by Claire Kane
“Are you freakin’ kidding me?” Butch said with a cock of his rugged jawline, his hands clenching into tight fists. “We’re following you whether you like it or not, boy. Don’t make me say it again. Now git!”
The chef blinked uncertainly. Without warning, he clenched his fists and charged toward Butch like a bull. A full head shorter, and much more wiry, Lacey was sure he stood no chance against her father. The man clenched his fists, then came charging toward Butch like a bull. Butch grabbed him into a headlock, and the wrestle was on, punctuated by plenty of grunts and curses as they smashed into the buffet of fancy-cut fruits, beside them.
Nainai shook her head in hot disapproval. “Now you’ve just angered three tough Asian women on top of the redneck.” She added with determination, “Lacey, wheel me closer to those pineapples.”
“What—? Now is not the time to eat.”
“Do as I say, granddaughter!”
The brawling men parted for a moment, panting, and drenched with sweat. Butch lunged, but his foot clipped a fallen chair, and he went down, crashing into another table, and toppling it over him. The chef slipped a hand into his white jacket, and whipped free a butcher’s knife with a gleaming edge. “Hah! Who’ll run now?”
“Hurry!” Nainai ordered Lacey.
Lacey obeyed, not sure what it meant, sidling her grandmother in closer to the pineapples, mere feet away from the fight. How she wished she had her gun on her at a time like this. “Dad! Be careful!” she called, distressed.
As Butch fought to free himself, the crazy man laughed, the sound crescendoing to plain maniacal. He raised his knife, and Butch flinched. As the knife came down, a yellow football-sized fruit with green plumage flew like a missile. It conked the crazy man in the head, and, after a second’s pause, he fell backward, his knife clattering to the ground.
A stunned silence filled the buffet, then all eyes turned to the fragile, innocent little grandmother sitting in her chair with a satisfied smile. “I told you pineapples were lucky,” she said.
When another monstrous groan reverberated through the hotel, Butch pointed to a door. “That’s it! Employee Access Only. Let’s go!”
TWENTY-TWO
In The Palace Theater, Victor found himself convulsing from whatever magic Zigmund was using. Rao hadn’t trained him for anything like this, and though he desperately wanted to calm and focus his mind, he couldn’t think straight for even a moment. When a reprieve came, he stared up into the dark sky, begging for even a sliver of light. He knew the hosts of Heaven were just outside the theater, battling his mistake, and that gave him reason to feel unworthy to ask for more of their help.
“Why,” he asked, staring into Heaven. “Why didn’t you tell me these kinds of things could happen? How could you let someone so evil be so strong? Even Jessica can’t handle this guy. Where’s that army Rao brought? Why wasn’t this thing a slam dunk?”
Yet, he heard no response from The Big Man, as Zigmund raised his hands to start the torture again, muttering all the while. Still, a whisper of peace blew through his mind, and a vision of all he had seen in Heaven filled his view for just a moment. Victor could hear the dark magic crackling at Zigmund’s fingertips, and knew he was about to taste more spiritual pain, yet somehow… somehow he knew it would work out. Then Zigmund yelled, and, with a mighty pull of magic, flung Victor down into the depths of the earth.
All around him were the tumbling forms of audience members, each of them surrounded by evil spirits doing things Victor wished he could un-see. He tried to teleport, fly, or even to just stop his progress into the bottomless darkness, but his sorrow drowned his thoughts, and he continued to tumble, wondering what had gone wrong. Hadn’t he seen a vision of success?
Far above him, Gerald Zigmund’s laughter bellowed as more and more of the theater tipped into the pit and followed him down. He knew he’d brought at least some of this about. He’d ignored Rao’s strict warnings. He’d let pride allow him to be deceived into loosing a hurricane of wickedness on the world. He’d disrespected Lacey to the point where she felt her only option had been to push him away—and now, he couldn’t even feel her mind. He had failed everything and everyone he loved.
