Page 5 of Hell-Bound (Pacts of the Infernal #1)

The next morning, Ren awoke to pain aching through her whole body—the consequences of her encounter the night before—purple bruises having appeared as she slept. Muscle memory or not, it had definitely been a while since she had used her body in that way.

She dreaded her meeting with Leo—she wasn’t in form to do anything, let alone enter the most dangerous plane of existence.

It was still early in the tavern, and she forced her throbbing legs to carry her downstairs, following the smell of sizzling breakfast meats wafting in from the kitchens. Once downstairs, she saw Leo and two other people—an Elven female and a Half-Elf male—sitting together, whispering. Curious since, while there were a few more people eating around the open area, the tavern was mostly abandoned.

Leo met her eyes and waved her over with a grin.

“Ah yes, Renata! I am so glad to see you are an early riser like myself. Please sit—have some breakfast!”

His two colleagues avoided her eyes, staring at their hands, which were laced together in front of them.

All three were wearing white robes with delicate gold stitching on the ends. The front depicted a humanoid figure alight with stars and had flowing robes forming a triangular shape; the same depiction hung on solid gold pendants around their necks.

“I’d be careful with those,”

Renata said, sitting and tilting her chin towards the pendants.

“People in this city might think they’re worth something.”

She noticed the female narrowed her eyes at her menacingly.

“Are you planning to take them from us?”

she asked.

“Obviously not!”

Renata shot back, surprised at the hostility.

“I’ve just noticed some… activity in this neighborhood. Just trying to watch out for you.”

The female did not look convinced.

“This is Claudia and Brennan,”

Leo said, breaking the tension.

“Two of my most trusted friends and fellow devotees to Nainaur, The Almighty. We are all here to help you cross over into the planes of hell and aid you in finding our sacred relic.”

Claudia cleared her throat, and the Half-Elf, Brennan, shifted uncomfortably.

“This relic is of incredible importance to The Almighty,”

Claudia said curtly.

“The existence of which is closely guarded. Only the most faithful know of it, and only because it was stolen. This relic must be recovered!”

She punctuated each word by tapping her index finger on the table.

Renata just blinked at her.

“I’m sorry, have I done something to you? You see, I can’t remember all—”

“You are given a chance at redemption,”

she cut in.

“a chance you do not deserve. You have no soul, you have betrayed your plane and its people, you have violated the very nature of things!”

Renata felt blood rush to her ears. She didn’t know if she should apologize or punch this female for saying such things.

But it’s true, isn’t it?

She was this person. Wasted and soulless.

“Peace, Claudia,”

Leo said, placing a hand over hers.

“The Almighty has declared that it must be Renata who retrieves the relic. We are not ones to question His will, are we?”

Claudia looked stricken.

“Of course…I didn’t mean—”

Brennan interjected, speaking for the first time.

“Yes, yes. Your devotion is without question.”

He reached into the pocket of his robes and produced a folded piece of parchment. It was quite old, dry, and crisp on the edges, having been folded and unfolded what looked like countless times. He gestured for Renata to take it.

She opened the brittle page delicately, trying to convey a bit of reverence to the three. It wouldn’t do for the acolytes of a god to think she was being disrespectful on top of everything else.

There was just one image drawn on it. A large tome.

“It’s called Vutar’ka Zhartun,”

Leo said, pointing to the depiction.

“We know you cannot understand the written language of the damned, but the tome should be almost identical to this depiction. It is enchanted and cannot be altered by any Mortal or magical forces.

“It is most likely kept in the Devil’s den, the largest of which is in the city of Ogriazeth. We will send you via a portal to the outskirts. From there, you can make your way to the Denizen’s Tower, a tavern where we have secured you safe accommodation. The owner of the tower is already expecting you and will give you more instructions once you arrive.”

The words hung in the air.

“And, my contract. Will I be able to find it there?”

Renata observed a slight tick in the muscles of Claudia’s jaw.

Leo cleared his throat.

“Yes. The Forked Tongue is the den’s name. It will have a denizen of Devils inside. There, you can start your search.”

Renata pulled her bag closer to her, suddenly feeling vulnerable as the weight of her task settled in.

“Do you have any questions?”

asked Leo.

In truth, she had many. But her mind was still sluggish and unable to properly form thoughts.

She shook her head.

With a pleasant nod, Leo slapped his thigh.

