Hell on High

by Holly Lisle

  He swallowed. "I promise, Rhea."

  The uneasy feeling was back suddenly, stronger. She glanced at her watch. "Time to go, Jack. It's seven fifty-eight."

  She quickly straightened her clothes and patted her face dry. Then she kissed him with a passion deeper and more overwhelming than in any kiss they'd ever shared. He held her close, feeling for just an instant the panic she was trying to hide. They pulled apart; he wiped at the tear stains on his shirt, they smiled at each other.

  "I love you," she said.

  "I love you, too. And everything is going to be fine, Rhea."

  She nodded brightly. "Yes. Of course it will."

  She turned out the lights and stepped to the door in front of Jack. She looked out the window, and pointed to a Lincoln Town Car that was easing into the parking lot.

  When she saw the driver, she froze. He heard her gasp. Then she gripped his arm and said, "They've found me, Jack. Glibbens is a devil."

  Chapter 68

  The revelations of the past few minutes had Jack's head spinning. He felt like the kid in the Far Side panel who said, "Teacher, may I be excused? My brain is full." So he narrowed his focus, not letting himself think of the broader implications of what Rhea said. Instead, he let himself consider only the possibility—the necessity—of escape, and how it could be achieved. Escape as an engineering problem. "I've got the Super-Soaker in the car," he said.

  "No good. That's a devil in the car, not a demon, and this time they'll know you have the holy water. Without the element of surprise, it won't do any good against something that powerful."

  "Then let's run like hell." He grabbed the keys Kate had left for them and threw open the office door.

  "Too late," said Rhea as the Lincoln pulled up right behind the Celestial van, blocking it. The driver jumped out and started for the door. Jack slammed it quickly. The devil was armed. A second later, a dark-haired man got out of the passenger side. He was armed too.

  Jack picked up the phone and dialed 911. He left the phone off the hook—someone would get out to the site to investigate the call whether he told them what was going on or not. Whether the police would arrive in time, however, was another matter entirely, as was whether they would be able to do anything to help. "Back door," he said, and the two rushed from the office into the hangar area.

  Chapter 69

  Rhea's brain kicked into high gear the instant she felt the devil in the parking lot. This time it wasn't a chance encounter—Hell's minions had her human ID, had tracked her down, knew who she was and what she was connected to. She wasn't going to walk away. She'd lost. But her next few moves would determine whether the humans lost the stars, or whether they won the infinity of space for themselves and their children.

  "I can hold the devil, Jack," she shouted, "but I can't do anything about the other guy—he's human."

  Their attackers came running into the hangar.

  "Do it!" Jack said.

  And now came the time for sacrifice. But which sacrifice would be the right one? She lit up like a beacon, shutting down the devil, wrapping him in coils of light. Jack shielded his eyes. He seemed stunned. Rhea broke the spell. "Run, Jack!" she screamed. "Everything higher than a gargoyle knows where I am now!"

  Jack started to run—towards the ship. Yes. Towards the ship. The right direction.

  "Eee-yaaaaaaagh!" the devil screamed. "She's—she's—killing me, Craig. And the other one is getting away! Shoot! Shoot!"

  She began retreating quickly, with Jack ahead of her. She kept the devil pinned down by force of will and a serious expenditure of Hellawatts—he was tough, and he was fighting her with everything in him.

  The other man was running forward, gun drawn. In the darkness, Rhea could see his pale face, the sweat beaded on his upper lip, his aura of essential goodness tainted by a Hellish touch. The devil had been working hard on him.

  "I'm dying. I'm dying. And she's Hellspawn! All you can do is stop—stop the man who's getting away." The devil wailed like a dying banshee and his associate pointed the gun at Jack, and began to pull the trigger.

  His finger was tightening. Rhea released the devil and flung herself towards the path of the bullet, pleading with the power greater than her that she would be in time to save his life.

  The devil, already knowing what he intended to do, was a nanosecond faster. He blocked her, the gun went off, Jack screamed.

