Hell's Pawn

by Jay Bell

  Rimmon pulled away.

  Exhausted and yet feeling reborn, John slept.

  * * * * *

  “Rise and shine!”

  J ohn groaned, but only out of habit. He felt magnificent as he pulled himself out of bed. The room was now daylight bright even though the curtains were still pulled shut.

  R immon, dressed in a black silk robe, leaned against the door frame, the smell of bacon and eggs coming from another room.

  “You made breakfast?”

  “I sn’t that tradition in the 21st century?” R immon asked. “B reakfast follows a one-night stand, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “That, or sneaking out before the other person wakes up,” John said.

  The demon smirked before leaving him alone to dress. J ohn could get used to this.

  His body and clothing still smelled as fresh as the day he arrived. He had no need to shave or brush his teeth, no need to pick up clothes from the cleaner. No fuss, no muss, although the idea of a steaming hot shower still sounded appealing.

  J ohn wandered through R immon’s considerable home, vaguely following the scent of food as he poked his head into the different rooms. The rest of the house was just as stylishly decorated as the bedroom. He saw no signs of technology, but did find a number of items that looked rather occult, and many devices that he didn’t recognize at all.

  E ventually he found the dining room, a narrow space lined with house plants and art. R immon was waiting for him at one end of a long, slender table, and nodded to a place set at the other end. Never one for formal dining arrangements, J ohn took the plate and cutlery and moved it to the seat nearest the demon, surprised to find B olo si ing at R immon’s side. The dog’s entire a ention was desperately focused on the table and its contents.

  “Sorry about all the drool,” John said.

  “E asily remedied,” R immon said, spearing a slab of bacon with a miniature silver pitchfork and feeding it to B olo. “E at up, both of you. We’ll have to leave early. I f you react to teleportation as you did the first time, you’ll need extra time to recover.”

  “R ight, the mysterious meeting,” J ohn said through a half-full mouth. I n addition to the bacon, J ohn found eggs, hash browns, even a side of pancakes. The flavor was outstanding, better than anything he had eaten in living memory.

  “You’ll be meeting with Asmoday, one of the Archdukes of Hell,” R immon said, his tone more clipped than J ohn liked. “Despite his status, there are no formal customs you need to observe except for a general degree of respect. I n the spirit of full disclosure, I feel I should tell you that I am expected to report to him anything vital that I have learned from you. In fact, I have already done so.” J ohn shrugged. He had nothing to hide, but he did wonder what this meeting was all about. R immon had been sent to ensure that J ohn’s impression of Hell was positive, but what did they want from him? Was he expected to sell his soul? C ould he even do that, considering that’s all he was now?

  B olo began whimpering pathetically and pawing at R immon’s leg. The demon surrendered entirely, piece by piece giving his remaining food to the dog. J ohn sped up his chewing before B olo could use his charm on him, and sighed contentedly when finished. W ith his appetite satiated, he turned his full a ention to the room’s art. The tapestry and paintings were nice, but nothing compared to the sculpture. O n a pedestal in one corner was a bust of a heartbreakingly beautiful young man. J ohn thought at first that it might be R immon himself, but the features were too delicate and fair.

  “M y boyfriend,” the demon commented when he noticed J ohn staring. “A good likeness, but only a shadow of his true beauty.”

  “Your boyfriend,” John repeated. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Don’t worry,” Rimmon assured him. “He’s aware of my occupation.”

  “And he’s fine with it?”

  “I didn’t say that.” The incubus looked momentarily distraught. “I ’m afraid it’s a point of contention between us.”

  “If I had known that last night, nothing would have happened between us.”

  “O h, it would have,” R immon said. “I t’s my nature, not simply my choice of career.