“Dear Lord,” he groaned, as he spun deeper into perdition, “I’m not worthy of asking any favors or cutting any bargains. I screwed up really big, and if this is where I deserve to go, so be it. But please, could you just take care of Lacey for me? And all those people who Zigmund has condemned? Please, don’t let my mistakes cause them to suffer.”
He closed his eyes and surrendered himself to an endless fall into the place he belonged. He thought of Lacey, the love he would never have again. He thought of Rao, that crazy feline who’d actually been a surprisingly loving mentor despite her stern snarkiness. He thought of Nainai and the way the old woman could light up a room with her wacky humor. He even thought of Jessica, how he’d been unable to protect her from Zigmund. Who would watch over her little boy? An unexpected part of him suddenly wished he could have had a hand in that.
He jerked abruptly, and opened his eyes, startled. There, just above him, was Jessica. She has a firm grip on his hand, and a determined look in her eyes. Yet, when he met her gaze, her glare momentarily became a look of deep fondness, and a smile flashed across her lips. He found it stunning. To his astonishment, and despite the raging terrors around him, he suddenly remembered why he had once fallen for her. In a flash of insight, he realized that she might finally be the woman he once thought she was, then.
Then, Miss Serious was back. “That guy should know better than to throw a lady like that. I’ve got it on good authority that he’s forfeited his mortality. First, we need to stop him from killing hundreds of innocents. Let’s go.” Clutching his hand tightly, she rocketed back toward the surface, snagging a few, lost souls on the way up. Victor watched as a smattering of corpses tumbled away into the umbra, shuddering at how many audience members had not survived.
Two angels and a group of rescued souls burst into the open air above The Palace Theater. Jessica already had a shield of light up. “Victor,” she said, pointing at a small break in the swarm of sinful souls surrounding the stadium, “get a shield up and see if you can’t get these people out of here. The army will get here when it can, but if you can at least break out, these people will have a chance.”
He nodded, grateful he could finally think straight again, and calmed his mind, remembering the magnificent view of Heaven he’d been reminded of. His shield went up, bright and strong, and he motioned for the recently dead to follow him. Some looked utterly confused, others angry, but most looked grateful, happy to no longer be spinning out of control into darkness. “Let’s go, people.” As he led them toward the opening in the demonic wall, he spared a quick glance at Jessica: she was shooting straight toward Zigmund.
*
Lacey had never been so glad for a dumpster before. The big, metal box reeked of discarded food and who-knew-what else, but it was sturdy and seemed a safe enough place to shelter as the earth rumbled beneath her. They’d found it just outside The Illusion and decided not to chance running farther.
“Here, Ma,” Butch said, reaching toward Nainai, “gimme yer hands. I gotcha.”
Lacey bit her lip, scanning the area as her parents fought to haul her grandmother up and into the dumpster. The whole thing was insane, but as she looked around she saw nothing that seemed any safer or any less insane. She suddenly wished she could just call out to Victor and have him scout some path to safety. She tried, but still came up mentally blank.
She tried a second time, squeezing her eyes shut and concentrating as hard as she could. Still nothing. She—
An image flashed in her head. It was Victor, and it was clear he was in terrible pain. Lacey’s eyes flew open, and she gasped, stumbling backward into the side of the dumpster. The shaking earth nearly caused her to lose her feet, but a strong hand came down on her shoulder.
“Ya’ okay, honey?” She looked up at him, an
d shook her head. “Let’s get you in here and get this thing locked down while we can. This here can stinks, but not as bad as this whole situation.”
Lacey spun and clasped her father’s hand, but couldn’t get the sight of Victor out of her mind. Unable to help herself, she kept looking for him, knowing that she’d never find him, even if he did, for inexplicable reasons, happen to be in the area. With her father’s help, she clambered up and into the dumpster, and hunkered down as Butch lowered the lid.
In the moment before the inside of the dumpster went dark, Lacey saw a flash of light burst from Zigmund and Ross’ theater, like a white-hot nail through a blackened piece of steel. Though she couldn’t make out what it was, there was a distinctly familiar feel about it. “What was that?” she asked, shoving the lid open.
