A violent, riotous tale of one damned soul’s desperate bid to escape a “ringed” Hell structured on Dante Alighieri’s classic The Inferno, with a strangely sympathetic fallen angel and the Roman poet Virgil in hot pursuit. A fantastical blend of the Classical and contemporary! [Begin Preview] "We've finished the scan of this sector, Sir. She's gone."Virgil returned the tiny radio to its clip on his belt. He waited in silence for the Archon to react to the news. The angel before him was tall and narrow. His softly glowing robes clung tightly to his thin frame, giving him the appearance of a stick of light, a self-contained beam projected into the unfriendly environment of the Fifth Circle. His golden hair hung loose past his shoulders, unaffected by the chill wind that bent the waist-high grass around him, that whipped the foul waters of the marsh into foam. His birdlike features were pinched with concentration as he weighed Virgil's report against the twisted, lifeless body at his feet. "She's escaped, then. Start a scan of Level Four. She'll appear there soon." "At once, Archon." Virgil again raised the transceiver to give the order. He clipped the radio to his belt, then turned to follow the angel up the narrow path that led away from the Pool. "What you're saying isn't possible," he said, his cheeks puffing as he hurried to close the space between them. "Escape, I mean. No one has escaped from Hell since you sealed the Gate against The Invader, since he kidnapped Rebecca and stole your Jews from Limbo." The tangled underbrush whipped painfully against Virgil's legs as he tore through it, fighting to match the Archon's steady pace. The cold wind sang mournfully in his ears, drowning out the cries of the Damned who called him to return, to show mercy. "To escape from one's Circle is not to escape from Hell," the angel answered. He stopped to fix Virgil with a dark, penetrating gaze. The Archon's eyes were tiny points of shadow set deep into his luminous face. The intensity of their focus rooted Virgil to the path. He lowered his head apologetically. "The Law of Retribution is a masterpiece, a work of art," the angel said. "It has cradled you mortals since the dawn of Creation, protected you from your weakness, guaranteed your place in the Divine Plan. But art demands symmetry, Virgil. In order to function, the Law must be internally balanced. It must provide at least a minor clause of Compensation. He raised a thin, glowing arm toward the marsh behind them, toward the battered form washed up on its shore. "To have found the loophole the Law provides proves she's clever," he continued. "To make use of it, though, she'll have to prove much more than cleverness. The Law provides for the possibility of escape, yes, but Grace through Retribution is no easy road. The clause requires her to back out, level by level, to suffer the fruits of each Circle in turn before passing on to the next. But she'll never survive. The Law provides for that as well." The angel turned and started again up the path. Virgil followed in silence, the hostile wind cutting painfully through his tunic. "Yes, a rare few have tried to experience their way out before," the Archon added as they hurried away. "But none have reached the Vestibule. With each level, the gravity of sin lessens, and it becomes harder and harder to die. It becomes increasingly difficult to remain innocent, a faultless victim of the crimes which define the Circle. She'll make a mistake, Virgil, and then we'll have her." [End Preview]