"Zeke?" Ralrek's voice was pitched with surprise. "Where are you going?"

  "I figured you too needed a moment."

  The pair of incubi looked at each other, both comically taking a sidestep back, doubling the space between them in a few strides.

  "No, no," Ralrek said quickly. "We—we wanted you to see this. I wanted your thoughts. Plus, I knew it was something special. Something you needed to know."

  I looked at the space again, letting Ralrek's words fade into the distance. I don't know if they were in my head or not, but I definitely sensed something about this area. Maybe they'd convinced me there was something there when the opposite was true. A twisted mentalist game.

  I let go of my preconceptions. Looked beyond the truth of what I saw to what was hidden. Past the flows of demonic magic. Deeper.

  I stumbled backward. Somewhere in the fog of my brain, Ralrek shouted.

  My vision shifted. I focused on my predecessor's teachings.

  I recognized that place. It was the park around the St. Louis Arch. Between where I was standing and that spot in the Overworld, there was a fragment of something else. An intermediary space.

  The space wasn't empty. It was a fold in reality itself. A pocket where the Underworld and Overworld intersected without touching.

  Ralrek had been the one to feel it. Libra had in other places, by his admission. But Libra also had a special skill set that was proving more and more valuable.

  Before I knew how to open my eye or even what it meant, before I could control the Hellfire without my stubborn halberd going into automated mode, I suspected there was something more to all of this. What that was though, was the part I was hung up on.

  Something Bilba and Capricorn said stuck with me, at least in theme. About the interconnectedness of demonic Abilities. Demons existed to keep Balance with our angelic counterparts for the All. My Hellfire Ability wasn't completely unique. In fact, it was connected to the core of all magic.

  Connections, connections, everywhere I looked.

  So why wasn't this mysterious spot, this perpetual rift between realms, also connected? Connected to Ralrek's Longing. The Longing of every Forgotten One? Weren't they all connected? Did they have a sixth sense for each other?

  If that was the case, then what Ralrek was sensing here had to be connected to the Longing. But how? I needed Bilba on the case.

  Continuing to ignore their discussions, I asked them to give me a bit of time as I explored the space beyond what was.

  I stepped forward, extending my arm. I pressed my hand against the void. Ralrek protested—at least it sounded like he did, but I was too focused to pick out a single syllable.

  "There's something here."

  I couldn't be sure if Ralrek and Libra heard me, but I felt their presence move closer. I expected my hand to pass through the air, but as I touched the fold in space, my momentum was stopped.

  The volume of Ralrek's voice increased as I pushed harder against the surface that was as smooth as glass. First my wrist, then my elbow, sank into the void. I felt nothing on the other side except cool, refreshing air. Much better than this Circle's.

  I moved closer, up to my elbow in interdimensional space.

  Now, I was pretty sure Ralrek was screaming my name. So I did what all good leaders do. I stepped forward into the unknown, risking myself before putting others at risk.

  19

  OVERWORLD, ST. LOUIS

  "Are we really inside a monument?" Ralrek asked.

  Libra spread his hands, shrugging. "I've never been to the Overworld, so I won't be much help anymore."

  I looked around and up, feeling the dread of claustrophobia. "Whatever this is, it's important."

  After stepping through the tear in the fabric of the Underworld, I found myself standing outside the St. Louis Arch on a blanket of grass I could have laid out on until mortal authorities swept in to arrest me for lingering. Validating my suspicions, I reentered the demonic realm to find a panicked friend and the one member of the Exiles who could navigate his way through a blinding snowstorm. It took a bit of talking to get them to join me in the Overworld side of the void, but ultimately they did.

  Once outside the grand arc, Libra helped Ralrek narrow down the spot where he felt the Longing the strongest. Some triangulating calculations later, Libra had us jumping back into the Underworld. There, we followed another set of coordinates for another tear in the fabric. From the First Circle back to the mortal realm, inside the arc itself. Imagine my relief and surprise when we discovered the space of Ralrek's strongest sense of Longing was a carved-out room instead of solid concrete.

  The three of us turned to look at the ladder rungs extending from the circular hole in the floor.

