Page 22 of My Demon Hunter (Hell Bent #2)
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O N E - WAY TICKET TO H ELL
L ily ran toward Mist’s bedroom, having sensed exactly what the demons had. She burst through the door, nearly colliding with Belial’s towering form, only to find the room empty.
“Motherfucker,” he growled.
“He’s gone,” Lily breathed in horror. “Where did he go?” But she already knew.
Belial answered anyway. “Through that damn gate, back to Paimon’s lair.”
“We have to go after him—”
“We can’t. He added a lock to the sigil. This gate can’t be reactivated or traced.”
“But... why?” she asked, her voice hollow. “Why would he do that?”
Belial turned around to look at her. And he really looked at her. While she squirmed under the scrutiny, she heard the others come in behind her, crowding through the doorway and in the hall.
“He went back to Paimon because he’s going to try to kill her.”
Lily’s mouth dropped open.
“But the brands,” Eva said. “Can he even do that without...?”
“Killing himself too? No. His life is tied to hers. If she dies, so does he.”
Lily gasped. “We have to tell him!”
“Oh, he knows.”
Horror. Disbelief. “No... he wouldn’t... He promised he would...”
She suddenly remembered his eyes. The pain in them, and the tightening around his mouth. The shallow breaths. The summoning brand.
He’d told her he had a week, but he’d lied, hadn’t he?
“Mishetsu is old. Older than I can remember. He’s been trying to get rid of those brands for thousands of years and has never found a way. Combine that with the threat to your life, he decided he’d rather go out on his terms.”
Lily stared blankly at the empty sigil, unable to believe what she was hearing. That was what had been going on in Mist’s head this whole time? Someone she cared deeply about, might even love, had been ready to give up, and she hadn’t had a clue?
Her horror backflipped into sudden rage. “And you just let him go? You knew this and did nothing?”
Belial glared at her. “It’s not my place to decide what he does with his life. He wants to go out fighting, he gets to make that choice.”
Someone cursed behind her.
“I thought he was your friend! I thought—”
“Don’t make the mistake of confusing me with a human.” The demon’s voice was cold, but his eyes flashed with fire. “Immortal beings don’t always want to live forever, and since there’s no natural death to determine our end, sometimes we have to make a hard choice. You don’t get to pretend you understand the mind of someone who has been enslaved for thousands of years.”
She swallowed her retort as she realized he was right. She couldn’t fathom what Mist had been through or how he felt about his past and future.
But she could try. And she could sure as hell fight for him to live.
“He doesn’t get to come into my life, make me fall for him, and then just waltz out on some grand mission to sacrifice himself. I refuse to accept that. I refuse to stand by and do nothing while he’s in trouble, even if you won’t help me. I summoned him once, and I can do it again. With or without your help.”
Belial’s intense stare never wavered. “He told me to tell you not to try summoning him because he’s going to draw a hellseal on himself the second he gets back there.”
“What’s a hellseal?”
“It’ll bind him to the Hell plane as long as it’s active. Doesn’t last long, but I reckon it’ll be long enough.”
“When did he tell you this?” Eva demanded, stepping up beside Lily.
“Just a few minutes ago.”
“What the fuck, dude?” Meph said from the doorway. Eva shook her head.
“I don’t care for your meaningless judgment,” Belial snapped. “Mishetsu wants to die, it’s not my problem.”
“He’s your friend!” Eva said.
“Friendship is a human concept.” His voice was cold, blue eyes narrowed to slits. “I exist to serve my own purposes and nothing else.”
“If you’re so cold and unfeeling, care to explain why you have brothers , then?” Eva, it seemed, did not possess the same fear of Belial that Lily did. “What’s that if not a form of friendship?”
Bel’s expression was murderous. Hellfire danced in his eyes, and the temperature in the room dropped.
“I don’t care about any of that right now!” Lily cried suddenly. “I just want to know how we get Mist back!”
“There is no way to get him back!” Belial thundered, and she recoiled. “He went to die, and that’s his own goddamn choice.”
No, she was not sitting back and letting Mist sacrifice himself. She marched across the room and stood inside the sigil on the floor, studying the intricate lines. “How does this lock work? Can’t we bypass it somehow?”
