Page 12 of Hell-Bound (Pacts of the Infernal #1)

I thought that this organ in my chest had long died until it was stricken with anxiety. It was—unpleasant. I continue with my aims, heart notwithstanding.

Thankfully, Ren was fully clothed when she appeared in the clearing with Jester. She didn’t think she could deal with any more snide remarks from Devils this morning.

Jester was in a much better mood today and babbled ceaselessly about different pranks he’d pulled the other Lords.

“Lord Wyvryn is definitely not my biggest fan. One time, I stole all his hair products and replaced them with glue. He was so mad. You’d think that a Lord of The Hells would be able to re-grow their hair in a snap, but actually, it just grows like the rest of us.”

Jester flipped his own silky black hair.

Ren couldn’t help but chuckle. She learned that stories were almost like music. Wonderful little productions of things from someone’s heart. It encouraged her ever so slightly to think that even though she didn’t have stories or memories to share, she could share her music.

Their walk remained uneventful as the daytime apparently wasn’t conducive for giant Monstrosities to go hunting. Jester even asked her to play a song on her piccolo before he interrupted to give another account of one of his famous exploits.

“And Lord Evernight tried to throw a sword at me, but—”

He paused, pointed ears perking.

“We are close, Ren.”

She tilted her head, and indeed, she could hear the murmurs of voices in the distance.

Jester crouched down and slowly approached a clearing.

They stood on the peak of a tall hill overlooking a valley of ash. A massive castle sat in the distance, right at the bottom of the hill.

Unlike The Forked Tongue, this castle was everything a malevolent castle should be. It rose high with black spires that disappeared into the purple clouds. The windows were tinged with green grime, and every corner screamed macabre.

“Gods above,”

she murmured.

“You’ve been in there?”

“Yeah. a few times, actually. It’s not hard to get in. Wyvryn is a dumb twat and keeps his back door unguarded.”

Jester snorted at his own joke.

Ren was unamused.

“Now we just wait until nightfall and then sneak in! Easy peasy!”

The two settled, night still being a few hours off. They shared some rations and tried to catch a few moments of sleep.

When she noticed that Jester was, just as she was, unable to find sleep, she broke the silence. She had tried to ask for days now, but she couldn’t find the right space between almost being killed and Jester’s relentless joking.

“How long have you known Azur? Or—been with him?”

He turned over and propped himself up on his arm, grim.

“A long time, Ren. A very, very long time.”

“And he’s evil? Truly evil?”

He didn’t immediately reply.

“Yes, Ren. He might act like he is noble, protecting you. But for some people, some things can’t be redeemed. He’s…done a lot of evil throughout the planes.”

She bit her lip. This was not what she wanted to hear. She couldn’t quite reason it out, but she wanted him to be good. Or at least capable of good. Maybe it was just her treacherous emotions from the night before, how safe she felt in his arms.

But there was another feeling too, one that confused her when she looked at him and saw the small stars in his eyes like novas of pain.

“It’s his fault, you know,”

Jester continued.

“all of this. The ash, the destroyed lands, slavery, the sleepers. It’s all because of him. He created this society—signed the first contracts, and cursed the first Devils. He is sin incarnate. The worst things you can think of, the worst deeds a being can think of, all originated with him.”

“If we knew why he’s so horrible, why did we sign contracts with him? Why do people keep doing it?”

Jester stared past her, distant.

“People get desperate, Ren. They can’t see a way forward except to make a deal with a Devil. The Devils take that desperation, the lowest moment of someone’s life, and exploit it. Azur, being the most powerful Devil, has the most magic. The most desperate seek him out. But as powerful as his magic is, his malevolence gulfs even that.”

He paused.

“I knew a Lesser Devil, Ahdan. He was beautiful, eyes the color of the night sky before the lightning blinks out. He sold his soul to Azur. He was my constant companion. Two lost Devils against The Hells.”

A small laugh.

“Our affection for each other grew and despite the hopelessness we found ourselves in, we fell in love. I cherished every moment with every part of my soulless body. He was perfect.”