“Well then, let’s get to it!”

He stood up from his chair, the wood scraping against the stone.

Obediently, the acolytes stood with him, walked slowly towards the back exit—apparently more of a priority than the front to secure with an actual door—and beckoned her to follow.

Outside was a small alley cluttered with piles of trash and a modest wooden outhouse. The stench of days-old garbage and stale alcohol was overwhelming. Renata wrinkled her nose in disgust, but the others appeared totally unaffected by the assault on their senses.

“We will make a portal here. It’s private enough. No one should disturb us. I can’t keep the magic for long, so you must enter before it dissipates, as we cannot cast the spell again.

“Renata, I need you to understand—the longer you stay in The Hells, the more likely you are to be corrupted and lose even more of yourself than you already have. Do not linger.”

Leo shifted his cloak and produced a glittering dagger. The blade was about a foot long, and the hilt was solid gold. He turned the blade delicately in his hands, passing it to her, hilt first.

She weighed the weapon in her hands.

“This won’t be useful,”

she said, surprising herself.

“The gold hilt will be too weak for the pressure needed to break through bone.”

Leo smiled.

“There she is. The warrior we’ve been waiting for.”

Claudia and Brennan exchanged relieved glances.

“But this isn’t a mere Mortal instrument. It is a holy relic. Her name is The Holy Transgression. She will help you.”

Now that he had mentioned it, she could definitely feel a warm, magical vibration radiating off the dagger.

With that, he stepped back, clasped the hands of his fellows, and began to chant.

She couldn’t understand the words, but she found them nonetheless comforting as she listened to the cadence of their voices, their own type of musical interlude.

In fact, she was surprised that her anxiety hadn’t ratcheted up to an intolerable level. This was happening all so fast. It had barely been a day since the ship had docked, and there she was, leaving the only world she had known.

Her thoughts shifted. Was it really such a loss? She had only been herself, her current self, for a few weeks. Learning from scratch was all that she knew. This would be just another challenge she’d have to adapt to. She would have to fumble around to get her bearings either way, whether it was a new city or a new plane of existence. If she had learned anything last night, it would be to trust her instincts, and at this moment, her instincts told her to go to hell.

Continuing to chant, Leo’s face began to look pained as it creased, and a bead of sweat appeared on his forehead.

There was a flicker—a small spark like someone had lit a match—and a low rumble thundered through the sky before a fiery circle suddenly appeared. Seven feet tall and just as wide.

Feeling the immediate heat, Renata sprang back.

Claudia and Brennan hit their knees dramatically, continuing to mutter while clutching their holy symbols. Behavior that, despite its apparent effectiveness, seemed a bit theatrical for her tastes.

Leo, still standing, looked towards Renata.

“You must go. Make haste. I cannot concentrate on the portal for more than a minute. Good luck, and please, do what you must, whatever you must, to achieve your goals. The Hells are dangerous, but I have faith in my god, and he has wisely chosen you for this task.”

Renata swallowed the lump in her throat, nerves finally revealing themselves.

“So I just—”

“Yes, go!”

he blurted, and without another second of hesitation, Renata ran towards the portal.

The heat intensified as she threw herself inside.

The odor of the alley vanished and was replaced by the equally overpowering scent of sulfur and soil. Renata expected to feel like she was whirling through some sort of tornado—but instead, she felt frozen in time, seeing only the slight shifts in the red flames. The only other discernible change was the growing noises around her beginning to dissipate and reform before a pop and a yank, halting her abruptly despite the apparent lack of motion. It felt like hitting a wall.

As her vision cleared, new colors began to take shape. Even in her first seconds of clarity, Renata knew there was no doubt that she was in Hell.

She found herself standing in a forest clearing, if this sad foliage could still constitute a forest. The trees had no leaves and were scarred by fires. Nothing was growing. The soil under her feet was ash, and the only color she could see was gray. The sky, too, had only dark gray clouds hovering above her. There was no sun. Instead, the sky was streaked with stagnant lightning, making no sounds but lighting the plane with a purple glow.

Renata clutched the strap of her bag, standing perfectly still, half expecting someone to attack her again. But there was nothing. Oddly nothing. No animals rustling, no rippling brook, not even the shift of her hair in the wind.

All was still.

Vacant.