Belial pointed to one of the smaller symbols within the complex sigil. “The lock means the gate can only be activated once. It’s been used, so the magic is now defunct. If you wanted to use this gate again, you’d have to wipe the lock away, fix the lines, and activate it yourself. You’d have to know exactly what gate Mist linked it to in order to make the connection again, which none of us do.
“But even if we somehow found a way to figure all that shit out, there’d still be nothing we could do. If I show up in Paimon’s lair right now, she’s going to want me delivered to Lucifer, which I have a problem with. Fighting will ensue. War will follow. The very war I’ve been trying to avoid for a long damn time.”
“This is Mist’s life we’re talking about!” Lily snapped. “I’ll start ten wars if that’s what it takes to save him!”
“You start a war, you have to be prepared to finish it. And the end of that war means either I’m dead or I dethrone Lucifer and end up as High King, which is the last thing I want. Not to mention, it could last forever. The whole point was to escape Hell, not to spend thousands of years fighting to rule it.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t try to help,” Ash said, coming to stand beside Eva. “We don’t have to kick down the front door. Maybe we can do it stealthily.”
“How do you propose we sneak around Paimon’s lair? She knows every single thing that goes on in that shithole.”
Lily had stopped listening. She was staring at the gate at her feet, studying the intricate design, and feeling some kind of strange energy washing over her.
It felt like... Mist. Like traces of his magic. She could feel remnants of the force that had activated the gate interwoven into the sigil. It called to her like a siren’s song, beckoning her...
She closed her eyes and focused deeper, trying to follow it to the source. That inner guiding voice was whispering at her to do something. The harder she focused on the magic traces, the louder it whispered.
“Lily!” Iris called from somewhere far away.
She’d forgotten her twin was even there, but now, she was glad of it. She needed Iris’s help for this. For what, she didn’t know. She just knew she needed her.
“What the hell?” someone said.
“She’s glowing!”
“Is that normal?”
“No! Lily!” Iris’s voice again.
Warm hands gripped her shoulders and shook her, and with that touch, the connection was made. The missing piece slid into place, and this time, when Lily reached out to the magic, she could grasp it. She could... read it.
Was this how Mist felt when he hunted? Because suddenly, she was certain she could track him anywhere in the world. Anywhere in the realms.
No matter where he went, she would find him.
Suddenly, she was surrounded by it. All around her, magic swirled like a whirlpool. Without hesitation she dove in, and the world fell away. Distantly, she heard more panicked shouting and was aware of her sister’s hands on her skin.
A tiny warning bell sounded in her mind, but by the time it penetrated, it was too late.
Her eyes flew open, and before she had a second to take in her surroundings, she already knew she was not where she’d been standing moments before.
This time, Mist didn’t waste a second in his cave.
He loosened and shoved down his pants and then used his claw to carve the hellseal on his thigh where Paimon wouldn’t see it. Righting his clothes, he then dug through his meager possessions in the crevice in the wall and pulled out the only weapon he possessed. The small black dagger in its worn leather sheath was slipped into his pocket and tucked discreetly to the side.
A demon with claws did not often require another weapon, but it was far quicker to decapitate with a blade, and he needed things to move as rapidly as possible. As for the hellfire, he would use her blood to draw the sigil once the first step was complete. He was not as powerful as Belial and could not summon it at will.
Weapon secure, he dissolved into mist and traveled down the length of the tunnel toward the main hall in search of the Queen of Hell.
Paimon, of course, sensed him before he entered the throne room. She would have sensed him the moment he arrived through the gate. She sat on her throne with Shaheen by her side, as usual. The shadows cast across her face flickered in the torchlight.
“Back so soon? I thought you’d last another day at least. You were always a stubborn one when you put your mind to something.”
Solidifying his physical form, Mist approached the throne. Whispers from the guards along the wall followed him. The gargoyles seemed to be staring at him with awed expressions, though he wasn’t sure why.
Normally they glowered at him, resenting him for his position as Paimon’s most favored servant. If anything, now that Mist had lost their Queen’s favor, he would have expected them to seem gloating. But instead, they looked almost... reverent. How odd.
He ignored them and focused on his objective. Sneaking up on his prey as mist was his favorite tactic, but it wouldn’t work with Paimon. She sensed him easily, and the moment she suspected him of treachery, she would materialize the cuffs and stop his heart, and all would be lost.