  Chapter 70

  Jack felt like his right leg had been beaned by the world's fastest pitch. No, worse than that. Lots worse. He seemed to be falling in slow motion with a spray of blood suspended above him. That was impossible, wasn't it? All objects fell at the same rate.

  He felt Rhea pick him up, and heard her voice shouting at the man who'd shot him—"He's Hellspawn, you fool!" She did something to the devil, and suddenly Jack could see the monster for what it really was, horns, tail and all.

  "You got me," the devil said equably. "But you'll get yours."

  The last thing Jack saw before the hatch closed was the man who'd shot him, standing ashen faced beneath the field lights, looking down at his gun. And he heard the stranger say, "Mother Mary, help of Christians, what have I done?"

  Chapter 71

  The odd ship lifted hesitantly, then moved with greater speed and surety. Glibspet leaned back, watching it soar quietly into the darkness, a pale blue trail of fire burning at its back. He stretched gratefully. That was Averial, all right. He grinned and returned himself to his human form, and straightened his clothes. Company was coming.

  His clients popped onto the field with a phalanx of devils and demons in tow.

  "All right, Snippet, where is she?" Venifar snapped. His head had been removed and sewn on backwards, and he didn't look happy about life. Evidently he and the Maleficent One weren't seeing eye-to-eye on timetables. Pity. "We all felt her, and she hasn't ported."

  Glibspet raised his hand. "Hold on, Ven," he said. "First things first. I found her, so the contract is now payable in full, yes?"

  "Yes, yes. That is agreed," the fallen angel assented. "Now. Where. Is. She?"

  "Ah," said Glibspet. "That's another matter. If you'll check, you'll see there wasn't anything in the contract about conveying the information to you. I just had to find her."

  "Of course you have to tell us," Kellubrae said.

  "Uh-uh," Glibspet said. "You were all so busy being outraged at my Linufel clause and bearing down on her that you just didn't read as closely as you should have." He grinned toothily. "You, of all people!"

  "What do you want?" Linufel said tiredly.

  "That's easy," Glibspet said. "The same again, but double time with you, sweetcakes."

  "We could crush you like a bug," she said dangerously, and he felt the pressure build.

  "Yes, you could," he said. "But the information you want has a very short half-life. Less than a minute probably. By the time you crack me, you've lost her, and you have to go explain to the big L just how it happened—this time." The pressure eased. "I just happen to have a contract with me. I must warn you that you probably don't have time to read it through." His smile stretched wide.

  The fallen angels looked at each other. Glibspet brought out the paper. "Need a pen?" he asked.

  "There will be an accounting someday, little devil," Linufel hissed as she added her sigil to the other two.

  "And maybe you'll be my love slave by then," he said, and pinched her.

  "Gobbet!" Kellubrae warned.

  "Well, I suppose I must let you know, then, mustn't I?" He sighed, drawing it out. Then he stared into the evening sky and pointed. "See that moving dot over there? She's inside it."

  "Shit!" Venifar yelped.

  The trio and their minions vanished.

  Craig walked up to him. "Dom?" he said brokenly. Glibspet laughed.

  "Life's a bitch, isn't it, kid? If it's any consolation, you were a pretty good lay, for a man."

  "Freeze! Police!" A harsh voice shouted at them, coming from the office area
.

  Startled, Mindenhall swung around, the gun still in hand and clearly visible beneath the pale luminous field lights.

  The bullets that tore through him left him no time to explain.

  Glibspet looked down at the dying man and chuckled. "But maybe in the end that doesn't count for much." He blew Mindenhall a little kiss—the last thing he saw before life left his body. "See you in Hell. Someday." He ported out.

  Chapter 72

  The g-forces had leveled out, and Morningstar Rising lifted at a moderate speed. She handled like a dream. Rhea hoped the automatic controls were as good as the manual ones. Even keeping the launch as slow as she could, she didn't have much time, and Jack was bleeding heavily, bright blood pulsing out all over the cockpit with every beat of his heart. The little liquid arcs were getting shallower and shallower.