The dark was upon them, so Ren could only hear Jester’s shaky breaths.

“His mother got sick, you see. A disease that was affecting the Lesser Devils. It was horribly slow and took every inch of dignity from its victims. In his desperation, he sought out a Devil. He found Azur. He agreed to give Azur his soul in exchange for his mother’s life—for a cure for the disease.

“Azur used his magic, and his mother was cured, only to die two years later from an accident in the mines. Ahdan was…inconsolable.

“Azur did nothing. The contract had been signed and fulfilled on both sides. But Ahdan was soulless, an orphan with nothing left to bargain with.

“I tried to love the pain away. To give him enough reason to…stay. Support him and remind him that, soul or not, we still had each other. We still had a life to live and could even have a family one day. That there was hope. But my love wasn’t enough for Ahdan.”

Silence filled the night as he finished.

“Jester, I—I am so very sorry.”

What else could she say to him?

This memory. I wish he didn’t have this one.

But forgetting the painful memory would also mean forgetting Ahdan and what they had together.

“It is because of this that you must understand, Ren. Azur is cruel. He is vengeful and manipulative. He lives and thrives off the souls of others, not because it gives him power, but because he enjoys it.”

His voice shook.

“Just be careful.”

Their conversation died there in the silence of the night.

Once the castle was cloaked in darkness and the lights in the windows began to wink out, they moved.

Their first challenge was climbing down the steep slope. It wasn’t as hard as Ren had anticipated since Renata was so nimble, and Jester could just teleport. They barely made a sound as they dismounted onto the soft earth.

Jester put a finger on his lips and gestured for her to follow him down and around a thin gravel path.

As they approached the castle proper, she saw six or seven guards, all Devils, at the front gate. They were all dressed in gold and black uniforms.

The back of the castle, however, as Jester had claimed, had only one guard. A Lesser Devil with light blue skin, was walking around a fountain sulking, and tail swishing impatiently.

“They also put the new guys back here,”

Jester whispered.

The Devil was too busy muttering to himself to see the pair as they snuck behind a thorny hedge and ascended onto a wall that encircled a large garden, long since withered. Ren followed Jester close behind several feet until he paused, pointed down, and vanished. Even though it was dark, Jester’s red face and tail were not hard to spot beneath the overhang.

As for herself, Renata tested the footholds with her fingers and nimbly climbed up. Her grip was strong, and she felt safe hanging there despite the mossy surface, which would cause even some experienced climbers to lose footing.

Ren was back on her feet in a few seconds, staring at an iron grating inserted into the castle’s foundation.

“You can’t teleport other people?”

she grumbled, wiping her dirty hands on her tunic.

“Of course! But it’s much more entertaining to watch you struggle. Sadly for me, you’re just a bit too agile,”

he said, giving her a feigned, disappointed look.

Ren responded very maturely with sticking out her tongue.

The iron grate was relatively large and, to Wyvryn’s credit, looked well-maintained and reinforced.

“Your turn!”

Jester said, poking her side, where she had stored the lock-pick set.

Rolling her eyes, she removed two long picks, one flat, the other slightly curved, and located the small key indention. But she stopped—frozen in place, ears buzzing, picks turning ice cold.

“What are you doing?”

Jester hissed.

She didn’t know. She could feel the discomfort in the back of her head.

“There is something wrong with this grate.”

Jester furrowed his brows and looked back.

“Like what?”

She closed her eyes, thinking.

“I think it’s trapped. An alert or—something?”

Jester’s eyes glanced around the curved frame and began to gingerly feel the stone. As Ren followed suit, she noticed that this was the first stone building that hadn’t been reinforced with vurmite. She thought of the small gem in her pocket. She had been afraid to leave it and had convinced herself that it was for emergency purposes, to communicate with Azur, and not that she couldn’t bear to part with it.

Suddenly, a change in texture, a shift from stone to metal. Ren pushed, and she heard a small hum from the picks.

Jester jerked his head to her.