“Git down, will ya’ darlin’?” Butch pulled at her arm, but she shook him off and threw herself from the garbage can. This time, she did fall, unable to keep her balance as the ground began cracking and heaving.
“That’s Victor,” she said, scrambling to her feet. “I just know it.”
Butch tumbled out of the dumpster behind her, calling for her to get back inside, but she was already running, as best she could, toward The Palace Theater. The structure was actively sinking into the ground surrounded by heaps of rubble thrown by the tornado raging inside it. Victor seemed to have escaped the mess, but her gut told her he was still in trouble. She had no idea what she would do, or how she would do… whatever it was, but she’d either succeed or die trying.
To her surprise, that notion didn’t scare her.
*
A harrowing few minutes later, Victor was back, shield flickering slightly, but still not breached. His attempts to break through the demon wall had not gone unnoticed, and he’d had to pull out more than a few tricks to keep his group together and move them to safety. Yet a squadron of seraphs had caught sight them and ushered them into a conduit of light straight into a brilliant, silver spot in the clouds. Relieved, Victor dove back into the fray. The dark ones seemed more than willing to let him back into the theater.
Once inside, he did a quick scan of the area. Jessica was alternating between snatching falling souls, and shooting rays of light at Zigmund. Every time she tried to save someone, however, either a group of Legion would block her, or Zigmund would whip one of his fireballs her way. On the flip side, her counterattacks seemed to do nothing more than annoy him. He shook his head and clenched his teeth. He had no idea how to beat this guy. Legion and the other dark ones were one thing, but none of them had material bodies.
Zigmund, however, wielded dark powers from within a fortress of flesh. In fact, he seemed almost bored of her, and had turned his attention more fully toward dragging the few score remaining audience members down into misery. Sensing his chance, Victor called to Jessica and caught her eye. She nodded once, then a nova of light burst from her, clearing out a hundred evil spirits at once.
Jessica flew over to Victor, and the two of them combined their shields, and buying them a moment of blessed reprieve, even as a group of the members of Legion circled them warily, waiting to strike.
“Come on, Victor.” Jessica said. “We can do this.” Strength shone in her glittering green eyes. “Take a deep breath. Remember what I taught you, and don’t let this get to your head. Fight with your heart.” She reached out and pressed a gentle hand over his heart. “You’ve still got one in there, though it’s different on this side of the veil. And that heart is so, so beautiful.”
That wasn’t all that was beautiful, Victor thought. Jessica really was a beauty, not just physically but now spiritually, and those words gave comfort in a time of doubt. He cast his eyes down a moment in humility, then snapped them back up to meet hers once again. “But how are we supposed to stop him, Jessica? We can fight demons all day, but Zigmund—he has a body!”
“If we could cut him off from his magic, maybe,” Jessica said thoughtfully.
The demons didn’t seem to care for the guardian angels, any longer, entranced by the magician’s chanting and summonings. People still screamed and called out for help, not wanting to be sucked in the whirlpool to Hell. Many screamed for Jessica, while others seemed sure there was no lifesaver in sight.
Victor groaned. “I can’t watch this,” Victor said, shaking his head. “I feel so helpless, like a failure.”
“You’re not a failure.” Jessica now caressed a hand across his strong jawline. A feeling like pleasurable electricity waved through him, and she smiled. “Close your eyes and do what comes to you,” she said.
Victor obeyed, closing his eyes. Instinctively he moved his mouth closer to hers, his lips puckering.
Sweet laughter was in response. “Not that, hottie.”
Victor opened his eyes, feeling a little silly. “What? Wasn’t—”
“No.” She laughed again. “I meant for you to try your meditative tricks that your spirit guide taught. Link to Heaven that way for enlightenment on what to do.” She took his hand in hers. “We’ll do it together.”
They stood side-by-side closing their eyes, their spirit bodies brightening as their minds transcended Earth together, reaching Heaven.
Thoughts of cats came to Victor. His eyes still closed, his brow bunched in confusion. “I-I don’t get it. Rao must be interfering with my link. All I’m getting is cats.”
