The Elementalist (15 page)

42

~A Room with a View~

Alisa

My heart was absolutely breaking, but I couldn’t hold Brecken back from achieving redemption. I couldn’t keep him from progressing just because I wanted to be with him. Letting him love someone else would kill me—figuratively—but after what I’d already been through, what difference would it make? I was already broken. I’d always understood that.

So, with my broken heart, I sought out Raphael, who had always had the ability to help me gain perspective. This was so terribly hard. Devastating, actually, and I needed counsel.

Closing my eyes, I pictured the little hamlet in heaven—Idir Shaol. I’d appeared there so many times that it took no effort at all. I wasn’t even aware anything was different at first. Light filled the city, just as it always had. People visited on the street, although in softer tones, and guardians still bustled in and out of the library.

I didn’t recognize anyone.

As I walked, armed soldiers appeared on the street corners, bearing swords. I studied their faces, and they watched me with distrust. When I reached Raphael’s building and walked in,
everything
looked different. The crystal vases that had stood in each corner of the reception area were gone, replaced with ebony monstrosities that contained noxious plant life with wicked thorns. I’d never seen anything like them before.

The sheer, white curtains that had graced the wide windows were absent, replaced by deep burgundy drapes that hid every ounce of illumination that used to brighten the inside of this edifice. Dark, blood-red carpets hid the white marble flooring. I stopped to stare; it was that shocking.

“Hello, Alisa. So nice of you to drop in.”

I turned in surprise.

Adam? Oh. No.

Before I could blink away, he grabbed my arm, dragged me down the hall, and shoved me into Raphael’s old office. He slammed the door behind us and turned to me, glaring. “You’ve made a massive mistake coming back here, lesser guardian.”

“I see that. Where’s Raphael?”

“Not here.”

“Tell me where he is!”

“You don’t know? Interesting.” We glowered at one another, and then his face softened into an indulgent smile. “Where are my manners? Would you like anything to drink? To eat?”

“No.”
What an idiot.

“Well then. You have two options. You can either join our ranks, or be delivered to Soul Prison.” He relished my stunned expression. I felt his glee as though it was wafting from him like body odor.

I shook my head slowly, trying to stall, to figure out a way of escape. “You’re forcing angels to follow you now?”

“Number one, you’re not an angel, and two, we don’t force. Everyone still has their free will… more or less,” he said, slipping around the desk to sit in Raphael’s old chair, leaving the way to the door free. He intertwined his fingers over his stomach, reclining in the chair. “Go ahead. Try it,” he said, as though he could read my mind.

“Fine.” I closed my eyes and pictured my parent’s home. Nothing happened. Adam’s smile deepened, and his grin stoked my feelings of fury and impotence. I tried again.

Nothing. I was blocked.

“Having trouble?”

“Let me go.”

“No.”

Rather than argue or wait, I ran for the door, but he was out of his chair and had his arms around me faster than I could have imagined. He lifted me from my feet, tossing me to the couch where I’d visited with Raphael so many times.

“You can’t keep me here!”

“Oh, we won’t keep you
here.
Guards!” Two burly men entered the room. “This guardian would like a nice, warm space inside Gehenna.” They placed black, iron shackles on my wrists—that would keep me from blinking away. I knew they worked since I’d tried—and they were painfully heavy in a strangely spiritual way, pulling me down into sorrow. Not unlike the feelings I had when visiting Soul Prison.

“You can’t do this!” I screeched when the soldiers grabbed my arms.

Adam strode up to me—close enough that if I leaned forward an inch, our noses would touch. “I can and I have. Goodbye, Alisa Callahan.”

***

It happened quickly.

Before I could even argue, we disappeared from Raphael’s office and reappeared at the gates of Soul Prison. The wailing, though distant, slithered toward me, coiling around my legs and torso, the piercing cries of the damned welcoming me.

“No,” I groaned, my strength slipping away, my knees buckling. I had a basic idea what was in store for me. “Please.”

The demons stepped through the black gates without hesitation or fear, as though the stickiness and the heat were a familiar comfort. They dragged me between them, because by this time, I was a blubbering idiot and couldn’t even stand.

There was only one thought in my mind, and that was that I could not come back here, let alone stay as a prisoner. My darkest fears bubbled to the surface—memories of Mr. Roland, and my old roommate, Deedree, who resided here somewhere—struck terror to my center.

I realized Andras and Lamia were almost certainly waiting for me too, set free as ruling demons. They had to be aware of what was happening and had probably taken command of the hordes that guarded Soul Prison.

The ache of tears pressed against my eyes, a crippling throb inside my head. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t real… but it was. The strange grass that existed here stabbed at my bare feet as the demon-soldiers pulled me deeper into the bowels of hell. The pain was real. The sorrow here was real. The wailing dead were real. This was happening. I was a prisoner… in Soul Prison.

All along the path, arms writhed, reaching for us, pleading for release. A release that would never come. The air coated my tongue, my mouth, my throat—the acrid taste of the underworld sapping all hope from my heart, and the tar, ever more glutinous.

“Please,” I begged again. “I can’t stay here. You don’t understand.”

“Oh, we understand all right,” the demon on my right answered. “We know exactly what this place will do to you.” He smiled as though the thought brought him unimaginable pleasure. “You know, I once served under Bretariel,” he said.

His words barely penetrated my mind, but then the connection clicked. Brecken’s old name. Bretariel. I realized that maybe, just maybe, Brecken could help me even though he didn’t realize what was happening.

“Then I suggest you let me go,” I said, full of false bravado. “He knows I’m here, and he’ll come looking for me!” It wasn’t true, but these idiots didn’t know that. Nor did they know that Brecken had broken up with me and had no interest in what happened to me now. I could hardly believe it myself.

