Demon Marked

“Why are you sorry?”
    “Because I have seen. But it must be done.” Determination replaced the regret in her voice. “You need to call Special Investigations, Nicholas. Now, because you will need their help.”
    Dread filled Ash’s chest. “Why?”
    “Because I’m taking you both to Hell and giving you to Lucifer.” Khavi sighed when Ash’s crossbow was suddenly in her hand, aimed at the grigori’s face. “No, no. Do not fight. It is no use—I will easily defeat you. I have already seen it.”
     
    Ash staggered, fell to her knees in the hot red sand. The world tilted wildly. God. Her stomach heaved, and she heard Nicholas fighting the same dizzying effects of the teleportation. She drew in a deep breath, almost retched again. The stink. Rotten, burning flesh.
    No more breathing. Not here. Just listening, making certain . . .
    They were alone for the moment. No heartbeats nearby. Only his.
    Nicholas’s arm slid around her. Though still not steady, he lifted her, waited until she planted her feet. “Are you okay?”
    No. But there was no other choice to nod. “Next time, we’ll know better than to try fighting a crazy teleporter who can see the future. Are you hurt?”
    “She never even touched me, except to bring us here. And—” He broke off. “Ash, look.”
    She heard the bleakness in his voice, and didn’t want to turn. In the direction she faced, there was only an endless stretch of red sand, a bruised crimson sky. But she couldn’t pretend. Bracing herself, she turned.
    Oh, God. Terror caught her throat, her heart in an icy, clawed grip. They stood at the edge of the frozen field. A few steps away, red sand bled into open mouths and eyes, a frozen carpet of faces locked in ice. So many locked together, with no space between. So many. She couldn’t see the borders on the sides, only Lucifer’s tower rising in the center like an enormous black spear. How long had she stared at that, screaming, screaming? Forever. And they were all there now, screaming, and she knew that there was no other sound, only silence, and just the tortured, endless screaming of the millions trapped—
    Her knees collapsed. Nicholas caught her, drew her against him, and she muffled her scream against his chest, trying to hold it in, don’t let anyone know we’re here , but it had to come out before it ripped her apart inside.
    She cried, hot tears. For herself, for Rachel, for all of them. All the same.
    “I didn’t know.” His throat sounded as rough and broken as hers. “I didn’t know there were so many.”
    Ash wiped her face, made herself look again. So many. “All like Rachel, just because of a choice. Maybe not even a bad choice, or an evil one.”
    “Yes.” Khavi’s voice came from behind them. “It’s not like the Pit, where the judged go to be punished. And the majority of those in the field are demons—Madelyn is there, somewhere—and some humans who probably deserve it. But most of the humans, most of the halflings . . . They made the wrong agreement with a demon, and it doesn’t matter at all how good their intentions might have been.”
    Ash shook her head. Through the ache in her throat, she still managed, “I’m not going back in there.”
    Khavi pursed her lips, looked at Nicholas. “I made the call to Taylor using your voice. It was important. You should have done it.”
    “Does your doing it change anything?”
    “No.” Giving her hellhound a pat on its enormous head, she looked out over the field and said, “There’s Michael, by the way.”
    Khavi pointed. Unable to help herself, Ash looked. When she didn’t see anything, she looked farther out . . . farther. Just visible on the icy horizon, a crowd of demons stood.
    “Michael’s the entertainment,” Khavi said, and a rough note entered the smooth harmony of her voice. “Michael, and those from the Pit who are tortured with him. You cannot see, so I will help you see.”
    Ash cried out as a sharp crack opened in her psychic shields, saw Nicholas’s suddenly white face. The image pressed against the backs of her eyes, every detail in clear focus: Michael’s shattered face with his eyes open, seeing, aware—and the human, stretched between two poles, stretched more than a human could, the razor wire, the hellhound’s thrusting haunches and bloodied jaws—
    “Stop!” Her tears burned, and Nicholas pulled her back against his chest. She felt his own shuddering horror. “And you want me to be there? How can you