“You did it! I think?”

he said, trying to look encouraging.

Ren bent down again, adjusting the angles of her tools before gingerly inserting them into the fissure—

Nothing happened, but she heard Jester release a breath.

“Honestly, I was only half sure that had worked.”

“Great. thanks for that vote of confidence,”

she murmured.

“Now, shush!”

Leaning her ear close to her hands, she held her breath, trying to listen for the perfect clicks of the lock. The picks gradually began to warm in her hands. She almost reeled back at the unexpected sensation, but her piccolo vibrated reassuringly. Finally, she heard the small chink, and the door swung open.

“I thought you said getting in was easy, Jester?”

she said, wiping small droplets of sweat off her forehead.

“I’m pretty sure that lock was magicked shut!”

He responded with a guilty look.

“I guess when you mess with a fops shampoo, they strengthen their wards?”

He gave a small, awkward laugh.

“But it worked, didn’t it?”

Ren grumbled, striding forward.

The tunnel was barely tall enough for Ren, and Jester had to stoop to make his way through. Humidity was thick in the air, and small dripping sounds echoed at intervals.

“There should be a hole in the wall not too far from here,”

Jester whispered.

Ren felt a brush against her leg and jumped back, almost crying out.

“What in the nine hells was that?”

Jester paused his march, almost causing Ren to run into his back.

“That was just my tail. Why are you so jumpy? It’s like you haven’t broken into the castle of a magical Devil lord before!”

“First of all, I’m pretty sure I haven’t done this before, and second, I can’t see a bloody thing!” Ren spat.

A pause.

“You can’t see in the dark?”

She gaped.

“No, Jester! I’m completely blind in here!”

“Oh. Well, that’s inconvenient. I’m going to touch your shoulder and lead you there, okay?”

He gently placed his long fingers on her shoulders and guided her.

“Mortals are so weird,”

he muttered.

At that moment, Jester reminded Ren so much of Benji. His stories—his good humor—and how he didn’t mind helping Ren, even when she was a bit bumbling and clueless, though she’d never admit it to Jester, and he’d likely never admit it in turn.

“Here we are!”

he said, squeezing her.

They arrived at a large crevice in the wall, which she could only see because there was a light shining from another grate further down.

Leading the way, Jester crept silently towards the light, ears twitching slightly.

The two arrived at the second grate above their heads. This one was round, and there was an identical grate directly below it.

Jester signaled to Ren to check for traps and then pick the lock. Ren reached around but couldn’t feel anything.

“I don’t think this one is locked,”

she said, leaning to whisper into his ear.

“I think it’s some kind of drain.”

He waved his hands silently, communicating, hurry up and open it then!

She narrowed her eyes and pointed her fingers at him, no way. You touch it first.

Pursing his lips, he looked up and placed the smallest tip of his sharp nail on the iron.

Nothing.

They breathed out in unison. No traps.

“Transport us up there. This thing will make too much noise if we try to move it.”

“I can’t transport through walls or solid objects, Elfy! We’ll just have to risk it.”

Ren screwed up her face in exasperation but grabbed the grate with Jester, regardless.

“On three,”

she mouthed. “One…two…”

Jester pushed hard against the bars.

“I said three,”

Ren blurted, trying to maintain a whisper while pushing her weight up.

The metal made a high-pitched scraping sound that echoed down the halls.

“I went on three,”

he hissed back.

They stood underground, motionless, listening for guards.

“I think we are in the clear,”

Jester said, way too soon for Ren’s taste, and pulled himself up before offering her a hand.

Emerging from the hole, a putrid scent hit her nose, sharp and stale. She slapped a hand over her mouth, struggling not to wretch.

The chamber itself was large and rectangular. Sharp instruments–hooks, shackles, and knives–lined the walls. In the center of the room were a table and a chair still coated in fresh blood.

“This is a fucking torture chamber!”

She gasped.

Jester gave a blasé shrug.

