Page 3 of Hell-Bound (Pacts of the Infernal #1)

The entrance to The White Whisper had no door. Renata could hear the laughter and music wafting into the streets.

The violin music was jovial and sweet. The perfect music for a bar with a broken door.

Walking into the tavern, it was obvious that this was one of the rougher places in town, and yet the ball in her chest immediately began to loosen, and her fingers, previously clutching her bag, began to relax.

Most of the tables were occupied with a variety of different races and creatures. She saw other Half-Elves, Orcs, Gnomes, and one man she swore was just a noodle with eyes.

But no Fae.

She sighed, realizing she always got nervous around the Fae despite their shared features. For her, it wasn’t hard to tell them apart. Fae typically had longer, more pointed ears and pointed teeth. They also varied in some special features. Some had wings, others tails, some horns, but they always smiled.

A trickster, wicked smile—an intrusive thought.

This line of thinking confused Renata. She couldn’t place why she had this—they were just there. She wondered if she should abandon these beliefs until it proved otherwise necessary to have them. It seemed somehow unfair of her to react so harshly to people she hadn’t had a chance to talk to.

The only table with a lone inhabitant had been pushed into the corner of the tavern. It was occupied by a middle-aged Human scanning the common room. He was handsome, with long white hair that he’d secured in a low tail. When his eyes landed on Renata’s, he smiled and waved her over.

As Renata hesitantly moved towards him, she smelled the musty scent of spilled drinks mixed with the delicious aroma of boiled potatoes.

Her favorite?

She even enjoyed the sticky feeling under her boots.

“Good afternoon. Renata?”

he said, tilting his head toward her and gesturing to the available chair across from him.

“Leonardo?”

He smiled slightly.

“Yes, I’ve been looking forward to our meeting.”

He sat stock-straight in his chair, looking her up and down as if searching for something.

“You’ve made a long journey. Please, let me buy you a drink. I’ve heard you’re quite fond of ale.”

Renata furrowed her brow and sat.

“I’m starting to get nervous that everything keeps saying that about me.”

Another smile.

“Oh, don’t worry. All of us have our vices, and from what I hear, it only makes the stories about you all the more celebrated. You’re something of a folk hero outside of that small town of yours. The Defender of The Planes, they call you,”

he said, leaning back thoughtfully.

“Uh, yeah. I am sure it does,”

she said, punctuating the statement with an awkward smile.

The man cleared his throat as if equally embarrassed, perhaps thinking Renata would’ve been flattered.

“That ale, then.”

As a round-faced waitress set two frothy ales in front of them and Renata found herself wishing she were there for pleasure. The violin was calling to her, and the tankard was alluring, dripping with sweat. She craved losing herself to the atmosphere.

“I guess you’re wondering how I know about your predicament?”

Leonardo’s voice snapped her out of her reverie.

“Well, let me get right to it—I am a member of an organization called The Gilded Triangle. We are worshipers of Nainaur. More importantly, we work against infernal beings that occupy the deepest layers of the planes of hell.”

Bells went off inside Renata’s head.

Yes, this was information she had heard of, the simplest version. Nainaur good. Hells bad. She knew that there were a lot of people in her village who worshiped Nainaur. There were several temples to him. Her parents even had a small mantle with incense to ward off spirits from The Hells.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not religious. I don’t think praying would—”

“I apologize for the misunderstanding,”

he said, holding up a hand.

“I’m not here to convert you—not yet, anyway,”

he murmured.

“The Gilded Triangle believes you’ve had some involvement in The Hells.”

Renata wet her lips.

“You’ll have to explain. How do you know this?”

Leonardo blinked patiently at her.

“Oh yes, the memories.”

He cleared his throat.

“Where to start? Mortals—those from our plane—often fall into temptation and sign contracts with infernal beings, mostly Devils, in exchange for their souls. We, The Gilded Triangle, try to help these people by finding areas of ambiguity in their contracts, taking advantage of these, and setting their souls free. Souls that Nainaur can then redeem.”

