In a way, I couldn't be mad. The Founder's suggestion to force me and Ralrek to accompany Bilba pissed me off. But then, I stopped, calmed down—a little, okay? Let's not be dramatic—and saw what he was trying to do. If the Council had approved Melchiot, then we would have been four-strong going into the Passage. Having a Hex user may or may not have helped but having an experienced succubus who trained others on how to pass the life-and-death test, and had several students who had, would have given us our best shot at walking out alive. Which is why the Council crushed that idea, along with any hopes of us coming out unscathed. Or at all.

  I did what I could for Bilba, which wasn't much. He was twisted sideways. Misspellings. Shoddy grammar. It was all so ugly to watch. No, seriously, Bilba is meticulous with that stuff, so I knew he was in an awful place. In the middle of the night, in a different Circle, there was no way I could help. He had to ride the long night out by himself on the other end of this magical communication.

  For one of the few times in my life, I was up with the morning's Caller.

  Funny thing about those animated walking spells; no matter which Circle of the Underworld they traverse, they always look the same, as if it is one entity that covers the entire demonic realm.

  I peeked out my window with the morning's third cup of coffee in my hands and saw her purple-scaled body drifting along the sidewalk almost as soon as I heard her call. The eerie sound, the official start of the day, rose into the air, clear as if she were standing in my kitchen with me. Her long appendages swayed gracefully as she floated. Her long, purple strands of hair amalgamated into a single, thick braid, floating behind her as she drifted by.

  "Well, time to get ready," I said to no one, jumping in the shower. Before I knew it, I would be whisked away to the Fifth Circle, this time with Council approval, where I was supposed to meet with the two incubi who'd face death with me.

  Of course, that was something I didn't bring up to Bilba. He had enough to focus on, and casually, or not–so–casually, reminding him we could die would be a distraction.

  As a location outside the Underworld, in some celestial neutral ground, the Passage was mysterious. What mattered most was that any of the three of us, or all three of us, could die inside it. The Passage, according to Melchiot's training, would test Bilba to his limits. Success came when he exited the dangerous illusion. The thing was, the test would determine the how, when, and where of that exit. A fluid goal, for sure. Bilba could expect his worst fears to be used against him. Unlike our practice test, Bilba couldn't lose his cool. He had to maintain his rationality, staying unemotional and focused the entire test. But the thing was, he was already starting off on the wrong foot if his messages were a clue to his state-of-mind. Azazel might have thought he was helping by making us privy to the Council's planning session, but I wasn't sure. Bilba didn't seem to be preparing; he was panicking.

  A buzzing told me a gateway was opening to whisk me away to meet up with Bilba, Ralrek, and Melchiot. Time to check in on my best bud.

  I turned off the lights and made sure the windows and doors were locked. For all I knew, I might not come back. I was in no hurry to be Abolished, but I had to be a big boy. My job, besides protecting my best friend's wide ass, was ensuring none of us gained that new, undesirable status of being a memory.

  Apartment secured, I stood before the murky image of Bilba's tiny front yard, drew a deep breath of stinking air, maybe my last in the Sixth, and stepped through.

  I stumbled, exiting the gateway into the small patch of brown grass of Akimon Ravenous's yard. The Ravenous family budget was tight, always had been. I doubted Akimon had spare coin lying around for superior lawn care. The grass was as dry and cracked as a couple of the books Dialphio kept in her "special" case in The Book Abyss.

  Ralrek answered the door when I knocked. I gave him a confused look. "Where's Bilba?"

  Ralrek cocked his head backwards. "In the other room. Things are pretty tense. His father is stressed."

  "And that's making him more stressed?"

  "Yep."

  "Well, this is the family's worst day since his mother left," I said as I stepped inside.

  The house was quiet. If I hadn't known better, I would swear it was vacant except for me and the handsome demon behind me closing the door.

  "Melchiot is back there with them, running through what to expect," Ralrek said.

  "Is that why you're up here, answering the door? You almost opened it before I knocked."

  He nodded. "It's too depressing. Everyone is on edge. I can't do anything, so I was in the kitchen making a snack when I saw you step out of the gateway."

