Page 25 of The River of Hatred

“It’s people who sold or exploited holy things for their own gain,” I reply. “We’re talking church officials like popes.”

“Hmm,” Jess muses. “What are your thoughts on simony, Itha?”

The angel shrugs. “The Heavens do not care for idolatry. These mortals, however, thought the objects or rituals they defiled to be sacred and exploited them despite or precisely because of that. For that, their punishment is fitting.”

I wink at the surprised mortal. “Vengeful little angel, isn’t he?”

Her eyes are asking me ‘Why is that so hot?’ and I chuckle. It is hot.

“What is that punishment, exactly?” she asks aloud.

I wrinkle my nose at the smell of burned flesh. “I think we’re about to see it with our own eyes.”

A shrill scream penetrates the silence, followed by maniacal laughter. A moment later, the ever-burning flames wink into view. Sinners are suspended in holes that look remarkably similar to baptismal fonts. Only their feet are visible as they burn with the flames of their punishment.

“Jesus,” Jess hisses. Her hands fly to cover her mouth and nose as if she could keep the stench of charred soles out. “Why do some flames burn brighter than others?”

“It reflects the intensity of their crimes,” Ithuriel answers, impassively looking from one sinner-filled pit to another.

As we continue through the trench, two scaled, winged demons appear, dragging a flailing, screeching priest by his feet. We stop to let them pass and watch as they hoist the sinner up before dropping him into his own pit. A second later, flames ignite above the sinner's hole, burning his expensive shoes away in a flash.

“Let’s get out of here,” the Nephilim whispers, as if she’s worried the demons will overhear her and decide to throw her in headfirst next.

“I didn’t have any plans to linger, poppet,” I assure her.

A pillar of fire bursts from an empty pit and Jess flinches back into me. Wrapping my arms around her, I sniff her hair. She scrubbed herself with her citrus soap until she was squeaky clean and my nose is grateful for the reprieve from unpleasant aromas. “Don’t look into the flames,” I murmur, making her shiver.

“Why not?” she asks quietly.

“The flames show you your guilt. Your regrets,” Ithuriel supplies.

“You probably shouldn’t look into them either,” I sneer, losing control over my expression for a moment.

The angel bristles. “I have no regrets.”

My lips stretch into a smile, though I definitely feel no joy. “Go on then,” I challenge.

Ithuriel grits his teeth and clenches his fists by his sides.

Jess shakes off my embrace. “You don’t have to Itha, he’s being a dick.”

“No, go on,” I urge. “Prove angels have no regrets.”

With his chin raised high, Ithuriel steps toward the pillar of fire. His mouth twitches once with what looks to be a hint of hesitation before he turns his gaze to the flickering flames. At first, not much happens. The orange glow reflects in his calm gray eyes and his breathing is steady. A moment later, his back suddenly straightens, his breath catching in his throat and staying there as he stops breathing. The angel’s face twists, first with sadness, then with desolation as his eyes narrow, silverish tears gathering on his lashes. Finally, his breath releases on a keen as his armored shoulders begin to shake.

For a second or two, I feel remorse for sending him to the fire, and then Jessica launches forward. “Enough!” she hisses, roughly pulling Ithuriel’s arm until he turns enough to break the line of sight to the revealing flames.

He stands there, dazed and unblinking and she places both palms on his cheeks, gently tipping his head down. “Itha,” she whispers. “It’s okay. It’s not real.” I can see the care she has for him and feel a pang of envy.

His eyes meet hers, then flick to mine, before settling back on the Nephilim’s face. He lifts his hands to hers, still on his face, and removes them. “Is it not?” he asks softly.

Scoffing, I brush past them and continue on the path to the next trench. Whatever he saw that affected him that much, he deserved. The Malebolge thought so.

I refuse to feel guilty.

Chapter 14 – Ithuriel

The Malebolge:The Trench of Diviners, Astrologers, and Magicians

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