TWENTY-SEVEN
ANNABEL
I had expected Hel’s residence to be a dark fortress—some shadowy counterpoint to the gilded halls of Valhalla and guarded by nightmarish creatures.
Instead what we found at the epicenter of the maelstrom of souls was a cauldron the size of a small house, sitting in the middle of a barren field scattered with broken skeletons. There was no sign of life—or unlife, as it were—anywhere, except from the eternal pouring of souls into the cauldron.
“Where is she?” I asked, frowning as we stopped at the edge of the field. “Where is her throne?”
Grim glanced at me—the only acknowledgement he made that I knew of her throne, thanks to his plans for my ascension he had accidentally shared with me while we made love that one time. “She resides inside.”
“Inside?” I asked. “Yo