  She closed her eyes and rested her hand on his leg. She could feel the damage—ripped arteries, pulverized muscle, severed nerved, shattered bone. The bullet had left a small hole on impact, but a massive one on exit; most of the front of his right thigh was simply gone. They'd be sensing for her; the Hellawatt expenditure she'd need to heal Jack would bring them to her like sharks to blood. But a lot faster.

  "We made it, didn't we?" He shouldn't have been conscious, but he was. His voice was so soft she almost couldn't hear it over the low roar of the engine. "They can't track us here. We'll go underground somehow, Rhea—get new identities and ride this thing out." He shifted slightly and grimaced with pain. "We'll leave the ship to Jan and them—someone will have to fund it now that they can see it works... everything's going to be fine. We're going to be fine. Damn, that leg hurts!"

  She pulled the oxygen mask over his face; he didn't need it yet, but he would soon. And she wanted to make sure he was taken care of. Safe. Then she pulled in the Hellawatts and ran them through her fingertips into his flesh, focusing on healing him. She reattached the arteries first, and replaced his blood with some of her own. Then she reconnected the nerves. She was replacing the muscle tissue and starting to piece the bone back together when suddenly the cabin was full of devils and fallen angels.

  "Hello, Averial," Kellubrae said. She felt their shields bear down on her, stifling any power she could draw. She was glad she'd stopped the bleeding and healed the nerves first. The bones and flesh would take care of themselves if they had to.

  Kellubrae looked around. "Pretty little toy you've made. Rather a dangerous one for the humans to have, though, don't you think? You'll have to point it at the ground before we leave."

  "Can't," Rhea said. "Mortal on board."

  Kellubrae looked at Jack as if seeing him for the first time. "An unfortunate complication. We can't hurt him... we can't be the cause of his coming to harm..." The dark angel smiled. "... But we can certainly port him back to safety. Kind of us, yes?"

  Venifar said, "You've led us a long chase, bitch, but you had to know you couldn't get away. Lucifer himself wants to talk to you. It's time to come home now."

  She couldn't do anything with Hellawatts, but she could still move normally. She threw herself over the seat into the cockpit and yanked on the vertical thrust.

  "Rhea, no!" Jack yelled.

  "What? No!" she heard Kellubrae scream, and then pain tore her atom from atom.

  As plans went, she wished she'd been able to think of one that didn't entail so much pain. Morningstar Rising tore beyond the upper limit of North Carolina airspace, and the agony rolled over her like sheets of boiling water. The ship disappeared around her—ripped itself through her, in truth, as her body ripped itself into molecules. Aware, frightened, hurting molecules.

  Her body re-formed with an audible snap. And then she was suspended in space. Not the normal space above Earth, but the space-time nexus that straddled the infinity between the separated kingdoms of Heaven and Hell. Far below, she could see the Pit, burning like a cyclopean laser-eye in the center of Hell's scarred face, and even from her point thousands of miles above the surface, she could feel the heat of the flames. Kellubrae and Venifar fell past her, screaming. She started falling then, too, and picked up speed, and the heat of the Pit increased. And increased. And increased. First her skin began to blister. Then to peel away in strips. The pain was unbelievable, worse than anything she had ever experienced, worse than the worst that Hell had done to her before. Then her body convulsed and burst into flames, and flaked away into ash, leaving her soul bared to an even more exquisite unraveling.

  The pain contracted on the smaller and smaller kernel that was her, burning away thoughts of Celestial, poignant memories of Jack, the joy of once again being with Remmy and Mir. Finally the only thought left to her outside of the pain, the last kernel of her that remained her own, was a single triumphant burst:

  I GAVE THEM THE STARS!

  Chapter 73

  The ship was suddenly empty.

  Maybe this is one time being in shock helps, Jack thought numbly. He could always cry later, if he lived.

  He dragged himself over to the console and up into the chair. His leg flopped pathetically—no bleeding, but the flesh looked like raw hamburger and the bone hadn't even begun to set when they came for her. He blacked out once from the pain and found himself looking up at the ceiling. He nearly lost the oxygen mask that time.

