by Amy Cross
“I don't know what you're talking about,” he replies, before peering past her and seeing a plume of smoke rising into the air, “but I'm going to guess that it's something to do with that.”
“So you're saying this is a coincidence?” she asks. “Funny, but I'm having a really hard time believing that.”
“Get your hands off me,” he mutters, slipping free of her grip and limping toward the door. Outside, a few shocked locals have emerged from nearby buildings and are staring at the smoke as it gets thicker in the distance. “This isn't my style, Sam,” he says after a moment, before turning to her with a hint of fear in his eyes. “Come on, you know me well enough by now. Would I really roast a bunch of old grannies in a metal tin on wheels?”
“Yes!”
“Well,” he replies, “I'm hurt. I'm truly hurt.”
“Don't try to act all -”
“There!”
Suddenly he points at something in the distance.
“Yeah, smoke,” Sam says, “I've already seen it. Don't try to change the -”
“Those birds! Look at them!”
Sighing, she heads over to the doorway and looks toward the horizon. The first thing she sees is the smoke, which is blacker and thicker than ever, but a moment later she spots several birds flying high into the morning sky.
“They're just birds,” she points out. “I'm sure they're spooked by the -”
Before she can finish, she sees one of the birds burst into flames, followed quickly by the others, and she watches with a growing sense of horror as they all fall to the ground in the distance.
“They were trying to leave,” the Devil says, taking a couple of steps out into the town square while still staring up at the bright blue sky. “You saw that, Sam! Those birds took flight and were heading away from the town, and then it's almost as if...”
He pauses, before turning to her.
“As if what?” she asks cautiously.
“As if something prevented them from leaving,” he continues. “As if something's sealing us all in.”
“But -”
“When did that bus catch fire?”
“It was going over the bridge and -”
“Then it hit trouble as soon as it tried to leave Rippon?”
Sam opens her mouth to argue with him, before realizing that he's right. Then, hearing a distant squawk followed by a small explosion, she turns just in time to spot several more burned birds falling from the sky. One of the birds lands a few feet away, still smoking as it hits the ground, and then smoldering with its legs sticking up in the air.
Taking a step over to look more closely, Sam stars at the burning bird for a moment before turning to the Devil. For the first time, she's starting to doubt her earlier assumption that he was entirely responsible.
“Tell me you're doing this,” she stammers.
“I'm not doing this.”
“Tell me you are!”
“I swear, Sam, this is nothing to do with me.” He pauses for a moment. “The birds, the bus, the old ladies... Someone else is doing all this to Rippon. Someone doesn't want anyone leaving. Before, you were the only one who couldn't go beyond the boundary, but now I think it's the whole population that's confined, which means...”
His voice trails off for a moment.
“He's here,” he adds finally.
“Who is?” Sam asks. “Wait, don't try to distract me!”
“No, he's really here,” he continues, his eyes widening with a growing sense of horror. “That must be why I felt like I was dying. He was much closer than I realized, and now he's arrived and he's sealed the town off. There must be -”
Suddenly he doubles over and winces, clutching his belly as if he's in agony.
“I'm not falling for this,” Sam says, although her voice betrays a hint of concern. “Whatever lie you're trying to peddle, you're not going to distract me from -”
Before she can complete that sentence, the sound of horses running across cobblestones suddenly fills the air.
Sam and the Devil both turn and look toward one of the cafe's far windows. The sound of hooves is coming from one of the side streets, and as the seconds pass the sound gets louder and louder until finally a jet-black horse-drawn carriage rattles into view and comes to a halt.
“What the hell?” Sam whispers, watching as a door opens on the side of the carriage.
Moments later, a tall, robed figure steps down onto the cobbles. Dressed in all-black, with a hood concealing the upper half of its face and revealing only a withered, skeletal jaw, the figure steps away from the carriage just as a second, identical figure climbs down, followed immediately by a third. As soon as they're all out, one of the figures steps toward Sam while the other two walk calmly and slowly around to different positions around the carriage's other side.
“This doesn't seem good,” Sam says, stepping back as she feels the air chilling all around her. “Why are there -”
Suddenly she falls silent, as she watches another figure step down from the carriage. This figure seems bulkier than the others, although its bulk is hidden behind grand robes that flutter in the morning breeze. Yet as the figure stops on the cobblestones and looks around, Sam gets a glimpse of a dark, heavily scarred face with two pitch-black eyes. At the same time, the air all around seems to fill with a foul, sulfurous stench.
“Is this it?” the figure asks, looking across the square for a moment. “Is this where he's been hiding all this time? Is this where Fenroc and Raven both fell?”
He pauses, staring at Sam, and for a few seconds his eyes flicker with deep-burning fire.
“Tell me,” he continues, with a faint smile, “that you are not the gardener I have heard so much about.”
“Who are you?” Sam asks, taking another step back. “Who is this guy?”
She turns, but suddenly she finds that the Devil is nowhere to be seen. She looks around, desperate to find him, and then finally she spots him racing frantically away and quickly disappearing down one of the side-streets.