  That’s precisely the problem. M y amorous desire is as instinctual as breathing is to the living. I try to make him understand that I love only him, and that sex is separate from that, but— Well, let’s just say he had a conservative upbringing.” J ohn no longer fell in love at the drop of a hat as he had in his younger days, so this revelation didn’t hurt him. M ore than once he had mistaken a one-night stand as being something more. As he grew older, he played the opposite role, having to gently enforce distance in the morning. He understood what R immon was doing now, the far-away place se ing, the conversation that revolved around business or his relationship with another, and that was fine. J ohn hadn’t expected them to get married, but he did hope that he and R immon could remain friends, even after the mysterious business of the day was through.

  Teleportation didn’t make J ohn pass out a second time, perhaps because he was prepared for it. They used the extra time to see more of the city and to stop in another coffee shop, this time for actual coffee. R immon’s frigid demeanor steadily defrosted, most likely because J ohn was playing it cool and giving no signs of expecting more from their night together.

  S ometime during the walk that followed, B olo disappeared. J ohn called out and whistled to no avail. R immon assured him that the dog would find his way back when he was ready. C onsidering that the dog had followed him all the way to Hell, J ohn didn’t find this hard to believe.

  W hen it was time for the meeting, R immon led him to the notorious red light district. E ven in the daytime the endless lines of windows were still lit with red light; females of all varieties, both human and demon, were behind each glass plane and giving their all to sell themselves. M ost of them were beautiful, but none could compare to the two sucubi that had approached J ohn and Dante the night before.

  Those two were leagues above the women available here, in a class of their own.

  E qually difficult to imagine was a male hustler who could compete with R immon. Hell had given them their best, and John was about to find out why.

  After a few twists and turns through the neon alleyways, they reached a window identical to all the others except that it was unoccupied. Nothing but a red glow was visible inside. At R immon’s touch the door opened. He gestured for J ohn to enter.

  J ohn’s trust wavered momentarily as he pictured himself trapped as a working girl for all eternity, but the idea was too silly for him to truly fear.

  S tepping into the dense red light, J ohn found himself in a V ictorian study full of leather chairs, dusty books, and unwieldy furniture. The study was exactly the sort S herlock Holmes would nest in, but the figure behind the desk didn’t begin to resemble the famous detective.

  This demon’s skin was the hue of black cherries. His ample body was stuffed into a tacky, houndstooth-pa erned suit, the collar of the white shirt underneath as large and wide as a palm leaf. B elow two fat horns and above a considerable double chin was a stern face, its three eyes glaring at him as he entered. J ohn recounted to be sure.

  There, in the middle of the usual two and beneath the crease of a brow, was one extra eye.

  He realized he was staring and quickly averted his gaze. O ccupying one of the two chairs before the desk was Dante. The succubus assigned to entertain him, Delilah, stood against one wall with a bored expression. R immon instructed J ohn that he should sit before moving to join her.

  “Have fun last night?” Dante whispered like an excited school boy.

  J ohn ignored him, oddly feeling as though he’d been called to the principal’s office.

  That would make Dante the best friend who always dragged him into trouble. J ohn put on his best innocent expression, just in case, and waited for the Archduke to address him, as Rimmon had coached.

  Asmoday examined him a moment longer, his three eyes mo
ving independently of each other. “I trust you have found Hell to your liking?” he grumbled, his voice deep.

  “Very much so,” J ohn answered. “You have been a gracious host. R immon in particular should be commended as a very capable companion.” Asmoday nodded as if satisfied. “And yet, despite your enjoyable evening, you doubt Hell’s pleasures will satisfy you in the long run?” John hesitated.

  “You have nothing to fear from me,” Asmoday assured him. “Honesty is highly valued, even in the pit. I n fact, I think you will find that more truth is spoken here than in any other realm. I f I may be as direct with you as I hope you will be with me, I believe we can be of great service to each other.”

  Here we go, John thought.

  “You are not content here because you don’t belong here, M r. G rey. This begs the question of which realm you are suited to, for there are many more than just Heaven and Hell. I can provide you with an opportunity that will allow you to travel to many of these realms. I have no doubt that by doing so, you will eventually find your proper place in the grand scheme of things.”

