Hell's Gate: Resurgence Read online

  2 rebirth

  The pebbles trembled, skirting just outside of the dark tower looming in the center of the room. The enclosed space was lined with a single, large door on each wall facing every direction. From the first three entrances, tiny glimpses of light streamed across the sides, illuminating layers of dust-caked rags. The room thrummed in sync with the undulations coursing from the life beneath the heap. A slight air stirred as quick shuffles sounded from the three paths. The handmaidens entered, clinking pleasantly like wind chimes in the distance. They each carried a piece of the princess’s garb. Kneeling in a semi-circle, the sacred cloth and accessories were placed in delicate, tiered altars before them. From the back of the room, a forth entrance appeared─ the stone doorway rising from the ground. Emerging from the darkness, a lone maiden graced the room. Her rapid steps were barely audible above the continuous hum. Unlike her sister counterparts that wore dark and heavy kimono, she was draped in a thin gauze. Her body was whole, almost translucent, and curvaceous─ thinly outlined by the subdued lighting from the doors. She appeared a soft violet in hue against the obsidian walls. The woman cradled a red, silk pillow in her arms like it were a child. Her face was smooth and fair like porcelain─ her hair a deep onyx. She knelt before the pulsating mountain and placed the last pillow on the altar, completing the circle. The center object glistened, casting a soft, warm glow on her body. The woman’s glassy stare moved upward and finally fixated upon the dark pile.

  The room fell silent, the slight stir from the wind now dead at the maidens’ feet. The doors sealed one by one behind them as the head handmaiden began the incantation. The words spun like web, silver in tongue as they were weaved. They wrapped the dust-encrusted mound, fast making their descent to the precious soul inside. As the final door completed their encasement, the other three joined in her now frenzied speech. The dirt shivered from the ancient dialect and crashed to the ground, relinquished from its cloth-like tomb. The figures paused as a low hum emitted from the center, and like drones, they returned their queen’s call. Low and in unison they resonated, holding the note as it shook the enclosure. The first burst through, throwing the dust and debris from the ground. It sped to the interior walls, encrusting every surface. The bones clinked from the lowly maidens as they struggled to stay knelt before the throne. The fourth merely flinched, the gown blown from her body.

  Her bent naked frame revealed a single braid that ran down the length of her back. Each knot of the braid was embedded with a silver cross stitch. It wove in and out of the dark mane that went from the top of her head, down to the left ankle and wrapped once. She wore her burdens unabashed as she feverishly continued, her lips barely catching up with the magic that flowed from them. She bared her teeth as the second pulse came stronger, knocking the others to the ground. They rattled, their hips inverted, and they struggled to pull themselves back into position. Finally, they returned to their knees in prayer. The head handmaiden shook, her breath barely passed over her lips─ but the words never stopped. Each woman spoke through gritted teeth as the insistent pulse bathed them. The light came seconds before the deafening blow. The room halted, the debris hung in the air as snippets of light reflected from the tiny specs of stone. It let out a sigh, there were staggered clinks and pops, followed by three distinct shatters─ and then, there was silence.

  ***

  Daniel quickly covered his ears after he rang the bell. He jumped as the door swung open a nano-second later. Did this woman live by the door? She was wearing a black, lacy turtleneck and skirt with a large silver and blue jeweled brooch pinned just below her neck. As he stood there she raised her brow, “Well?” She asked. He uncovered his ears and looked around, “Did you get rid of the insect sounds?”

  “Lord Boy, I heard your car ages before you walked up to my front door.” She stepped back as he gawked at her. Matilda placed a hand on her hip and tapped her foot. “You going to actually come in, or stare at me some more?” She leaned in toward him, “no matter how tempting I am to you, I’m single and happy with that.” Her forehead creased and she wagged her finger sternly, “Don’t you go getting any ideas.” He chuckled and shook his head, same Matilda. She grinned up at him, “there now, there’s that smile. We’ll find Celeste, don’t you worry yourself so much.” He nodded and stepped into the house. They got halfway down the hall before he stopped and looked around. The corridor was half the size he remembered. The staircase had shifted to face the back door and the paintings were replaced by typical garden scenes with pictures of still life─ outdoor vases, ponds, and cozy cottages. He arched a brow and looked to her, “you remodeled?” Matilda looked at him like his ass was glued to his face, “what, the house? You can’t expect it to stay the same all the time,” she continued down the hall, her voice slightly muffled, “it gets bored, same as the rest of us.”

