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He pulled an object from his tabard and held it up. It was similar to thecret’calatieszsummoning chalk, but bright blue–the kind only granted by the heavens. “I can get you there, but unfortunately, I cannot open the portal inside the labyrinth. I can only take you to the entrance of Infernium.”
“Good enough.”
52
FARRYN
Vespyr hobbled along, as we made our way slowly through the corridor. Arm wrapped around her, I lifted the lantern up to the door we’d just exited–the room where Vespyr had been tortured to find it no longer read 137, but 220. Somehow, we’d gotten farther along in the labyrinth.
The screeches echoed again, farther back than before, but close enough that I didn’t want to be out in the open. “I think it wants us to go into the rooms. It pushes us deeper into the labyrinth.”
“I can’t …. I can’t do that again,” Vespyr said through tears, and I hugged her closer.
“I promise you won’t go through that again.”
The creatures sounded off again, somewhere behind. Closer than before. With urgency, I looked ahead to find another door, and we shuffled inside, quietly closing the door behind us.
I turned to see the room was a forest, with tall trees that loomed over us, and a starless sky above them. While I was anxious to see if we had somehow inadvertently found a way out, I needed to give Vespyr a minute to rest. Her body still shook against me, as I sat her down at the trunk of a tree, eyes scanning for any sign of priests, or orderlies. Once lowered onto her butt, she closed her eyes and took deep breaths, while I kept watch, trailing my gaze over the surrounding trees, but all seemed peaceful. No sign of a single creature.
“What is this place?” The moment Vespyr spoke, I turned my attention back to her, and took a seat beside her. “Is this Hell?”
“I don’t know, but … these corridors are familiar to me. I dreamed them. And when I told Jericho of my dream, he was certain the place was Infernium.”
“Oh, no.” Face twisted up in agony again, she pulled her knees up and buried her face into her arms. “We’re fucked. We’re so fucked!”
Resting my hand on her arm, I gave a gentle stroke. After another minute, she lifted her head, the distress from before only slightly less apparent. “Are you okay?”
At first, she didn’t answer, and I didn’t press. Instead, I just sat beside her, threaded my fingers together, and let her breathe.
“I was eight when I was adopted. My mother was hit by a drunk driver, died suddenly, and I didn’t really have any other family who could take me. So, I ended up with an excessively religious family who were involved in this cult-like church.”
“The Pentacrux?” I asked, interrupting her story. Lifting up the arm of my gown, I showed her the branding on my skin beneath. “Did their symbol look like this?”
“Yes.” She frowned at the marking on my arm and looked up to me.
“They are a cult. A very dangerous one that dates back centuries.” I didn’t bother to elaborate how I’d been born with the branding, and to my relief, she didn’t ask.
“I knew who I was from very early on,” she said, continuing her story. “I’d always been drawn to delicate lines and softness. My mom, when she was alive, knew it. She would buy me dresses and let me borrow her fancy high heels. And we’d have tea parties in the backyard together. It was never weird. It never troubled her to see me that way.” Gaze lowered, she dragged the back of her arm over her eyes, wiping at tears there. “My adopted family was vehemently against what they consideredaberrations. They always questioned my upbringing with my mother. Trying to look for reasons why I might’ve been fucked in the head, or something. Forget that I had perfect grades, and my home life with my true mother was art and music and books.” As she stared off, more tears wobbled in her eyes. “So, one day, when I was about eleven years old, they told me we were all going on a camping trip with friends of the church. I didn’t want to go, but my adopted mom told me that if I did, if I went willingly, she would take me to buy whatever clothes I wanted. So I went. I trusted her.” A streak of tears fell down her cheek, and Vespyr sniffled and swallowed hard. “Imagine having to barter to wear what makes you feel comfortable.” She shook her head and wiped the tears away. “They beat me. Kept me in a cage and fed me oats with water in a dog’s bowl. They electrocuted me while showing me pictures of two men together, or a man wearing makeup. They cut me to bleed out the demons in me. And they watched as one of the elder women of the congregation …” She shook with a sob, and I squeezed her hand, resting my other palm over it. “As she fondled me and put her mouth on me. They told me I had to respond to her, or I’d be whipped. The fucked-up thing was? I was eleven. Eleven! It wasn’t even about sex for me.”
“Vespyr, I am so sorry.” I pulled her into me and let her cry more tears, until she settled again. “During my tortures, I sensed something off with two of them. Something that wasn’t human. Something evil. Their eyes would change, and sometimes, they would speak in tongues.” Eyes lost to what must’ve been memories, she toyed with a lock of her hair. “I ran away from home when I was fifteen, and that’s when I met Donovan on the streets. It seemed he was looking for me. He told me that I was born Dra’Akon. An ancient group of demon killers. I thought he was nuts at first.” She chuckled, running her sleeve across her nose. “But he trained me to see them. And there were so many. Walking among us. It was a terrifying awakening.” Sitting up from me, she took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “I tried to do the ‘normal’ life for a while,” she said, raising her hands to air quote the word. “Which just meant I wasn’t actually killing anything. Oddly enough, considering what he taught me, what we hunted, life was fairlyboringwith him. We basically just tried to keep a low profile, so no one would get wise to what we were. What we were doing. During the day, he worked construction, and at night, he dragged home demons to interrogate and kill. He lived in a modest house of a quiet suburb. He insisted that I stay in school to keep a normal outward appearance. Let me wear whatever the fuck I wanted,” she said on a laugh. The humor faded from her eyes. “But I couldn’t let it go. I dreamed of what’d happened to me at that camp every night. And after a couple of years, I went back for the two demons who tortured me, and I killed them, just as Donovan had taught me.”
“That’s how you ended up in the psychiatric hospital.”
Another brush across her nose and she nodded. “Thanks to my adopted mother, I had a long history of hospital stays, because the Pentacrux ran those facilities, too. Here, I rid the world of two dangerous demons, who would’ve gone on to hurt countless others. And they thought I was crazy.”
“They don’t know what we know.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, as she sat twirling a loose string on her uniform. “My whole life, I just wanted to be seen for what I was. Just see me for who I am. How messed up is it that I had to come to fucking Purgatory to feel accepted.”
I squeezed her hand, tipping my head to guide her eyes to mine. “Vespyr, if this place becomes too much, go.” A thought came to mind just then. “Wait. Can you astral project out of here? You could go back to Blackwater and tell Jericho where I am. They can come for us.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“You’d be saving us. Please. Just try.”
“Farryn. I don’t want to leave you here alone in this place. What if I can’t come back? What if Jericho doesn’t find you?”
Tears blurred my eyes, and I forced a smile. “I don’t want you to leave, either. This place scares the shit out of me. But if there’s a chance, I think we should try.”
