Fallen Angel

Chapter 20.1

Joan shivered as she followed Rasputin over the frozen wasteland, carefully stepping where he did so she wouldn't slip. 

Well, of all the places the door to Hell could be, I certainly never expected Iceland, she thought. Can't say I appreciate the irony of it. Those fires better be burning when I get there!

Joan wrapped her jacket closer to her body, protecting herself from the icy wind, wishing she'd worn something warmer. She'd taken the first thing she'd seen out of the closet; comfy stretchy pants and shirt, combat boots and a brown leather jacket. Her baslard-dagger was strapped around her ankle, as always. She didn't have the opportunity to sneak into the armoury before her departure. And Lucifer seemed honourable enough about wanting to keep her safe... so far.
The weight of a coat suddenly draped around her shoulders. She nodded gratefully to Rasputin. It reassured her that his stay in the Circles hadn't affected his kindness to others. He hadn't said a word since he'd met her outside the Sanctum and opened a portal to Mount Hekla. Joan didn't bother to ask him about the portal. She knew about his powers. 

In life, some had seen Rasputin as an unnatural man. Others had seen him as a miracle to their prayers — Alexandra Feodorovna, the last Tsarina of Imperial Russia, had been one of them. She welcomed him into the royal household to watch over her only son. The boy had always been sickly but showed improvement when this so-called healer came into his life. Alexandra believed with all her heart that Rasputin could cure her son. Many did not share that belief and tried to kill him. They succeeded after much effort; he was poisoned, shot, and thrown into the freezing waters near St. Petersburg.
It surprised everyone when Rasputin was admitted through the Gates to enter the Vale. Despite his illiteracy, which Raphael quickly took care of, he was an asset to the Vale's team of physicians and healers. All went well... until that awful day.
The day the Tsar and his family lost it all, Rasputin spiralled down. It completely devastated him when he learned of their deaths and the disappearance of their souls. His actions afterwards sealed his fate.

"Here we are," Rasputin suddenly said.

Joan looked up and saw Lucifer standing near a door made of ivory and glass decorated with... poppies? Next to him stood a woman dressed in a heavy, black velvet dress, hands hidden in laced gloves. Only her face was left uncovered. Joan recognised the woman immediately — Erzsebet Bathory, the Blood Countess.

"Dearest Joan," greeted Lucifer heartily. "I am so glad to see you got here safely. I believe you know the Countess?"

"We've met," said Joan.

"Splendid, you'll get along then," Lucifer said, missing — or perhaps ignoring — the frigid scowls between both women.

Lucifer offered his arm to Joan. She exchanged a hesitant glance with Rasputin. He nodded, encouragingly. Joan handed him back his coat and hooked her arm with Lucifer's. The Devil's body heat was warm enough to help withstand the cold for a few minuted. 

"Go ahead," said Lucifer to the Blood Countess.

Bathory conjured a dagger out of mid-air and took off one of her laced gloves. Joan gasped silently when she saw the rotten hand. Inadvertently, she grabbed Lucifer more firmly. He placed his hand on her arm in response. It took all of Joan's will not to meet his gaze. She knew if she did, she would fall under his spell again. Instead, she watched the Countess swiftly slash her hand and press her bleeding palm to the door. The blood spread through the poppies, and the door swung open, revealing... emptiness.
Lucifer nudged Joan along. Though her heart was beating fast, doubt echoing with each tattoo, she stood fast in her resolve and allowed Lucifer to guide her in. Joan glanced over her shoulder as the Countess closed the door behind her, leaving a sombre Rasputin alone on the other side. Now, she was well and truly at the mercy of the most infamous being in all of history.