“I changed my mind.” His heart pounded, and his mouth was dry. He forced all thoughts of his plan out of his head lest the slightest tell betray him.
Paimon laughed. “Already tired of Belial’s empty promises? How sad of you to fall for them at all.”
Mist swallowed his pride and forced himself to play his role. “I would rather serve you, Mistress. You are infinitely more powerful.”
“You betrayed me. You killed one of my precious goraths. You cannot expect me to forget that, nor can you expect me to believe you aren’t lying now. You’ve lied before, and now I can’t trust a word you say.” She turned her face away with an anguished expression, as if she couldn’t bear the pain of his dishonesty.
“I have a way to prove my loyalty.”
“Do you?” Her gaze snapped back to his, dramatics forgotten.
“I know where Belial is, and I know what he is planning.”
Her eyes flared with interest, but she quickly masked the expression. It was too late, however. He could tell she’d taken the bait. “Tell me, then.” She flicked her claws. “I haven’t got all day.”
Mist glanced around the hall with fake suspicion. The room was mostly empty save for the guards and a few of her servants puttering about.
“We must be careful who is listening.” He gave her a pointed look. “Belial’s reach extends further than you know.”
Paimon’s nostrils flared, and her horizontal pupils dilated with rage as she looked around, suddenly viewing each of her carefully selected servants as a potential traitor.
She leveled that stare back on Mist. “I will not be toyed with. If this is an attempt to trick me, then beware. You will taste the full extent of my wrath.”
“There is no trick, Mistress. I seek only to prove my loyalty. Afterward, you can relay this information to Lucifer and increase your favor in his eyes, and then I will gratefully return to serving as your hunter.”
She studied him, and for a time, the only sound in the room came from the servants scurrying about. Then, she stood, her powerful wings spreading.
“Come, then. We’ll speak privately.”
Without waiting for a response, she spun on a heel and strode away, Shaheen at her side. The servants darted out of her way, fanning her with amputated wings as she passed, though the temperature in the castle was already below freezing. Mist followed, ignoring more awed looks and whispers from the gargoyles.
She led him, unsurprisingly, to her favorite room in the castle.
Her dining hall also served as a torture chamber because she enjoyed such entertainments while she supped. While humans liked music or movies, Paimon preferred her meals with a glass of blood and a side of suffering.
A long table of stone was adorned with cobweb-covered candelabras and a feast of tentacles and gray meats. At the end of the cavern, the floor opened into a yawning pit— the Pit. The spectator platforms were carved into the sides of the cylindrical chasm, but the top was reserved for the queen’s use only.
Just like in Mist’s dream, the barred grille over the mouth of the Pit was rolled back, leaving it open for anyone to fall or be tossed into. Above, suspended from the ceiling, a series of sinister meat hooks hung from heavy chains, connected to a pulley system on the far wall.
Paimon strode to the end of the table but didn’t take a seat. Torchlight glinted off the sharp tips of the hooks dangling ominously behind her. Shaheen loped to the far corner of the room and lay down again on folded legs.
“Well? I’m waiting. Where is Belial? Tell me what you know. Prove your loyalty to your mistress.”
They were alone, and the camel was far enough away that it wouldn’t reach Paimon before Mist did.
This was his chance.
Heart pounding, blood roaring in his ears, he forced himself to walk with measured steps until he was standing right in front of her.
It was the element of surprise or nothing. Now or never.
He lunged.
The blade in his pocket was revealed in a flash and stabbed into Paimon’s neck. Her blood sprayed like a punctured water pipe.
She opened her mouth to roar with the fury of a Queen of Hell, but she only choked as more blood spurted around the blade and poured down her front. Shaheen bellowed, rising to his feet and galloping across the room to intervene.
Seconds. Mist had seconds.
Gripping the knife, he pulled and pushed, fighting to saw the blade through her sinewy neck. If he could remove her head now, he would have time to summon hellfire before she regenerated.
Her claws tore up his arms like tissue paper, leaving shreds of bloody flesh and tendon hanging off the bone. Her wing talons stabbed into his shoulders until he fought them back with his own. But her strength exceeded his, and he felt her overpowering him.
Her claws began carving up his face, his throat, his chest. Anything she could reach, she ravaged. Pain overtook his senses. Still, he didn’t cease his efforts, forcing his shredded arms to work the blade through her neck until it was half severed... three-quarters severed...