  "We won't be able to see a single thing," Libra said, staring at the hole as if he feared a creature from the depths of the Upperworld to crawl out of it.

  I gave a nod to Ralrek. "You could use your fire hands to light the way."

  For his part, Ralrek scooted closer to the hole, leaning his tall frame over and staring down. He clicked his teeth. "Not sure. It could be twenty feet, or it could be eight hundred feet deep. We don't know. And I'm not sure if I could hang onto the rungs for that long with burning hands. It could melt them."

  Holding in my groan, I approached the hole and called on the Hellfire. The glow burning along Creed's blades cast a pale light that reached no deeper than thirty feet. "I'll lead. Stay close."

  Libra looked confused. Ralrek looked irritated.

  "How?" he asked.

  I grabbed the ladder. The steel was cold. "Just follow me."

  I descended, Creed in my right hand, illuminating the way.

  Our descent was measured in minutes, not seconds. How many, I couldn't tell. But my palms were sweaty from holding my weapon while hanging on for dear life. The back of my shirt stuck to my skin by the time I set my foot on cold concrete. Ralrek nearly jumped off the ladder as soon as I was down. Libra was panting when he set foot on firm ground.

  He let out a deep breath that sent his lips flapping. "What do we do now?"

  I pointed at Ralrek. "We follow his sense of Longing."

  Ralrek, though he doubted himself, led us through the first decision. A tunnel on our left. He had to duck.

  "You sure?" I said, craning my head to look around Libra, who Ralrek insisted needed to be in between a demon with some of the most powerful magic I'd ever seen and the ruler of all demons.

  He nodded vigorously. "Yep. Yep. I've got a lock on our original descent. We're still good."

  "Okay."

  The tunnel stretched ahead. Dark. Foreboding. A suffocating grimness that even Creed's light gave up on penetrating. The air was stale, like it hadn't seen a fresh breeze since the arch was constructed. My lungs felt the invasion of dust.

  "Bilba will kill us when he finds out you came to the Overworld with just the two of us," Ralrek said.

  "Nah, Bilba will be too fascinated trying to figure out this portal you found to be mad," I replied. It wasn't untrue.

  "To the left," Libra said, knocking Ralrek on the shoulder.

  My handsome-despite-a-missing-tooth friend paused at the first intersection. "You sure?"

  Libra stepped in front without waiting for permission, pointing. Three passages branched off in different directions. His brow furrowed as he closed his eyes. "The left passage has been sealed. A recent collapse. Maybe fifty years ago. The right slopes downward. Pretty steep, to be honest. Probably not what you're sensing?"

  "It's not," Ralrek said, his voice carrying a steeliness of focus.

  Libra rolled his lips. His shaggy mustache fluffed out like tendrils reaching for the air. "The central passage maintains level ground and has better airflow."

  Ralrek looked at Libra with something that might have been admiration. "How did you⁠—?"

  He waved a long, thin arm up out, because there wasn't enough space to wave it up. "Air currents, stone composition, the way sound carries." Libra shrugged, but there was a hint of pride in his voice.

  I whistled, impressed. Ralrek shook his head, probably for the same reason.

  Libra looked sheepish. "You get a lot of time to think about these things when you're hanging in a Founders' prison over the Acheron."

  Both of us could relate. We'd done prison time thanks to Hell's ex-rulers. Sadly, many did. Unfairly.

  We took the central passage. As we did, Ralrek's gaze lingered on Libra's profile. For a demon with such long appendages, Libra moved with grace. Not graceful, per se, but with enough fluidity that you'd think he might have been a dancer at some point in the past. Moving like he did, at the pace he did, in such a confined space, was impressive. To me. I had a sneaking suspicion Ralrek found another value in it.

  "The Longing's stronger ahead," my friend said. By the way he was concentrating, I'd swear he could see it. "Almost through that wall. On the other side. Not close. Not far."

  Libra examined the spot. He stepped closer, touched the wall, tepidly at first, and then rapped on it with a knuckle. "Not the right sound." He pressed an ear to the stone. We moved closer. "This one's been deliberately blocked." He squatted and felt around the concrete. "Ralrek, light, please."

