Hellbound

by Matt Turner

  A sharp caw tore through the air as Podarge suddenly plunged downward. “First Man!” the harpy shrieked out happily. Her ragged wings whooshed as she dove straight at the hunchbacked figure’s head. There was a faint crash of claws against flesh, and the hunchbacked figure let out a cry of pain as the harpy flew away, a few strips of his naked scalp dangling from her claws.

  “Please!” the hunchback wept. He raised two arms—so emaciated and brittle they were closer to the limbs of a spider than those of a man—to cover his face as he let out a heartbreaking cry. “I’ll be good! I’ll be good!”

  “I’d say negotiations have broken down.” Lao smiled. “Oh well, at least we tried.” He slid up his sleeves and began to walk down the hill of decaying flesh to where the Horsemen waited.

  Lamech seized the hunchback by the shoulder and began to pull him down the hill.

  “No! I don’t want to fight,” the ancient man cried. “Just let me die. Let me die!”

  Simon wrenched his sword out and took up a defensive posture. The others mimicked his move, but Seth seemed to be frozen in place. “That voice…” His eyes widened in horror. “Is that… Dear God, no…”

  “Fucking goddamned craven cripple weakling,” Lamech snarled. He backhanded the ancient man across the back of the head, causing him to stumble forward and awkwardly slide down the hill. “Quit whining and do your job.”

  As his two companions slowly made their way down the hill, Lamech sprinted forward and leapt into the air, the flaming sword tracing a fiery line behind him as he hurtled downward. “I’ve waited a hundred thousand years for this, Horsemen!” he called out greedily. “Give me a good fight!”

  7

  Unless she had a gun or a bomb—of which she had neither—Vera knew that she was no use in a direct confrontation. She ducked back behind Seth as the three strangers rushed at them; it was difficult to not feel at least a sliver of panic settle in as their leader plunged down from the sky directly at Simon, a roared challenge ringing from his lips—

  “All right,” Manto quietly said.

  The burst of sheer light and near-instantaneous explosion of thunder nearly overwhelmed Vera’s senses, but she managed to see the bolt of lightning explode from the oracle’s hands. At the speed of light, it cratered directly into Lamech’s chest, reducing his tunic to ash as the bolt split in two and neatly joined the weeping hunchback and the handsome Asian in a triangle of electricity and fire. The three of them crashed to the ground, their bodies furiously thrashing as white-hot light poured from their every pore. Far away, the echo of the thunder could be heard as it ricocheted off the city’s walls.

  “Holy shit,” Simon breathed as he stared at the motionless, smoking bodies that lay before them.

  “He wanted a good fight.” Manto shrugged. “I gave him one.”

  “Nice job.” Amaury grinned. He leaned close enough to Manto that their faces nearly touched. “That was beautiful.”

  A small smile crossed Manto’s lips. “Was it?” she asked innocently.

  Vera could not help but notice that, although the oracle did not lean in closer to Amaury, she certainly did not move away. Ugh, she thought as she made a face of disgust to Seth. He did not seem to notice; his eyes were firmly fixed on the motionless body of the hunchback.

  “Oh, it was,” Amaury said. “Reminds me of that one time in the Eighth Circle…”

  “Oh FUCK,” a voice interrupted. The Horsemen turned as one to see that the Oriental man was clambering back up to his feet. He winced in pain as pieces of his blackened skin fell away onto the ground. “Fuck your ancestors to the eighteenth generation, that hurt like a bitch.” He spat a wad of burnt flesh onto the ground at his feet.

  “I-Impossible,” Manto stammered. “That should have fried every muscle in his body—how is he—”

  The man smiled and indicated the bits of fresh skin that were already extending to cover the charred flesh of his chest.

  “God damnit,” Simon spat. “Another fucking healer. Lao, I fucking hate you.”

  “I drank the blood of the Master,” Lao gloated. His ability to heal seemed to rival even that of ELIE; in just seconds, any trace of the lightning bolt that had scorched him from the inside out was completely gone. “His gifts are magnificent.”