So close, he was almost there—
Shaheen barreled into him. His blood-slicked hands slid off the knife handle as he was thrown back with immense force, his spine smacking the stone. One of his wing bones snapped on impact.
Shaheen took his vengeance with unbridled wrath. Cloven feet stamping, teeth gnashing, the camel pummeled Mist with a force that would have pulverized a human in seconds. Mist tore his claws and teeth into the beast, fighting back with everything he had. Escaping as mist wasn’t an option, as he couldn’t spare the concentration to shift.
Finally, he managed to toss Shaheen aside and scramble to his feet, desperate to get back to Paimon and finish the job of cutting off her head.
He was too late.
She stood before him, her neck pouring blood, her head attached by a mere thread of tissue. Gravity alone kept it in place atop her neck. Mist’s knife was clutched in her fist, and the fury on her bloody face was bone-chilling. Somehow, she had retained consciousness, and she was ready for retribution.
So close. He’d been so close.
He tried to dissolve to mist at the exact second the manacles appeared at his wrists, binding his form and preventing his escape. His heart sank, and the last of his hope died a cold and lonely death.
At that moment, he knew he’d made a mistake. He shouldn’t have come here. He shouldn’t have rejected Belial’s offer of help. He should have stayed by Lily’s side and fought to survive until the very end.
Maybe he’d been afraid of what would happen if he succeeded. Maybe he’d been afraid to find out what freedom felt like. But now that he faced the end, he realized there was nothing he wanted more.
Lily was right. His life was worth something—it was worth a lot—and if given a second chance, he would never choose to carelessly discard it again.
Unfortunately, the time for second chances had passed.
Paimon couldn’t speak with her larynx severed, but he knew what she would’ve said if she could.
He would pay for this as no one had ever paid before.
The silence in the room was oppressive. Belial felt the stares on him like spiders crawling across his skin, and he wanted to rip them off and crush them into guts and blood underfoot.
Chaos had erupted the moment Lily and Iris disappeared through the hellgate, followed shortly by this tense quiet.
“Well, don’t just stand there!” Eva finally shouted. “Do something!”
He was getting sick and goddamn tired of mortals telling him what to do. “What?” he barked, rounding on her. “What do you propose I do, Eva?” He spat her name like a curse.
Asmodeus stepped between them. “Cool it.”
He was getting sick and goddamn tired of anyone telling him what to do, in fact, his brothers included. “Get out of my face.”
Asmodeus didn’t budge. Bel leaned over him, using his superior height to his advantage. “Move before I make you.”
“Guys, we don’t have time for this!” Eva sounded close to tears. “Mist is in trouble, and two humans just accidentally went to Hell. I thought you said it was impossible, Bel!”
“It is impossible. It should have been impossible.” He dragged his fingers through his hair, his temper hanging by a thread. The rage was so close he could taste it. “I have no idea what the hell they just did.”
“Well, we have to do something!”
“And why is it immediately assumed that I will be the one doing something?” he snapped. “Why is every single fucking thing my responsibility?”
“’Cause you usually have all the answers,” Meph supplied unhelpfully. “Normally, you disappear into your room for a while and put a seal on the door so no one knows what you’re doing, and when you come back out, voilà. Our problems are solved.”
Bel ground his teeth until his jaw cracked. Meph made it sound so easy, but nothing was ever that goddamn easy. Everything had a price, and sometimes, that price was more than he could afford to pay.
“Please,” Eva said. “We don’t have much time, and this is an emergency. Their lives are in danger. We have to do something.”
“I can’t go after him. None of us can. I go to Hell, I start a war. It’s not happening.”
“There has to be something else you can do. Can’t you send someone in your stead? Don’t you still have people loyal to you down there?”
Yes, but he couldn’t send any of them into Paimon’s lair without starting a war either. But... there was someone he could ask.
He closed his eyes and groaned inwardly. He’d sworn he wouldn’t do it. He’d sworn he wouldn’t look at or think of or even breathe the same air as that slithering, heinous harpy. But once again, it seemed his vows to himself didn’t mean shit.
He opened his eyes and pinned Asmodeus with a glare. “Get out of my way.”