  Ralrek opened his palm. A flame rose like a cloud of smoke when the lid was removed from a pot of rice.

  "Thanks." Libra leaned closer, his pointed nose almost touching the blackened surface. I held his finger in the form of a checkmark pattern along a section. "See these tool marks?" He moved to the next section. "This one has water damage. Probably floods during heavy rains. But this one..." He smiled, an expression that transformed his usually serious features. "This one's been maintained. Someone's been keeping it clear."

  I looked closer. "How can you tell?"

  Libra traced the air just above the floor. "Dust patterns. They're wrong. Too clean. Like, obviously clean. Plus, didn't you notice the air?"

  I sniffed. I smelled wet concrete and mold. "What about it?"

  "It tastes different. Less stagnant."

  I readied myself and took a deep breath. "You're right."

  Libra's grin widened. Normally, I'd call it 'goofy," but that didn't feel right. We weren't that close, and he and Ralrek obviously were.

  "Hmmm." Ralrek's feedback was insightful.

  "I wouldn't have noticed any of that, Libra," I said, and the incubus beamed. "Nice work."

  Ralrek lifted his hand, aiming. "Should I blast the wall open?"

  "Not yet. Might be trapped. Let's see if we can follow your Longing without bringing the arch down on our heads."

  We continued deeper. With each step, I grew more confused. In the tight spacing, I wasn't sure I could open a Rift safely, and I had no idea where we were after another twenty minutes, such was the complexity of the passages.

  I think Libra picked up on the shared anxiety between me and Ralrek. He guided us through Ralrek's indecision, even when his sense pulled us forward. They were a Heaven of a team, that was for sure.

  I breathed a sigh of relief when Ralrek cut a sharp corner, stopping at stairs. "Down here."

  "Alright." The thought of going deeper under this immense mortal structure sent a shock of nerves through me. Mortals, especially modern ones, take too many shortcuts in the things they make. The only reason I would was because of Ralrek's focus on the source and the fact that someone had either set a wormhole in the middle of a demonic Circle or it'd formed by chance at some point in our existence. Neither was something that'd allow me to sleep tonight if I didn't follow this through.

  Libra glanced down as far as my light allowed. "The construction is different. Older. More deliberate."

  I turned. "Older than what we walked through?"

  "Yep."

  "So this has been here for a while?"

  "No telling how long, but definitely longer than what's above us."

  A small ripple of shivers went through me. "Let's just go. Not a big fan of being under the arch. I mean, there's all that open air. Have you met engineers? No way I'm trusting this not to come down on us, man."

  I got a goofy chuckle from Libra for that. Ralrek was too busy bounding down the stairs. Admirable but reckless.

  At the bottom, he stopped. My chest was heavy. Probably from trying to keep up with him. The amount of old, dusty air I was sucking didn't help.

  "The Longing is stronger here. Real strong. Like I'm sensing other Forgotten Ones. But not. Like memories."

  I hushed him. "Do you feel that?"

  The pair whipped their heads around.

  "No, the air. It feels charged." I pointed to our right, toward a narrow, dark hall. My Hellfire barely illuminated the mouth. "That way."

  Ralrek nodded. "Yep. I'm feeling it, Zeke."

  We shuffled as quickly and carefully as we could through the passage. I kept my Senses open but felt nothing. Our progress was slow and steady until we reached a reinforced steel door that couldn't have been part of the original construction of this part of the grounds.

  Libra examined it carefully, running his fingers along the frame, and reached out for the handle.

  Ralrek swatted his hand down and clenched the thick metal. He paused, then cranked it up and out of the slot. He turned it to release the thick metal hooks holding the doubly thick pins keeping the door closed. When we were sure no booby trap was about to take our faces off our skulls, Ralrek leaned into the push. I helped. Libra wisely stayed to the side.

  The chamber beyond was opulent. Crystalline formations lined the walls. Soft, ethereal light pulsed in a calming rhythm. We could have been walking into a massage parlor—not that kind—for as relaxing as this chamber was.

  Until I took a breath.

  The acrid, unmistakable scent of onions filled the air, so strong it made my eyes water.