  He followed her past the living room and turned down a small hallway before they found the dining area. “Ah, the Westley model, you’ve outdone yourself this time.” Daniel swore he heard creaks as Matilda smiled and sat down at the large wooden table. “The Westley model?” She poured tea and patted the table for him to sit down. “I told you, the house has different preferences from time to time, this is the model it uses to impress guests.” She smiled warmly at him, “It must like you.” Daniel scratched his head, “What the hell are you going on about? Houses can’t change themselves.” He sat down, reached for his tea, and took a long sip. He started as his saucer and the table shook, the porcelain clinking on the solid surface. Matilda giggled and patted Daniel’s hand “shows what you know. I’d be careful of what you say, Fiona’s the touchy sort.” He sighed and rubbed his face, “Matilda, I don’t have time for this. I need to talk to you about the last time me and Celeste were here.” There were a few distinct rumbles. “Oh dear. You mean after everything you’ve seen you still don’t buy it? Typical cop.” Matilda shook her head. Daniel furrowed his brow and was about to ask when she cut him off, “the last time both of you were here, Miss Lain had come up missing and we were discussing where she might be.” Matilda hesitated and glanced around. “I don’t really like to talk about that here.” She leaned in and motioned him to come closer. Daniel bent toward her, confused. “There are ears everywhere, Daniel,” she whispered, “this is better left for outside the house.” He sat back and jumped as a soft voice sounded behind him. “Auntie Matilda?” Daniel turned his attention to the voice and openly stared. This was the most beautiful child he had ever seen. Cascades of blonde, vibrant green eyes and pale, perfect skin─ it was ethereal. Matilda’s voice rang out matter-of-factly, “This is Detective Wallis, and he is investigating Celeste’s disappearance, Hun.” He smiled at her and extended his hand. “You must be Lain.” She looked at his hand, grinned shyly and skirted behind Matilda’s chair. “The one and only” Matilda drawled.

  Lain continued peeking at him from the chair as Matilda took a sip of tea and looked outside. A wave of guilt washed over him as he stared at the tiny beauty. He should have reached out sooner than he did. Lain had meant a great deal to Celeste. He had saw to it that the girl was able to be placed under foster care with Matilda, but it was merely temporary. If Celeste wasn’t found soon, this girl would have to return to those people. At least here she had a shot of living a normal, happy life. He felt equally ashamed that he hadn’t gotten in touch with Matilda sooner. He was a cop, for Christ’s sake. This was the first place he should have returned to after they came up with nothing in Japan. Better late than never, he thought. Wasn’t that how the saying went? Damn, I’m lame. He was feeling less confident by the second, but managed to keep his composure. At least he had his training to rely on. He may have felt like a mess, but at least he didn’t look it. He had carefully chosen his outfit that day, a nice, collared shirt with grey slacks. He prided himself on his ability to always appear put together. Daniel smiled, remembering the first time Mike found out he had a cat. No one would have guessed the way he kept his clothes and car. Well, you’re he
re now and that’s all that matters, he told himself. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and find her.

  Matilda’s eyes danced from across the table. It was the kind of look someone gave you when they knew something you didn’t. He felt instantly annoyed.

  “You mentioned something last time that I never put much thought into until today” Daniel said. She set down her cup, leveled her gaze, and scoffed. “Yes. Bout damn time you caught on. Devil’s door, between you and Scott we may never figure out where she went off to─” She trailed off for a second and then sat up. “Daniel, call Scott.” “What, but I wanted to know about─” “Just do it.” She hissed. He pulled his phone out and dialed the number, “Okay, but I’m confused as all hell,” he went to hand it to her and she motioned it away. “Best you not hand that to me. You’ll need a new phone. Put it on speaker.” Daniel set down the phone and turned it on.

