hold. I wondered what could have happened to cause such chaos here.' Gull spoke slowly, mesmerized by the sight before him. 'I never imagined that it could have begun with the murder of Hades himself.'
Who has the power to murder a god? Again Eve struggled with the inconceivable.
Hawkins trotted several steps ahead of them, trying to get a closer look at the wound, himself now a tiny figure dwarfed by the sprawling, rotting cadaver.
'Not murder,' Hawkins said, and they all stared at him. Soldier, spy, and assassin, he was well schooled in murder. 'Look in his hand. He’s holding a knife. I don’t think he was murdered at all, I think the poor bugger offed himself.'
Eve looked at the dead god Hades, really looked at him; how he lay prostrate upon the floor of the valley, his mouth agape as if attempting to call to his brethren in Olympus above, and she knew that Hawkins’s words were true. Hades had taken his own life.
The closer they progressed, the more foul the stench of decay was becoming, almost palpable in its intensity. Eve found that even she was becoming affected, hacking and coughing with the others. And since she really had no need to, she made a conscious effort to halt her breathing.
That’s better.
Gull was gasping, a twisted hand placed flat against his chest. He had stopped his descent and was trying to catch his breath. Hawkins tied a handkerchief behind his head, covering his face and Jezebel appeared to be fighting the urge to vomit. Despite the revelation that loomed ahead of them, the sublime nature of the thing and the thoughts of divinity and history that it demanded, the two hovered around Gull protectively.
There they were, perfectly helpless. Eve could have killed them all with ease, if not for the voice of Orpheus. Trapped by Gull’s magick, she could do nothing but wait for them to get their shit together.
The sorcerer finally caught his breath and pulled Jezebel to him. 'Wind,' he said, between gasps of the tainted air. 'We need wind to take this foul odor away.'
Her eyes were watering badly, trailing black mascara down her flushed cheeks like war paint. 'I don’t know if I can.'
'You must, sweet Jezebel.' And despite his use of that endearment, his tone was clear. It was a command, with consequences if she disobeyed.
She nodded slowly, and took a deep breath punctuated by a cough.
Hawkins sidled up beside her. 'Sometime today,' he snarled, his voice muffled by the cloth about his face.
The two normally seemed so solicitous of one another — particularly Hawkins of the girl — but it was clear now that their camaraderie was a shallow thing. Scratch it deeply enough, and there was nothing underneath. Jezebel looked at Hawkins with teary, hate-filled eyes as he walked away.
'Proceed,' Gull commanded, his breathing becoming more labored.
Eve wondered if the power of Orpheus would still hold should Gull be rendered unconscious. But it was too much to hope for. Jezebel closed her eyes, reaching down deep to call upon whatever mojo she commanded. Her hair whipped around her face in a wind that was not natural, and she winced. The process looked painful and for a minute it seemed she wasn’t going to pull it off, but the girl hung tough. Whatever it was that she was summoning was fighting her, and her body began to twitch and spasm, beads of perspiration breaking out on her brow.
Eve almost felt sorry for the little witch, but then thought better of it.
The girl fell to her knees with a gasp, and raising her arms, she turned her face to ceiling of the Underworld. Lightning snaked from her fingertips and eyes, erupting into the oppressive atmosphere. The wind swirled around them, growing in intensity, and then shifted in a single direction, a gale that swept the noxious fumes of the god’s decay away from them.
Jezebel slumped to the ground, curling up in a tight little ball. 'I did it,' she said over and over again in that little girl’s voice.
Hawkins yanked down the mask from his face and gave the girl a round of applause. 'Now that didn’t hurt too bad, did it?' he asked as he bent down to help her up from the ground. 'About time you earned your keep.'
The man was begging to die, and as soon as she was able, Eve would oblige him.
Gull took a large gulp of purified air into his lungs. 'Much better.'
They descended farther into the valley in silence, the body of the fallen god looming larger and larger. They passed through small patches of skeletal wood and scrub brush. Jezebel’s manipulation of the wind had done the job for the most part, but the closer they got the harder the wind had to work to keep the stench from overwhelming them again. The rot had left gaping holes in the flesh, exposing muscle, sinew, and bone.
At last, they stood before it, marveling at its enormity.
'So is this it? Have we arrived?' Eve asked, interrupting their reverie. 'Or are we going to have to go around this rotting carcass to get to where we’re supposed to be?'
Gull fixed her in a steely gaze. 'I think I’ve had just about enough of you.'
She was about to reply but he stopped her with a word. 'Silence.'
Eve had no choice but to obey.
'Now drop to your knees.'
Once more she was forced to comply, and Eve found herself kneeling upon the damp earth before the body of the fallen Hades. Gull looked her over, then licked his thumb, reaching out to her face to rub away some blemish of grime that had stained her cheek. With his long, twisted fingers he combed the hair from her face, then stepped back and again studied her appearance.
'I guess that will have to suffice,' he said. Gull looked to the god’s corpse. 'The misery of the dead calls out from here. I can feel it. This is their place. It is no wonder Hades chose this valley in which to spill his blood.'
Gull walked away from Eve then, toward Hawkins and Jezebel. 'I would advise you to step back, my friends. I’ve no idea how they will react to our presence.'
How who will react?
The Wicked did as they were told, leaving Gull to stand before the rotting corpse alone. The dark mage raised his arms, and in the booming voice of Orpheus, sang out. Although the song was sung in an ancient language that she had never known, Eve understood the words perfectly. It was a song of summoning, a song that called for the attentions of three sisters — Tisiphone, Alekto, and Megaera. They were the Erinyes — the Furies of legend. He sang of an offering, something to satisfy their unquenchable desire to see the guilty suffer for their sins.
In a sweeping motion he gestured toward Eve and the suspicion she had been nursing was revealed to be truth. She was his offering. Gull finished his beckoning song, hanging his head and resting his voice as he waited for their response.
He didn’t wait very long.
From one of the rotting wounds in the side of the corpse, a decaying hole perhaps fifty feet up the side of Hades’ rib cage, Eve saw the first hint of movement.
'What have you brought to us?' came a voice that issued from within that corpse, a voice that made the hair at the back of Eve’s neck stand on end. It was a voice devoid of warmth or emotion, a voice that promised only cruelty.
'Come out, dear sisters, and see,' Gull sang, the enticing nature of his borrowed voice certain to draw them from hiding.
Eve’s eyes grew wide as the Erinyes emerged from the ragged hole in the side of the dead god, three sisters clad in robes of darkness. They eagerly clambered down the side of the great corpse to claim their prize.
As Ceridwen calmed the normally torrential currents of the Styx, Conan Doyle and Danny rowed the magickally-crafted raft through the dark water. Conan Doyle kept an eye on Ceridwen, who sat at the edge of the raft with one hand trailing in the fearsome waters. He watched as her mouth moved, words softer than a whisper escaping, as she attempted to bond with the elemental force of the river. The fact that they were actually making progress across the Styx was evidence that Ceridwen was succeeding.
Conan Doyle was worried about her connecting with a world usually reserved for the dead. Though she appeared to have regained nearly all of her vigor, he did not care for the distant look in her eyes, a look that hinted that the despair of the Underworld had touched her deeply. He feared what would happen when it came time to leave.
'How’s she doing?' Danny asked, paddling with all his might.