  I put a hand to my mouth and coughed.

  "You okay?" Ralrek asked, seemingly unbothered by the smell.

  I looked at him, bewildered. Ralrek wasn't playing; he was serious. Libra didn't seem to notice the smell either. Either I was imagining it or they had powerful wills of suppression.

  I realized a moment too late that I was right and they were wrong. Pushing out my Senses, I detected Discernment Abilities. Creed's blades blazed.

  Ralrek made a noise—I was too busy assessing the situation at the mouth of the room to decipher what he'd said—and his hands burned with his Fire Ability.

  "That you?" I asked Libra, irritated.

  But the demon was holding both hands up, looking at me with true trepidation in his eyes.

  He's seeing my title, not who I am.

  "You're not touching your Discernment?" I clarified.

  "No. No way. Not cool. I wouldn't."

  I waved at him, hoping to stop the roll he was starting. "Okay. Someone is. Or has."

  "Discernment? You sure?" Ralrek asked.

  "When have I been wrong?"

  I didn't want to sound cocky, but I didn't want to carry on a conversation. Not when we didn't know what we were about to walk into.

  "Let me go first." I spun Creed to form a magical shield as soon as the pair moved behind me. Then I stepped into the room.

  Ralrek gasped before I was five feet inside. Before I could expand my shield's bubble, he stepped forward, his face a mask of growing horror as he took in the room's contents.

  "Give me a second." I pushed the shield out to protect him, encasing the entire room once Libra moved inside.

  Along the walls, thousands of crystalline formations held what looked like suspended documents, scrolls, and records. Each one glowed with a strange preservation magic. None looked older than the day the first line was scribbled on them.

  Ralrek darted toward a series of scrolls on the far side of the room. I didn't want to interfere. His Longing was most likely driving him. I simply watched out for him.

  With his back to me, I gave him a moment to read the sets of scrolls he'd pulled from their holders. He read through quickly, scanned again, shuffled them from hand to hand to glance back at things he might have missed, and then dropped his hands. The scrolls were open and still clutched in them.

  "These are..." Ralrek's voice broke. "These are records. Census records. Exile documentation. Transfer orders."

  My mind raced to catch his meaning.

  He moved to the nearest crystal formation, his hands trembling as he read the floating text within. "Names. Thousands of names. Forgotten Ones who were... who were sent to the Overworld. It's all…" He spun and slammed his hand into the wall. The scrolls fell from both as he clutched the injured hand with his remaining good one. "Michael's signature is on every fucking one!"

  Ralrek slammed his palm into another crystalline formation and began ripping scrolls from holders.

  Libra shouted his name, racing to him. I shouted at him to stop. This was evidence we needed to preserve.

  But Libra didn't get to comfort, and I didn't get to chastise.

  The chamber filled with the onion-sharp scent. My quick assessment told me a Discernment Ability had been unlocked. Looking at the way Libra cradled Ralrek's hand tenderly, I knew he wasn't at fault.

  "Let's go!" I shouted, moving toward the walls. Before I could get three steps into my stride, Ralrek's connection to the Longing became a weapon. Every record in the chamber pulsed. Michael's magic.

  Ralrek screamed. Towers of flame shot from his palms.

  Libra cried out, his shirt catching fire.

  "Strip it off!" I got to him, helping him pull the shirt off. He threw it down as if it were pineapple on a pizza.

  Inside my shell that encased the entire room, we were sitting ducks. I could remove the shell, but that'd make us vulnerable to any other nasty surprises this place held. I could shrink the shell if I could get Ralrek to stop raging. I couldn't do both nor keep the status quo.

  "We have to get him out of here! Stand back and be ready to run!" I lowered Creed, aiming at my friend.

  "Cool!" Libra's thin, reedy chest was red but unburned. I was thankful, and I was sure he was too. He moved away from Ralrek, looking pained to do so.

  My friend's hands were aflame, and he was pulling them back. I knew what'd follow. A flurry of fireballs or a single massive one. Either way, if he released his magic, it wouldn't end well for this room, the incalculable weight of earth above us, or the evidence of the historical treatment of Forgotten Ones.

 

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