  Asmoday smiled, which took J ohn aback since his teeth were as black as onyx. L i le wisps of shadow curled away from each pointed tooth, giving the impression that Asmoday was exhaling black smoke. The demonic chompers were meant to intimidate as much as the words were meant to soothe, but J ohn wouldn’t let himself be cowed.

  “Your concern for me is touching,” he replied, “but I don’t see anything to prevent me from travelling on my own. W hatever errands you had in mind for me are surely better trusted to one of Hell’s own.”

  Asmoday’s middle eye turned to glare at R immon. J ohn hoped this wasn’t ge ing him into trouble, but he had no intention of being played like the devil’s fiddle.

  “Look, just tell me what you want,” John said in the form of a truce.

  The Archduke leaned back in his chair and snapped his fingers. Delilah rushed over and popped a cigar in his mouth, lighting it with a flame that burned directly from her finger. Asmoday allowed himself a few puffs while studying J ohn. W hen he spoke again, all sophistication was gone from his voice. “S o much for the ol’ reach around,” he mu ered, sounding like he’d been possessed by a New York cabbie. “I can’t give it to you any straighter than this. Hell is going to war and we want you to recruit allies for us.”

  John, to his credit, barely blinked an eye. “War against whom? Heaven?”

  “Who else?” Asmoday snarled. “Whose agent do you think you met in Purgatory?”

  “The glass man?”

  “M inisters of O rder, they call themselves. Yeah, there’s more than one of them. The damn things are like cockroaches. G od’s li le sparrows were bad enough, but some chump decided angels weren’t cu ing it. E ven we Fallen find them repulsive, and that’s saying something. You’ve seen what they did to P urgatory. They made a dam out of souls just to step on our profits. Not to mention how they scraped the place clean of pleasure or pain. At least in the old days a soul could suffer and rise or give in to temptation and sink. That was a fair system, but now we’re out of the loop. Not that I want back in, even if they asked me.”

  “You’re rambling, darling,” Delilah said from the wall. “You know that bores me.

  Either get to the point or shut up.”

  Asmoday recomposed himself, apparently comfortable with the succubus’s insubordination. This familiarity wasn’t lost on Dante, who looked somewhat crestfallen.

  “These M inisters have been making changes,” the Archduke continued. “Hell isn’t too pleased with any of them. P urgatory was meant to be a sorting station for tough cases, not a prison.”

  “I s there something we can do about it?” J ohn asked, his interest growing. He needed a purpose, and while taking on Heaven wouldn’t be part of it, he did desire to see the captive souls of Purgatory freed.

  “War is the only answer.” Asmoday sucked deep on his cigar. “P urgatory is just the tip of the iceberg. The M inisters have made trouble in all the realms, but you’re not stupid enough to take my word for it. L et us send you out, just once, and you can draw your own conclusions. C hances are you’ll find just as much reason to hate Heaven as you do Purgatory.”

  J ohn had seen that Hell wasn’t as evil as he had expected, and Heaven might not be as good, but that didn’t mean that G od was a cruel tyrant. Then again, if the other Ministers of Order were all as nasty as the glass man he had met, and if they truly were working for Heaven, then J ohn didn’t see how they could be serving any force for good. Asmoday was right. Sitting here wasn’t going to get him the answers he needed.

  “Where would you send me? Heaven?”

  Asmoday snorted. “No! C ouldn’t even if I wanted to. You don’t need to visit Heaven to see what the slimy bastards have been up to.”

  “Where, then?”

  “Asgard to start with, home of the Norse gods. They aren’t the brightest bunch, but they know war. W hile you’re there, ask them how they feel about a mutual arrangement. That’s all you have to do.”

  “Why me?” John asked.

  Asmoday rolled his eyes. “Does it matter? We’re offering you a job!”

  “I think it does ma er. This sounds important. W hy trust a stranger with these duties? Why not a charming incubus or even yourself?”

  The Archduke glowered at him.

  “Honesty is highly valued, even in the pit,” John parroted.