  “I doubt that,” Simon snarled. “Amaury, let’s take him!” In a blur of motion, father and son moved as one. Amaury nimbly leapt to the side, flanking Lao as he took aim with his two machine-pistols. Simon charged from the front, swinging his blade down in a powerful chop that would split Lao in half from forehead to groin. The stranger raised his hands as if to protect himself from the blow and grimaced in pain as Amaury’s guns fired, peppering him with rounds that tore bloody swathes through his body.

  “Heal from this,” Simon howled as his blade cut through the air. A clash of steel screeched in response, and Simon let out a gasp of surprise when he saw the blade that had intercepted his own.

  Simon’s sword had been stopped just a centimeter from Lao’s head by the edge of Lamech’s burning blade. “Made in the forges of Heaven itself,” Lamech whispered. The muscles in his arms trembled as he strained against Simon’s weapon. “We have the heaven-man to thank for this.”

  “Bastard.” Simon kicked out at Lamech’s leg, knocking the younger man backward with a cry of pain. Lamech swiftly regained his balance and leapt back a few more meters. For a moment, the two combatants panted and glared at each other as Lao took his place at Lamech’s side.

  Lao’s wounds from Amaury’s bullets had already healed, but Lamech did not seem to have the same ability; there was still a wound on his chest that gushed out faint smoke, and Vera could see that his leg was bleeding from where Simon had struck him. “Go for that one!” she called out to the others.

  “I plan to,” Manto growled. A fresh crackle of lightning was already dancing across her fingers as she strode forward to where Lao and Lamech waited.

  “Old Man!” Lamech yelled at the unmoving body of the cripple. “Get your ass up, or I swear to the Master—”

  The emaciated body trembled and twitched in the dirt. “It hurts,” a dead voice whispered. “It always hurts. It never ends.” He, too, slowly staggered to his feet, letting out a feeble moan with every slight movement. There was a great hole in his chest where the lightning bolt had struck him—Vera could see clear through him to the other side. A small trickle of something—was it dirt?—seemed to be falling from the upper half of his hole, filling in his wound like the sands of an hourglass. He limped forward, his hands raised before him as though in supplication.

  “Seth, we need a plan,” Vera muttered out of the corner of her mouth. They were the closest two to the strange old man, and the others were distracted by Lao and Lamech. “You go for him head-on, and I’ll go around. Maybe if I can touch him, I can—Seth!”

  The heaven-man did not seem to hear any of her words; he only stared at the approaching hunchback with a mixture of horror and shock frozen on his face. “Seth,” Vera hissed. “Seth! Who is that?”

  “Dust,” the ancient man croaked. He reached out with a shaking hand and wept as his fingertips began to crumble away into vapor. “We are all nothing but dust.”

  “Seth!” Vera cried out. His face remained horror-struck, so she raised a hand and violently backhanded him. He barely seemed cognizant of the red mark she had left on his cheek, but his eyes flickered downward to glance at her. She saw nothing but sorrow in them.

  “My fault,” the old man gurgled. His hands and forearms had completely crumbled away, forming a cloud of dust and smoke that slowly billowed around him. Through his translucent skin, Vera could see his muscles and bones swiftly decaying and dissolving away. “All my fault.”

  “He is Adam.” Seth sighed. “The First Man.”

  “Seth,” Adam whispered. The decay quickly reached his legs; he toppled forward onto the ground as the cloud of dust grew larger around him, yet he still tried to drag his torso forward with the stubs that had bee
n his limbs. “Son. My fault.”

  “My father.” Seth closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them up again, there was nothing but grim determination in his face. “Be ready, Vera. This will not be pleasant.”

  “My fault,” Adam cried out. The skin on his face dissolved away into nothingness, and still the dark cloud billowed out larger around the remains of his body. “We are nothing,” he sobbed as the last traces of muscle and bone evaporated away. In just seconds, nothing of his pitiful frame was left, yet his voice continued from the depths of the dark mass that spread farther and farther outward. “Nothing but dust.”

  The formless mass reached out for the two of them.

  “Forgive me,” Seth had just enough time to whisper, and then the horror of Hell’s oldest inhabitant engulfed them.

  8

  For a brief instant, a look of relief flickered across Lamech’s face as Seth and Vera vanished into the black fog of dust.

  Little coward, Simon thought in a dark rage. Scared of facing us all at once, are you? He tightened his grip on his sword, ready to plunge forward.

