Dead Jack and the Soul Catcher: (Volume 2)

by James Aquilone

  “I told you,” I said to Zara.

  “How do I look?” She stood back and did a twirl that ended with a sieg heil.

  “You got that fascist look down pretty well,” Zara said. “Miss Reichstag 1939.”

  “Oh, thank you. I wish I had been there in the Other World back then. I heard it was a real humdinger. I’m a stickler for authenticity. Do you guys have a favorite cryptid?”

  She moved away from the light and I got a better look at our deranged little Ilsa. She once again had two normal arms and legs, no tentacles I could see.

  “A what?” Zara asked.

  “Cryptid? Supernatural creature? Bigfoot? Loch Ness Monster, that sort of thing? I’m partial to the kraken,” she said. “They’re so graceful and strong.”

  “Is that what you are, a kraken?” I asked.

  “A hybrid.”

  “I thought you Nazis didn’t like supernaturals.”

  “We like supernaturals fine, just as long as we control them. Some supernaturals have amazing abilities. Even this overgrown pixie.”

  “Watch it, blondie,” Zara said. “Seriously.”

  “She’s a pistol, isn’t she? You’re a hybrid already, though I can’t see the pixie in you. Do you have wings?”

  “I have a little birdie for you. In case you can’t see, I’m giving you the finger.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I can give you wings. Or maybe I can wed you with a troll. You seem like you’d take to it well.”

  “When I get off this table, I’m going to unwed your head from your neck.”

  “You’re going to be a good Nazi… after you lose a few pounds. I don’t think we have a uniform that’ll fit a woman of your girth.”

  Zara bucked like a wild bull. The surgical table lifted off the ground.

  “Why don’t you let her go?” I asked. “You have me and Oswald.”

  “Do I look like a nice person?” Ilsa raised an eyebrow. “We have big plans for all of you. Oswald is already in place. You two are just the icing on the cake.”

  Something boiled in my chest. “If you hurt Oswald―”

  “Hurt Oswald? Ha-ha-ha. We’ve improved him. Just as we’re going to improve you two.”

  “What did you do to Oswald?”

  “I wedded him to a soul sucker. There were barely any complications. The Jupiter Stone inside the homunculus is powering the creature, so he can suck up every soul in Pandemonium. Then we’re going to have some real fun. What should we wed you with?”

  “Why do you care?”

  “It takes better if you’re willing.”

  “How about your mother?”

  “No, something powerful but more compliant. My mother was a bitch.”

  “The apple doesn’t fall too far from the bitch tree.”

  “You’re weak, Jack. You know it. We all know it. But I can make you stronger. An alpha zombie. How does that sound? You’re going to lead the most powerful army of the undead in history. People will look up to you. Now, they just pity you.”

  “Those things you have in cages don’t look powerful,” Zara said. “They look insane.”

  “They were my first attempts. I’ve gotten much better at it. Then again, you two might go insane, too. It’s a chance I’m willing to take. You don’t mind giving your bodies to science, do you?”

  “Does it hurt?” I asked.

  She faux grimaced. “Only constantly.”

  “Then we’ll pass.”

  “Oh, that’s a shame. I was hoping you’d be reasonable.”

  “Reason isn’t our strong suit.”

  “Now, what would a Nazi do in this situation?” She tapped on her skull. “How would a Nazi get her subjects to see the light? Think, Ilsa, think.”

  “You could torture us.” I said.

  “Jack!” Zara shouted.

  “I’m not divulging any secrets,” I said.

  “I really do like you, Jack,” Ilsa said. “I have a thing for zombies. It’s a shame you’re going to lose that moxy. How should I torture you? What’s the Naziest thing I could do? I want to get it right.”

  “Let’s see, the last time a Nazi tortured me… I had been drowned, electrocuted, deprived of sleep, impaled by hot pokers…”

  “This is good. Should I be writing this down? No, I’ll remember. Go ahead.”

  “I was covered in gasoline and set on fire.”

  “Oh, that’s good. Very Nazi. Was that the worst thing they did?”

  “No.”

  “What was the worst?”

  “Water torture.”

  “That doesn’t seem so bad.”