His brother studied him for a second and then slowly stepped aside. Bel stormed out of the room, nearly tossing Meph through the wall when he didn’t move fast enough. The door slammed, and he reactivated the seal so he wouldn’t have to hear them debating how he was going to save the day or worry about them walking in.
Then he drew a sigil on the floor and summoned Naiamah. Again.
The air swirled and evil filled the air, and it was all so goddamn stupid that it pissed him off. Summoning her like this was only possible because of the debt she owed him, but he wished it wasn’t.
Moments later, the succubus Queen of Hell appeared, a combination of every man’s biggest fantasy and worst nightmare. Or maybe just Belial’s.
Today, she wore a sleeveless leather bodysuit with a neckline so deep it went past her navel. The sides were cut high, accentuating a slender waist and the thickest, most luscious hips known to man—or demon. A see-through, gauzy skirt flowed from the bodysuit’s bottom seam in a mockery of modesty. Platform boots rose to her upper thighs.
She flicked her silky hair back behind her shoulder and shot him a glare. “Now is not a good time, Belial. I was in the middle of a very important business deal.”
Bel’s lip curled at the sight of her. “I don’t particularly care.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Of course you don’t. You don’t care that the Blood Market would collapse without my presence. You don’t care that I have a life beyond granting your precious favors. You only care about yourself and your ‘brothers.’” She made finger quotes around the word with long, bloodred nails, her disdain for his familial bonds evident.
Bel ground his jaw, trying desperately to hold on to his calm. “The sooner you shut up and do what you’re told, the sooner you can go back to your unsavory business.”
Naiamah crossed her arms. However, this served to push her breasts together, and he couldn’t help staring hungrily at them. Frustration, anger, rage ... Dark emotions always made him horny as fuck, and she was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. His hatred of her had no effect on that, unfortunately.
“So what is it this time?” she sneered. “More Nephilim blood? You’ll need to find a better solution for acquiring it if you want to preserve your remaining favors. At this rate, you’ll run out before the year is up. You only have one hundred left, after all.” Her crimson lips curved into a wicked smile. “Unless, of course, you want—”
“ No. I told you, last time was the last time.”
“You say that every time, precious. And yet you can never resist me.” Her gaze flicked down his body. “Not that I’m complaining.”
The red of her lips stood out against her pale skin and jet-black hair. He wanted to spin her around and bend her over the edge of the mattress, gathering all that hair in his fist and tugging her head back until her spine arched while he sank inch by inch into her hot, tight, wet—
He shook himself. Not happening. “Mishetsumephtai is in Paimon’s lair with two mortals. I need to get them out.”
Naiamah blinked. “Two... living mortals?”
He nodded.
“There are two living mortals in Paimon’s lair?”
“That’s what I just fucking said.”
She cocked a hip. “Don’t give me that attitude. You might get away with bossing everyone else around, but not me.”
“Except when I use the favors you owe me to make you to do whatever I want.” His brow arched. “You would do well to remain on my good side. Remember, I can force you to do anything —however... humiliating.”
He had no intention of wasting his favors on petty revenge, but she didn’t need to know that. Her steady glare faltered briefly, and he took dark satisfaction at seeing the crack in her facade, even if it made him a bastard. But if he was a bastard, she was a bitch, and she had made it her life’s mission to make him suffer. He was just returning the favor.
All too soon, her mask slipped back in place, no sign of weakness visible. “Oh, honey,” she purred, shaking her head. “There’s no forcing me to do anything. You’ll find that everything I’ve ever done for you has been entirely of my own volition and to my ultimate gain.”
“Really. And what do you stand to gain from doing me favors?”
She cocked her head, and it became obvious she wasn’t listening anymore. “You look pale, Belial. And there are bags under your eyes.” Her head tilted the other way. “You’re strung out and on edge.”
He gritted his teeth. “Thanks for the assessment.”
Her expression cleared as she came to some conclusion. “That’s your big plan, then? Repression?” She scoffed. “It won’t work.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The rage, Belial. I can sense it in you even now, simmering under your skin. It’s delicious. You’re trying to repress it with whatever disciplines you’re forcing on yourself. An admirable effort, but it won’t work. Repression never works.”
“I didn’t summon you to play psychologist,” he snapped, hating how his gut clenched at her words. Hating how easily she read him. “Can you help me with Mishetsumephtai or not?”
