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As a show of gratitude, the warden had offered a fair trade for the soul I’d been negotiating, and an I.O.U. of sorts, provided in the form of anEmpyreal Debenture, which sat tucked inside my coat pocket. I reached inside, drawing the attention of the two Androgidez who watched me warily. Scroll in hand, I unrolled the document down to the official seal at the bottom. The man at the desk peered down over his spectacles, his eyeballs moving back and forth, as if reading it.
“Well, I stand corrected. My apologies, Mister Van Croix.” A door concealed in the smooth surface of the towering desk opened to reveal a dark corridor beneath the man. “Take the platform to the dungeon level. Mister Kemoran is at the end of the hall. Inform the guard that you haveGratisz li’brunok.” Which meant I had my choice of any prisoner, on death row, or not. Not even powerful overlords were offered such a thing, which left me wondering why in the Infernal I’d use such a rare and useful gift on Vaszhago, of all demons.
I breached the doorway, and a frigid air hit me like a curtain as I made my way toward a platform at the end of the hallway. Another guard met me there and opened the platform’s door, allowing me to step into the circular cage. “Dungeon,” I said to the guard, who closed the door behind me, and the cage set into motion, lowering via pulleys and cables that creaked as I descended.
The level below, arranged in a circle around the cage, comprised of cells with long corridors in between that ran perpendicular to the platform and held more cells and prisoners. Angry hollers and curses echoed around me. An object sailed out between the bars of one cell door, hitting the grated cage wall, and I casually peered down to see a bone falling into the depths below. Ten levels down, the cage finally came to a stop on a hard thud at the bottom. Only a small amount of light made the tunnel ahead somewhat visible, and I waited for the guard to open the door, before pulling out the scroll again. “Gratisz li’brunok.”
The guard gave a nod, allowing me passage. “Just let me know which one.”
“Vaszhago.”
“End of the hall. Would you like him to go with you now?”
“Let me talk to him first.”
“Very well.”
Not that my old nemesis had much choice. The alternative was Ex Nihilo, and even a hardened killer like Vaszhago had to be pissing his pants at the thought of that. The guard directed me toward a corridor between two cells which faced the platform. I strode down the dimly lit hallway, ignoring the moans and calls.
“Hey. Hey!” A strong scent invaded my nose, the familiar aroma of vitality, life, emanating from the cell to the left of me. A petite woman with shoulder-length-straggly purple hair reached through the bars of her cell for me. “Can you do me a favor? I’m not supposed to be here. It’s a mistake. Can you get the guard for me? He’s been ignoring me for the last three hours.”
“How are you here?” I asked only out of curiosity. I had no intention of speaking to the guard on her behalf.
“So, funny story …”
At that, I kept on. I had no time for long drawn-out stories. My curiosity wasn’t that strong.
“Hey!” she called after me. “Hey, asshole! You asked! I was just–where are you going? Hey!”
Her voice faded as I reached the end of the hallway and peered in on a pathetic lump of meat slouched against the stone wall. Long, unkempt hair hid his face from me, and the scent on the air told me he hadn’t bathed in weeks. Threadbare clothing merely clung to his oversized body, and the bottoms of his bare feet were black with dirt.
I came to a stop before his cell, casting a shadow over him, but he didn’t turn his gaze to me.
“If you’ve come to offer me redemption, I refuse.”
“There isn’t an angel in existence that could save your foul soul.”
When he finally turned, fiery amber eyes rolled back, and he groaned. “Well, this is awkward. Have they askedyouto carry out my exile?”
“I’m here to break you out.”
With a snort, he rested the crown of his head against the wall, drawing my eyes to the silvery band at his throat, which not only subdued his powers, but if he tried to remove it, would detonate and blow his skull all over the prison cell. “Ah, yes. And the cherubim will escort me to the Heavenly Isles, singing my praises of a righteous life.”
“You’ve been hitting the angels’ blood, I see.”
“You’d be a whole lot prettier if I was.”
“I have a proposition.”
“The answer is no. I will not bind with you, nor enslave myself as your concubine bitch dojzra. No offense, but I’d rather burn in the infernal fires eternally than go anywhere near your cock.”
“And I’d wish the same. This isn’t about me. It’s about my female.”
His brows winged up, and with his crown still resting against the wall, he rolled his head toward me. “Ah, well, depending on how pretty–”
“You’d do well to bite your tongue, unless you’d like it severed from your mouth.”
“Touchy.”
