Salvation (The Keepers of Hell Book 2) Page 3

  “Yeah,” Ash answered. “Wouldn’t that be a selfless act?”

  She thought about that for a moment. “I guess that would have some kind of effect, but I have been here for a thousand years. It’s never happened. I doubt it ever will.”

  “That’s pretty sad,” Ash remarked more to himself than to anyone else.

  “Yeah, but that’s the way of it,” Mali said. “Come now, we still have a lot of ground to cover.”

  Ash followed Mali back to the elevator.

  ***

  By the time they reached Gluttony, Ash had a better idea about what to expect. He wasn’t as taken back by the sight of souls that were bone thin and surrounded by excess. There was a buffet, a feast, really, fit for a huge party. Cakes and chocolates lined one never-ending table, while steaks and hams lined another. There was yet another table filled with breads and crackers.

  Everywhere he looked, there was stuff. Clothes, designer perfumes, any and everything anyone could want. But the tenants could never have any of it. Each time they touched something it turned to dust in their hands. It was their punishment for overindulging in life.

  The leader of Gluttony was a jolly man; he rather reminded Ash of Santa Claus. He was round in the belly and had a white beard, and boy did he laugh. Every time one of the souls gave in to temptation.

  Envy and Pride were about the same. Ash met their leaders as well. In Pride, the souls had to beg for everything, including toilet paper. In Envy, they were forced to watch others have what they coveted but could never have.

  The leader of Wrath was more like a demented Marine Sergeant. His name was Marcus and he looked human. Mostly. His eyes were weird though…solid black with no irises. The souls trapped there were the object of their own sin. They were beaten repeatedly and were subjected to the leader’s anger.

  He wasn’t at all surprised when he saw the inside of Murder. The souls there were sliced and diced, then put back together for another round. It was an eternity of torture, delivered by Adule, the demon leader. Adule looked every bit the demon that should run Murder. He was tall, black skinned, with one horn protruding from the top of his head and curling over his skull. His shoulders were broad and muscular and his arms led down to hands that had sharp claws at the tips of his fingers.

  He had a small situation while in Lust.

  He was talking to the beautiful leader, Ameris, discussing how the sanction worked. The souls there were shown something, whether it was a man or woman, to stoke the soul’s desire. Once they acted upon it, their genitals shriveled and became useless to them.

  It was there that Ash saw a glimpse of a woman who had long dark hair and was wearing what looked like scrubs. Her frame was petite, but he could tell that she wasn’t skin and bones. Although he could not see her face, he felt as if he knew her.

  “Who is that?” Ash asked when he saw her.

  “Who?” Mali had asked him in return.

  Ash pointed at her. “That woman there,” he said. He tried to ignore the immediate, raging hard on the figure inspired for him.

  “Oh no, Boss,” Mali said, pulling on Ash’s arm. “I don’t see anyone, so that means it is Lust doing it to you. It knows your weakness. It fucks with your mind. We gotta get you out of here before you become the victim of your own sin.”

  Ash had reluctantly followed Mali out of Lust, but still, he couldn’t shake the image of the woman from his mind.

  That, of course, was put on the back burner when they entered what was lovingly called, The Playground.

  “There is a special place in Hell for those who commit crimes against children,” Mali told him as they entered the heavy doors.

  Ash didn’t know what to think. Everywhere he looked, there were children laughing and playing. The sound of so many children playing made his heart swell, and for a brief moment, made him sad as well. He could never have children. He didn’t even know he wanted any until that moment.

  “I don’t understand,” Ash said.

  “Look closer,” Remmie, the leader of The Playground, told him.

  Ash did, and he realized that there were in fact, adult souls in the sanction. They had their eyes trained on the ground. None of them looked at the children. “What are they doing?”

  “Doing their best not to think unclean thoughts about those kids,” Remmie said. “If they do, the realm knows. Just wait, some sap will do it. They always do.”

  Right then, as if on cue, someone screamed.

  Ash turned toward the sound and saw a man in his fifties on his knees and holding his abdomen.

