Chapter Forty-Seven

 

 

Meido was a pleasure jaunt compared to Jigoku. Luckily, Amy used the bond she had with her souls to draw us straight to them, and we were able to bypass most of the lesser hells. Although, we did fly over a frozen landscape where the souls huddled together; bare, blue-tinged backs turned to the biting wind. As bad as I felt for them, all I could think was; at least we weren't flying over the Hell of Excrement. That was bound to be worse than the Bog of Eternal Stench.

After we made it across the Frozen Hell, Amy shouted and pointed; she had found her souls. And they weren't in one of the lesser hells either. Amy's souls had wound up in one of the major hells. I can't say that I was all that surprised; knowing what they had done for a living. Yakuza members aren't exactly saints. But did they deserve the punishments they were receiving? I guess the kings had thought so.

We circled a desolate region full of some of the strangest and most horrifying sights I'd ever beheld. There were souls being restrained by Oni while other demons laid lengths of black thread over their bodies. Wherever the thread was laid, the Oni would cut the souls with axes and saws. That was horrifying but not particularly strange.

What dropped my jaw was the giant frying pan heating over a massive fire. Yes; a frying pan. It was set in the center of the butchery and was tended by several bestial Oni who slid wood logs beneath the pan gleefully. To each side of this giant torture device there were wooden towers, and between the towers there was a tightrope; stretched taunt. Oni demons forced souls across the tightrope above the frying pan while they carried a load of metal on their backs. When the souls fell—which they inevitably did—the Oni would saute them while they chopped the souls into pieces.

One of Amy's souls was in the frying pan.

Amaterasu shrieked furiously as Thaddeus swept down upon the Oni, carrying her to battle. The demons looked up in shock and gaped at the screaming goddess and her angelic transportation; weapons hanging forgotten from their clawed hands. Then a flare of light shot out of Amy's hands and sent the Oni tumbling. The cooking soul immediately leapt out of the frying pan and into the fire. I know; I would have giggled if it hadn't been so grotesque and pitiful. In fact, it was so horrible—so ironically chilling—that I couldn't bring myself to utter any of the cooking jokes that sprung into my mind... and there were several.

The soul ran out of the flames and rolled on the ground to put himself out. As he did, his wounds were healed; whole limbs simply reappearing. It occurred to me then that the reason the demons of Jigoku could torture souls over and over was precisely because they were souls; bodiless spirits made solid through the magic of the realm. Any injury received was only temporary. The Vikings in Valhalla made use of that loophole every day.

Ted landed and set Amy down gracefully on her feet. She strode over to her soul, and the man dropped to his knees before her. He wept—most likely in relief—as she laid a hand gently on his head. When the Oni recovered and moved to interfere, Odin and I landed between them. The demons pulled back, and when they saw the light that started to fill Amaterasu's hands again, they ran.

All of the tortured souls had been abandoned, and they swarmed around Amaterasu desperately. But Amy was only there for her followers, and she drew them out of the crowd with her connection to them. Amaterasu spoke to her souls in Japanese, so I don't know exactly what she said to them, but they stared up at her in adoration and cried out in worshiping tones. Then she bent over and kissed each of them on their foreheads. The men faded away; I assume to Amaterasu's territory.

The Buddhist souls cried out for help, but Amy held up a hand and shook her head sadly.

“Why won't she help them?” I asked Sakuya.

“She's not a reaper,” Sakuya whispered. “She cannot take a soul bound to another god.”

“I'm a reaper.” Azrael stepped forward. “I may have retired, but I still have my magic. Do you want me to transport them for you?”

Amy blinked in shock and then looked from Azrael to the wailing human souls.

“This is Kokujou Jigoku; The Hell of Black Threads,” she said. “Which means that these people are murderers and thieves.”

“So were your people,” I pointed out.

“True,” Amaterasu agreed. “But I know my people, and there was honor in what they did. I do not know these people. They chose this religion, and then they failed to abide by their own rules. I will not interfere.”

Azrael looked at me. I knew he wanted to help the souls. Azrael was a compassionate man; it was a part of his magic. But I also knew that Amy was right; these souls had been judged and sent here by the rules that they agreed to in life. Was it our place to step in now that they were paying their debt?

“Your father does the same thing to his souls,” I pointed out gently. “Would you free any of them?”

Azrael sighed and stepped back. “So be it.”

“Was that all of your people?” Odin asked Amy.

“Yes, Norse Dragon,” Amy said with a grin. “I have sent my people where they belong, and now we may go where we belong.”

“Good; I'm so over this place,” Ira huffed. “A fucking frying pan? Seriously? Humans are so whack.”

We took to the air amid screaming pleas for help. It was hard to fly away from that, but part of me—the human part—felt as if it were justice.