  "I'm going to check in," I said, walking into the room and greeting everyone.

  Bilba looked like he hadn't slept, a nervous wreck who was trying to keep himself from turning to heated jelly. Melchiot sat on the couch opposite him, straddling the cushion's edge, her hands thrust before her as she gesticulated like she was trying to reconstruct something from molded clay. Akimon sat in the chair next to his son, watching Melchiot. He turned my way and did a double-take before struggling to push himself out of the chair.

  Akimon Ravenous is one of the most invisible incubi I'd ever known. I don't mean literally, but the older Ravenous was always so non-intrusive. I swear, being hyperbolic for effect, there were probably days in his life where he didn't interact with matter. A large incubus with a mouth too small for his long face, his graying goatee hid a thick neck. If he wasn't so reserved, the older incubus could have been intimidating. Unlike my father, Bilba's didn't seem to care to be a demonic puppet. Never brusque, never rude, he was the personification of a wallflower. Even now, with his only child soon facing a life and death struggle, he was as reserved as reserved got.

  "Thank you for coming, Ezekial. How are your parents?" he asked, shaking my hand.

  Now was not the time or the place to talk about my parents. This was Bilba's time, so I lied in order to keep things as light and focused on my best friend as possible. "They're great. They say hi."

  Clueless to the reality of my life, Akimon smiled. "Make sure you say hello for me."

  "I will." I turned my attention to Bilba and his mentor. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

  Melchiot glanced at me. Then her eyes darted to the floor, to the lamp, to a picture of Bilba and his father on the wall at a Samhain festival by the looks of the background. "We're making final preparations, and then we will talk our way through a simulation."

  I said, "Talk? Aren't we going to your school so we can practice with another illusion?"

  Melchiot shook her head in abrupt movements, as if invisible hands had gripped her ears and were yanking them.

  Bilba looked at me. "The Council closed her school."

  "We don't know that for sure," Melchiot said.

  Bilba's chest rose and fell in a frustrated sigh. "Well, the Fire Marshal came by and forced her to close. He said the building wasn't up to code and that she couldn't reopen until it was."

  I blinked, probably stupidly. "Wait. When did this happen? Was it not up to code?"

  "My school has always met code. I am just as surprised as anyone," Bilba's mentor said. Her large nose flared, but her voice remained cool. "But that is a matter for another time. Right now, our focus needs to be on the exam and what the three of you will face."

  "Ralrek!" Bilba called out, looking toward the kitchen.

  "Yeah, coming," Ralrek said from the other room.

  So, the Council was up to their dirty tricks. Not only had they cut Bilba's preparations short, but they closed Melchiot's school to make it harder to prepare. Maybe even as a punishment for helping Bilba. If only they put as much effort into equality for Hell's residents as they did ensuring Bilba failed.

  "This might be a dumb question, but do you not have another space? An alternate location? Can we not go into Eve's Sanctuary and create the illusion there?" I asked, trying to brainstorm as many solutions as possible. Generating ideas helped me shut down the rising panic.

  Melchiot answered, "I'm afraid not. My school was equipped with a mechanism to create the illusion."

  "Oh," I said with a start, "I thought that was your spell?"

  Melchiot's eyes darted left to right. "I'm a Hex user. I couldn't have created that illusion. It would take a hundred demons, working together to create something that robust. No, there's no possibility of re-creating it."

  Looking at my best friend, I saw the fear. The trepidation. I saw it eating away at him as he sat on a chair in his father's small, crowded living room. Ralrek slid in behind me, leaning on the door frame, eating a salad, as if the world weren't changing in two days.

  Even if we came home, life would change. Bilba would be a Major demon, he'd have elevated status and privileges throughout the Underworld. Akimon's proudest moment. Government positions. Access to exclusive clubs. Security for his father so Akimon no longer needed to pinch every copper. All around the neighborhood and throughout the Fifth, neighbors and strangers would position to become friends with my friend, many in gross attempts to curry favor.

