Geist by Fallon O'Neill

Author:Fallon O'Neill
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: World Castle Publishing, LLC
Published: 2021-10-24T19:17:02+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The elevator was cold and metallic, more of a bathysphere than a lift to the heavens. A string quartet played over the speakers. Victor leaned on the rail, a hand against his clammy forehead, making out patterns in the bronze tiles. The serenade was hollow. His friends seemed so far away, shades of camaraderie in a mental fog.

“So,” Charles broke the silence, “you’ve never faced your own daemon, right?”

“What are you implying?” Victor asked.

The stoner turned to Beatrice. “Well, uh….”

“That you’re starting to crack,” she said. “I’ll be the first to say it. Dante going apeshit. That wasn’t normal. I get that you love Yuko. So much that you’ll do anything to keep her safe. It’s selfless. Admirable. But not at the expense of your sanity.”

Victor bit his lip. “You don’t understand—”

“Oh, I know,” Beatrice interrupted. “Never had my girlfriend kidnapped by a serial killer and harrowed hell to find her. The ordeal would’ve broken anyone else. Not you, though. I know it’s not much, but Charles and I got your back. It’s why we stuck around.” She raised an eyebrow. “So quit being a whiny little bitch and let us help.”

“You know just what to say,” Victor chuckled half-heartedly.

The elevator jerked to a halt, its bronze gate rolling to the side. At first, Victor saw only a void beyond starlight and sanity until he raised his electro-staff, illuminating a lonely path of stained glass winding ever on towards the summit of hubris.

“Goddammit,” Beatrice sighed. “Does this place ever end?”

“Loaded question,” Victor said. “I don’t think the Inferno has an ending per se. It’s a manifestation of the collective unconsciousness, right? Of the city, at least. It’s all so malleable and ever-changing. Besides, reaching ‘the end’ was never the goal.”

Charles smiled. “Now there’s our happy hour philosopher.”

Victor led the way along the kaleidoscopic road, calculating his every step. He didn’t want to discover how deep the abyss was. Arcane windows lined the way forward, once depicting saints and martyrs, faces shattered by rage and grief, suspended in oblivion.

“Guys, stop.” Beatrice drew her sword. “Look. Just ahead.”

Victor twisted another knob, spying a pair of images yet untainted, both of which he recognized instantly. Fleeting lights against entropy itself, one against a haze of purple and forest greens, like a pothead’s nirvana, the other of sapphire flame and shards of ice.

One for Charles. One for Beatrice.

Unseen eyes lay upon the trio as a presence swallowed the light, whims of depression gnawing at hope. Victor’s mind wandered to the warning letters, each themed after a supposed sin. He remembered his friends, strapped to monstrous devices in their self-inflicted hells, meant to extract their very soul. The man responsible was in sight, and he wasn’t alone.

“It’s so quiet here,” Edgar said. “Together with her—”

“You bastard!” Victor bolted up the crystalline path, blade at hand. He tried to find the words to accuse Edgar of these crimes but could only manage, “Let her go.”

“V…Victor!” Yuko screamed.

“You followed us here!” Edgar wheezed in panic, dragging her up the stairway.

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