He lifted his chin proudly.

“Why would you think that this happened to me? No one in Vergessen mentioned anything like this.”

He nodded sympathetically.

“The Gilded Triangle has access to many resources. We recently had an operative enter The Hells, and he overheard that a Devil had signed a new contract—an important one. With you.”

Renata’s eyes widened.

“No, sorry. You must be mistaken. Even I know that it would be foolish to sign away my soul to the service of a Devil.”

She scoffed.

“There must be some other explanation. Devils are known to be dishonest, right?”

He took a moment and looked at her, probing for something in her expression.

“Renata, please do not disrespect my time by lying. The Gilded Triangle is not in the business of working with the soulless, but I am afraid we have no other choice. Even now, I can smell the infernal scent on your skin.”

He wrinkled his nose.

Renata felt momentarily taken aback by his harsh words while simultaneously resisting the urge to smell her pits.

“Excuse me!”

she sputtered, feeling her face redden.

“If I have a scent, it would be the six weeks of travel on that ship I took to get here to listen to your insults and ridiculous theories! What a waste of time.”

She moved to stand.

“I’m sorry, please,”

he said, raising his hands apologetically, face suddenly worried.

“I didn’t mean to offend.”

He paused.

“I realize I can sometimes be severe—but I want to help you—and I hadn’t realized that your memories were part of the contract. In truth, my colleagues and I assumed you were feigning forgetfulness to hide your involvement with the Devils. But this certainly complicates matters.”

He scratched his chin pensively.

“Renata, I need you to be as truthful as you can. Is there anything you remember from your time in The Hells? I won’t judge you. I am here to help, as my lord commanded.”

Renata, face still warm, clenched her jaw, trying to keep the anxiety from rising. Had she really been so stupid? That other woman, the real Renata, was a stranger to her. She felt like an entirely separate person. What if she was that stupid? What an embarrassing thought.

“Are you saying that I did this to myself?”

Her breath faltered, panic tightening in her chest.

“Why would I want to forget?”

she asked, confused.

“I don’t remember The Hells or…a contract, and I’m…absolutely miserable—are you sure one of the Devils didn’t just curse me or…something?”

“No, no, Renata,”

he said, shaking his head for emphasis.

“We are absolutely certain that you have a contract. I must insist that your soul is lost, and this is most likely the reason for your current…state.

“But either way, there is an easy way to prove this. You should have your contract.”

He glanced at her satchel, still clutched in her hands.

“I’m sure it’s there.”

Her eyes shot to her bag.

“No, I’m sorry, but you’re wrong. There isn’t anything in there besides some letters and other…personal effects.”

Again, she tightened her grip on her bag.

“Renata, these contracts are magical. You cannot escape them. It may be hiding in your pocket or bag, and you haven’t even noticed. They aren’t always obvious. They sort of…follow you. You might try to tear them, throw them away, burn them, but they always come back, eventually.”

“I’m telling you.”

She spoke through gritted teeth, getting impatient.

“There is nothing in my bag.”

The man breathed out steadily, also seeming to lose a bit of his decorum.

“I’m positive we can find it.”

He tried to give a small, encouraging smile, but it looked strained.

Renata wracked her brain. She had been through her bag hundreds of times—reading letters from her family and Nephele—playing her piccolo.

“Maybe look again?”

he asked cautiously.

“Now that it knows your intention to read it.”

His forehead furrowed determinedly.

Renata huffed.

“Sure.”

She flipped open the flap of her satchel and pushed aside her piccolo only to see the scattered papers, all the letters from home, some coins, and an apple.

“See?”

she said, spilling the contents on the table and crossing her arms. “Nothing.”

Leonardo looked disappointed and poked gingerly at the apple as if it would transform into an infernal contract.

“Well, we can’t figure out how to break your contract if we can’t locate it.”

