Infernal descent ethan d.., p.1
Infernal Descent (Ethan Drake Series Book 9), page 1
INFERNAL VENGEANCE
ETHAN DRAKE BOOK 9
N.P MARTIN
Ethan Drake Series
BLACKSTAR (PREQUEL)
INFERNAL JUSTICE
BLOOD SUMMONED
DEATH DEALERS
BLACK MIRROR
HELL PATROL
INFERNAL VENGEANCE
INFERNUM
Deadson Confidential Trilogy
INFERNAL LAISONS
DEATH CULT
DRAGON BLOOD
Gods And Monsters Series
SINISTER MAGIC
OTHERWORLD MAGIC
SHADOW MAGIC
HELLFIRE MAGIC
WILDCARD MAGIC
ROCKSTAR MAGIC
Wizard’s Creed Series
CRIMSON CROW
BLOOD MAGIC
BLOOD DEBT
BLOOD CULT
BLOOD DEMON
Nephilim Rising Series
HUNTER’S LEGACY
DEMON’S LEGACY
HELL’S LEGACY
DEVIL’S LEGACY
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental
N.P. Martin
Infernal Descent
Ethan Drake Series Book 9
Copyright © 2023 by N. P. MARTIN
npmartin.info@gmail.com
Cover design by NMT Design Studio
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
FREE BOOK
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
MAKE A DIFFERENCE
Books By N. P. Martin
About The Author
FREE BOOK
Are you a true fan of my work? Want to be the first to know about all of my upcoming releases and projects? Well then, it's time to join the VIP club!
As a VIP member, you'll receive exclusive advance notice of everything I have in store, giving you a head start on reading the latest and greatest from my library of work. Plus, I'm excited to offer you a FREE Ethan Drake novella as a thank you for joining the VIP club today.
But that's not all! Join me on Facebook and Instagram for even more ways to stay in the loop on all things N.P. Martin. I love connecting with my readers, and social media is the perfect way to share updates, answer your questions, and chat with all of you.
So what are you waiting for? Click the image or visit www.npmartin.com to join the VIP club and receive your free novella today. And don't forget to follow and like my Facebook page for even more exclusive content!
Chapter
One
After my last visit to Hell, when I’d almost been killed and my best friend had died to save me, I’d vowed never to return to that godforsaken place. In a way, I’d kept my promise. At that moment, I was riding through Infernum with Haedemus and Hannah, which felt like Hell 2.0. Given my past experience with Infernum and that bitch Neprhaxia, this was the last damn place I wanted to be.
But choice wasn’t a luxury I had. We were there to see Hadriel, the former queen of Hell. Hannah believed the terrifying Demon Lord would listen to me, though for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. The last time I’d encountered her, she’d claimed my soul as her own. Luckily, Lucifer had persuaded her to return it, setting me free. Yet, here I was, about to waltz right back into her lair, and I wasn’t thrilled about it.
“Relax, Ethan,” Hannah said as she rode Haedemus across a vast, dark plain. “Things are different now. Hadriel won’t demand your soul. She probably has bigger fish to fry.”
“Did you just read my mind, Walker?” I asked, my arms wrapped around her waist from where I sat behind her.
She smirked as she turned around, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Loud thoughts, Ethan. Very loud.”
“She’s lying, Ethan,” Haedemus interjected. “She’s always in your head. She told me.”
Hannah’s laughter echoed, a bright note in the grim landscape. “Stop causing trouble, Haedemus.”
“She told me all about your dark fantasies,” Haedemus continued, undeterred. “Especially the one where you two live happily ever after in a cabin surrounded by your kids. Including the ginger one.”
Hannah laughed again. “That’s absurd, Haedemus.”
“Is it? Ask Ethan if he’s ever daydreamed about that.”
“Ethan?” Hannah turned to me, her eyes searching mine. “Have you?”
I shook my head, trying to divert my attention from the dark shapes moving across the plain. “Maybe. But there’s no ginger kid in my fantasy.”
“So now you’re discriminating against gingers?” Haedemus remarked. “That’s low, Ethan.”
“Shut it, Haedemus, and watch where you’re going.”
“Truth hurts, huh? Next, you’ll be saying you don’t like unicorns because they’re too sparkly.”
“Unicorns aren’t real.”
“What about me?”
“You’re a Hellicorn. There’s a difference. A big difference.”
“Perhaps, but I’m just as fabulous as those glittery posers,” he retorted, showing off his decayed teeth.
“Sure, Haedemus. You’re the epitome of beauty.”
“And there it is,” he sighed. “Ethan ruining things with his sarcasm.”
“Ruining what? Your inflated ego?”
Before Haedemus could respond, Hannah pulled on his reins, bringing him to a stop.