  “You almost had me there, Manto,” Lamech admitted as the oracle took up a position alongside Simon. “If it weren’t for this”—he waved Seth’s heavenly blade at the two of them—“I’d be ash right about now.”

  “A mistake that I am about to remedy,” Manto calmly said. She pointed her index finger at Lamech’s head and closed one of her eyes as she took aim.

  Lamech’s golden eyes glittered as his shoulders began to shake from laughter. “You poor damned fool,” he managed to wheeze out between his half-crazed giggles. “You really don’t know what’s coming, do you? Oh, this is just perfect.”

  “You’re testing my patience,” Simon growled.

  Lamech’s laughter increased to such an intensity that he had to sink the burning blade of the sword into the ground and lean on the pommel. “Fine, fine,” he burst out when he finally managed to control himself. “Let me show you—oh, your faces! I can’t wait to see them!”

  Amaury raised one of his pistols and fired off a shot. Lao dived in front of Lamech and groaned as the bullet tore a hole in the center of his forehead. “Hurry it up, will you?” he said between gritted teeth as the bullet-hole quickly healed back together.

  “You Horsemen may have the Marks of Cain,” Lamech said mockingly, “but I have his blessing!” He raised both of his hands to the sky, leaving the heavenly sword buried in the ground. “For if Cain’s revenge is sevenfold, then Lamech’s is seventy-sevenfold.”

  Horrible realization dawned on Amaury’s face. “Take him NOW,” he screamed out.

  He sprinted to the side, emptying both pistols at Lamech. Lao followed his movement, both arms extended outward as he formed a meat-shield for the laughing madman. A score of bullets tore into his body, spilling out blood and guts onto the ground, but as fast as Amaury squeezed the trigger, the concubine’s body healed—and then Manto unleashed her lightning bolt. The beam of fire and light shot directly at Lamech’s head, and then twisted to the side and harmlessly crashed against the burning sword at the last possible second.

  “Take him!” Amaury screamed out again. He tossed aside his empty guns and charged headlong at Lao, his knives drawn. Simon imitated his example and rushed for Lamech—Lao was distracted by the blades that Amaury was uselessly burying into his chest; the way was clear—

  Lamech pulled away the ragged strips of his tunic to reveal the burnt skin on his chest. “Now, Manto,” he said in a terrible voice that trembled with sadistic glee, “feel my pain. Seventy-seven times over.”

  Darkness pulsed around his palms as he raised both his hands to the sky again.

  Simon dove toward him, the sword in his hand aimed directly for his throat. He had the bastard in his hands; hopefully he had just enough time—

  Out of the corner of his eye, Simon had a brief glimpse of a great cloud of dust and smoke rushing toward him. Just before his sword would have connected with Lamech, the billowing mass slammed into him with an impossible strength, tearing him off his feet and throwing him a dozen meters through the air. His back crashed against a tendril of flesh that Legion had left behind, splitting open the meat and causing its rotting contents to gush out into the open air.

  Amaury chopped off one of Lao’s hands and lunged for Lamech, but the missing appendage grew back within seconds—Lao easily wrenched him out of the air and kicked him down into the dirt.

  “Say good-bye.” Lamech laughed. Dark plumes of energy crackled around his palms as he slowly lowered them down to his face.

  “Amaury,” Manto called out. She ran toward where he lay on the ground, a look of utter grief on her face. “I—”

  Lamech violently smashed both of his hands together. There was a horrific shriek as crackles of lightning and fire emerged from where Manto’s lightning bolt had struck him. For a moment, the raw energy grew and swelled from Lamech’s chest, burning so fiercely that Simon was afraid it would burn his retinas. And then, in the blink of an eye, it vanished.

  “—love—” Manto said.