Renata stared at the sad belongings covering the table. This was all she had to show for herself now. She had a house back in Vergessen, but she couldn’t remember buying it or even why that house. She actually felt it was pretty cramped.

But these items—had all been selected by her—the Renata she was now. The letters to remind her that she used to be someone, the piccolo because she found that she loved to play, and the apple because, well, she got hungry sometimes. This observation made her deeply sad. She felt pathetic. As insignificant as the crumpled papers she hastily dumped on the table.

She steadied herself.

“Let’s say I believe you. Why did I do it? And...what do I do now?”

Leonardo looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

“I cannot know the reason you did this any more than you can, I’m afraid. But I do think we can help each other.”

“You mean, a deal to break a deal?”

An amused smile crossed the man’s face.

“I suppose you could think of it like that. We, me and the members of my temple, can help you find your soul. But we also need you to help us retrieve an artifact stolen from our church.”

“But why don’t you just go yourself to get it?”

she replied skeptically.

Leonardo waved a hand dismissively.

“Entering The Hells is difficult on the best of days, and as for the followers of The Almighty, it is tantamount to suicide. Just as I can sense your involvement with a Devil, they can sense our holy dedication and piety and will stop at nothing to purge it from their plane, whether through acts of violence or temptation. It is for these reasons that we need your help. As a soulless, you will not be an immediate target of their machinations, and your history defending the planes makes you the perfect candidate.”

Renata’s throat bobbed.

“Leonardo—”

“Leo for now,”

he said, smiling again.

“Leo. I don’t know if I’m equipped to do this. I don’t know anything about The Hells. Even if I did, I have very few memories now. Whoever I was, whatever people remember me to be, I am not that anymore.”

He paused for a moment.

“Renata, there is nothing I trust more than the words of my god. He trusts you—he believes you are still our best chance at retrieving our relic. Even if you can’t, you deserve a chance to save yourself, right?”

He began to nod encouragingly.

“I think that you will figure out how to handle this task. Maybe you can break the contract first, recover yourself, and then find the relic? Either way, you’re still her somewhere inside.”

Renata wasn’t so sure. The wall blocking the memories of who she was, seemed to get stronger each time she approached it, yet the offer was tempting. It was what she wanted. Their goals were aligned, and she didn’t feel there was any other way to figure herself out. And if she didn’t accept, she would have to admit that this journey had been a colossal waste of time.

“Okay. I’ll do it,”

she said, sounding more determined than she felt.

“Excellent. Most excellent,”

he said, sighing with relief.

“I can help you cross the planes, but only when entering. Once you get there, it is up to you to find a way back.”

“Ah. Okay. And how would I do that?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find a way. They always do.”

He shrugged.

“Just don’t make a deal with a Devil,”

he said, raising an eyebrow.

Renata grimaced, an annoyed feeling rising again.

“Yeah, of course. Any other useful tips?”

“You must blend in. On the surface, you should be safe—you are already bound to The Hells, but any conspicuousness could mean that The Gilded Triangle’s mission is compromised. You must take care.

“The Hells are not like The Mortal Plane or The Fae Plane, of which you are—were—familiar. They are ruled by one king, a creature that lords over his subjects like a tyrant, enslaving both Devils and Mortals for his evil designs.

“The king, who is also their god, has many lords and ladies that rule the different city-states of The Hells. Each lord is capable of stealing souls. The High Devils comprise the upper class, while the Lesser Devils are the workers and lower-class citizens.

“Avoid the High Devils. We still do not fully understand the extent of their powers, but we know that they can sense Mortals and even control them.

“The most important things you must remember to survive are,”

He began to count on his fingers.

“One. Devils will rarely directly lie, but their words are honeyed with trickery. Nothing gives a Devil more pleasure than trapping a Mortal into a deal. Never trust them. If you are forced to engage, use flattery as worship. Adoration is what they crave most.

“Two. Do not give in to temptation! They are the epitome of gluttony and vice, always surrendering to their most carnal desires. There is no line they will not cross when it comes to seeking their pleasures.

