by Amy Cross
“So he escaped?”
“He escaped.”
“And he took your place?”
“Quite rude, don't you think?”
“And you didn't fight back?”
“I've been busy.”
“Making scones?”
“Yes!” he snaps, momentarily letting his anger bubble over before quickly regaining his composure. “Yes, I've been busy making scones,” he adds, picking up the cup again before tossing it aside. “I admit,” he adds, “I haven't handled the situation as well as I might. I've made mistakes, but no-one's perfect.”
“You're the Devil.”
“Again, I'm not sure if that's meant as a -”
“You have to stop this,” she continues, stepping toward him. “He's in Rippon right now, he's going to destroy everything! He's going to destroy the whole world!”
“He always was a bit of an attention-seeker.”
“We have to get back there,” she says, stepping even closer. “What's the plan? How are we going to save the world?”
“Which world?”
“The world!”
“You'll have to narrow it down a little, Sam. Your human-centric viewpoint isn't very -”
“Stop splitting hairs and tell me the plan!”
“You're dead,” he replies. “That rather limits your options.”
“Henry's up there!” she shouts, pushing him back against the wall with enough force to bring a shocked expression to his face. “What are we going to do?”
She waits, but he simply stares at her.
“Well?” she adds.
“What do you mean, do?” he replies. “It's over, Sam. He's won. He conquered Hell, he drove me out, and in case you've forgotten he killed you. As far as I'm concerned, the only option is to get as far away from him as possible, and hope that he forgets all about me. I'm sure he'll be quite busy running Hell once he gets his head down. I hear he has a lot of ideas, and in the grand scheme of things I don't think I'm that important.”
“You can't be serious. You want to run away?”
“In case you didn't notice, I always run.”
“Then why did you come and find me?”
“I thought you might like to keep me company, wherever I end up.”
“I don't believe you,” she replies. “If everything you just told me is true, then this Abberoth guy stole Hell from you. Don't you want to fight back? Don't you want to make him regret ever crossing you?”
“I tried that. I ended up in your cemetery.”
“Then tell me how to get back,” she continues. “If you won't stand up for yourself, then at least tell me how to go back to the real world and fight Abberoth.”
She waits, but he seems hesitant.
“There's a way, isn't there?” she adds. “I can see it in your eyes. Tell me!”
“If this is about Henry, he -”
“I swear to God,” she continues, cutting him off, “if you don't tell me right now, I'll find a way to make you talk!”
Again she waits, and again he remains silent for a moment. This time, however, he finally lets out a deflated sigh.
“There's a way to get back,” he says reluctantly. “Maybe. And only because of the state of grace, which might still provide a link between your soul and your buried corpse. But I have to warn you, Sam, it won't be easy and it won't be pretty.”
“I don't care.”
“And it doesn't mean you'll be able to defeat Abberoth once you get there.”
“Let me worry about that.”
“He'll probably just kill you again.”
“Spit it out.”
“And as you might imagine from recent events,” he adds, “it's rather melodramatic. Unnecessarily so, in my opinion.”
“Just tell me,” she says firmly, leaning closer to his face, “what I have to do.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Wow,” Sam says a few hours later, as she and the Devil stand on a dark, rocky shore, “when you said River of Hearts, you... were being very literal.”
Before them, a vast river stretches as far as the eye can see. Instead of water, however, this river is filled with millions upon millions of wet, squelching human hearts that somehow are slowly pushing along at a slow speed.
“I told you it was melodramatic,” the Devil says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Every human heart ends up here after death. Well, for the ones who come to Hell, anyway. And if you want to live again, I'm afraid you've absolutely going to need your heart.”
“Are there rivers for all organs?” Sam asks.
He shrugs.
“But this is Hell,” she continues. “That means you created everything here, right?”
“It was a long time ago.”
“So you don't remember?”
“I was drunk on power,” he says with a sigh. “Things had gone a bit tits-up upstairs, and to be honest I was expecting some pretty major punishment. Instead, the big man threw me down here and left me to create my own kingdom.” He pauses for a moment, with a hint of wonder in his expression. “I always wondered why he did that,” he adds finally. “It was less a punishment, more... a reward.”
“Trust you to see Hell as a reward.”
“But it was mine,” he continues, turning to her as the river of hearts continues to squelch as it flows past. “All of this was mine, for millions of years. If you think it's impressive now, you should see what it was like when I started. I really pulled some shit out of the bag when I created Hell, and you've only seen the tiniest fraction of it.” He seems enthusiastic now, as a smile grows across his face. “I'm not even finished, either. I've got so many more plans, I'm going to expand and create a whole new section. Multiple section, maybe. If people think they've gone to Hell now, wait until they experience Hell 2.0.”
“But -”
“I've always wanted to create a world where people are tortured by pure hope.”