  The ring sounded for a few seconds and he thought Scott wasn’t going to answer. He sighed in relief at the gruff voice, “Yes?” “Don’t you take that tone with me, boy” Matilda quipped. Scott chuckled, “hey trouble. How’s Lain?” “Oh, same old. She doesn’t remember a ton, but we are working toward it.” Matilda leaned closer. “We may not need it.” There was silence on the other end, and then a rustle. “We’ve exhausted all other options. And I mean, all.” There was a certain bitterness to Scott’s voice that Daniel couldn’t place. Matilda snickered, “ah, been talking to her then.” “No, nothing of the sort. I would have to go to Japan, you know how that works.” Her voice was low and hushed, “Well, ever thought of calling? Skyping maybe? I’m sure deities can Skype too.” Scott sighed heavily, “Luci tried that once, it just resulted in weird images and me with unexplained lost time.” Matilda shrugged, “worth a shot I suppose.” Scott cleared his throat, “So, Miss Fortune, tell me what this is about?” Matilda smirked, “oh he’s got jokes now, huh?” There was a groan and creak, “don’t you help him.” Daniel looked at Lain as she giggled. Apparently, he was going to be the only one not in on it─ again. “Scott, in all this time I think we have been looking in the wrong places” Matilda said. “What do you mean?” Scott sounded frustrated, “I’ve had John looking, reading up on the thirteen Judges of Hell─” “Listen to me, Scott,” Matilda interrupted. For once she actually sounded serious, “we have been looking in the wrong hell.” They all sat silently, the thought left hanging in the air. Daniel looked from Lain’s confused expression to Matilda’s determined one. “That would mean─” Scott trailed off, he was audibly tapping his fingers on something. “Is that even possible?” Matilda glanced uneasily outside. “It’s either that, or she vanished out of all the known areas in Shinto or Buddhist realms and dispelled into the Æther.” Scott’s voice was uncertain, “You do realize what you are suggesting.” Matilda snorted at the phone, “believe me, I was really hoping to be wrong on this one.” Scott grunted. “Alright, I’ll check into it. In the meantime, I might have to take a side-trip to the Land of the Rising Sun.” Matilda stared out into the hallway, “Do you think she will show herself to you again?” Barely a beat passed before Scott spoke, “She’ll be there, trust me.”

  ** *

  3 the long journey

  John padded down the riverbed, careful to keep his steps in stride with Michael’s. Several times the Guardians had become agitated from their movements if John had stepped out-of-sync. Azrael was several hundred miles out, at least, and they still had to get past the river of the damned. They had managed to sneak past the City of Souls and over The Grey Wall. He gazed back at its ivory towers and spires stretching into the clouds. From his place in the woods, he could just barely make out Rashnu’s main tower. He honestly wasn’t sure if the angel had turned the other way again, or if they had legitimately made it on their own. He found the latter hard to believe especially since the high alert was still in effect. He silently thanked Rashnu and turned back to the woods. The area was mostly uncharted territory for John. He may have once visited the woods as an angel, but he wouldn’t have remembered. John found as the years passed, he remembered less and less about this strange land. He could grasp fragmented memories, or have flashbacks─ but things were beginning to become far less clear. The Great Divide was becoming near impossible to get through. He hoped after speaking with Azrael he could gain back his soul. But all of this was riding on big ifs. For the first time in his entire life, he felt completely powerless.

  Michael held up his hand and John paused at his back. He watched as Michael swept the area looking from his left to right. They both froze as rumbling sounded in the distance. The floating river of death moaned in unison next to them as they flowed to the edge of Heaven. John shot Michael a furtive glance, and then looked to the river. Michael’s brow arched and he shook his head, mouthing ‘no’. Ignoring his protests, John took a tentative step toward the people. He let out a sigh, his shoulders dropping as Michael glanced down to the south. John tried another baby step but retreated his foot at the tingle that filled the air next to it. “John, stop” Michael hissed. “We have no idea what to expect. I have only seen this done once─ once in the past several eons. We don’t have a plan, think about it.” John snapped, “I have done nothing but think about it.” Michael let out a sigh, “I know you want to make her whole─ but think. If we can’t make it there in one piece, how could we possibly help?”