“Three. There are no good Devils—they cannot be saved or redeemed, no matter how innocent or nice they may appear on the surface. They are evil by essence and will try to corrupt you.

“Four. Never tell them who you are. You are too powerful—too important to remain trapped within their schemes.”

The familiar feeling of awkwardness filled Renata. Should she be taking notes? This suddenly had become very overwhelming.

“I see. Avoid Devils at all costs. Stay away from temptation.”

She hesitated.

“And what happens if I do give in to it?”

Leo’s nostrils flared.

“Then let’s hope you have a very strong constitution for…undesirable experiences. We cannot guarantee your safety, Renata.”

She swallowed but nodded. Her decision had already been made, and she wouldn’t turn back.

“But I believe,”

he said hurriedly.

“With your history, you are the right choice.”

Despite his words, for a brief moment, Leo seemed worried, then recovered himself.

“We need to act with the utmost haste. If you are willing, I can transport you there first thing tomorrow morning.”

He reached into his bag and pulled out three gold coins.

“This should be more than enough to pay for your room and board here tonight.”

She looked down at the gold coins and immediately thought of how Benji’s eyes would sparkle at such a fortune.

“So that’s it?”

she asked, sliding the gold towards her.

“We just met, and I’m going to wander The Hells until I find this thing you want?”

Leo waved his hands again, unconcerned.

“Tomorrow we will go over the finer details. But you won’t be completely alone. We will be able to communicate once you arrive. While The Gilded Triangle can’t enter, our lord still has ways to use his powers within.”

He stood and cleared his throat.

“I think that just about does it.”

Renata also stood up, uncertain as to the correct social decorum.

She discovered early on that social situations were mostly agreeing with people and mimicking their movements.

Leo offered his hand for a shake, and Renata copied the gesture.

“May The Almighty protect and guide you. Remember, he is always there with his loving embrace to protect you.”

He paused for a moment, meeting her eyes expectantly, but Renata wasn’t sure how to mimic this behavior, so she just stood there.

Leo, seemingly realizing the moment had passed, gave a slight bow, rounded the table, and left without another word through the doorless opening in the wall.

Relieved, she plopped down and grabbed her tankard, realizing too late that it was empty. She must have drunk the whole thing during their conversation. Leaning over the table, she saw that Leo’s was still full and unabashedly slid it towards herself.

“I need this,”

she said, taking a long pull and settling in.

With nowhere else to go, Renata decided to take part in what had become one of her favorite pastimes, drinking a mildly warmed ale that she didn’t have to pay for. She closed her eyes to listen to the jolly tune of the violin. It didn’t exactly fit her mood, but it was pleasant nonetheless.

Suddenly, she felt a warmth in her lap. Her head whipped down, startled. Her bag had suddenly become very toasty.

“What the—”

She reached in and searched inside.

It wasn’t hard to locate what was happening. Her piccolo was gently vibrating and quietly whistling a tune.

Renata looked around the tavern. There were several tables very close to her, but no one else seemed to hear the noise. Reaching in, she delicately touched the small instrument. It immediately stopped vibrating as if relieved at her touch. Abruptly, the overwhelming feeling of musical desire flooded her mind, and she itched to stand on the stage and play.

She looked towards the player currently occupying the space. He was easily identifiable as a Gnome with his short stature and nubbed ears. It was hard to tell his age, as Gnomes, like Elves and Fae, aged very slowly. He looked youthful and didn’t have the marks of someone who had been through many trials in his life.

Renata, despite being young for someone with Elven heritage, had faint lines on her face like small grooves carved into her skin—another outward reflection of her past. She still looked youthful, but she knew that these marks were indeed evidence of a life lived, one that, despite what people had told her, might have had hardships. Others her age in Vergessen didn’t seem to carry so many worries drawn upon their skin.

Renata stood and let her body walk her to the stage. The Gnome glanced down, indicating that he had seen her as he finished the last few notes.

