He descended, hastening by foot to the labyrinth. The ruins were a riot of shapes—pillars, disks, remnants of arches and walls—creating misleading plays of light and an infinite number of hiding places.
Threats could be anywhere. Everywhere. Would he find her mauled body in these ruins? Hear her screams as she was attacked by demons?
His lungs burned; he increased his pace even more.
At the entrance to the maze was a sign inscribed with those foreign glyphs. The markings seemed to vibrate, before growing legible to him.
Behold Deep Place, lair of the Abysmals, possessors of the First Key, guardians of the Second Gate of Hell. Woe to all who enter the bowels of this realm.
Exactly how deep was this den? Vrekeners hated all things deep. He charged forward anyway—
His eyes widened. Melanthe!
Apparently, she was just leaving, looking bored as she strolled from the labyrinth.
Great. Killjoy had freed himself. He was dripping sweat, looking like he’d run or flown marathons to get to her.
The unbidden thrill she felt to see him only worsened her already bad mood.
He hurried toward her, but she kept walking, her portal plans on hold for tonight. Escaping hell wouldn’t be as simple as she’d envisioned.
“Melanthe, wait!”
Sadly, she wouldn’t be able to command him so easily after her sorcery outlays. She’d drained much of her power, though she hoped not in vain.
Thronos caught up to her and reached for her arm, but her withering look made him drop his hand.
“Are you safe?” he asked between breaths.
“How did you get free? Did something attack you?” She was already looking past him, debating her next move.
“Not in the strictest sense. What were you doing in there? Have you lost your mind, going into that lair alone?”
She shrugged.
“You just walked in?” He frowned. “Wait. You’ve got two keys. My gods, you’ve been to Deep Place and Inferno!”
Around her neck, on either side of her priceless medallion, she’d strung two ancient-looking keys to a gate of hell—because she’d already stolen both treasures.
Nearly identical, each key was the length of her little finger. At one end was a filigree bow; the other end was flat, notched, and engraved. Overall, they were as dainty and elegant as Pandemonia wasn’t.
Bonus: they too were made of dragon gold. She now wore three pieces of priceless silisk gold.
Lifting the keys had been the easy part. Hidden within each stronghold was its portal. Beside it? A key. She’d thought she would have to go all Italian Job for her mission, but the only security had been manual: hulking guards.
Hulking guards who were now sleeping like little babies.
With her talents, the keys might as well have been under the front doormat. “I stole these with ease,” she told Thronos. “Your ‘lacking’ mate is still a thieving sorceress, remember?”
“So all these brutal demons have been locked in endless warfare, and you managed to do what armies couldn’t over an eternity?” He looked a little . . . awestruck.
She brushed off one shoulder, then the other. “Just let me do like I do.”
Unfortunately, the portals had turned out to be trickier than she’d suspected. Each one was ensconced in stone, with etchings all around the opening. In Deep Place, clouds and vines were depicted, indicating a heaven plane. The one in Inferno was surrounded by dripping fangs, as if the opening were a ravenous mouth.
Should be a no-brainer—I’ll take the heaven plane, Alex—but then, this was Pandemonia. Could be a trick or a test.
Worse, they were old-school portals, basically huge vacuums, which meant she couldn’t dip a toe and then return.