“Sure, but -”
“And one where people can fight. Mini wars, in a way. You could have bands of rapists fighting bands of evil children. Or grammar Nazis versus actual Nazis. Or -”
“But you're not in charge anymore,” she points out, finally managing to get a word in.
“Oh, that's just -”
“And you were just talking about running away.”
He opens his mouth to argue with her, but then he hesitates until – in the blink of an eye – all his excitement suddenly seems to deflate and vanish.
“Well,” he manages cautiously, “I mean, you never know how things might go. There could be a miracle. Abberoth might...”
He pauses again, but it's clear that the fight has faded.
“So what do I do?” Sam asks, trying to change the subject so she doesn't start feeling sorry for him. Turning, she looks back down into the river of hearts. “Do I just wade in and...”
She pauses.
“This might sound weird,” she adds after a moment, “but I don't think I'd actually recognize my own heart. I mean, it was always with me, but I don't really know what it looked like.”
“Don't worry,” he replies. “To you, your own heart will glow gold. It'll even sparkle a little.”
She turns to him.
“Really?”
“Of course not,” he continues. “But that'd be convenient, wouldn't it?”
“This is hopeless,” she says, looking down once more at some of the hearts as they flow past. “There has to be another way.”
“No, this is it,” he replies. “I wish I could go back in time and stop myself inventing such a stupid system. Maybe I was drunk that day. Fortunately, they're roughly in the order in which they arrived, and I've been keeping track of where yours should be.”
“You have?”
“You can thank me later.”
“But why would you do that, if you just wanted me to give up?”
“Because,” he says with a heavy sigh, “I know what a pain in the ass you can be. I figured you'd be complain
ing about Henry and about saving the world and all that rubbish, so deep down I want to get rid of you.”
She furrows her brow.
“Don't be offended,” he adds. “I feel like I know you quite well.”
“So what do we do?”
“Well, you were more or less right the first time. First we go into the river, and then we search, and then we hope for a spot of luck. And then -”
Before he can finish, Sam sits on the side of the river and slides in. The hearts squelch and pop as she enters, and then she takes a moment to steady herself.
“You don't waste time, do you?” the Devil says, as small red drops start falling from the sky.
“It's raining!” she gasps, before turning to him. “It's raining blood!”
“Yeah, that happens sometimes.”
“Why?”
“I don't remember. Again, it probably seemed like a fun idea at the time.”
“But -”
“Let's just get on with it,” he adds, sliding down into the river, causing another patch of hearts to squelch loudly in the process. “This is utterly disgusting, by the way. I don't suppose by any chance this entire endeavor qualifies as a meet-cute, does it?”
“There are too many,” Sam replies, ignoring him as she wades out toward the middle of the river. Hearts are sloughing past, bubbling and gurgling as they make their way inexorably toward the horizon. “I don't even know where to start! There's not even -”
Suddenly her right foot slips, sinking deeper than before. Stumbling forward, she falls face-first against some of the hearts. Old blood splatters into her mouth, and she coughs and gasps as she somehow manages to right herself. Still panicking for a moment, she starts spitting out as much of the blood as she can manage, before feeling a hand on her arm. Turning, she finds that the Devil has waded out to join her.
“Careful,” he says, still holding her tight. “You don't want to drown in a giant metaphor.”
“I'm fine,” she mutters, pulling away and making her way a little further toward the middle, before stopping again and looking all around at the hearts that are slowly passing by. “Any of these could be mine,” she continues, unable to stifle a faint sense of hopelessness. “What kind of person could recognize their own heart in a line-up? They all look the same.”
“They do share a kind of pinkish, meaty quality,” the Devil says with a sigh.
“There has to be another way.”
“Not that I know of. And while I might be down on my luck, I pretty much wrote the book about this place. Abberoth hasn't changed much so far. I guess I should take that as a compliment.”
“Maybe your information's out of date,” she says, turning and pushing her way further along the river, as blood-rain continues to fall all around. “Maybe you're full of hot air anyway.”
“Do you remember those coasters you used to rip up?” he asks absent-mindedly. “I used to think that was such a strange habit, but then I tried it and... Well, it's a good way to think, isn't it? Keep your hands busy and let your mind wander. You taught me that, Sam. I always meant to thank you.”
“This isn't a good time to get sentimental,” she replies.
Stopping again, she looks down at some of the hearts, and then she picks one at random and holds it up. Shuddering slightly at the feel of the ice-cold tissue, she turns the heart around in her hands for a moment.
“This one looks fine,” she continues finally. “Why do I need my heart, anyway? They're all basically the same. They're just meaty little organs that pump blood around the body, it's not like your actual soul is somehow contained in the muscle walls. I don't see how this one can be any worse than my original heart.”
She turns to the Devil.
“Let's try this one,” she adds. “It has to be good enough.”
She waits, but after a moment she sees that he's holding another heart in his hands, and that he seems almost transfixed.
“What are you doing?” she asks. “Do you think that one's better?”