  Her scream was swallowed out by the earth-shattering crack of thunder that slammed into Simon with enough force to push him even deeper into the rotten flesh left behind by Legion. A mighty wind roared, hurling boulders, debris, and entire pieces of building in every direction. In the center of the storm, he saw a glimpse of a great ball of lightning and power, swiftly expanding outward. It lifted Manto’s body into the air, then completely engulfed it. Bolts of sheer energy rained down like hail, splitting great rifts into the bleeding ground. The very air crackled and thrummed with anticipation as the roar grew louder and louder and LOUDER—

  Deep within the heart of the raging storm, Simon saw a glimpse of movement as Manto raised a charred hand to the skies above. The ball of lightning immediately shot upward, still bleeding out great crackles of ungodly power. A hundred meters above the city, it exploded into a million veins of energy that traced across the sky. For a brief instant, all of Dis was lit as brightly as the sun. The thunder came one last time, blasting out a shock wave that dissipated the great pillars of smoke and knocked all of them down to their knees.

  At last there was silence, broken only by Amaury’s sobs as a fine layer of ash rained down on them from above.

  Lamech stood and brushed himself off. “By the Master,” he said in awe. “She barely grazed me, too. Maybe seventy-seven times was a bit much.”

  Lao let out a hacking cough. “You think?” he demanded.

  “You son of a bitch!” Amaury raged. He wrenched up from the ground and lunged for Lamech, hate blazing in his eyes. “I’ll fucking kill you!” He slashed his knife through the air in a move that would have spilled Lamech’s intestines onto the ground.

  Lamech easily dodged the attack and wrenched Seth’s flaming sword out of the ground. “Don’t forget your daddy hit me too.” He laughed in Amaury’s face. “Got me with a pretty good kick. Guess who’s next?”

  “Amaury, no!” Simon bellowed. He wrenched himself to his feet and charged forward, but it was already too late.

  Amaury’s only reply was a scream of pure fury. He stabbed his knife directly at Lamech’s face, clearly intending to tear out both of his eyes. Lamech started to raise his sword to intercept the blow—and then stopped halfway as he merely twisted his face slightly to the side. The stab that would have blinded him only left a thin line of blood above his ear.

  “And look at that!” Lamech crowed in triumph. With a single slash of the flat of his sword, he knocked Amaury back down into the dirt. “Looks like you’ve hurt me too—stings like a bitch, if I’m being honest. I wonder what it will feel like seventy-seven times over?”

  “I’ll rip your fucking heart out,” Amaury screamed. He dove forward, stabbing his knife at Lamech’s Achilles tendon, but Lao simply stepped into the way of the stab. The knife blade neatly impaled his calf and stayed there as Lao brought his leg back, ripping the handle out of Amaury’s hands.


  “You can’t touch me.” Lao grinned. He reached down and tore the knife out of his calf. The wound immediately healed, leaving only a faint stain of blood on his flawless skin.

  “And if you so much as touch me—” Lamech crashed his boot into Amaury’s face, shattering his nose. “You’re worse than dead.”

  “Amaury!” Simon shouted out. With a last burst of speed, he managed to reach out and wrench his son’s body away from the blade that Lamech had stabbed down at the small of his spine.

  “Manto,” Amaury groaned as Simon seized him by the shoulder and wrenched him back up to his feet. “She’s…gone.” Blood and tears poured down from his broken face. Simon recognized the hate in his son’s face: it was the same fury that had propelled him his entire life. “I’ll give them Hell.” He started to walk forward to their two smiling enemies. Even with the strength of his Mark, Simon had difficulty holding him back.

  “Wait,” Simon urged. “We can’t go in blind—we need to think—”

  “All useless, old man,” Lamech mocked. “You lost this battle before it even began.” He raised both palms into the air and chuckled as twin orbs of darkness began to coalesce before them. “Let me show you.”

  9

  Four. Four. Four.

  The number pounded into Salome’s head with every step. Shouldn’t have used another syringe so quickly, she cursed herself for the thousandth time. Got greedy. And now she only had four. The four points of the compass, all pointing toward inevitable pain.

  On the bright side, the hideous Suicide—who, Salome had to admit, was rather handsome on the parts of his face that weren’t protruding leaves and bark—was even more pliable than she had dared to hope. “John, be a dear and move that building, would you?”

  Her enticing coo swiftly became a choking cough as she gagged up a few mouthfuls of blood—even by her standards, the dosage she had taken to dull the pain of her ruined face was ungodly—but the Horseman was too far gone to care. He nodded dumbly at her, his tongue wagging out of his mouth like a silly dog, as he reached out with one of his tree-like arms and tore aside a hill of rubble.