shades climbed out of the ebonite of the Gate itself, falling to the sand and straightening up.
They were dead women from ages past, wearing simple robes, their hair tied in long braids. Handmaidens, bowing low before us all.
“Princess Inanna, you may not pass without tribute.” The first shade’s whisper was so faint it was almost inaudible.
I ground my teeth together. “I’m not Inanna.”
Nobody listened. Minister Neti looked on as the shades unbuckled my golden chainmail and let it fall to the sand under the Gate, a bright spot pooling in the darkness like liquid. Both shades sighed.
“Princess Inanna, you may pass.” They climbed back into the Gate, shoulders slumped like they were exhausted even in death.
Damuzid pushed me.
I’m going to kill him. I’m going to kill him. I’m going to kill him.
I repeated the mantra, but it was no comfort at all. Not when I was completely at their mercy.
Sphinx statues watched us from between the Gates, uncaring and cold. At the third Gate, my boots were removed by the weary shades.
At the fourth Gate, they took my sleeves and left my arms exposed.
At the fifth, my leather bodice. I watched the gift from Azazel and Vyra drop to the sand, my eyes dry.
I wouldn’t cry. Not now. Not while Satan was watching, intent on my humiliation.
If he touched me while I was naked, I would die. But he didn’t. I hadn’t cried yet, but he was savoring my distress, his eyes running over me like physical caresses.
I made my face stone again. Give them nothing.
At the sixth Gate, the shades stripped me out of my shredded pants and offered them up as tribute. All I had left was my underwear and bra.
I steeled myself, refusing to lash out, but feeling a deep empathy and kinship for Inanna. They kept calling me by her name, refusing to let me pass until I allowed them to take something from me.
I’d stopped telling them I wasn’t her at the second Gate. The shades of the handmaidens were long dead and they no longer cared; they were just repeating a motion they’d made eons again, going through the ritualistic motions of stripping a goddess down to nothing.
I wasn’t a goddess, but if Inanna had made it through, I would make it through. Neither Satan nor Ereshkigal, or their idiotic games and rituals, would crush me.
“One Gate left,” Satan said.
I closed my eyes and ignored him. Was Lucifer behind us? Had giving him every last drop of my healing fire worked, or had he bled out during the march?
Then I thanked God, dead though he might be, that I was still early. My pregnancy wouldn’t be obvious to them yet.
Depending on how long it took my men to escape the Between, they might never know, and that was the best I could hope for.
If I could just hold out, I’d find a way to break free. Then I’d go get my Spear and make Satan eat it.
I did this for Lucifer. I’m equal to this.
Minister Neti raised his hands at the last Gate, the seventh. I eyed it far overhead, wondering if there was some connection between seven Gates and my own Seventh Circle, but it was getting harder and harder to keep faith with the universe or the Chain.
Why lead me here? Why put me through this?
There was nothing beyond the final Gate at all, just another endless expanse of desert. My chest was starting to tighten from the anxiety of what was coming next.
“Here we pass the last Gate, into the earth itself to the realms of the dead.” Minister Neti held up his hands reverently. “Blessed be the Queen of the Dead, She Who Drinks the Souls, the Eater of the Damned, and her consort.”
Satan just nodded, his impatience showing in the little lines on his face. He shoved Damuzid aside, sending the demon flying backwards, and gripped my ropes. “Take her last tribute.”
I didn’t speak as the shades appeared once more to take the only things I had left.
When they’d discarded the last of my clothes under the Gate’s shadow, I raised my chin, and realized Satan was looking at me with revulsion.
A smile broke through my bruised lips when I realized what had disgusted him. His eyes were focused on one spot.
“You smile now.” He came close to touching the upside-down cross on my chest, his hand hovering there, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to make contact with it. “But you won’t when I carve these out