  “When they look at the children with anything but pure love, they are punished. Their own body attacks them from the inside out. I’m told it feels like being eaten by a tiger, only in reverse.” Remmie’s chest shook with silent laughter. “Sick fucks. Serves them right.”

  “Who are these children?” Ash needed to know. There should never be kids in Hell as far as he was concerned.

  “Oh, don’t worry there,” Remmie told him. “Those are the children in Heaven. Some have lived and died, and some haven’t been born yet. They can’t see us, but we can see them. It’s almost like an alternate reality, existing together.”

  Ash shuddered. It made perfect sense, though. He was glad that he wasn’t a sick fuck who liked to prey on kids.

  After the tour ended, Mali took Ash to the top floor in the elevator. “This is where your office is,” he reminded Ash. “Go in, get situated, and get some rest. It’s been a long day.”

  “Thank you, Mali,” Ash told his little assistant. “I appreciate your help.”

  “No problem,” Mali answered with a proud grin. “Just give me a call if you need me.” And then he was gone. Didn’t leave, just disappeared.

  Hell was just like one giant office building. Each floor was dedicated to a certain kind of sinner, and each one had a waiting area. Ash had always thought Hell was one big, never ending inferno. Turns out that wasn’t the case at all. It was organized. Tidy. It was just creepy, that’s what it was.

  Ash shrugged his shoulders and faced two heavy wooden doors. There were thick brass handles on each door, but they appeared as if they would just push open. He stared at them for a long time before making the conscious decision to go in.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Ash pushed the heavy door open and looked at his office for the first time. The first thing he saw was an enormous wooden desk. It was stained a dark mahogany and had delicate designs carved into the wood. Behind it was a tall-backed leather chair. However, what really caught his attention was the huge man sitting in that chair.

  He was bigger than Ash, with shoulder length black hair, chain mail on his chest, and a huge set of shimmering white wings. There was a steel helmet sitting on the desk, and a huge steel sword propped up against the side. The angel’s feet were settled on the corner of the desk and he was tossing potato chips into his mouth, four or five at a time.

  “What the hell?” Ash asked.

  “Oh hey, you’re back,” the angel said, crossing his ankles. Still on the desk. “I have been waiting for you. What took so damned long?”

  “Who are you?” Ash asked. There was something about the angel he couldn’t quite place his finger on.

  The angel dropped his feet from Ash’s desk and sat up in the chair. He wiped his salt and grease covered hand on his pants. Then he stuck a hand out to Ash. “Name’s Antonio. Warrior angel. Nice to meet you.”

  Ash stared at the offered hand for a moment before taking it. The angel gripped his hand and pumped it up and down enthusiastically several times before releasing it. Ash felt the need to wipe his own hand on his jeans to remove the potato chip debris.

  “Yeah, nice to meet you too. What are you doing here?” Ash said.

  “We all got a job to do,” Antonio said around yet another mouthful of chips. “My job is to help you get situated here and to help you find your Elite Guard.”

  Ash let a heavy sigh escape his chest. Elite Guard. Why? And how? An
d … the questions were piling up in his head faster than he could process them. Suddenly, the weight of the day settled on him and Ash’s legs threatened to give way under him.

  “Hey man, you don’t look so good. Here, have a seat,” Antonio said, motioning to the chair.

  Ash nodded once and allowed himself to fall into the plush leather. It surrounded him like a hug and he sank into the soft cushions. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and tried to will a pounding headache into submission.

  “You should really de-stress a bit,” Antonio offered. “Chip?”

  Ash opened one eye to see the angel holding the bag in his direction. “No thanks,” he said quietly.

  “Ok, but you don’t know what you’re missing,” Antonio said.

  The angel kept talking, but Ash tuned it out. After all he had been through over the course of one day, after all he had seen, the angel was just too much. Ash was sure that he was going to have to revisit the Elite Guard talk, and he was sure there were many things he was going to have to do eventually, but at that moment, all he could concentrate on was the jackhammer in his brain.