  John blew up, his angelic voice booming with energy, “I don’t have time. I lost that when the Demon King decided to retreat back into his god-forsaken hole.” He walked up and pressed a finger into Michael’s chest, “And now, the only way to turn this all around, is to talk to the Angel of Death himself.” The terrain shifted, small quakes erupting closer to their position. They stopped, staring out across the vast space. The air, for now, remained calm. John sucked in a breath and lowered his voice, “Tell me something, brother, he spat, “Why is it that in our most desperate time, Messiah is nowhere to be found?” John let that question hang, challenging Michael to contest it. Michael quieted, looking to the twisting sea of the dead. The area around them had visibly darkened, a cool and dense fog rolling in.

  They both knew what was happening. But somehow admitting it would bring to life the possibility of a loss far greater than their current situation. The quiet stretched for some time before John spoke, “listen, you’re right─ I know I'm being ridiculous, but I can’t just turn my back. You know that.” Michael looked down to the long line of people, their bodies spilling and tumbling. He breathed in, and then released it slowly. “Brother, I know. But we must trust that there is more to come.” Michael turned to him, his eyes a bright lavender, “I help you, not only because you were my brother-in-arms, but because you are my friend. You and I are the same.” He paused and pointed up to the sky, “But if we get caught, it is the end of the line. What good does that do for any of us?”

  John bristled, “What good does it do if the Blood Moon is mere weeks away? At this rate, I’ll never find the scrolls, Azrael is hundreds of miles away, and we are all basing this on a hope that The Great Engineer might be around?” His words went up on the last word, cracking with emotion. Michael’s eyes locked with his. There was something there, an unspoken warning mixed with hesitation. “Fuck that, and fuck you.”

  Some time ago, he would have held back and listened. A younger version of him would have accepted that Michael knew what was best. For the first time, he saw what was really there. Fear. He turned his gaze to the swirling fog in the North, the bright divided with the dark in absolute polarity. How did they co-exist? Did the two push against each other in constant opposition, or was there an unseen balance where they understood the differences? His choice had been made a lifetime ago it seemed. Different times, a fresh mind and blind faith to anything that was said to him. Not this time.

  “Nietzsche was right─” “Don’t─” Michael pleaded, his voice barely a whisper. Ignoring him, John finished the thought, the finality in his voice sealing the deal, “God is dead.” The earth shook viole
ntly at the resounding words, and they both lost their footing. A fraction of a second passed as the Heavengaard manifested. John dodged the first blow. Using his ability, he blinked and then materialized seconds later in the river. He kicked and shoved his way past the tangle of bodies. His near-mortal form screamed as the energy was zapped from him. It took every ounce of his fading angelic half to tear to the top. The dead clung to his dissipating life, it felt as if they were feeding from his soul, much like a shark frenzy at the smell of blood. If not for his slight immortality, he would have been ripped to shreds. Shoving them off, he clawed his way upward─ stepping over each body to rise. His head finally cleared the surface in time to hear the second dive. His head spun to the back to see where Michael’s body had impacted and struggled just below the surface. Why would they have attacked him? Michael belonged here. He would have just pretended to chase after him, or seem as stunned as the others to see the intruder on the inside. Heavengaard wasn’t the brainy sort. They were well-tuned fighting machines, made to sniff out any shift in balance. Similar to dogs, only they were made of a material that could be destroyed by the Angelic Elite─ warriors, upper deities, or the big man himself. Michael was a Lord Commander, it didn’t make sense. The only way they would have been able to harm him was if─

  Oh god, no.

  Michael finally shot up behind him─ at least most of him. His wings, once so pristine and strong, had been ripped from his body. John didn’t want to accept it, he didn’t want to look─ but he did anyway. How delicate they seemed, how small. Like a bit of trash you would find laying on the side of the road. John finally reached Michael and cradled him to his chest. What were they going to do now? How would they make it? Michael was his only possible hope of making it to the end. Now they must do it with two Nephilim and a prayer. Hope was lost. He barely felt the drop as they plummeted into the darkness.