“What’s up?” I asked. “Are we here?”
The vast, godless wasteland of Infernum stretched out before us, like some acid-trip nightmare. Ashen ground and smoky mists swirled, painting a scene straight out of a deranged hallucination. Above, crimson bolts of lightning cut through the sky, a frenzied dance amidst the shifting obsidian clouds. Every flicker of light exposed the grotesqueries of this land—creatures, warped and nightmarish, shifting and changing, as if the very fabric of reality was on a bad trip.
In the distance, the air was filled with a freakish symphony of screams and roars, the kind of noises you hear when the drugs go wrong. It was a twisted chorus of despair, making it near impossible to tell where one soul’s agony ended and another’s began. Breathing in this madness, the air felt heavy, like inhaling the pure, uncut dread from a Fear and Loathing adventure gone horribly sideways.
Suddenly, a rank gust, reeking of rot and sulfur, hit me full in the face. It was a scent I’d come to associate with this damned place—the unmistakable aroma of decay. Half of me kept expecting Neprhaxia, the priestess of my nightmares, to materialize from the smoky void. The burning sensation from the cursed mark she’d left on my arm pulsed, almost as if taunting me with her nearness. That old familiar paranoia was setting in, but I had to shake it off and keep my head in the game.
Hannah pointed to a dark, looming structure in the distance. “There,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “That’s where we’ll find Hadriel.”
The structure, a massive, twisted citadel, stood defiantly against the backdrop of chaos. Its towers and spires seemed to pierce the very heavens, challenging any who dared approach.
“We’re walking right into the heart of darkness,” I muttered, feeling the weight of our mission once more. “Hadriel is bound to be extra pissed since she lost her throne, and the Dark God took over.”
“Probably,” Hannah said. “But she doesn’t have the same leverage anymore. She should be more open to other options now.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I said, thinking about how indomitable Hadriel was, how effortlessly terrifying she could be.
“Ride on, Haedemus,” Hannah said.
Rolling up on the scene, it was déjà vu all over again. Hellwardens. Those wild-eyed, blood-smeared devils, horns jutting out like some deranged biker’s helmet, monstrous teeth flashing like switchblades in the bad side of town. Their freakish, legless bodies nailed up, like some sick art installation gone wrong. The moment they caught sight of us, they let out shrieks so shrill, it was like the wails of a thousand bats on a bad acid trip. I instinctively recoiled, but then, thanks to my trusty ink, most of that unhinged noise got dialed down to a more tolerable level of madness.
“I see Hadriel still has her early warning system in place,” I said.
“Yes,” Hannah said. “The Painshriekers w
“Oh goody. Are they going to try to kill us like they did last time?”
“We should be fine as long as we don’t run from them. I’ll speak to them when they come.”
After barely a few miles down the twisted path, the Painshriekers showed up. Slipping out of the shadows like ghostly apparitions on a late-night Vegas binge, their lean, pale figures were almost surreal against the hellish canvas of this forsaken wasteland. They had this freakish, gaping maw stretching from chin to gut, revealing some bizarre clockwork contraption inside them, buzzing and ticking away. It was a mad contrast to their seemingly living exterior. And those scythes they gripped in each hand? Sharp and curved like the smile of a loan shark about to break some knees.
But it was the sound. That unholy, ear-splitting scream that could make a person go insane. I felt the weight of it, a dizzying rush that threatened to knock me flat on my ass. But Hannah, she stood tall, cool as the ice in a gin and tonic, looking them dead in the eye.
The Painshriekers moved around us, swift, like synchronized swimmers on some macabre Olympic team. These weren’t your regular foot soldiers; they were Hadriel’s cream of the crop. For a heartbeat, everything hung in the balance. The only sounds being the unsettling hum of the Painshriekers’ insides and the occasional hiss of their blades sliding against each other. It was like waiting for the first note in a heavy metal concert.
Finally, one of them stepped forward, its hollow eyes fixed on Hannah. “State your business,” it demanded, its voice a chilling, mechanical monotone, shocking me with its words, because I didn’t think they could speak.
“We seek an audience with Hadriel,” Hannah replied, her voice steady. “We’re… old friends.”
Old friends. Sure.
The Painshrieker stared at us for a long moment, causing me to tense in anticipation of a fight, but it merely nodded as if it recognized Hannah, perhaps even me as well. “We will escort you inside the citadel.”
We were barely a stone’s throw away when the citadel’s gaping maw presented itself—a hulking archway with doors that seemed forged from the remnants of a thousand burned dreams. The bastards groaned open, and a gust of cold, putrid air slapped us, the kind of cold that seeps into your bones and stays there. Inside, the place was lit up by weird torches spewing green fire, casting long, demented shadows that danced on the walls like acid-trip nightmares. The murals were another story—all twisted tales of horror and heartbreak, a freak show on plaster.