  Ash settled deeper into the comfortable chair and willed his mind to clear. He put aside the different sanctions and their leaders. He put aside the suffering he had witnessed. He shoved his qualms about leading Hell into the back of his brain and concentrated on breathing.

  In.

  Out.

  In.

  Out.

  Then, Ash was flying. His brand spanking new black wings were carrying him over the city he had grown up in. He flew over his home, and for the first time, saw his house from an aerial perspective. He noted that his trees needed trimming. What an asinine thought to have, in light of all that had happened.

  He flew over the streets and flew over the church where he had gone to seek guidance. It was dark now, not a single light on. Those beautiful windows he admired before were now broken and dark. It was as if the church had been abandoned for years, not the beautiful sanctuary he had visited before. It very well may have been, too. If Ash had learned anything, it was that things are not always as they seem.

  He flew further and found himself circling the hospital. He flew over the roof and the helipad, watching as a patient was pulled off the chopper and onto a gurney. He watched as the patient was wheeled into the hospital at breakneck speeds. He hoped the poor sap made it.

  He had the urge to land and go inside. He didn’t know why, but he felt like there was something pulling him toward it. Ash shook off the feeling and flew further east. He flew over mountains and forests. When he reached the coast, he flew over the Atlantic.

  Ash was flying over Europe when he heard the strangest noise. It almost sounded like a cat that was stuck in a washing machine. While it was running.

  Ash turned his head toward the sound, but he could see nothing causing it. His brows wrinkled together and he flew in the direction he thought it was coming from. The noise got louder and Ash flew faster. What the fuck was that?

  Ash opened his eyes and realized that he had fallen asleep. He was slumped over sideways in his new office chair and someone had shoved a makeshift pillow under his head. He tried to pick his head up only to find that his neck muscles were locked up tight. Oh, that weird, cat in the washer noise was still going on. Only louder.

  Ash lifted his whole body to a proper sitting position, except his head, which was still stuck somewhat at a sideways angle, to see that angel he met standing in front of a panel of TV screens. And the noise? That was the angel….singing.

  “I don’t know what I would do without you,” the angel bellowed. Ash cringed. He thought that angels’ singing was supposed to be glorious and divine. This was anything but. This was torture. Ash felt both of his ears to make sure they weren’t bleeding. They weren’t. Not yet.

  “For the love of everything holy,” Ash grumbled.

  “Oh good, you’re awake,” the angel said with a toothy grin. What was his name? Antonio, that’s right. “I was starting to think you were gonna sleep the century away. Want some coffee?”

  Ash noticed the angel was holding a cup of brew and there was a pot simmering on a table next to the wall of TV screens. “Yeah,” Ash answered, pushing to his feet and walking over to make himself a cup. “What time is it?”

  “Hell if I know,” Antonio answered him. “Let me check.” He closed his eyes for a moment and then looked back to Ash. “It is noon in LA, one in Houston, two in Cincinnati, and three in New York.”

  Ash cut him off. “What time is it here?” he grumbled.

  “Oh, nobody knows. Hell doesn’t have time. It exists independently of time and space.” Antonio took a sip of his coffee. “What feels like a day here could be a year on Earth.”

  A year? A freaking year? “How long in Earth time have I been down here?” Ash asked him.

  “I would say about six months. Give or take a few days.” Antonio made himself comfortable in Ash’s chair again.

  “I need to go check on my sister,” Ash said, turning for the door.

  “You don’t need to leave to do that,” Antonio told him just as Ash’s hand landed on the knob.

  Ash turned to look at the warrior. “How’s that?”

  “Come on, let me show you,” the angel said. He walked to another door and opened it. “Well, come on,” he said with an expectant look.

  Ash shrugged his shoulders. What could it hurt? He followed Antonio into the next room. The walls were black and there was a black leather sofa against the wall. There was a light in the center of the ceiling, but it didn’t really give off much light. The only other thing in the room was an old mirror. It was as tall as Ash and wide as a door. The frame around it was gilded silver. It glimmered in the dim light and the glass seemed to move, but didn’t.