  “I’m terrified of the water. It freaks me out.”

  “Oh, perfect. I think we have a water tank somewhere. But I do like the idea of setting you on fire, especially her. I’d like to see those hideous tattoos go up in flames. Why would you do that to your body?”

  Zara didn’t say anything, probably turning over in her mind how she would kill Ilsa Hellstrom if given another chance.

  “Fire is too easy,” I said, “too fast, but if you want to go the easier route, we won’t think you’re any less a Nazi.”

  She smirked. “If you’re going to be a Nazi, be a Nazi, right? No use going only halfway.”

  “I admire your determination.”

  “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back, and while I’m gone, think about what cryptid you want to be. Maybe a chupacabra for the portly pixie?”

  When Ilsa left the room, Zara said, “Jack, you really are crazy. Why would you encourage her to torture us?”

  “I was buying us some time. I’ve nearly got my left hand severed.”

  “Your old ‘yank the hand off’ trick, huh?”

  “It’s worked before.”

  I continued to work my hand at the restraints. My hand was never held on that good. It only needed a bit of coaxing to detach.

  “And what do you plan to do once you’re free? There’s an army of Nazis out there.”

  “I haven’t figured that out yet.”

  A pop rattled my wrist bone. I twisted my hand and―rip―it came off and fell on the floor. I pulled my stump out of the restraints and held it up. “I’m free! Now I just have to wait until my hand crawls up here.”

  A clattering came from under the table, but my hand went silent. “It must be stuck.”

  “Great. How are you going to undo the other restraints with just a stump?”

  I thought about that for a moment and a brilliant idea hit me. “I don’t need to. I have The Book of Three Towers.”

  Fortunately, the chips in my wrist bone gave me enough purchase to fiddle with the button on my front pocket. Once I popped it open, sliding out the book was child’s play. I pushed the book onto my chest. Now I had to open it.

  “I don’t think this is a good plan.” Zara bucked and thrashed, trying to break free from her restraints, but it did no good. To work her magic, Zara needed to use her hands.

  When I tried to open the book, I accidentally flipped it over and it slid down my chest. I feared that it, too, would fall on the ground. I didn’t think it would be a good thing if the Nazis got their hands on the book, especially since it held secrets about the towers. Good thing Ilsa didn’t search us. She must have been too anxious to torture us. I stopped the book from sliding and pulled it back up to my chin. Something stuck to the back cover. The card Lucifer gave me in his office. I hadn’t read it back there.

  “For a Really Good Time, Call Lucifer. Anytime. Just tap three times on the card and say ‘O, Lucifer, My Lucifer.’”

  What’s that saying? The enemy of my enemy is my friend. We were no match for an army of Nazis. We needed our own army. And I did believe Lucifer when he said he was only interested in maintaining the status quo in Pandemonium. But then again, he was the Devil―lowercase or uppercase, it didn’t matter. Nazis or demons. Demons or Nazis. A heck of a choice.

  “What are you doing?” Zara asked. “She’s going to be back any minute to torture us and then tur
n us into goat people or something.”

  “I’m weighing the lesser of two evils.”

  “What?”

  “I have Lucifer’s card. I can summon him.”

  “You’re not really thinking of doing that?”

  “Lucifer wants to get rid of the Nazis just like we do. If I summon him, he should be able to get past the magic circle. Right?”

  “Possibly. Magic circles can keep things out or you can summon things into them. But whether or not it works isn’t the problem. Being in league with the Devil is usually a bad idea. In what kind of crazy world is Lucifer the good guy?”

  “We’re about to find out.” I shoved The Book of Three Towers back in my pocket, and tapped on the card three times. “O, Lucifer, My Lucifer.”

  CHAPTER 19: The Devil Wears Nada

  Historically, deals with the Devil have been one-sided affairs. The Infernal One isn’t known for his fairness or honesty, but since you can count on his duplicity, that makes him highly predictable. The Devil might be a genius, and I might be an idiot, but―actually I don’t know where I was going with that. Maybe this was a bad idea. I didn’t have any tricks up my sleeve. I was desperate, and it was too late to second-guess myself.