Chapter Six
“Stop!” Sam yells breathlessly, running at breakneck pace down the cobbled street that leads toward the river. “Wait! Come back!”
She clatters to a halt, slamming into the railing as she looks down and sees the Devil hurrying down some stone steps that leads to the water.
“Where are you going?” she asks. “You're not... Are you running away?”
He shouts something up at her, but she can't quite make out the words.
“Damn it!” she mutters, racing around the railing and making her way down the steps, reaching the shore just as the devil starts wading out into the water. “Are you seriously running away?”
“I'm -”
Before he can finish, flames burst from the air in front of him, knocking him back and sending him thudding down into the mud. He starts frantically brushing the front of his shirt, to get rid of a few lingering flickers of flame, and then he gets to his feet and tries again. The same thing happens, with a rush of fire knocking him back, and he tries a couple more times before finally slumping down a final time into the mud. He hesitates, taking longer to get up, and then he turns and looks at Sam with wild, terrified eyes.
“Of course I'm running away!” he snaps. “You saw him! Abberoth is here and it's not for a friendly catch-up! He wants to put the Shackle of San Shaheth on me, or something even worse, and then...”
His voice trails off for a moment, as if he's too terrified to speak.
“This is what he's been after, all this time,” he continues, with a hint of awe in his voice. “It's not enough to defeat me and take everything away from me. He also wants to control me.”
“Who is that guy?” Sam asks, taking a step closer. “Is he the one that's stopping everyone from leaving Rippon?”
“He's far more than that,” the Devil replies, shaking now with fear. “I didn't think he'd come in person. Not yet, at least. I thought I had a little while to play for time but those pains ma
de me realize that something deadly was coming. I thought he'd keep sending idiots like Gabriel Fenroc and Charles Raven, convenient dolts who could be easily defeated, but apparently he's decided to cut out the middle-men and do the job himself.”
“What job?”
“There's no point fighting,” he continues, sounding increasingly panicked. “I should just go back and surrender. If I can't run, I'm only prolonging the agony by trying to fight him.”
“I don't understand,” Sam says. “I thought you were happy just milling around here in Rippon. I didn't know you were living in deathly fear of someone.”
“I might not have been entirely honest with you.”
“You lied?”
“I'M THE DEVIL!” he shouts, struggling to his feet, covered in mud. “OF COURSE I LIED! I'M LITERALLY THE DEVIL, HOW CAN YOU BE SURPRISED THAT I LIE?”
“What exactly does he want with you?” she asks. “Anyway, you're the Devil, why can't you just... I don't know, why can't you just zap him or something?”
“Zap him?”
“I don't know! Can't you do something? How can he be more powerful than you?”
“It might have escaped your attention,” he replies, “that I'm not exactly at my best.” He pauses for a moment. “I might have suffered what you call a... small fall from power.”
“From power?”
“From everything.” He stares at her for a moment, before letting out a loud sigh. “I lost it all, Sam,” he continues finally. “My kingdom. My throne. Everything. I was overthrown. I mean, the fact that I was dead and buried for a while should have given you a hint that things haven't been going swimmingly for me. There are a lot of stories going around, and most of them are complete rubbish, but the general gist is correct. I lost my throne in Hell, because it was usurped by that... that...”
He shudders, with an expression of pure contempt, as he looks past Sam and toward the cobbled road that leads back up to the town square.
“Abberoth,” he sneers finally.
“Abberoth?”
“I didn't see it coming until it was too late. I didn't realize Abberoth could ever challenge me. I thought he was just a little pipsqueak with mediocre powers, but he found a way to concentrate those powers and use them against me. By the time I understood I had a problem, it was far too late. I should have ruled Hell for all eternity. Instead, here I am, living in a muddy little town with muddy little humans, running around like a coward and trying desperately to forestall my inevitable painful demise. Frankly, it'd be a blessing if he uses the Shackle of San Shaheth on me. He has far more agonizing options at his disposal.”
“Wait,” Sam replies, “so you're saying that this Abberoth guy... He literally overthrew you and cast you out of Hell?”
“He didn't cast me out. He wanted to have me there as his prisoner, for propaganda purposes, but I managed to escape. For a while, at least. I didn't last long, though, not down here in the mortal world. Abberoth was always sending people after me. To be honest, being dead for a few years was quite a relief. I needed the chance to recharge my batteries, and I thought I'd be able to use the time to come up with a plan.”
“Did you come up with one?”
“Does it look like I did?”
“So what do we do now?” Sam asks, turning and looking again toward the cobbled road. “He's parked up there in the town square but I guess he won't just sit around forever. We have to find a way to defeat him.”
“Give it up already,” the Devil replies. “It's over, Sam. We lost. Or rather, I lost.”
She turns to him.
“Never!”
“It was always going to end this way,” he continues. “I just thought I had longer to sit around before the end. Now Abberoth has all of Hell under his command, and he won't stop there. This world will be next.”
“What do you mean?”
“Myths and legends, Sam. Prophecies. All that rubbish. Mostly lies, to be honest, but Abberoth has always been a sucker for a good prophecy. One he liked in particular is the one that suggests the ruler of Hell will one day use the mortal world, this world, as his throne. In order to do that, I imagine he'll start by killing everyone, and then he'll go from there. He's an expansionist, Sam. He'll turn this world into another section of his domain.”