He bent down from the small stage, which was high enough to where, even with his short height, made him taller than her.

“Hi, Miss, what can I do for you?”

he asked politely, his foot edging a small, ragged felt hat in her direction.

The hat had several copper pieces and some silver inside. Taking the hint, Renata dug around through her bag and placed one of her gold pieces inside the hat.

His eyes widened, and his mouth gaped.

“Oh wow. Uh...can…I play something for you? Any special requests?”

“Um… sort of. I don’t want to intrude—I’d like to play a song on my piccolo if you wouldn’t mind?”

The male smiled, grinning from ear to ear.

“Honestly, Miss, it’d be a great relief to be able to take a break.”

He hopped down and motioned for her to take the stage.

Renata smiled in thanks before deftly pulling herself onto the stage and looking around the room. No one seemed to notice the pause in the musical interlude or that there had been a change at all. People were busy cajoling, talking, playing games, and having conversations with their heads leaned close together.

Renata dropped her bag on the stage and kicked it behind her. She looked down at her piccolo—anticipation and excitement rising. She hadn’t played her piccolo for a large audience before or in recent memory. But she was surprised that she wasn’t nervous. In fact, she felt glee at the prospect. But what to play?

When she played to herself on the ship, she had felt her melancholy through the notes.

That wouldn’t do.

Happiness.

That’s what was appropriate here.

But a happy memory? That wasn’t yet something she could grab onto. But she did have something. She raised the piccolo to her mouth, closed her eyes, and began to play.

A song languidly came forth from the small holes, a delicate song, not jovial like the others being played before but happy, nonetheless.

It was reminiscent of the wind and the salty air in the ship as it rode the waves. Playing felt familiar—as so few things did—and she relished the sensations across her lips. She didn’t know where she had learned the song or if she had learned it at all, but it felt right. She couldn’t remember happiness, but she could remember being contented and hopeful as she headed towards this city. Taking the ship—coming to meet Leo—was the first true decision of her life, of the life she had now. The first decision she remembered. That was, in its own way, important and something to be celebrated.

She slowed her breathing to a subtle and quiet sound. She always loved this part, the change to a song, unexpected and surprising. It sounded so somber—a short reflection of the uncertainty she felt.

As she played the last notes and pulled the piccolo from her mouth, she realized she hadn’t heard voices or movements in the room. When she opened her eyes, she blushed furiously and noticed that most of the room was agape. She hadn’t really considered the audience and wasn’t yet attuned to interpreting people’s faces. She couldn’t decipher if they were silently appalled or stunned. She decided the best course of action, either way, was to get off the stage as quickly as possible and buy another ale.

As she bent to jump down, her foot glanced off the old hat, which had been pulled to the edge. It was full. Coins of silver and copper to the brim—even a gold or two. She stared at it for a moment before gathering her bag and walking away.

She felt a tug on her tunic.

“Wait, miss!”

It was the Gnome, only about waist-high to her now.

“You have to take your earnings!”

He shoved the hat towards her enthusiastically.

She looked at the hat.

“But…it’s your hat, and you’ve been playing all night.”

He looked a little embarrassed and scratched the back of his neck.

“Yeah. But eh, I just play at a local bar, you know? How much can you expect from a bard who plays at a doorless bar? And besides, those belong to you. It would be ungentlemanly if I took money from such a talented lady.”

He looked bashfully down at his feet.

She smiled small at the male.

“Thank you.”

“Say, where’d you learn to toot like that?”

he asked, seeming genuinely interested.

“I...uh, you know here and there.”

He eyed her suspiciously. Something she said hadn’t convinced him, and she didn’t know how to escape from yet another uncomfortable conversation.

“Well, thank you so much for letting me use the stage,”

she said, backing away, trying to put a smile on as a mask.

“I’ll be seeing you.”

She headed quickly for the doorway, hearing the jingling of coins in her bag.

She immediately thought of Benji and wondered if he had found the best cake in Ataria. If not, she knew exactly what she would do next.