  The Man appeared like a rabbit out of a magician’s hat. He reeked of sulfur and sex and wore a red satin robe inappropriately open down to his crotch. He also dripped with sticky, wet blood.

  “This better be good,” Lucifer said. “I was in the middle of a blood orgy and the virgins just showed up.”

  “The Nazis are about to be experiment on us,” I said.

  “So? You ever hear the saying ‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’?”

  “I’m proof that’s complete bullshit.”

  “How about you?” Lucifer asked Zara.

  “This wasn’t my plan,” she said.

  “Free us before that psycho Nazi doctor gets back,” I said.

  “Sorry, buddy boy. Summoning doesn’t work like that. Quid pro quo is the name of the game. The Devil likes to make bargains.” He rubbed his hands together. “Let’s make a deal.”

  “Do you mind if I ask a question first?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Can you explain the infernal trinity? We were having a debate with Syd, who insists you, Beelzebub, and Satan are the same person.”

  “It’s kind of complicated―”

  “Yeah, exactly.”

  “Look at it this way. The Devil is one, undivided ‘thing’ but three ‘beings.’ Or they are not each other. They are all the Devil.”

  “That’s what Syd said. I still don’t get it.”

  “How about this? The Devil works in mysterious ways.”

  “Religion is such bullshit.”

  “Can we make this damn deal already?” Zara shouted. “Or just let the Nazis experiment on us. I’m getting fed up with the stupidity.”

  “Name your deal and I’ll name my price,” Lucifer said.

  “You can take the Jupiter Stone from Oswald,” I said. “If you promise not to hurt him.”

  “All you have to do is free us and kill all these Nazi bastards,” Zara said.

  “That goes without saying,” Lucifer said. “But you don’t have Oswald. How can you make any bargain?”

  “I know where he is. I can get him. Leave that to me.”

  “I want more than that.”

  “You can have Zara’s soul.”

  “Jack, you piece of shit!” Zara said.

  “After you die, I meant. That’s how it usually works, right?”

  “No thanks. She’s more trouble than she’s worth,” Lucifer said. “I want The Book of Three Towers. It is mine after all, and you don’t really know how to use it. Deal?”

  He was right on both counts. I came into possession of the book from a dust junkie who needed cash. He never mentioned it belonged to Lucifer. I still would have bought it, but I would have offered much less for it. “Will you throw in a gram of Third Circle?”

  “No problem.”

  “I guess I’m in league with the Devil then. Do we shake? Do I kiss your arse? What?”

  “Usually, there’s a contract written in blood. I have my lawyers look it over. There’s a whole process. But considering there’s a time constraint, I’ll waive it. Let’s just promise to be fair to each other.”

  “Cross my heart,” I said. What he didn’t see was that the fingers on my severed hand were crossed.

  He waved at our restraints and they sprang opened.

  I hopped off the cold steel table. When I landed on the floor, a few vertebrae popped in my back. I’d pay for that later. I picked up my hand and popped it back on my wrist.

  “Can you close your robe?” Zara asked. “I’m seeing way too much Lucifer for my comfort.”

  “You should count yourself lucky, baby girl,” Lucifer said. “Not many women get to see me in all my glory and live to tell about it.”

  “Don’t mess this up,” I whispered in Zara’s ear.

  “I’ll count myself lucky then,” Zara said.

  “Now stand back.” Lucifer cracked his knuckles. “It’s about to get a bit crowded in here.”

  CHAPTER 20: That Darn, Motherfookin Cat

  Conjuring a demon is old hat. It’s like Occult 101. An incantation. Fire. Candles. Blood. Mirrors. Graveyard dirt. A goat comes in handy sometimes. Or if you’re lucky, you get Lucifer’s calling card, like I did. But watching Lucifer himself conjure a demon is something to behold.

  The Lord of Hell said, “When he appears, try to act frightened. He thinks he looks all kinds of fearsome, but he’s really a pussycat. And really go deep with the ‘oh you fookin scared me.’ Got it?”

  We had no idea what he was talking about, but we nodded.