She shrugged. “He is Paimon’s lackey. Why should you want to rescue him from her lair?”
“Can you do it or not?” His voice thundered around the room, and the burning in his eyes told him hellfire flickered in them.
Naiamah’s head came back. “My, my, aren’t we feeling testy today?”
“I’m warning you—”
She held up a hand to silence him. He hated, fucking hated , that he immediately shut up.
Something about her... She’d always known how to set him on edge, how to stoke the rage and make him ride the high until it consumed him. Every memory he had of her was also one of him giving in to the darkest, worst parts of himself. She weakened his composure. She made him more volatile and impulsive.
She was the embodiment of everything he hated about himself, and therefore, the thing he despised most in all creation.
“I’ll offer you some free information,” she said, “so pay attention. If you’re looking for someone ballsy enough to go against Paimon, Murmur is your guy. They’ve been enemies for a long time.”
Belial blinked. It was not what he’d expected to hear. “Why would the Necromancer care about Paimon?”
She wagged a finger. “Nuh-uh. You want anything else, it’s going to cost you.”
“Fine. For the price of one favor, I want you to find a way to get Mishetsumephtai and the two mortals out of Paimon’s lair— alive —and that includes answering my questions now.”
Her lips pursed. “Answering the questions is pushing it. There’s no real reason you need to have all the information for your favor to be completed.”
“The information is how you convince me you’ll do the job properly.”
Her lower lip stuck out. “Or I could say no.”
“You don’t get to say no,” he snapped. “One hundred unspecified favors remaining, remember? You’re lucky I don’t make you do something worse.”
“Oh, the ‘worse’ favors I’ll do for free.” She fluttered her eyelashes.
“Don’t push me, Naiamah.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. But this”—she gestured up and down his body—“self-restraint thing you’ve got going on? It’s not a good look.”
A growl was his response.
She pouted. “Okay, okay. With his army of souls, there aren’t a lot of places the Necromancer can’t go if he wants to, nor are there many wards that can keep him out. I’ve had plenty of dealings with him in the past, and I know that he never makes false claims. If anything, he is secretive about the extent of his power. I don’t know for sure why he hates Paimon, but he’s always had a hidden agenda. He’s a powerful seer, but as far as I know, he never shares his visions, so no one knows what he’s up to. He doesn’t make allies, and he doesn’t spill secrets, so I have no idea what goes on in his mysterious head. But I do know he wants to take her down.”
“And? Can you get him to help?”
“He’ll have a price. And he’s a shady bastard who is generally not to be trusted. He’ll say one thing to your face and then turn around and do the opposite. He has a knack for finding loopholes in bargains. He’ll help you up only to kick you down himself. Never turn your back on him because there’s a good chance he’ll stab you in it.”
Lovely. That sounded like exactly what Belial needed right now on top of everything else.
“Whatever he wants, it has to be fast. The mortals are in the lair as we speak, and I don’t have time for negotiation.”
“That means his price will be high. Your best bet with the time constraint is to offer a favor.”
“No. I can’t agree to that.”
She shrugged. “Negotiations take time. I guess it depends on how badly you want his help.”
He clenched his jaw. There wasn’t time for negotiations at all. Murmur was a powerful demon, but not more so than Bel. If it came down to it, Bel could take him out.
“Fine. Tell him I’ll owe him one unspecified favor, as long as he doesn’t ask me for anything that would endanger me or anyone I care about.” He’d just kill him later if it turned out he wanted something Bel wasn’t willing to give. Problem solved.
Naiamah’s slender brows lifted like she knew what he was planning. “Don’t make the mistake of underestimating the Necromancer.”
“Did I ask for your opinion?”
“He might not like the non-endangerment clause.”
“But he’ll still take the deal.”
Her lips pursed. “Yeah, I think he will.
“Well, get to it, then.”
“Yes, sir.” She smiled wickedly. “Or should I say, yes, Daddy .”
“No, you should not.”
She just laughed.
She turned around, allowing him to discover that the back of her bodysuit was a thong, and her thick, round ass wasn’t even close to hidden by the gauzy skirt. Against his will, his eyes feasted on the sight, and his nostrils flared like a bull as he sucked in a breath. Damn her.
“Only ninety-nine favors left, precious.”
With a wink and a sassy wave, she was gone.