The only sign of life was about a half mile in the distance, where she spotted a collection of angular-shaped buildings. She crouched low, trying to not make noise as she cautiously approached.

She needn’t worry, though. The lack of vegetation made her movements essentially silent.

Drawing nearer, she noticed how the purple glow was refracting off each structure, reminding her of the light of the stars shimmering on the ocean waves.

Sneaking around the back of the buildings, she observed that they were made of a reinforced mountainous rock filled with gemstones that adhered the various parts together. Blues, greens, reds, a rainbow of splendor crisscrossed each facade. It was magnificent. The veins looked simultaneously sinister and expensive. The rough, porous rock gave way to the smooth iridescent crystals. Once close enough to touch, she ran her fingers over the wall. The contrast in texture sent ripples of pleasure through her fingers and up her arms.

Why would anyone value cold coins of the Mortal plane when these glorious jewels existed?

She wanted them.

She imagined people looking on in envy and admiration. She saw herself adorned in exquisite jewelry, surrounded by people from all races and classes, smiling and asking if they, too, could touch the glittering treasure.

Darling. Don’t tease me, she heard purr in her ears.

That voice again. But this time she truly had heard the voice. Like a gentle whisper of someone leaning in to share a secret. The caress of a breath. A male’s voice, more identifiable now.

“Hello? Is someone there?”

She waited for a response, eyes darting around wildly, gripping the dagger that was secured to her belt.

No response.

“Show your face,”

she hissed, trying not to raise her voice above a threatening whisper.

A chuckle.

You can’t help yourself. That’s fine. You’ll get used to that, pet.

The stroke of breath on her ears caused an involuntary shiver.

“Who are you!?”

she demanded.

No response.

It’s just this place, she thought stubbornly, barrelling forward as if she could out-walk the specter. As she dashed, he noticed the trail of black vapor she left in her wake.

Not good.

She kept herself out of sight, darting from the back of glimmering buildings until she felt alone again. To her dismay, the distraction had forced her several miles into the city, and now had even less of an idea of how to get to the Denizen’s Tower.

She poked her head out from behind one of the smaller edifices and spotted the first inhabitants of Ogriazeth.

They were dressed in what could only be described as rags. Renata could not qualify these gray and brown fabrics as something resembling clothing. Her pants and tunic, road-worn and in need of washing, looked positively regal in comparison.

The people walked sluggishly as they made their way through the city, faces dirty with soot and walking with their backs arched as if carrying an invisible load.

To her surprise, not all of them were Devils. There were people from her world—from the Mortal Plane. Humans, Elves, and Fae were all walking and groaning as they meandered to their various destinations.

One woman was tugging at a smaller Gnomish male, trying to keep him on his feet while he staggered wearily. Another tall, Elven male was coughing, spewing black liquid from his throat. The several others she saw weren’t faring much better, looking gaunt and pale.

Renata felt nauseous. She had never seen such suffering. She had never experienced, from her recollection, such misery.

Her sadness quickly turned to fear. Was this to be her fate? Was this what was supposed to have happened to her? Was sending her to Hell all an elaborate trick to trap her into this existence?

She felt an overpowering urge to grab each person and throw them into the portal—rescue them from this torment. But her portal was long gone, and she could not call it back.

Renata swiftly reached into her bag and pulled out her piccolo. She wasn’t quite sure what she hoped to do, but her internal musician demanded something of her. The piccolo thrummed in her hands encouragingly.

Breathing steadily, she walked into the open street, closed her eyes, and played.

This song was mournful. She wasn’t sure if these people would appreciate something dismissively upbeat. Instead, she decided to play from her heart. The side of it that felt lost and scared about the future, but even more scared about the past.

She spared a moment to open her eyes and saw several people begin to gather, their own eyes large. None gave money, and it didn’t look like they had anything to give, but it didn’t matter.

She continued playing and tried to make meaningful eye contact with several strangers, wanting to show them that she played for them. But they all stared back through unseeing eyes, swaying gently from side to side. Her eyes caught on a thin, Fae male. His ears were almost as long as his head, and he wrote a ratty brown hat over one eye.

Momentarily distracted, Renata didn’t see the Devil approach. He snatched the piccolo out of her hands.

“Stop that racket!”

he barked.

After recovering from the initial shock, Renata felt rage rise inside her. How dare he interrupt her song. Her music! How dare he interfere with such an intimate moment and touch something so personal.