  Lucifer stood in the middle of the surgical area. “You may want to avert your eyes, Zara. This usually gets me excited,” Lucifer said, and his robe fell to the ground. The Devil stood naked, the fresh blood covering his skin glistening under the surgical lights. He was much hairier than I expected.

  “Let me check my pulse,” she said. “Oh, look, I’m still alive.”

  Lucifer held up his left hand. A hazel wand, a thin and crooked thing, appeared between his thumb and forefinger. He struck the wand at the ground. “By the name of Lucifer―Lord of Darkness, Emperor of the Abyss, Son of the Dawn, and One Crazy Motherfooker… I call you, O mighty Beleth, the terrible―but in a good way―King of Hell.” His voice, lower than low and dripping with darkness, reverberated throughout the theater. His body burned the bright red of arterial blood. He pointed his wand at the rows of seats rising up from the theater floor. “Powerful andfearsome”―Lucifer winked at us―“Beleth, who strikes terror in the hearts of the brave with only a glance. Beleth, whose terrible visage is enough to make an angel quiver.” Lucifer pointed the wand straight down. “Come to me, Beleth, and do not tarry―even if you’re busy with some other bullshit. I have other things to do today.”

  The room shook as if hit by an earthquake. The air grew stale and oppressive, filled with the music of off-tune brass instruments and out-of-sync drums. It sounded like a funeral march played under water.

  First appeared six demons with huge heads and little bodies, their bellies bloated and gray. They played pipes and clanged cymbals. One had a little xylophone that he hit with chicken bones.

  Lucifer rolled his eyes. “There’s a whole thing he does. But bear with me. He’s good.”

  Another six demons identical to the last appeared in the second row. They played drums, each a different rhythm. Several more of the grotesque musicians popped into the theater. A wild cacophony filled the room. I covered my ears, but Lucifer shook his head at me, so I uncovered them.

  Finally, as the music reached its crescendo, my ears bleeding blood I didn’t know I had, Beleth appeared at the top of the theater, riding a pale horse. He didn’t strike fear in my heart. He resembled a giant tomcat. Tawny fur covered his face, and he had pointy ears and little sharp teeth. Maybe
if you came across him in a dark alley unexpectedly you’d jump, but he certainly didn’t sound like the fearsome demon who made angels quiver.

  Beleth wore dark armor as did his horse, whose huge flared nostrils spit black smoke. The horse, I had to admit, sent shivers down my spine.

  The hellion walked his infernal steed down the theater stairs as the music reached a crescendo.

  The demon king stood before us, his horse stinking like rotting meat.

  Me and Zara and held our heads to the ground.

  “Look how they tremble in fear,” Beleth intoned, when the music came to an end. I didn’t tremble. I glanced at Zara. She didn’t tremble either. “Is the mighty Beleth too terrifying that you cannot look upon his visage?”

  “They’re absolutely terrified,” Lucifer said. “Right, guys?” We mumbled in the affirmative. “Guys?”

  “We’re too afraid to speak.” I nudged Zara.

  “Yes, I am very scared,” Zara said.

  Beleth laughed a deep, fake laugh. “Cowards. You are right to fear Beleth.”

  Why do all the psychos refer to themselves in the third-person?

  “You still have those eighty-five legions of demons under your command?” asked Lucifer.

  “Eighty-two,” Beleth said. “I had to dismiss three legions for being in tune. You know how I feel about music.”

  “You hate it.”

  “It’s a ridiculous thing, isn’t it? But it has a certain effect on the creatures.”

  “Let me give you a quick rundown. What I want you to do is kill everyone in this camp.”

  “I can do that.”

  I coughed.

  “Except those two over there, of course. But everyone else is fair game.”

  “Any particular way you want them executed. Slowly, eaten alive, flayed?”

  “Just get rid of them.”

  “Can I play my jams?”

  “Play that jazzy number.”

  “Oh yes, ‘Bitch’s Brew.’ Perfect choice. You heard Lu, boys. And a one, and a seven…”

  The big-headed musicians blasted a racket of noise that didn’t sound much different from the last discordant song they played. They lined up in two rows and marched up the theater stairs and out the door. Beleth followed on his pale horse bopping his head right and left.