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  Her battle against her own nature to become this thing, this paragon, this archetype, this warrior, this . . . this infidel—it must have been a crusade the likes of which I’ve never seen. I want that fight. It must be tougher than my fight with Callodax, but I want it. I want to stand on that hill for another. I want to reach back down and help everyone else like she helps me. I want this. Because right now, now that I’ve seen the truth about myself, the other alternative is to be this miserable.

  I never knew, in all my life, that I cared this much about being a good person. What does it say about me that I had this buried within my soul? How many others do? Are there those that don’t? Is it Cid that drew this out of me? Or Q? Or my son? Or God? Or the Devil?

  Or me.

  I sit up. “I’m ready.”

  She smiles. “Where should it go?”

  Hers is on her hand, on her palm. Q’s is on his right shoulder.

  “On my palm,” I say. “Like yours, because you’re bringing me across.”

  She smiles. “I’ll get the rustrock.”

  Her tears are gone when she returns. She sits down cross-legged beside me, a vial in one hand. She draws her infidel dagger with the other.

  “I love you, Cris,” she says.

  I no longer feel like infidel love is cheap. Now it seems to me that the other kind of love is selfish.

  “I love you, too.”

  She coats the blade with a solution of rust rock.

  I hold out my hand. She sits up on her knees, like a Japanese warrior, her hair spilling in front of her eyes. She cuts a delicate tracery of lines into my skin. It doesn’t hurt because, compared with the agony of chopping off my own hand, this kind of pain is a distant, whistling breeze.

  “It is upon your soul that I place this mark,” she whispers, “that you might carry the light. It is incumbent upon you to extract the knowledge of Hell’s workings from her very stones. To draw from yourself and others the knowledge of our own natures. To continually learn and grow in pursuit of arete. That you might use these devices, no matter how painful they are to behold and acquire, to fight. That you might be a part of conquering the labyrinth. That you might make Hell Eden.

  “You are Jus Sanguinis, and it is by my blood that you are made one with us.”

  Then she puts her dagger aside and wraps my hand.

  My heart is pounding, and it makes my stub itch.

  I feel like I have transformed, but I know this isn’t quite true. I have only decided to change. The hard work is in front of me.

  She ties off the bandage and looks into my eyes. “When you become an infidel, you are often given a name. You might use it right away, or you might not. You might wait until a day comes when all that you have known has passed away, when you are a stranger surrounded by strangers. This happens to some of us, you know, when we outlast our loved ones. Then you can pick up that mantle if you so choose.

  “I give you the name of Diomedes, because you are fool enough to fight gods, and strong enough and lucky enough to win.”

  And then she pulls me close to her chest, and holds me tight. “I love you. I love you. Cris, Diomedes, Godslayer. You are not alone.”

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  Need to look up a term?

  Check out the Gehennic Encyclopedia as a free download on Kindle or view at our website: hellsongseries.com/encyclopedia

  What is it like to be damned?

  Arturus knows.

  Born in Hell, Arturus has never had the chance to meet his creator or seek redemption; but that doesn’t mean he has no destiny. He lives near the village of Harpsborough, whose people have torn a moment of peace from the unwilling claws of damnation—and damn-ation wants it back.

  Future omens are poor. Infidels roam the wilds, devils are amassing, and the very stones of Hell themselves have begun to break apart. But even while they fight damnation, Arturus and the hunters of Harpsborough find themselves facing off against traitors from amongst their own ranks and a people they thought they’d left far behind.

  Look for Even Hell Has Knights and continue exploring the Hellsong Universe!

  Like a character? Want to follow them through the Hellsong universe?

  Cris returns in Wasteland.

  Cris appears in Even Hell Has Knights and March till Death.

  El Cid, Q and Aiden appear in Knight of Gehenna and March till Death

  A Note from Sipub

  Did you enjoy this book? If you did, please keep in mind that we are a small press. Sisyphean Publishing does not have the marketing dollars to match a “big five” or mainstream publisher. We rely on you, our reader, to spread the good word about our amazing tales.

  So if you would, take a moment to leave a review at your relevant point of sale, share your thoughts about this novel with a friend, and/or make the appropriate sacrifice/propitiation/prayer to your deity of choice (except for Kurtulmak, that would just be awkward) on our behalf!

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  Michael Cannon

  Director of Distribution

  Sisyphean Publishing

  Shaun McCoy lives in South Carolina. He is an accomplished Pianist, Cage Fighter, Chess Player and Writer. You can check out his fan page at www.facebook.com/shaunomccoy