“If you damage that piccolo. I will kill you,”

she heard herself say.

What are you doing? Her inner voice screeched in her head.

The male Devil was about a foot taller than Renata with blue skin, sharp, pointed teeth, and four jagged horns, which rose from his forehead and bent back toward his crown. He flicked a long barbed tail threateningly and clenched his fist tighter around the piccolo. Renata could almost feel the instrument strain against his grip.

“This is your only warning. If you do that again, if you disturb the sleepers, I will report you. Then you’ll hope death is the only thing that happens to you.”

The people around her had already scrambled away.

“Excuse me,”

she snarled, snatching back her piccolo.

“but I was just trying to bring a little life into this place—”

Before she could continue, the Devil grabbed the front of her vest and lifted her up.

“Don’t be stupid.”

He bored probingly into her eyes. His expression didn’t change, but she saw his eyes dilate quickly.

Renate stared at him, matching his threatening gaze with her own. In truth, she had no idea where this boldness was coming from, but she liked it.

Yes. This is me.

“Normally, I would crush you and that ridiculous little device. But you don’t belong to me,”

he grunted roughly, dropping her.

Renate reacted and landed on both feet, the impact twinging her sore muscles.

“Get this, you ignorant Elf. You might be new here, but if you get in the way of my doing my job, I will report you to Lord Pelegros.”

His satisfied smirk conveyed that he believed she should be shaking with terror. Renata, feeling more stubborn than anything, said nothing, held his gaze, and shook from fury.

He snickered.

“Honestly, I pity you. You’re brave now, but you’re just a Mortal. If you even knew half of the trouble you’re in.”

He sniffed the air deeply.

“Aaaahh…you just arrived.”

He shook his head, laughed once, and pointed a large, thick finger at her.

“It’s for your own good. Remember it.”

Then he stalked away.

Renata’s jaw worked, trying to release the tension while tracing her fingers lovingly down her piccolo. She couldn’t imagine anything happening to it. Her piccolo was the only thing that felt familiar from the very first moment she saw it in her rooms. Rooms that, themselves, felt entirely foreign.

Well, Devils officially suck.

She thought this while gently storing her treasure.

All the people had skittered away, and she was left alone in the streets.

Hitching her bag closer to her, Renata began walking towards the center of the small city, or where she believed it should be. When she finally saw someone, a female Half-Orc, sitting by a fountain in a plaza, Renata waved amicably.

The female didn’t move—didn’t tilt her head towards Renata. She just sat. Staring.

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

Renata hesitantly came closer to the female.

“Do you know where Denizan’s Tower is?”

The female didn't flinch. Didn’t even acknowledge Renata standing in front of her as a small droplet of drool dribbled down her haggard face.

Renata turned to look past her shoulder and towards where she was staring. In the distance, barely a few paces away, Renata saw a hanging sign.

The Denizan’s Tower.

She turned back to the female whose face remained blank.

“Thank you,”

Renata said, hoping for some kind of response.

There was none.

She stood there a moment, feeling powerless. She couldn’t even thank this poor female. Even if the Half-Orc hadn’t meant to help her, she did. Money didn’t seem appropriate either. How could you thank or help someone who couldn’t acknowledge what was being offered?

Feeling deflated, Renata could only offer a smile and turn to walk towards her destination.

The Denizan’s Tower did have a door, one that swung back and forth soundlessly.

The first thing she saw when she entered was a long bar extending from one wall to another, surrounded by tables. Each table was of a different height and style and was completely covered in dust. Oil lamps were lit, casting a brownish hue as the light mixed with the purple coming through the windows.

There was no music playing—there wasn’t anything, or anyone, at all.

“Hello?”

Her voice did not echo. Instead, it disappeared and was absorbed into the thin stone walls.

“I was sent by the—”

She felt her voice cut off.

What the...?

She tried again.

“I was sent by the—”

Nothing.

Just then, a ragged, Elven male scrambled around the corner.

“Don’t say nothing!”

he hissed.

“Um…are you who I’m supposed to meet?”

“What did I jus day?”

He dashed towards her, grabbed her arm, and dragged her away from the door and deeper into the bar.

“Not too bright, are ye?”

He let go of her arm.

“I’m Fredrick–Fred is fine. The bar is enchanted, so the sleepers don’t get in. We should be good over here.”