  But there was a darker side, too. That Akimon was lonely, and had been for thousands of years, ever since Bilba's mother left. He worked long hours and was rarely home. Being socially awkward didn't help either. One of the nicest incubi in the world, someone I would gladly have as a father, Akimon had little time or skill for friends. Anything that happened to Bilba, good or bad, rippled across their joint lives. In my heart I knew, if Bilba were to fall in the Passage, it would be the end of Akimon as well.

  It had to be weighing on my best friend. He was confident—if this was a happier occasion I'd call him cocky—he could successfully pass the Passage. Bilba believed in himself. I believed in him. He was a badass magic user. But the Council was doing everything they could to interfere so that he wasn't successful. The four Council members were licking their chops at what was to come.

  If we were to die in the Passage, then Hell's rulers would be freed of more than us. The test takes place outside of the Underworld. If I died inside of it, Creed would also be left inside the outer realm. Unsure of where the test exists in reality, what would become of the halberd? Would Creed be trapped inside until someone opened it again? What if it was never open again? Would the halberd remain locked away in some super–supernatural prison for the rest of eternity? Had the Council already considered that aspect?

  I glanced at Creed hanging listlessly in the loop at my belt. The dumb stick had no insight to offer except to warm slightly against my leg.

  "Trust," a voice said, somewhere behind me.

  I turned, shooting Ralrek a quizzical look.

  As he chewed salad, his cheek puffed out. The fork raised to his mouth again, ready to shovel more in as soon as there was room, he scrunched his face, and grumbled, "What?"

  "Trust what?" I asked.

  "What about trusting what?" he said.

  This was ridiculous. Either Ralrek was playing around when playing around wasn't appropriate, or I truly was losing my mind. Wasn't that wonderful?

  Melchiot ran through a litany of possibilities Bilba might face. From previous conversations over beer and junk food, Bilba had let me know what the Passage might be like. But that was when he was excited, long before the Council was trying to wedge him into a life-and-death situation before he was ready. Now, it wasn't so exhilarating.

  To think he could face dastardly creatures from the familiar to the fantastical was too open-ended for me. Creatures as small as nymphs, or even smaller, like fairies with attitudes, all the way to mountain giants. He could face natural and supernatural, living and dead. It was possible, Melchiot warned, Bilba might even have to come face-to-face with a squad of angels. The Passage could take place in the familiar streets of a replicated Fifth Circle, or it could be in the blackness of a universe beyond our universe. With those answers, she couldn't help, she said. No one knew, not even the Council, what Bilba was going to face because the Passage would know how he needed to be tested.

  The uncertainty was doing little for my friend. Red blotches polluted his cheeks and his neck. By the time Melchiot finished warning him what he might face, the entirety of his head had turned a shade or two darker.

  Bilba was too deep inside his own head, becoming his worst enemy by psyching himself out. The old Bilba lacked confidence from millennia of being picked on over his appearance. That old Bilba was creeping through.

  "You're going to be fine," I said when I saw him going into the dazed state he entered whenever he was overwhelmed. "You'll have the two of us along for the ride to remind you how awesome you are. Let's just focus on that. No matter what the Passage throws at us, we will be ready for it. You already are. Believe in yourself, bud. You're pretty kickass."

  Bilba said, "Thanks, Zeke."

  "You're a good friend," Akimon said from his spot deep in the chair.

  Creed heated against my hip, feeling like I had dipped it in fire and made the wonderful decision to slap against my bare skin. I jumped sideways. Bilba squinted. I didn't have time to explain.

  Buzzing from the other room drew my attention. The torturous sound of a slowly unzipped bag. My hand was on Creed's knob as I turned to investigate. Ralrek set down his salad bowl. Bilba got to his feet.

  In the entryway, a gateway had opened. Creed pulsed. Throbbed. I gripped the knob, preparing to slip it from the loop.

  Black feet, black legs. Armored. Black breastplates. Black helmets. The Council guard were here.

  Four guards stepped out, forming a two–demon cordon on either side of the gateway. Once in position, they faced to close the cordon. Each held a spear, the small, triangular spear tip blazed blue with Hellfire.

