by Jay Bell
He stayed close to one of the walls, keeping his hand in contact with it as he walked.
W hat had O siris said? The trip would take the length of a night? Another riddle. W ho knew what that really meant, but J ohn was going to find out. The sound of gravel beneath his feet was the only sign of his progress as he marched blindly forward. He disciplined his mind, dismissing fears and focusing on the light he hoped to see, had to see eventually, at the end of the tunnel.
W hen his hopes became reality and that light finally appeared, it didn’t come from ahead as it should have. I t came from behind, a strong yellow floodlight that ripped away every shadow and rendered the tunnel in stark detail. The light roared and rumbled like a train, and as J ohn turned to look, what he saw terrified him more than darkness ever could.
A raging yellow sun came rolling down the corridor, its rays instantly transforming the rock around it to molten lava. B ut it was much, much more than that. This was god. Order, power, creation, direction. Ra.
The other gods J ohn had met couldn’t compare with R a. The chief of E gyptian gods was on an entirely different level. I f gods had deities of their own, this is who they would worship. The idea of a power greater than this was incomprehensible.
J ohn screamed as the sun rolled nearer, at first unintelligibly, before screaming the god’s name over and over again like a deranged cheerleader. “R a! R a! R A!” He wanted to be noticed, desperate for the giant to look down at the ant below him before he was crushed, before his soul was incinerated into oblivion. J ohn wanted to turn, to run, but the sun was all there was now and its heat—glorious and life-giving—held him in place like a physical force. Had J ohn’s eyes still been flesh, they would have been overwhelmed long ago, but here they were wide in rapt a ention even as the sun was just a hair’s breadth away.
Then John burned.
* * * * *
Pain.
J ohn’s body ached so much that he felt certain he was alive again. A pleasure came with the pain, a positive association that took him back to days on the beach lazy as a full-bellied cat. He shifted, his skin stinging with sunburn.
“I’d touch you, but I fear it would only hurt you more.” J ohn opened his eyes, marveling at how his eyelids had been burnt as well. The sight that greeted him was worth the pain. R immon’s handsome face loomed above him, his golden eyes wet with concern. J ohn would have stolen a kiss, if his barbecued lips weren’t aching.
“I take it we’re somewhere safe,” J ohn rasped, “otherwise you wouldn’t be outside Dante.”
“Quite the contrary,” Rimmon replied. “Can you sit up?”
“Yeah,” J ohn said, not knowing if it was true. As it turned out, he had nothing to fear. His chaffed skin smarted as his clothing shifted, but aside from discomfort he appeared unharmed. He winced as his palms pressed against the floor, the tender skin burnt there, too.
“I don’t suppose you can heal me?”
“Heal you?”
“Like you did in Hell, from the glass man’s touch.”
The incubus shook his head. “That was an emotional wound. W hat you are suffering from now is something different altogether.”
“Might be worth a shot anyway.” John’s grin was suggestive.
R immon matched it. “And to think I was once sent to seduce you! As tempting as you are, I prefer my men rare rather than well done.”
“That bad?”
“C ould be worse, but I hate to imagine how. Tell me exactly what happened to you.”
J ohn related the details, the demon’s face growing serious but then reflecting surprise when Ra’s name was mentioned.
“Then consider yourself lucky,” R immon said. “M ost souls would have been atomized back into the ether by an experience like that.”
“Which means?”
“W hich means that it would have taken you a very long time to find yourself again, if ever.” Rimmon’s eyes were smiling. “You’re just full of tricks, aren’t you?”
“A magician who doesn’t know his own secrets,” John said with a sigh.
“The burns are already fading, which is promising.” R immon offered his hand. “We need to go. The others are waiting for us.”
“Why didn’t they come with you?” John asked as he stood.
“They were needed as collateral. O siris was much more surprised by your sudden disappearance than he was by my appearance.”
“Then they knew about you?”
R immon nodded. “C erberus tipped them off. Hades said something to O siris about my presence, but I couldn’t understand much of the archaic tongue they were speaking. R egardless, your vanishing act wasn’t part of the plan. O siris wasn’t willing to leave the path to come find you, so it was up to me.” They began walking. J ohn was glad that the soles of his feet hadn’t been roasted as well. “Do you think Hades could be behind this? Any reason he would have a grudge against us?”
