The images that flashed before me were of blood and torn flesh and festering wounds. I could watch for only a few seconds before the bile started to rise in my throat. I threw myself onto the dry, cracked ground and covered my ears. The smell and the sound were both unbearable. I began crawling away on my hands and knees, not trusting myself to walk upright without passing out.
I’d only crawled a few meters through the dust when a boot crunched down on my hand. I looked up to see myself surrounded by three whip-wielding tormentors who had noticed my arrival. There was nothing recognizably human in their pitiless faces. There was a rattling of chains when they moved but closer inspection revealed them to be no older than schoolboys. It was incongruous seeing such cruelty on their perfect faces.
“Looks like we have a visitor,” said one, prodding me with the heel of his boot. His voice was musical and laced with a Spanish accent. He moved his foot and used it to lift up the hem of my dress, exposing my legs. The tip of his boot was traveling uncomfortably high.
“She’s hot,” grunted his companion.
“Hot or not, it ain’t polite to go wandering around restricted areas without an invitation,” the third demon chimed in. “I say we teach her a lesson.” His eyes glinted like marbles. He had a pouting mouth and spoke with a lazy drawl. His shock of fair hair fell over his eyes and sharp features.
“I get her first,” the other objected. “When I’m done, you can teach her whatever you like.” He flashed me a grin. He was stockier than the others and his copper bangs were blunt. He had a sprinkling of freckles across a porcine nose.
“Forget it, Yeats,” warned the first boy who had a head full of black curls. “Not until we know who sent her.”
Yeats brought his face level with mine. His small teeth reminded me of a piranha’s. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing wandering these parts alone?”
“I’m lost,” I said shakily. “I’m from Hotel Ambrosia and I’m Jake’s guest.” I tried to sound important but didn’t dare meet his gaze.
“Damn.” The blond one sounded annoyed. “She’s with Jake. I guess we better not mess her up too bad then.”
“I’m not buying it, Nash,” Yeats snapped. “If she was really with Jake, she wouldn’t be out here.”
Suddenly my head was reeling. I didn’t think my body could cope with much more. Yeats looked unimpressed.
“If you’re going to throw up — do it over there. I’ve just had these boots shined.” I felt my chest heave as I dry retched.
“Come on, get up!” Yeats hauled me to my feet. He looked triumphantly at the others as his arm encircled my waist. “What do you say we put you to good use? How do you feel about an audience?” His hands were rough as they struggled with the buttons on my bodice.
“If she does belongs to Jake and he finds out, who knows what he’ll do ….” The boy called Nash sounded nervous.
“Shut up,” Yeats said and turned to the first boy. “Diego, help me hold her down.”
“Get your filthy paws off her,” said a voice so menacing it could have cut through steel.
Jake materialized out of the shadows. His dark hair was unbound and, coupled with his furious expression, it gave him a look of animal-like ferocity. He appeared a good deal more dangerous than the others. In fact when they stood side by side, the three youths looked like amateurs or naughty schoolboys who’d been caught breaking the rules. In Jake’s presence they lost their cockiness and looked paralyzed with fear. He seemed to tower over them and had an air of authority that made them cower. If there were echelons of power in Hell, this trio must have occupied one of the lower orders.
“We didn’t know she was, uh … spoken for,” Diego said apologetically. “We wouldn’t have touched her otherwise.”
“I tried to tell them she was …,” Nash began, but Diego stared him into silence.
“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood right now,” Jake hissed. “Now, get out of my sight before I put you on the rack myself.” They scurried back to the pit from where they’d come like jackrabbits. Jake offered me his arm as he led me away. It was the first time I was actually glad of his presence.
“So … how much did you see?” he asked.
“All of it.”
“I did try to warn you,” Jake sounded genuinely sorry. “Would you like me to try and erase the memories? I’ll be careful not to touch your old ones.”
“No, thank you,” I said numbly. “It was something I needed to see.”
9
Lake of Dreams
EVERY day that passed without news of Venus Cove added to my misery.
I could think of nothing but what I was missing in the lives of those I loved. I knew they must be frantic with worry. Had they guessed where Jake had taken me or were they ready to file a missing person’s report? I knew if I were held hostage anywhere on earth, the divine powers of my siblings would track me down. But I had no idea if their radars could reach deep into the core of the earth. When I thought about my family, I remembered the simplest things; the way my brother used to experiment in the kitchen, handling food as though it were art; the way my sister used to braid my hair with a skill only she possessed. I thought of Gabriel’s hands and the way they could make any instrument bow to his will and Ivy’s river of golden hair. Mostly I thought of Xavier; the way his eyes crinkled gently at the corners whenever he smiled; the smell of his car after we’d eaten burgers and fries in the Chevy overlooking the ocean. Although I’d only been gone a few days, I grieved for every moment that passed. Worst of all was that I knew Xavier would be blaming himself and I couldn’t do anything to ease his guilt.
Time became my biggest enemy in Hades. On earth it had been so precious because I didn’t know when it would run out, but here it was drawn out and immeasurable. The tedium was the hardest to bear. Not only was I a prisoner in Jake’s soulless world, I was also an angel in Hell and treated with either scorn or morbid curiosity by its elite. Most of the time I felt like a sideshow freak. There was something about the place that seemed to eat at me from the inside like a cancer. It was easy to give into it — stop thinking, stop fighting — and I could I feel it happening to me. I was terrified by the idea of waking one day no longer caring about human suffering or whether I lived or died.
For days after stumbling across the lake of fire and its associated horrors, I fell into a deep depression. I had little appetite, but Hanna was patient with me. Jake’s assistant, Tucker, had been assigned as my personal minder and was always around though he rarely spoke to me. Together they became my constant companions.
They were in my room one night as usual, Hanna trying to coax me into eating a mouthful or two of the broth she’d prepared and Tucker diverting himself by crushing paper into balls and tossing them into the fireplace to watch them ignite. I pushed away Hanna’s offer of dessert and watched her face crease into a mask of stress. Tucker looked up and shook his head at her in tacit communication. Hanna let out a heavy sigh and set down the dinner tray while Tucker went back to poking the embers in the fire. I curled myself into a ball at the end of my bed. The old Bethany Church felt dead and buried. I knew I would carry the horror of what I’d seen around with me forever.
We all started when we heard the soft buzz of a key card and Jake let himself into the room. He was obviously so sure of his authority that he hadn’t felt the need to knock and was totally oblivious to having impinged on my privacy. He seemed to believe round-the-clock access to me was wholly within his rights. I saw Tucker stand up and linger self-consciously, as if he should be making himself useful, but Jake ignored him and marched over to where I lay, regarding me carefully. Unlike Tucker, I made no attempt to get up or even turn my head to face him.