Hellfire by M. H. Bonham

Author:M. H. Bonham [Bonham, M. H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: urban fantasy
Publisher: Llaughing Llama Media, LLC
Published: 2020-09-14T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

The elevator to Hell had the worst music ever. Imagine disco and grunge rock sung in a country and western twang, and then done by people who couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, and maybe, maybe, you’d get close to the pain my ears endured. Oh, sometimes it would switch to heavy metal polka. In ancient Egyptian. Just because.

I was pretty sure my ears were bleeding after hearing “Dancing Queen” in German Death Metal. By the end of the ride—which felt like an eternity because some wanker had pushed all the buttons, so we stopped at every floor—I was ready to gnaw my leg off. But, I digress.

When the elevator opened up to each Circle of Hell, we got a quick glimpse out the building’s windows. With Circle 2, which had contained the windstorm that tossed around people who committed carnal sins, people were no longer floating around, but were instead using hang gliders and other vehicles to take advantage of the lift. A crowd stood in line to go on rides. They looked extraordinarily long, which probably made it Hell to wait for one’s turn.

The next several Circles featured various putrid areas that had been marked as Superfund sites and OSHA signs mentioned that they were under cleanup. I glanced at Azazel, who shook his head. “Engineers,” he said. “There’s a bunch of government bureaucrats here too, so they’ve taken to cleaning up the worst parts. They’ve already put lots of buildings up, all with air conditioning.”

“Air conditioning,” I repeated.

“Yeah, because the engineers and infrastructure technicians got tired of it being so hot. They’re using the lakes of fire for barbeques now.”

At last, we arrived at the Eighth Circle of Hell. The door opened and we walked into the lobby of another office building. I looked outside. Just beyond the corridor stood glass windows which enabled us to look out a what appeared to be a rather ordinary city. I raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t this where wizards and fortune tellers go?”

“Yes.” Azazel looked down at Ulf, who was lying at our feet with his legs trussed up. It had taken us forever to get the wolf into the elevator, to the point where the elevator sounded its annoying alarm while we tugged Ulf into it. “Sabine insisted she stay here.”

I glanced at Vetr, who shrugged. “Why would she insist on staying down here?”

Azazel looked pained. “She wanted to be with other magic users. Only, here in the Christian Hell, they’re rare. Most other pantheons have accepted them. Here, they were supposed to walk with their heads on backwards.”

I blinked. “Is that even possible?”

“Christian wizards, or walking with your head on backwards?” He led us out of the elevator. Tuzren took flight to scan the area. Vetr picked up Ulf—not a mean feat with a wolf that big—and began to half drag, half carry him out. The elevator gave its displeased buzz to let us know we were holding it up from going to the next floor. Those few people who were standing in the lobby turned and looked at us.

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