“We can't let that happen.”
“We can't stop it.”
“We have to!” she says firmly. “I'm not letting him kill my -”
“Even Henry,” the Devil adds, interrupting her. “Remember the prophecy about how you're the last gardener, and you're one day going to destroy the world? I think this neatly dovetails into Abberoth's plans, don't you? By trying to fight him, you'll probably play a key role in ending everything.”
“The hell I will” she replies. “You can't just give up like this! It's pathetic! You're pathetic! Is this really your only plan? To run away and keep running until eventually you lose?”
“There's no nobility in futility, Sam.” He shrugs. “It was nice while it lasted, but Abberoth has won now. Besides, it's just my nature. I'm no hero. I always take the easy way out. I can't fight who and what I really am. As you're so fond of reminding me, I'm literally the Devil.”
“No, we -”
Stopping suddenly, Sam feels her mind flooding with an idea. She waits, considering the possibilities, but already the seed of a plan is starting to grow.
“Don't,” the Devil says. “Trying to fight is just -”
“I know what to do,” she replies, cutting him off. “I know exactly what to do, but there's something I have to go and fetch from the cottage. Come on, we have to go to the cemetery.”
She grabs his arm, but he pulls away.
“Come on!” she yells, grabbing him again and trying – with no greater success – to pull him toward the stone steps that lead up to the street. “I'll show you when we get there! I know what to do!”
He pulls free from her grip.
“The cemetery's the first place he'll look for me,” he points out.
“Then wait here,” she says, stepping back as she prepares to hurry to the cemetery. “I'll be half an hour at most, okay? Promise me you'll wait here and that you won't try to run again.”
“Sam, I -”
“Promise me!”
He pauses, before sighing.
“I'll wait here,” he says finally. “This is futile and stupid, but I'll wait. It's not like I've got any other options, is it? I'll wait right here. I promise.”
Chapter Seven
“Why does my life suck so hard?”
“No time right now!” Sam mutters, almost tripping as she races into the cottage and heads over to the makeshift desk in the corner.
“I mean it!” Anna's disembodied voice continues, as she follows Sam to the desk. “I think Scott's starting to fall for this other girl. All because she's got a body, and because he wants a distraction from the fact that, like, his aunt's dying. I mean, how superficial is that?”
Ignoring her, Sam opens one of the drawers and pulls out a messy pile of old, yellowing papers, followed by some ancient books. Her hands are trembling and she's filled with panic, but at the same time she has a laser-tight focus and she's muttering to herself as she tries to get the plan straight in her head.
“I know these things don't cover every eventuality,” she stammers, already starting to frantically sort through the collection, “but he must have written something about this Abberoth guy. Faraday was always on top of these things, he must have left me something I can use.”
“At least when I was a zombie I could touch people,” Anna complains. “Sure, I was rotten and putrid, and the smell wasn't great, but I had a physical form. Since I became a ghost, all I can do is float around and talk to people and occasionally appear to them.” As if to underline that point, she shimmers into view next to the desk. “At first, Scott liked it when I appeared to him, but then I got the feeling it was too much of a tease so I've tended to just be a voice around him. I thought
our love would be strong enough to deal with any challenges, but that Donna Anglesy girl has got really big -”
“Damn it!” Sam hisses, turning to another of the pages. “Why couldn't Faraday have left some kind of index behind? Why didn't I spend more time going through all of this, in preparation for when I'd really need to find stuff?”
“Maybe I should possess someone,” Anna suggests. “Ghosts can do that, right? I mean, I don't know exactly how it works, but I could, like... I don't know, I could take over someone's body for a little while, just so I could get physical. Then again, that's probably a bit of a moral gray zone. Do you think I should, like, ask someone's permission, or should I just do it and try to make sure they never find out?”
Sighing, she turns and looks over at the window. For the first time, she spots the plume of black smoke rising from the spot of the distant minibus accident.
“Did something happen this morning?” she asks finally.
“Why can't Faraday come back as a ghost?” Sam wonders out loud, still searching through the books. “I suppose that'd just be too useful, wouldn't it? There's no chance of him just wandering into the cottage right now, all spectral and shimmering, and telling me how to defeat this Abberoth guy.” She pauses, before turning and looking at the doorway.
Just in case.
“Thought not,” she adds, before turning back to the books and continuing to rifle through the pages.
“Who's Abberoth?” Anna asks cautiously.
“Big evil thing that's shown up in town and wants to do awful things to everyone. Including the Devil.” Sam looks at another book. “He's got friends, too. At least three that I spotted, plus two shifty-looking horses. The way things have been going, those horses could easily turn out to be evil too, and -”
Stopping suddenly, she peers more closely at one of the books, which contains a list of names. She runs down the 'A' section, muttering to herself, before feeling a rush of relief as she spots the name Abberoth listed next to some page numbers. Frantically turning to a later section of the book, she takes a moment to read some of the lines, and then she slams the book shut and steps back from the desk.