“That’s what I’m getting too,” Jessica said, confused. She took in a deep breath. “Focus.”
He pressed his eyes closed tighter. The vision became clearer as his breath evened. It wasn’t just any cat. Orange and black and big—it was Zigmund’s cat Charly. The one he had wrongfully possessed just days ago. Risking breaking his link, he asked Jessica, “Are you still getting what I’m getting?”
“Yes.”
Victor opened his eyes and so did Jessica. “Why would Heaven want me to possess a cat they’d clearly disciplined me for possessing?”
Jessica smiled again. “I don’t think that’s what they mean.”
Like a lightbulb turning on in his mind, he suddenly said, “Ohhh.”
Jessica followed as Victor approached the gigantic cat who was coiled back against the stage’s curtain, as if in shock. “Hey, buddy.” Victor said in a sweet tone.
The tiger hissed between sharp teeth, as shrieks of anguish raked around them.
“It’s okay.” Victor stepped forward, reaching a hand of friendliness forward. “I’m not going to enter your body. I’ve learned my lesson. Bodies are to be respected. They’re sacred to their owner.” The tiger moved his head a touch, as if he understood. “Only the dark ones, like Zigmund, knowingly cross sacred boundaries like that.”
Jessica smiled before stepping away to the white tiger, Felix, nearby. She crouched down to have a talk with him.
Victor looked over at her, then continued concentrating on Charly. “I’m sorry, buddy. We need to disconnect your boss from his power. My friend and I might have to hurt him. Please forgive me.” His dark eyebrows pressed together in hope.
Charly licked his mouth, bobbing his head with a soft roar.
“I need you to do something for me now, if you’d be willing…”
*
Lacey staggered to the top of a mountain of debris of the buffet’s back room, her father huffing up beside her. Butch grabbed her with both arms, and spun her toward him. “What in tarnation do you think you’re doing, Missy?”
She refused to meet his eyes as she tried pulling away. She hadn’t been fast enough, and Victor had—in his usual, stupidly heroic way, probably—gone back into the theater; and that meant she had to follow.
“You listen to me, girl,” Butch insisted, shouting over the deafening sounds of the storm and earthquake. “This is the worst place we can be right now. I’m taking you back to your mother, and yer gonna stay with us and ride this out same way as we always rode out twisters back home.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, and in one, swift motion, hefted her over his shoulder like a sack of p
otatoes.
“No! I can’t leave him again!”
“This ain’t no time for romancin’,” he replied as he began picking his shaky way down the debris slope. A sharp tremor jolted both of them, breaking Butch’s grip and sending them tumbling down the pile. Lacey groaned as she got to her feet. Her dad was nearby, groaning as well.
“Dad? Daddy, are you okay?”
He sat up slowly, rubbing at the back of his head with one hand, and his lower back with the other. “That there’s why I never took up skiing,” he said, struggling to his feet despite the rolling earth.
She gave him a quick smile, then a kiss on his forehead. “I love you, Dad,” she said, “but I can’t leave Victor alone either. Get back to Mom and Nainai for me. Tell them I love them!” With that, she began fighting her way back up the hazardous slope, ignoring her dad’s pleas for her to stay. As she looked upward, she was dismayed that the top of the theater’s walls no longer rose above the debris. How far had the structure sunk in the time it had taken her to climb up again? Whatever was going on in there, she knew it would only end very, very badly.
She had to get to Victor now.
At last, she crested the hill. The sight before her took her breath away. A hole that could swallow an apartment building had replaced the theater’s floor, and she could make out an ominous, dark-red glow from deep within it. The image caused her to shiver.
Several hundred people—probably members of the audience—huddled in terror in the highest tiers of seating, which was now a good ten feet below her. She wondered why none had thought to climb the walls and escape, now that the usual doors were gone, but the scared-out-of-their minds look in their eyes told her they were probably well past the point of rational thought.
Green fires burned everywhere, and a small, focused tornado whipped around, plucking up unlucky people at random, and flinging them willy-nilly across the theater, or down into the gaping pit. It was, quite literally, Hell on Earth.