“It's much better,” he replies, before slowly looking at her. “It's yours.”
“How do you know?”
“It's your heart, Sam.”
“It can't be,” she says cautiously. “We've only been looking for a few minutes.”
“I know, but...”
His voice trails off for a moment, and then he tilts his hands slightly so she can get a better look.
“Can't you tell?” he asks, with a hint of wonder in his voice. “I can't explain it. Maybe this is some kind of devilish sixth sense, but I swear to you... I knew it should be somewhere around this stretch of the river, and now I'm completely certain that this is your heart.”
Tossing aside the heart she picked up a moment earlier, Sam wades back over to him and takes a look.
“It's kind of ugly,” she points out.
“It's a little larger than average,” he replies. “Not a lot, just a little.”
“I don't see anything that suggests it's mine.”
“You think it should have a name tag? Sewn onto the side, like it's a pair of gym shorts?” He pauses. “It's definitely yours. I can just tell.”
“That's creepy,” she points out.
“I'm holding your heart, Sam.” He pauses, before looking at her again. “If you really still want to go back up to your old world, now's your chance, but we have to hurry. If we wait too long, the pathway will be closed forever.”
***
“I still don't understand what you mean by a pathway,” Sam says later, as she stands in the doorway and watches as the Devil sets her heart on a table. “How exactly am I supposed to get back?”
“There's no obvious deterioration,” he mutters, clearly lost in thought as he turns the heart over. “It's kind of slimy, but I think that's just because of the river. Or maybe you just had a slimy heart to begin with.” He glances at her. “Joke.”
“And you're sure it's mine?”
“This isn't going to be the most comfortable experience in the world,” he continues, holding the heart up to get a better look in the low candlelight. “Also, it's only the first step. Your friend Anna was very sweet when she buried you, but she also caused some problems. Sam, I hate to tell you this, but things aren't going to be the same for you when you make it back up to the mortal world.”
“What do you mean?”
“I'm not sure, entirely.” He turns to her. “You'll have to write me a letter some time. If you survive, I mean. Let me know how it goes. Or do you have a blog?”
“Let you know?” She pauses, before stepping toward him. “You're coming with me, right?”
She waits.
No reply.
“Right?”
“There's nothing I can do to help,” he explains.
“You could fight for what's yours!”
He shakes his head.
“Earlier you were talking about your plans for this place!”
“Abberoth is always two steps ahead,” he points out. “He killed me once, remember?”
“I thought you died by -”
“Lies!” he snaps. “I'm the Devil! I lie, Sam! Call it pride, if you like. Humans are suckers for myths and dumb stories, you all believe anything you're told. The truth is, Abberoth took everything and mortally wounded me. I managed to escape, but not for long. Some dumb human found me and stuck me in the cemetery in Rippon. I don't know why he did that. I suppose he'd read one of those stupid books about the occult, and he'd got it into his head that my body should be treated a certain way. Remind me to not thank him if I ever see him again.”
“I need you to come with me,” she replies. “I can't stop Abberoth by myself.”
“I know you can't. You can't stop him with me, either. That's why I keep telling you to run away with me instead.”
“And just keep running forever?”
“At least I'll stay fit,” he points out.
“He's going to destroy the world!”
“There are other worl
ds.”
“But -”
“I don't care!” he hisses. “I don't give a damn about the world that you call home! I don't give a damn about any of this! I know it's all very important to you, but I honestly don't give a rat's ass about the place!”
“Then why did you come and find me after I arrived in Hell?”
“I'm wondering that myself!” he snaps, before stepping around the table and making his way over to her. “Now sit down and stop nagging.”
He takes a moment to arrange the heart properly in his hands. He's careful, handling it as if it's delicate.
“I still don't know how I sensed this was yours,” he continues, starting to sound a little exasperated. “I'm not used to not knowing things. I spent millions of years in complete control of this place, I knew every nook and cranny. Now suddenly things are happening that I don't understand, and I don't like it. I hate the way Hell works these days.”
“Then do something about it,” Sam says firmly.
Ignoring her, he moves the shredded part of her shirt aside and peers at the hole where she once had a heart.
“Is this a meet-cute?” he asks.
She scowls at him.
“Once I'm done,” he says after a moment, “it'll take a little while for you to phase back to Rippon. Seconds, or minutes. Maybe a few hours. Then you'll need to get your body dug up, and you won't have much time. If you take too long, there's a danger that you'll complete the final phasing and you'll end up trapped in your grave, buried alive. Unfortunately, this time you wouldn't die, since you'll be back in the state of grace. You'd just be stuck down there, getting eaten slowly by worms over many years. Then, eventually, you'd end up right back here.”
“How do I defeat Abberoth?”
Again he ignores her, and instead of speaking he carefully places her heart back into the cavity in her chest.
“That feels cold,” she says with a shudder. “And really weird.”
“No kidding.”
He takes a few seconds to adjust the heart, and then he steps back.