  “Oh, he’s got you there,” Delilah said with a titter.

  Asmoday’s third eye found her, glared, and stayed locked on her as he answered J ohn. “We’ve sent demons before you, from ambassadors to smoking hot succubi, and when they came back, they did so in pieces. I told you the M inisters have been meddling everywhere. They have a knack of pinning their dirty deeds on other realms.

  So many seeds of mistrust have been sown that we’re up to our assholes in weeds.

  “Thanks to all their conniving and scheming, the realms are more segregated than a J im C row toilet. For me to step foot in the J apanese gardens of the S hinto or for a Hindu deva to fly too close Olympus would result in war. The M inisters have us all by our nuts and they won’t stop yanking.” Asmoday flipped the remainder of his cigar into his mouth, swallowed it whole, and sighed. “W ould you want to live in a world painted in one color? Hear only one song for the rest of your life? I miss fucking angels, ge ing wasted with V ikings, hunting elementals, and losing myself in the raw astral lights.”

  “I love it when you wax poetic,” Delilah breathed, walking over to rub the Archduke’s shoulders.

  P oor Dante looked positively dejected, but J ohn was too distracted to comfort him.

  I nstead he was weighing the risks against his own desires. He didn’t fully understand either, but he knew he didn’t want to spend eternity loitering in Hell’s decadent establishments or trapped in Purgatory’s prison.

  “I’m in,” he said.

  Asmoday smiled, this time keeping his teeth hidden behind his fat lips. “I knew we had the right man. Men, I should say,” he added, looking to Dante.

  “Me?” the Irishman protested. “Oh, no! Nice try. I already know where I belong!”

  “S uit yourself,” Asmoday replied. “You are free to go, assuming of course you can pay your debts.”

  “Debts?”

  “The money you’ve been spending all night on drugs, drinks, clubs, and Delilah.

  The money I kept magicking into your pockets for your greedy li le hands to find.” Asmoday leaned forward and treated Dante to a wide, meaningful grin. “O f course, there are other ways you can pay me back. Tasks so miserable that you’ll be begging to be let back into P urgatory. O r maybe I ’ll do them a favor and ship your scrawny ass back there.”

  A number of expressions played across Dante’s face, the last of which was resignation. He shot an annoyed look at John as if this were all his fault.

  “G ood, good,” Asmoday nodded, pleased with himself. “That just leaves one small matter to
attend to.”

  A ringing in J ohn’s ear grew louder and louder until it was all he could hear.

  Asmoday’s lips were flapping, but every single word was lost to J ohn. Not that it ma ered since the Archduke was addressing Dante. J ohn placed a finger in each ear, ineffectively trying to relieve the pressure. S uddenly it was over. He looked up.

  Asmoday had a calculating gleam in his eye, and Dante appeared surprised. E veryone in the room was looking at J ohn. The ringing had been no coincidence. S omething had been deliberately kept from him, but now wasn’t the time to ask what. He would grill Dante later.

  “Your transportation awaits you outside.” Asmoday gestured meaningfully to the door before turning in his chair to give his full a ention to the succubus. “As for you,” he growled seductively.

  Dante looked as though he wouldn’t mind staying, even if he wouldn’t be the center of a ention, but R immon was hustling them toward the door. They stumbled out into the narrow alley that was now almost completely filled by a vehicle. At first glance it appeared to be an old fashioned, horse-drawn coach, one with a number of curious alterations. B rass tubes sprouted from the back of the elongated coach, as if the vehicle had been rear-ended by a church organ. A hint of large iron gears gleamed from the undercarriage. J ust above the rear wheels, partially hidden by black-painted wooden panels, was a massive set of bellows.

  “What’s that supposed to be?” Dante asked.

  “A Gurney steam coach,” Rimmon said. “Your transportation.” The demon checked various points of the carriage with an air of efficiency before turning to the driver. The poor man had seen be er days. His long blonde hair was matted, his beard missing tufts of hair, and his clothing full of holes.