  “What is this?” Ash asked.

  Antonio waved a hand around the room. “I know, your predecessor wasn’t much for decorating. I really think with some better lighting and maybe some throw pillows this room could be more useful. But Lucy was all about the doom and gloom.”

  “Lucy?” Ash asked as his eyebrow kissed his hairline.

  “Yeah, Lucifer.” Antonio shrugged as if Ash should’ve known what he was talking about. “He wasn’t very friendly, in fact. I never cared much for him.”

  “You knew him?” Ash asked. He couldn’t believe all the one-liners coming out of his mouth, but it was just so much to take in.

  “Not really,” Antonio answered. “But he was around for a long time. This angel gig, it’s still pretty new to me too, but I have figured a few things out. I got this job with you by helping my family stop Lucy’s son. He was a twisted fuck, that’s for sure. Heck, defending my family is what landed me with wings in the first place.”

  Ash let his eyes travel over the dimly lit room. What in the hell had he gotten himself into? Hell….that was exactly what. He remembered the investigating he had done while trying to figure out how to get out of Shax’s grip. He heard how Stephan, Lucifer’s son, had killed his father and was on some psycho revenge mission. And this angel claimed to have had a hand in Stephan’s demise. He knew his brain was already on overload, but he had to know more. “Before you were an angel…” Ash started.

  Antonio grinned at him and showed a pair of shiny, sharp fangs where any human would have incisors. “Yep. I was a vamp. Technically, I guess I still am,” Antonio offered. “I can feed. But no worries, I only do that from my mate. These things,” he pointed at his mouth, “became useless for my survival the day God gave me wings. I can eat food now. And run in the sun. Or fly. Or any number of fabulous things that any self-respecting vampire would be green with envy over.”

  Ash couldn’t help but smile at the proud look in the angel/vampire’s eyes. The look of love that crossed his face when he talked about his mate was exceedingly obvious, as was the flicker of something that almost looked like nostalgia. He missed his mate. This vamp was away from her to help Ash. “So you were given wings and made an angel
for stopping Stephan?” Ash asked him.

  Antonio laughed. “Nope. Had the wings before that. I only had to die for my family twice to get them.”

  “Twice?” Ash asked in an unnaturally high pitch.

  “Yeah,” Antonio said. “But that’s a whole other book in my life. We’ll get into that some other time. Right now, I want to focus on getting you settled here.”

  Ash was feeling some mad respect for the irritating, potato chip eating angel who couldn’t sing to save his own life. He felt his head nodding in agreement, even though he didn’t make the decision to do it. Ash’s wings flicked at his back, as if they were itching to spread out, to move. “I get that,” Ash said. “Let’s do it. What is in this room that is going to help me see Lele?”

  Antonio walked over to the mirror. He smiled in it, checked out his own fangs, turned around and tossed his head over his shoulder. “Do these leather pants make my butt look fat?” he asked Ash with all seriousness.

  Surely, he heard the angel wrong. “I’m sorry, what?” Ash asked.

  Antonio laughed. “Man, you should have seen your face!” he barked out. Laughter rolled out of the angel’s mouth. At least, it was better than his singing. Ash felt his neck getting hot.

  “Just joking, man,” Antonio told him. “This here is the Mirror of the Soul. I can’t work it. Never could and never will. Only you can see in the mirror.”

  Ash walked over to stand next to Antonio. He saw the angel and he saw himself in the mirror. Man, he looked like shit. But the wings. They were still impressive, even with the dark circles under his eyes and the bad hair day going on.

  “You gotta touch it,” Antonio said.

  Ash reached his hand forward and tentatively laid it on the glass. The image changed from himself and Antonio. First, it was filled with swirling, foggy looking stuff, then it began to clear and he saw his sister. She was milling around her home, picking up. He watched as she tossed a shirt into the laundry hamper and then went to work on her kitchen. It was weird, watching her when she didn’t know it. He almost felt like a peeping tom. As he watched her go about her life as if the whole world hadn’t changed, Ash realized something.