The Way to Hell

Chapter Eight: Maw of the beast

Following the coordinates given to him by Knight, August steps through the muddy ground in the darkening evening sky. He listens to the squelching sound as his shoes sink into the moist mud, making sure the steps are his and his alone. His hand pushes a curled-up cooper fence that blocks the way and ignores the warning sign as he continues forward, following a man-made path of wooden planks.

A monstrous abandoned building towers in front of him, looking like something out of an Italian horror film. Scaffoldings and metal bars surround the dark concrete brick of what appears to be a spire or a gothic opera house of some sort, construction not nearly halfway finished.

August narrows his eyes with deep suspicion, making careful hesitant steps while looking around him. His hand reaches for the gun holster beneath the long beige jacket, ticking the clasp off in preparation for whatever awaits him tonight.

The entrance is guarded by two large gargoyles, leering at him from above a large archway. He stares back at the sculptures, focusing on their empty eyes before stepping through the open gate.

A great hallway welcomes him, accompanied by large pillars that guide the way inside. They're engraved by winged creatures-angels or demons, he cannot tell. The corridor is showered by red construction lights chained to the floor, laid next to each tall column.

Bright enough to determine shadow from light, yet not strong enough to conclude if the deconstructed hall is a church, an opera house, or the gateway to hell itself.

Only one thing is certain: it's most probably a trap.

August's own steps echo in the acoustics of the tall ceiling. Marble shines on the floor through the wooden debris, and large sheets of nylons huddled on the floor. His soiled shoes step between them carefully, trying to listen to whoever walks with him among the darkness.

There in the umbra, a stalking predator moves behind the pillars. August pauses, his right hand resting on the grip of his gun while his ears capture the tapping sounds of small steps. An odd sensation spreads through each of his nerves, it almost feels like deja vu yet not as quiet. His heartbeat accelerates, her name rolling on the tip of his tongue even before the outline of her petite figure becomes clear.

'How the fuck...?'

He might as well have summoned her into appearing by his endless thoughts of her. He can almost see her face as she moves with him with a succubus grin and shining eyes. She can tell he sees her, yet she does not bother hiding.

This is a game.

Aggravated, August sighs and moves to seclude himself behind one of the pillars. His gestures are nearly graceful, displaying a lack of panic even though the blood in his veins begins to boil. This will be the second time she is messing up his plans.

The petite woman moves through the columns like a playful ghost; she is silent yet in his mind, he swears he can hear her demonic giggles. August begins to slowly mimic her behaviour, stalking behind the opposing pillars like a large feline creature, watching her face and learning her movement methodically.

There is a loud drum in her heart, her muscles slightly quivering beneath the skin from the thrill of finally seeing him. The chase was prolonged, and even now where they're finally sharing the same air, there is an unforgiving distance between them.

'I will kill him with my own hands if I have to.'

Perhaps that's the intimacy he deserves.

"You really value your life so little, princess?" August's deep voice finally graces her ears, and the baritone makes her heart flutter. Not out of fear, but the rush of having him close after days of chasing him with sick intent.