R immon grimaced. “Against me and all of my kind. The C hristian Hell is based on his realm more than any other. O ne of his territories in particular, Tartarus, is a great flaming pit where evil souls are sent to suffer. This concept was a part of G reek religion before the C hristians adapted it to their own needs. S ince then, the C hristian Hell has become much more prevalent than Tartarus, something Hades takes personal offense to.”
“Divine plagiarism?”
“S omething like that.” R immon chuckled. “B ut to answer your question, no, I don’t think Hades is behind this. He wanted to know what we were hiding, but he wouldn’t interfere with the gods of another pantheon to find that out.”
“I can’t blame him for being suspicious,” J ohn said. “I f you had been open with them from the beginning—”
“Then they wouldn’t have listened to a word we had to say. Hell’s reputation is darkly tarnished and for good reason. We embrace every sin, vice, and despicable trait with open arms. Honest as I may be, truth rarely touches the tongues of most demons.”
“Fine, but why didn’t you reveal yourself later? We were sending them on a boat to Hell, after all, and Mercury didn’t seem to mind you being a demon.”
“M aybe I should have, but I think you underestimate the level of mistrust felt for my kind. It certainly doesn’t help to be hidden in the body of a kleptomaniac.”
“Dante stole the crown, didn’t he?”
Rimmon nodded. “Quiet now. We’re almost back to the others.”
“One more thing,” John said. “How did you find me?”
“We have a connection.”
“A connection, eh? Next thing I know you’ll be asking me to move in with you. Not that I would mind.”
The demon’s lips turned up at the corners. “The connection exists because when we slept together, an emotional bond was created between us. I was able to follow the remnants of this bond to find you. This is a natural ability of the incubi, and not at all romantic or indicative of fondness, although I do consider you my friend.” John rolled his eyes. “I bet you say that to all the guys.”
“No, usually I have to explain to them that nothing more will come of our association together. I must confess, I enjoy not having to worry about that with you.
My ego may be bruised, but it’s good to finally have a friend.” John couldn’t help smiling.
Familiar barks echoed down the tunnel. B olo performed his usual ritual of greeting while Dante looked impatient for them to continue, perhaps fearing that a pantheon of G reek gods was on his trail. O siris’ expression was harder to read. W hatever his thoughts were, the god’s eyes remained fixed on J ohn as if he would disappear again at any moment.
J ohn felt like he owed them explanation, even if he didn’t understand the reasons himself. He willingly told O siris what had transpired, but hadn’t been prepared for the reaction. Osiris, who had been stoic and distant, was suddenly animated, his eyes wide with hope and emotion.
“C ome!” O siris urged them on. “We must leave these dark passages and exi
t into the world above. There the skies will testify to the truth of your story!”
“Were you telling the truth?” Dante whispered as they followed.
“Yeah. C an’t you see the sunburn?” B ut as J ohn touched his own face, he realized it was already gone. Only the very back of his neck still felt raw.
“Did anything happen while we were away?” R immon asked. “I nterrogation?
Intimidation?”
“No, it was boring,” Dante said. “I tried striking up a conversation, but Kermit the Frog over there has never heard of football before.”
“We have arrived,” Osiris declared.
The phonics of the god’s voice were different now, due to the large chamber they had entered. E very flat surface was covered in hieroglyphics. A disturbing number of them showed green men holding human hearts aloft like trophies. An altar was the room’s only decoration, four stairs leading up to its apex where a set of gleaming, golden scales sat. S hining even brighter behind them was a pair of massive ornate doors, golden too but decorated with a jewel-encrusted mosaic that depicted a fertile land.
“Here the souls of the living are judged, to determine if they are worthy of joining the gods in the fields of Aaru,” Osiris declared.
“And if they’re not?” Dante asked.
O siris brought his crook and flail together with a clang. From beneath the altar, a pile of scales, fur, and weathered skin slithered out into the open. The beast had the head of a crocodile, but the rest of its body was a mesh of a lion and something gray and leathery. The creature gaited to its master’s side, where it waited in anticipation.
O siris reached down to stroke its head affectionately. “The hearts of those judged unworthy are fed to Ammit.”
“We are visitors here upon your request,” R immon said cordially. “S urely such trials are unnecessary for us.”
“The humans and the hound are welcome,” the E gyptian god responded, “but it remains to be seen if a creature of Hell can be trusted.”
“I can vouch for him,” John said.