“Sleepers? Is that what those people are?”

He nodded quickly, his greasy brown hair falling into his eyes.

“Neither living nor dead.”

“How can they be alive and dead?”

“They sold their souls, didn’t they? Then broke their contracts.”

He shook his head pityingly.

“No hope for ‘em now.”

Broke their contracts?

Renata’s mouth suddenly became unbearably dry. She didn’t have hers. For all she knew, she had violated hers without even knowing. Turning into a sleeper suddenly seemed a lot worse than waking up without memories.

You’re playing with fire.

He turned and walked toward the bar area and dug around underneath, producing a dusty green bottle.

“I try not to drink alone, hard to stop. But ye’re here now. Care for a nip?”

“Absolutely,”

she responded hastily, tongue feeling like sandpaper.

Fred grabbed three glasses, all with chips, and poured two fingers each.

“Spirits for the spirits, ye know,”

he said without a hint of irony, a small head tilt towards the third glass.

Renata lifted hers and smelled the liquor. It smelled sweet and woody. It could be poison, but honestly, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Leo says ye’re here on something and some sort. Wouldn’t tell me. And I don’t want to know. That’s why I have the muting magic up.”

He wiggled his fingers as if casting a spell.

“The less ye can say, the less I get in trouble. But the least I can do for Leo is set ye up a room.”

He took a long sip of his drink and continued.

“But if yer gonna stay at me place, ye gotta follow me rules.”

He pointed a dirty nail at her.

“No bringing in any guests. I don’t care if it’s just a succubus or an imp. Go get your pleasures somewheres else.”

Renata almost choked on her drink.

“Oh no. I don’t—have an...no, I’m good.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Girl, ye’re in Hell. Temptation is the name of the game here.”

He raised his glass to his lips, finishing it off.

“Ye’ll give in to something, all right. We all do.”

He looked down at the empty glass as if to will the liquor back.

“Just don’t do it here,”

he emphasized, gesturing to his bar.

She lifted her hands in surrender.

“And stay away from the sleepers. Ye can’t help ‘em, don’t try.”

“How did you—”

“Don’t try! They made their deals. Then they reneged! Let ‘em do their job and have some semblance of peace.”

Suddenly curious, she said.

“They have jobs?”

“They work the mines. Digging out all those gems you see everywhere.”

“What do they do with it?”

“Well, they give it to their lords, don’t they? Paying off the debts they still have.”

Renata shivered. She couldn’t think of anything worse than becoming some unseeing zombie wandering around and still being in total servitude.

“Leo said ye’s would be going to The Forked Tongue tonight?”

Renata was struck by how matter-of-fact he was.

“Yeah, but I don’t know much else. Do you…do this a lot? Help the soulless, I mean.”

The Elf licked his lips, and his eyes darkened.

“Yeah, I s’pose yer could be sayin’ that.”

He pointed toward a precarious staircase.

“If ye’re headed to the den, ye need to be getting going. Just go up to yer room. I think everything you need is there. If not, just call.”

He turned around and walked towards the back of the bar.

Realizing she’d been dismissed, she drained her glass. Before standing, her eyes glanced at the third glass, still full of amber liquid, and wondered if spirits really cared about liquor. She, on the other hand, could definitely use more. Two fingers hadn’t been nearly enough to subdue her growing nervousness.

Making her way to the stairs, she realized that none of the loose boards were making noise. Not a squeak or a moan of age, despite their movement as she walked. Renata knew now that she was an expert moving around noiselessly. This unnatural lack of noise, though, disturbed her.

After reaching the top of the stairs, Renata saw only one open door. Inside was a modest, if a bit dusty, bed atop laid a small bag and a letter addressed to her.

Renata,

If you’re reading this, then that means you’ve made it to our safe house. We know Fredrick is a bit odd, but he is a good male and devout follower of Nainaur. Tonight, The Forked Tongue is having a party with several Devils and their invited guests. This will be the perfect moment for you to search for the tome and ask about the contract. Be on guard. Devils are powerful beings capable of magic and trickery. If they can corrupt you, they will. Blend in. Remember your objective. Await my next correspondence.

May the Almighty smile upon you,

Leonardo

P.S. I have provided you with appropriate garments for the party. They should be in the closet.

She tossed the letter on the bed, opened the small wardrobe, and gazed at what was inside.

Oh, hells no.