  There was water below—he was out somewhere past the banks. He took a guess at west from the fading sunset and hit the laterals. Bingo. Land. He headed for the first flat spot he saw, behind the dunes, over the road. Managed to slow descent—one of many things Morningstar Rising could do that NASA's crippled birds couldn't. Take off from anywhere. Land anywhere... anywhere... and everyone said it couldn't be done. Deep-space vehicle from Earth launch... well... screw them all—she flew like an angel. Screw the money people, NASA, the government with its petty, red-tape-wielding bureaucrats, the doubters, the hecklers. To Hell with all of them. Screw them...

  He blacked out again as he touched down.

  He came to when the hatch opened. A middle-aged man in uniform burst in, stared at the blood everywhere, shouted, "Corpsman! Stretcher, stat!"

  Everything went black again

  Someone stood over the bed, looking down at him.

  Jack focused with difficulty, frowned. "I know you," he said at last, though he didn't know who the man was.

  "Al Roberts, from TRITEL," the man said. "Celestial's... well, financial angel, I guess you could call me."

  "Probably not," Jack said. "I'm a bit pickier about that term than I used to be. And TRITEL pulled out on us; if I called you anything, it would be our financial devil."

  "TRITEL didn't pull out. First I got called back on active duty for some mess that didn't even exist—situation totally FUBAR. I ended up spending time in Antarctica while an endless succession of bureaucrats told me they knew I wasn't supposed to be there but until they received forms that verified that fact, Antarctica was where I would have to stay. Meanwhile, Williams had a massive heart attack and keeled over dead. And to complete the disaster, every scrap of paper I had documenting the channeling of government funds through TRITEL into Celestial vanished while I was trying to straighten out the military mess. Williams could have kept your funds flowing—he knew the secret. He wasn't supposed to die on me."

  "Government funds. For our spaceship? That would imply intelligent life in Washington." Jack was incredulous.

  "Occasionally," Roberts said. "Just occasionally." The corpsmen got Jack on the stretcher and out the door. He saw a familiar monument, brightly lit in the deepening night. "Pournelle was lobbying pretty hard there at the end, just before the funding went through."

  Jack nodded. In a funny way, it made sense. "How did she come down?"

  "Perfectly. Like a sweet dream. Ended up in Kittyhawk." Roberts grinned. "You put her down just about where Wilbur did." Roberts paused. "I think he'd like that." He sighed. "Anyway, the Antarctic mess suddenly resolved itself, and I shot back to North Carolina immediately. Just missed you at Celestial, headed fo
r Manteo on the advice of Jan... whatever her last name is... and crested the dunes in time to see the ship fading into the darkness. I thought she would have been on the ship with you, considering the... circumstances. Where is she?"

  "Gone," Jack said dully. "She was... ah... one of the Hellraised. Hiding from them, helping us to get into space. They found her, and they took her back."

  Roberts paled. "No. Christ, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He stared out the window, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "She was a remarkable woman."

  "You don't know the half of it," Jack said as the darkness claimed him again.

  Chapter 74

  Hospitals had all too much practice with bullet wounds. Jack was out in three days. He fumbled with the crutches as the cab pulled up to his house, paid the driver and made his way towards the front door.

  Carol stuck her head over the eaves as he slowly levered himself up the front steps. "You back!" she said.

  Jack waved at her weakly. She was rail thin again.

  "We'll talk later," he said. "You can stay, but I'm going to show you where the IRS building is. When you get hungry, you go there. Now move away from the edge, okay?"

  "Okay." The gargoyle head bobbed up and down as if she were one of those stupid fuzzy dog statues people used to stick on the back shelf of their cars. "Glad you back."

  He turned the key in the lock, and mercifully, it opened without his having to do anything strenuous to it. The short walk had left him sweating, and he couldn't believe the pain in his leg.

  All the pain got worse a second later. A pair of her panties were still draped across the stereo. A faint, lingering hint of roses clung to the air in the hallway. And if he closed his eyes, he could still hear her voice, could still expect to see her coming around the corner, down the hall, smiling, shedding clothes... wearing his ring.

  Gone. All gone.