“That is exactly what we want,” he said, squeezing my arm even tighter.

“What?” My thoughts were getting foggy, drifting, and I struggled to focus as we wandered deeper into Soul Prison. Everything the demons said slipped from my mind after I heard it, and the dread inside me grew. I was lost. We’d left the tar fields of wailing spirits and entered a building constructed of dark rock. A syrupy soot covered everything. The bottom of my robe grew stained with the sticky substance, and it worked its way up through my robes, penetrating my soul. My hair hung over my face, and the wretchedness of my situation began to sink deeper.

“I, Folcalor, have the Guardian,” the demon on my right announced to a guard just inside the black fortress. The demon on my left had been silent, but he turned to glance at me, taking a moment to study my face.

“So, you are the one who has stirred the pot so forcefully that even Bas Iblis has come out of hiding to lead us in rebellion.”

I looked into his eyes, dark pits of sorrow. Remarkably, there was something in his expression, sadness or regret, which suggested his heart wasn’t completely corrupted. Who was this man, and why did he choose such an evil path? “Who are you?”

“You don’t know me,” he said. “And I am no one of consequence.”

“You don’t have a name?” I didn’t really care what his name was, but I was grasping at straws. They were going to leave me here. Nobody knew I’d been kidnapped, and all communication between Idir Shaol had been terminated. Was I so unimportant that heaven would sacrifice me to the underworld?

With a tired sigh, my demon-guard said, “I am Calvik. You’ll be seeing more of me, as I am in charge of this prison.”

I regarded him with surprise. “In
charge
of Soul Prison?”

“No, Guardian. Just this building.
Gehenna.”

“I… I haven’t heard of it,” I said, trembling at the way he pronounced the strange word.
Gehenna.

Calvik and Focalor pulled me farther into the black castle, this colossal dungeon, where the screams of tortured souls cried without ceasing. I’d thought the first level of Soul Prison was bad, with its acrid air, tarry coatings, and screeching damned, but this place… it was so much darker, so much scarier… and we descended deeper still.

Moisture seeped in through the walls and along the black bricks like sweat. As we rounded a corner, a drop happened to fall on my head. Like acid, it sizzled where it struck, creating a trail of fire down my neck, the poison spreading over my shoulders.

Shrieking, I flailed, desperately trying to wipe away the liquid flame, but it covered me, oozing through invisible pores. That one tiny drop consumed me, and I knew in that moment what it truly meant to burn in hell.

43

~Released~

Brecken

He couldn’t get his last conversation with Alisa out of his mind. Over and over, he heard her voice, saw her stricken eyes, and the denial in her expression. He had broken her heart. She had no idea how it had killed him to say those things. 

The ache inside him grew, but when he passed this last, final test of mortality, he’d find Alisa and make it right. For now, he had to let her go.

Sitting in his dance class, he wondered what Alisa was doing right now. He would have thought she’d come back just to pester him into changing his mind. He missed her with a desperation he’d never felt before. Not in his past life and certainly not in this one.

He shoved himself off the chair, needing to release the tension that was building inside him. He stalked over to Hannah, who sat on the bench watching him brood, waiting for her turn to dance.

A tango was playing. He grabbed her hand, pulling her into his arms, and within seconds, she was moving with him in perfect synchronization. He let the music whisk him away, lost in the swirl of drums and rhythm. He no longer took notice of the four walls that surrounded him, or the row of students that were watching in admiration.

Hannah was the best dancer in the class, and he used her body as an escape, letting the music wash through his mind like an icy ocean wave, numbing the roiling yearning inside of him. He pulled Hannah closer, feeling the entire length of her body as she clung to him, a rag doll in his arms as he dipped, hooked, and crossed, interlinking his legs with hers—an intimate interchange.

The dance left him panting and out of breath, and when the song ended, he accidentally released Hannah too abruptly. She stumbled, gazing up at him in stunned surprise.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to her, and then he hurried from the studio, feeling twenty pairs of eyes boring into his back.

Hannah followed him, but he didn’t slow his stride until he reached the grove of trees on the other side of the school. He had sat there once with Alisa, visiting on the tree branch. That day seemed so far away now and yet, like yesterday. How awful a day it had been—the misunderstandings, the arguments. How had they ever gotten together? He laughed at the memory, wishing he could go back and relive those moments.

Hannah said nothing until she was next to him in the shade of the trees. She stared into his eyes and ran her fingers along his brow, brushing his hair back. “Brecken?” Her voice was hushed, and he almost didn’t hear her. “What’s wrong?”

“
I
was wrong,” he gasped, pulling Hannah into an embrace. He buried his face in her neck, his heartbreak releasing for the first time since Alisa left.

Hannah let him hold her, but after a moment, she pulled away. “Want to tell me about it?”

He shook his head, embarrassed, and turned to wipe his face. “I can’t,” he said quietly.

“She must have been important to you.”

In surprise, he pulled back, the shock of her words cracking the hard shell he’d only let one person through.

“I’m not stupid, Brecken. I can tell when a guy is totally into someone else.” Her smile was shy, uncomfortable. “But she isn’t here, is she?”

He answered with a slight shake of the head.

“But I am.”

He gazed into her eyes, deep pools of emerald green. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “Is she coming back?” The hesitation in her voice stabbed through him. To his dismay, he realized how terribly he had led her on. She was vulnerable… and so was he.

He shook his head. “No. Never.”

“Well,” she said, sidling closer. “Then forget about her.” Hannah reached out and placed her hand on Brecken’s cheek, gently pulling his face to hers. Their lips brushed, but instead of deepening the kiss, Brecken turned his face away and hugged her.

He couldn’t be what Hannah wanted.

Not yet.