Navigating through the maze-like passages, the haunting chorus of distant screams and moans was our soundtrack. Cells lined the way, and behind their bars—which pulsed like living, breathing entities—were souls caught in a perpetual loop of torment. Their eyes screamed louder than their mouths ever could. The ground was a wet, slippery mess, and though I dared not glance downwards, the occasional, unsettling crunch beneath my boots painted a grim picture. The air had a mix of rot, brimstone, and a metallic tang—like hot copper.
Every so often, shadowy figures would slink out of the corners. They looked like they’d been through hell, and then some. Some of them growled, like feral animals caught in headlights, while others just fixed us with a cold, dead-eyed stare. The Painshriekers, those relentless ghouls, led the way, cutting through the oppressive gloom like a knife through butter.
Our morbid journey culminated inside a colossal chamber where the ceiling seemed to stretch into infinity. Dead center was a platform with a throne that looked like it had been carved out of pure darkness, all thorny and menacing.
And there she was—Hadriel, unchanged and as mystifying as ever. It was like staring at a living painting of contrasts. Skin pale as snow, set against the pitch-black void of the chamber. Those eyes, red as fresh blood, held stories of ages gone by and the pain of a million souls. Her jet-black hair flowed down, shimmering and shifting, like a portal to some otherworldly realm. Even her gown seemed to have a life of its own, wrapping around her, emphasizing that imposing figure.
But for all her hypnotic allure, there was still palpable danger about her. Every inch of her screamed authority, and the room felt charged, like a storm was brewing. Those lips, tinted a deep wine shade, held a hint of malice. One hand rested casually on the throne, while the other held onto a scepter—a relic from her days playing queen. The gem on its tip pulsated, alive and in sync with the rhythm of her heart.
“Well, well, well,” Hadriel said, slipping off her throne like a shadow. “I can hardly believe my eyes. Ethan Drake and… who are you these days, Hannah, angel or demon?”
“I’m whatever I need to be, Duchess,” Hannah said, bowing slightly. “It’s good to see you again, Hadriel.”
“Is it? What are you doing here, Adrielis… or Hannah or whatever name you are going by in these dark days.”
“Hannah will suffice, Duchess.”
Hadriel turned her gaze to me, her lips curling into a smile. “And you, Ethan Drake. I’m surprised to see you here. And still a little pissed that I had to give up your soul. Clever, sending Lucifer my way. Where is the old goat, anyway? Last I heard, the Dark Bastard’s spawn almost destroyed him.”
“He managed to escape,” I said.
“Of course he did. He always does, doesn’t he? Where did he run to?”
“I have no idea. He left saying no one would ever hear from him again.”
“That figures. It’s his style, isn’t it?” Hadriel’s eyes narrowed for a second before she glided toward me, looked me over. “You seem different, Ethan. I sense a new power running through you.”
“That’s the ink,” I informed her.
“Tattoos?”
“Yes.”
“Strip. Show me.”
I stared at her. “Really?”
Haedemus sniggered in the background, making Hadriel turn her attention to him. “And you, Hellicorn, you ridiculous creature. I see you are still hanging around like a bad smell.”
“Yes, Duchess,” Haedemus said. “Like a bad smell indeed. Good to see you again, too. Duchess.”
Her eyes went to me again. “Didn’t you hear me, Ethan? I said strip.”
Jesus Christ. How do I end up in these situations?
Masking a sigh, I reluctantly started the humiliating process of stripping in front of Hadriel, feeling as if all eyes were on me, which they were. A moment later, I was standing naked, my clothes in a pile on the stone floor. I faced forward, as if waiting for a doctor to examine me.
Hadriel’s eyes widened slightly as she stared at my naked form, and soon her abnormally long fingernails were tracing disconcertingly across my skin.
“A fine hunk of flesh, you are, Ethan,” Hadriel said with a smirk. “Are you fucking this, Hannah?”
Hannah cleared her throat, but said nothing.
“Of course you are,” Hadriel went on. “I would if I were you. I’m almost tempted to fuck you myself, Ethan.” She smiled as she grabbed my cock, causing me to tense. “But I don’t think you would survive the experience.”
“Probably not,” I muttered, wishing she would remove her cold hand from me, which she did when her attention got taken by the tattoos covering my body.
“This is very fine work,” the Duchess said admiringly. “Very fine indeed. How much power do they give you?”
“Enough,” I said. “I’m still discovering.”
“And this one.” She grabbed my arm and half growled at the mark left by Neprhaxia. “How did you get this?”
“It’s a long story,” I told her. “One of the Dark God’s priestess’s gave me it.”
“Gave you it?”
“Forced it on me.”