“Yeah, well. It’s the easiest way in, and if anyone were here, we’d know it! They’d be screeeeeeaming. If you work for Azur long enough, I’m sure you’ll see a few tortures yourself, maybe even perform one!”

Jester quietly skipped to the door, pleased with Ren’s discomfort.

The door was large and metal but wasn’t closed.

Makes sense—why bother locking an empty torture chamber?

They sidled out of the chamber into a long hallway with various cell doors on each side, ending with a spiral stone staircase.

Before they could move closer, they simultaneously saw black boots appear on the stairs.

A guard.

Jester grabbed Ren roughly and blinked away. Both landed hard on the floor of a nearby cell. It, like the chamber, was filthy and stained with blood. There was no cot or chair, only shackles, and a soiled bucket. Between the teleport and the smell, Ren felt like her insides were going to spill out.

Jester, who must have spotted the open door, climbed to his feet and peeked out, Ren close at his heels.

The smacking of boots against stone still echoed, but it was calm, unhurried, and getting further away each second.

Agreeing silently that the guard was far enough away, the pair slipped out of the cell and crept to the staircase. Jester surged to the top in a second to check the next level while Ren’s silent feet scampered up.

Appearing at the top, Ren almost choked. The halls were decorated with the most incredible collection of curios imaginable. While several aligned display cases were filled with antiques, gems, and trinkets of all types, she couldn’t take her eyes off the most glorious. A stunning array of musical instruments framed by paintings with colors, mixes, and blends of pigments that crashed together.

This was it. The perfect visual for how Ren felt when she played her piccolo. It was completely breathtaking. If Jester hadn’t grabbed her arm, she would have likely stood there, captivated, for hours.

“Speed it up, Elfy!”

he said, yanking her forcefully.

The castle was asleep. It was easy to avoid anyone in the halls since most people’s footsteps echoed on the marbled tiles, and it was more than easy to conceal oneself behind the giant cabinets of trinkets. It was only when Jester almost got his tail stuck in a door, letting out a shocked squeal, that Ren thought they’d be discovered.

After making their way up several stories and around six or seven endless hallways, Jester materialized once more several feet in front of her at an ornate wooden door, making a ta-da flourish.

With silent footsteps, Ren slunk over to him.

Unlike the rest of the castle, the door was glittering with vurmite and gold. Ren found it irritatingly distracting as she tried to concentrate on checking the door for traps.

Jester paced anxiously behind her, darting his eyes around the hall.

Ren took a full minute to find the switches—there were two—and pick the lock, but they entered without incident.

This empty room was even more spectacular than the hall. It was an elegant office, every wall covered in shelves upon shelves of vestiges, relics, and books of all shapes and sizes. The only surface uninhabited was the large window on the far end.

“Don’t get all doe-eyed, Elfy. Get in, get out! That’s the plan!”

he said as he ran over to the first set of books, pulling them off the shelves and discarding them roughly.

Ren fully gasped now.

“Jester, what are you doing!? These things could be thousands of years old!”

She dashed to pick them up gingerly and return them to their rightful place.

He didn’t pause his rummaging.

“Leave the junk! Azur said that lives were on the line here! And say what you want about that prick, but he isn’t prone to lying!”

Then, something caught Ren’s eye, lying on a polished stone desk.

A violin.

I know that violin.

Memories of Xarek’s breath, too close to her skin, sent an involuntary chill through her body.

Ignoring the thumps of books hitting the carpet, she walked, almost floating, to the violin.

It was lacquered and shining, the bow laying delicately astride it. It looked ethereal, god-like in its perfection.

I need it.

“What are you doing?”

Jester grumbled from the other side of the room.

Ren quickly busied herself with the papers lying on the desk.

“Looking! Not all of us throw things around like a banshee on a bender!”

Most were written in the now-familiar, sharp script. She picked one up, examined it, and returned it to the desk. She repeated this motion several times searching for Azur’s mark until she spotted a small scratch of writing that she could read—written with such twisted letters that she almost didn’t recognize it.

Only two words.

Renata Eldanuer.