  "What are you doing in my home?" Akimon said, squeezing between me and Ralrek. His cheeks wobbled.

  The guards didn't answer.

  "I'll ask you one more time, what—" Akimon repeated, this time more firmly as he stepped toward the guards.

  The Council guards didn't flinch at his approach. In the middle of Akimon demanding answers to know why his home was being invaded, another demon stepped from the gateway. The slender leg and soft steps gave away who it was before their not-so-grand appearance.

  Apopis looked around the crowded room wearing a cocky sneer. On a worse day, I would have wanted to knock that sneer off his dumb half–tattooed face. Even on good days I have wanted to, being honest. Who am I kidding? All days. Antagonizing the Founder wouldn't do any favors for my best friend. Apopis would live to sneer another day.

  Akimon took a stumbling step backwards. Ralrek caught him with a single arm, his eyes locked on the Founder. Melchiot mumbled something so quiet as to be indiscernible.

  As Bilba stepped forward, I watched the guards for any sign of threat. Without taking my hand off Creed's knob, I extended my senses, not only feeling the natural magic in the room but also ensuring no one was tapping into their Abilities. We were safe, for now. Still, my hand didn't leave the halberd.

  "Apopis?" Bilba asked. "Why are you here?"

  Apopis lifted his arm, his fingers pointing toward the ceiling, and wiggling as he brought his arm back down toward his hip. As he did, a slimy sensation coated my arms, face, and neck—a Listening ward. I was the only one who could detect it beyond the visual clue the Council member gave. "I came to see how your preparations are coming. Do you feel as if you are ready to take the Passage?"

  Had a Founder traveled to Ravenous home just to taunt a young incubus when he should be preparing for the most important day in his life? Just when I thought the Council couldn't be more pathetic, they proved me wrong and far exceeded expectations for depravity.

  Bilba moved to the front of our group. On his own, facing down the Founder, one-on-one. "I believe so, yes."

  Apopis didn't care whether or not Bilba was ready. He'd asked to antagonize my friend. "Believe so? You believe so? The Passage is a special privilege, given to those who have proven their superior Ability. Only those who have shown the fortitude are considered. It is not doled out to the undeserving. You have come so far in displaying your prowess, and the reports we've received from your mentor legitimize this opportunity."

  I risked a glance away from the Founder to Melchiot. Her eyes, as always, flickered all over the place. She gave no indication one way or another about Apopis's statement.

  Apopis continued. "In my time on the Council, I cannot tell you how many applicants we've rejected. Far too many to hazard a guess. Yet, here you are, at such an early point in your life, with this wonderful opportunity. And when I ask you, as a Founder, whether or not you're ready, you tell me you believe you are."

  Apopis turned, gliding toward the gateway. He shook his head, as if Bilba were a wayward son who disappointed him. In front of the buzzing gateway, Apopis stopped, speaking as he slowly rotated to face us again. "Anyone who goes into the Passage less than completely confident in their Ability rarely comes back out again. A shame, but such is the honor of being a Major demon. The Underworld cannot afford to give such a title, and all the privileges that come with it, to just anyone. Though I'm sure their loss is tragic for their families, it is to the benefit of demons that those types never rejoin society. In the time you have left, I encourage you to think about that. Dwell on your lack of confidence, and how that could hinder your performance and your ability to stay alive. Of course, you'll need to hurry."

  I felt it coming. Creed throbbed as if begging me to pull it free and birth life into it so it could chop the head off this snake. My jaw ached. I hadn't even realized I was clenching it. For a moment, I wondered how realistic it was to fight off four Council guards in the small room if it meant destroying one of Lucifer's trusted advisors. I wouldn't, of course, but the thought was tempting.

  "I will think about it long into the night. I promise," Bilba said, bringing a smile to Apopis's slimy face.

  "Oh, you don't have that kind of time," the Founder said.

  Son of a cherub.

  Beside me, Ralrek growled.

  "Sir, may I speak?" Melchiot asked.

  Apopis flicked his hand in an answer.

 

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