into a trap as well?
Nelson felt even more foolish and mad for allowing himself to be taken. There was no telling what Dùbhghlas’s intentions were but it was likely that Nelson would be used as bait at some point to draw Nox out. Unless Dùbhghlas already had Nox. Nelson had no way of tracking time but it felt like it had been hours since the creature had left him.
His stomach had finally acknowledged that it was empty with a pained gurgle, yet Nelson had no appetite. He was thirsty, though. So incredibly thirsty and hot. He was sweating and sticky under the damp hood and he was becoming dangerously dehydrated.
Yup. This is Hell and I got myself into this mess.
“Learn how to tell yourself a story, kiddo. Boredom can be just as dangerous as starving or hypothermia, if you’re ever lost or stuck somewhere.”
Nelson recalled his grandfather’s advice and searched his memories for a story to help him pass the time. Distractions were important, especially if you found yourself alone. Not just to lighten the mood and help pass the time, but to maintain one’s sanity.
Too much time alone with the voices inside your head could lead to a full mental breakdown or at a minimum, cause poor decision making. There was a reason why prisoners feared solitary confinement and it was considered an extreme form of punishment by the justice system.
People will climb walls to get away from themselves.
Nothing could be more destructive to a human than his own brain and Nelson was excruciatingly aware of the fact as a voice in his head screamed to get the hood off. Another voice obsessed about the time while there were visions of Nox in similar danger. Scraps of last conversations echoed in his ears and Nelson relived the violent moments before he was sedated in the back of the white van.
Add a generous amount of regret and self-loathing and it was a one-way ticket to madness that Dùbhghlas could easily exploit. Nelson assumed he was in it for the long haul and rummagedthrough his ransacked brain and found one of his favorite stories from Merlin. It had been a fascinating tale about the Iroquois?1 gods Glooskap?2 and Malsam?3 and had inspired Nelson to read as much as he could find about the two dysfunctional brother deities. He could keep himself entertained for a few hours by retelling their story.
Establishing a routine and sticking to it was also important for preventing the mental doldrums. Being bound to a chair made it impossible for Nelson to do anything but sit and think so he’d think about taking care of the Continental. He could probably perform his weekly maintenance routine with his eyes closed, so Nelson would pretend he was under the hood of his car, instead of the hood Dùbhghlas had imprisoned him in.
After a few hours of topping off fluids and polishing paint and chrome, Nelson would hit the gym and put himself through a grueling workout. He might not feel the burn in his muscles but it was another routine he could easily recreate that would relax his brain.
Creating a list of calming activities and repeating them would give Nelson’s psyche a structure to focus on, instead of the endless, suffocating darkness around him. Thanks to Merlin and Nox, there were enough stories in his head to keep him entertained for weeks, if needed. And Nelson would always find peace and satisfaction in caring for his baby. He had polished every sacred inch of the Continental and knew every bolt and wire like the back of his hands.
These “little” things were all Nelson could do while confined to a chair but his intellect and his wits were his most valuable weapons. Without them, he’d obviously fail, and they were all he had to rely on until help arrived.
