Buffy looked out over the barren, mountainous landscape. Concentrico was quiet. Eerily so. Yet she wasn’t alone. Someone, something was out there. Watching. Waiting.
Walking the ledge, ten tunnels fanned out from the base stretching as far as the eye could see. No stairs. No paths. No way down but in a bone-crushing fall. Making another pass around, she felt the ground shake. She ran and braced herself against the side of the mountain as a section of ground ruptured and split, giving way to a rising elevator.
DING. The doors opened. Buffy repositioned the Glock tucked in her waistband at her back and entered the elevator, eyeing the human-faced demon manning the controls. Tawny fur, reptilian scales, and a long scorpion-like tail poked out from around the traditional bellhops’ gold trimmed red jacket and classic hat.
“Going down?”
Its raspy gurgle made her skin crawl. On her nod, the doors closed. She ignored the demon humming along with “The Girl from Ipanema” while recalling her earlier conversation with Mulcahy:
“It took calling in some big time favors, but I got what you’re looking for. From eighty-six to o-five, LA had a handful of murders near identical to ours. The boys in blue never put two and two together, chalking these up to bad drug deals, gangs, and a john taking things too fucking far. That was until they arrested a pair of sibling freak show cult leaders…”
“This is where you get off.” The demon flashed a knowing, jagged smile. The doors opened.
Buffy took a deep breath and stepped out. She headed in the only direction she could, down a torch-lit tunnel. Up ahead, several gangly blue-skinned demons were flanked by two lines of men and women walking in opposite directions. Sheep-like they followed. Never breaking stride or position.
“Get in line!”
A demon cracked its whip at Buffy’s feet. Though surprised, she didn’t move. The next strike came on the heels of the first. Frayed leather wrapped around her wrist, and with a tug, she fell to knees. Hard. Biting back a scream and the pain, she stayed down to give the impression of surrender. It worked. The demon stepped closer, and she felt the length slacken. With a twist her wrist, she grabbed the whip and pulled with all her might. The demon fell, landing face-first on the stone floor. Growling and snarling, the other demons charged. Buffy shook off the whip and stood, bracing herself for a fight she knew she couldn’t win. One that never came. In an instant, the room shifted. Both demons and people disappeared, leaving her alone.
“The way you move, pure poetry.”
Buffy looked around several times to find William. She couldn’t see him but knew he was there. She felt him.
“Fighting. Fucking. No matter. Anyone who watches is seduced. I know I am.”
Movie-like clips flashed across the walls of them together. At the French feast. The Japanese shoins. On the sands. She turned away, still hearing flesh meeting flesh in both pleasure and pain.
“No, don’t look away.” She felt his fingers brush across her cheek. Buffy tried batting away his hand, meeting only air.
“Quit playing games!” Turning in a circle, her anger mounted.
“Games? That’s all you’ve ever done, play a part. Ever deceptive. Ever fraudulent.” The last word rumbled in her ear. She spun to catch him. Again, she came up empty.
“Come out and face me!” She took a defensive stance, her fists at the ready.
“What? No pretty words or promises, Buffy? Pity. Well, if you want me…”
The pictures and sounds were gone. He was gone. She was alone. Looking behind her, the elevator doors were still open. This was a way out. Buffy turned and headed in the opposite direction.
She walked and walked, for how long she didn’t know. Time seemed to have no meaning or bearing here. She questioned if she was going the right way. Mid-debate, whether to turn back or not, out of nowhere a set of doors materialized in front of her.
Spanning the length and height of the tunnel, arched wrought iron doors stood proudly in the center of intricate metal art that appeared to be moving. Dozens of miniature nude bodies twisted and recoiled, silently crying out as winged demons tore at them with fangs and claws. Buffy wanted to help but she knew it was too late. Needing to get inside, she went to the doors. No doorknobs. No give as she tried to pry them open. Nothing. Then, as written in fire by an unseen hand, line by line flared across the arch.
Through me you pass into the city of woe:
Through me you pass into eternal pain:
Through me among the people lost for aye,
Justice the founder of my fabric mov’d:
To rear me was the task of power divine,
Supremest wisdom, and primeval love.
Before me things create were none, save things
Eternal, and eternal I endure.
All hope abandon ye who enter here[i]
On the last word she read out loud, the doors opened. Stretched out ahead of her darkness and the unknown. She knew what she had to do. Without a second thought, she walked inside and never looked back.
[i] Divine Comedy, Cary’s Translation, Complete
Aeterna Publishing 2010
Canto III, page 9