His lips parted, but it took a moment before words emerged.
“How...” Rans said, only to shake his head sharply, cutting himself off and starting again. “Why? If this is true, why tell me? Why bring me to... this place?”
Nigellus breathed deeply, taking in the unspoiled Earthen air, rife with the scents of bountiful life... so different from Hell’s austerity. Birds twittered and sang around them. Leaves rustled in the breeze.
When his gaze fell on Ransley again, it held the full force of his will behind it. “I wish to make a bargain with you, Ransley Thorpe. Your soul, in exchange for my personal vow not to allow your race to perish to extinction.”
Five centuries as a vampire had, in the end, done little to keep Ransley’s thoughts from showing on his face. Nigellus watched as instinctive revulsion at the idea of binding his soul gave way to panic at the thought of his fellow vampires’ deaths, imminent and en masse. Perhaps Nigellus should have felt flattered that disbelief over the outrageousness of his assertion didn’t even make a moment’s appearance in Ransley’s expression. Instead, Nigellus just felt vaguely ill... not to mention, old.
So very, very old.
“How will binding my soul enable you to save my people?” Ransley managed eventually.
“It will not,” Nigellus said. “As I specified, it is merely the price of preventing your race’s permanent extinction. Though I fear there may not be much time left for you to make the decision.”
Ransley’s face had gone ghostly pale in the dappled sunlight. He backed away a step, breathing hard. “You’re asking me to trust you, not only with my soul, but with my entire species.”
“Yes,” Nigellus replied simply. “Choose now, Ransley. I wish there were more time for you to do so, but time is a luxury we no longer have.”
The vampire’s chest rose and fell rapidly, drawing lungfuls of air that his body couldn’t use. He pinned Nigellus’ gaze with his glowing, vampiric one, as though he could somehow overpower a demon’s will and determine the truthfulness behind Nigellus’ words. Such an ability was far beyond his kind, however, and it always would be. It was also unnecessary, in this case—since Nigellus had spoken nothing but the exact and literal truth.
The reverse was not the case, of course. If it came down to it, he could overpower Ransley’s mind with relative ease. Nigellus was still unsure what action he would take, should Ransley refuse him. No doubt the Council would have words for him if he failed to perform his task successfully, but the idea of removing Ransley’s free will in such a matter rankled.
“God help me... if that’s what it takes, you can have it,” the vampire whispered hoarsely. His eyes flared brighter. “Take my soul, and save them. But as Hell is my witness, Nigellus, I will hold you to your vow.”
Nigellus gave a single nod. “Your agreement ensures that my vow can be upheld. Now, come.”
Again, he clasped Ransley’s arm, but this time the distance they traveled was negligible. The cavern had been almost directly beneath their feet—its only entrance a hole in the ground that had claimed the lives of many careless humans and animals over the millennia. Bones decorated the floor of the largest chamber, encased in ever-increasing layers of limestone as time turned around them.
Nigellus’ destination lay yet deeper beneath the earth, however.
The gate between Hell and the human realm sat in a passageway so dark even vampire eyes struggled to see. An eerie moaning sound whistled through the caves and galleries, bringing to mind the lamentation of lost souls. Ransley tensed beneath Nigellus’ hand.
“That noise—” he began.
“The natives would tell you it’s the restless spirits of those who’ve fallen to their deaths in the cavern,” Nigellus said, ushering him toward a pile of boulders leading to the weak spot between realms. “In point of fact, it’s a result of the difference in air pressure between the underground space and the atmosphere above, being forced through a narrow opening like a musician’s breath through the reed of a particularly large and melancholy flute. Come.”
The entrance to Hell had many layers of protection, but none of them would be visible to Ransley, and none were a barrier to Nigellus. He led the dazed vampire up the tumble of fallen rocks and pushed him through the threadbare hole in the human world, following directly behind. Had he been human and reliant on air for life, he would have breathed a sigh of relief as the barrier slid closed behind them and the familiar environs of Hell surrounded him.
Ransley stood frozen in front of him, relief nowhere to be found in his bearing. Unsurprising, perhaps, as the guards on this side of the gate had immediately ranged around the vampire in a half-circle, weapons raised.
“Stand down,” Nigellus said, and waited for the other demons to lower their swords and pikes. “My companion is a guest, and shall be treated as such for the duration of his stay. Has Baalazar left for Earth yet?”
“He has, Nigellus,” the most senior of the guards reported. “Do you wish us to direct him to you when he returns?”
“Please do so,” Nigellus replied. “We will be in my quarters. No one else is to disturb us unless there is news related to the Fae weapon.”
The guard dipped his head. “Very well. I will see to it.”
Ransley straightened his cravat with a tug and dissipated into vapor, swirling past the circle of guards to land behind them. Nigellus didn’t comment on the small gesture of defiance. Ransley was no doubt fully aware that had he been an enemy infringing on Hell’s territory, rather than an ally, the guards would have had weapons slicing through the place he rematerialized faster than he could avoid them.
Vampires were useful allies, but they were not equals. Not in the arena of raw power, at least.
“Please—allow me to escort you to my home, where we may speak further in private,” Nigellus
