The Pleasures of Hell

Chapter 02.034

~~Mia~~

The current carried her deeper into the vibrating ocean. It enveloped her, pulled her under the surface, and her thoughts blurred above her as she sank lower into the flowing waves. Her fingers plucked the strings, stirring the vibration, and something responded. Something played with her. Whoever they were, whatever it was, each note she played, they mirrored. And who or whatever they or it was, they played so much louder, so loud it was all Mia could hear. An ocean tide that pulled her, guided her, and all she could do was hold on, while some part of her still above the surface yelled down at her. Her own voice could not reach herself.

Once, when Mia had been a child, she'd noticed how different and distant people sounded when she was under water. Now, that was her, her own voice unable to penetrate the surface. But the fingers inside her played their song, and the ocean waves responded with a million voices.

The barren ground, the burning sky, the thorny bloodgrip, the veins of lava, the burning bushes and metal monuments grown to reflect the past, she felt them all. They were connected to the ocean, a part of it, and they resonated with the unknowable song.

Yosepha, crucified on a cross, stared down at her, the only angel not wearing armor, and her dark eyes opened wide.

Mia looked around herself. More black horns had appeared from among the crevices between the rocks, and red eyes stared at her almost as much as the angels above. Unlike the ground and sky, she couldn't feel the demons, couldn't pull on their strings directly, but she knew they were in the ocean with her. Maybe they didn't feel it like she did, but they were there, floating on its surface like driftwood. And she would need them if she was going to save Yosepha and Galon.

"Romakus, be ready to get Yosepha," she said. "Julisa, Galon has fallen and lies on the mountainside. Be ready to get him." How she was talking, she didn't know. They were her words, and she told herself to say them, but they felt distant, words that had to punch through the silent choir in her mind. "Vinicius, guard me, and stop Livian when she comes. Do not fall to the aura."

"Aura?" Romakus asked. "Livian? What?"

Mia held up her staff, pointed it at the angels, and prepared her song, her will. Over five hundred angels floated above, and unlike a sexual aura, an aura of Hell would not touch them. But it would touch the demons that permeated Death's Grip, the mountains that surrounded them, the tunnels, the scurrying claws and thundering hooves. It would beckon them all.

And while Death's Grip may have been an unorganized mess of demon tribes, Zelandariel knew what she'd been doing. She knew the power of her province, of the tens of thousands of demons within. To harness that power, she needed to use the spire to summon the horde.

Mia didn't.

"Unmarked," the rapholem above called, bits of Galon's blood dripping down his chest. He hadn't put the blood there. The other angel had, but this one had done nothing to stop her. He was just as much to blame. "Surrender." He slowly descended toward her, shield at his side, spear at the ready, posture confident, and guiltless. Despicable.

The angel with the crooked wing stayed where she was, but her red eyes glared through her helmet down at Mia with familiarity, and fury. There was pain in those eyes, rage driven by something that had happened to her, by the death of someone named Shaul.

The angel was a fool. She did not know pain. She did not know fury. But she would.

Mia slammed her staff down and unleashed the song. Her fingers plucked the strings as hard as they could, and the unknown, non-existent, infinite ocean became a tsunami. It swirled around her, responding to her with excitement and desire. It wanted to play with her, to mirror her song, and to fill in the gaps and flesh out its tone. Hell wanted to dance for her.