Osiris shook his head. “Such decisions are not for you to make.” J ohn did his best to swallow his anger. “You want to join Hell in their war, but you won’t let one of their kind enter your land?”
“I say only that he must first be judged.”
G ut instinct told J ohn what was happening here. “I s this what you want, or is this what Hades told you to do?”
Osiris didn’t respond. Instead he turned his eyes on Rimmon and waited.
“What’s he have to do, exactly?” Dante asked.
“I f I remember right,” the demon sighed, “my heart will be removed and placed on the scales. I f it is too heavy, it gets fed to the beast. I f it is light enough, then my existence will continue.”
“What is your heart weighed against?” John asked.
“This.” O siris took a single feather from his crown and placed it on one of the scale’s plates.
“Forget it.” J ohn took hold of R immon’s arm to pull him away, but the demon didn’t budge.
“I warned you of their prejudice,” R immon said. “There have been too many demons and devils before me whose fame has tarnished all of our names. W hen my brethren choose to do evil, they excel beyond what any other race is capable of, and history has not forgotten.”
“Don’t do this!” John pleaded.
“I will be fine.”
“I t’s not like any of us need a heart,” Dante pointed out. “There’s no blood to pump.”
“The heart is merely a symbol,” O siris explained. “I t is the essence of his soul that will be measured and destroyed if need be.”
“Oh, well, that’s fine, then,” John snarled.
“E asy now,” R immon gently removed J ohn’s hand and stepped forward. “I am ready.”
At least there was no satisfaction on O siris’ face, no reaction that a victory had been won. If this was indeed Hades’ desire, then the Egyptian god took no pleasure in it.
R immon’s shirt had disappeared in the strange way that all clothes here were ideas rather than objects. I n J ohn’s imagination, O siris would take a great curved knife and cut open the demon’s chest, or perhaps claw into the flesh with his bare hand and remove a spasming heart. I nstead the green-skinned god placed the palm of his hand against R immon’s maroon chest. The contrast in hues was beautiful before R immon gasped in surprise.
O siris slowly withdrew his hand, and out from R immon’s chest came a crystal, pulsing with rose-colored light. The heart resembled a gigantic snowflake, rounded out in three dimensions instead of being flat, but it wasn’t cold. The heart’s warmth could be felt throughout the entire room, radiating with the heat that always accompanied life.
As the final outstretching arm of the crystal slipped from R immon’s chest, the demon’s body collapsed to the floor. The red skin faded to pink before becoming transparent, the edges of the body fuzzing and losing definition like a chalk drawing in the rain. J ohn had the terrible revelation that the body, much like their clothing, was nothing more than an idea, a memory to be held on to lest it fade away. How much longer until the incubus disappeared entirely, until he was forgotten?
Helplessness ate at J ohn as he tore his eyes away. Already O siris had placed the heart on one of the scale’s golden plates. Ammit was at his feet, drooling uncontrollably in anticipation of its meal. J ohn wouldn’t allow it. He would grab the alligator jaws so they couldn’t close down on R immon’s heart. His fingers might be pierced by those sharp teeth, but his blood would choke the beast before he ever let its mouth close. J ohn stepped forward in anticipation, his own teeth clenched painfully together, when a short but loud squeak echoed in the chamber. The scales had shifted.
“I’ll be damned!” Dante exclaimed.
J ohn looked up. The plate with the feather had sunk lower. I t might only have been a fraction of an inch, but it was lower.
“J udgment has been passed.” The look on O siris’ face was slightly puzzled, but not at all displeased.
J ohn’s joy disappeared when he noticed R immon’s flickering body. The demon didn’t have much longer. J ohn rushed the altar, heedless of the shouted warnings as his hands wrapped around the crystalline heart.
The moment J ohn’s fingers touched the heart’s surface, he knew R immon. Neither his memories, nor the details of his life, but his essence. The warmth flowed through him, filling every inch of his body. He knew then the demon was good, that he could be trusted, that he had never willfully wronged someone. R immon was noble and honest, and yet there was so much of him that was lonely and torn between who he was and what others wanted him to be. And the hunger, the constant desire for sex and intimacy. J ohn inhaled all of this. He could smell R immon around him, taste the pomegranate flavor of his kisses. The feeling was like their first night together but a hundred-fold stronger. J ohn was both filled with and surrounded by the incubus, possessed by him in a way that Dante could never be.
The sensation ebbed away as his hands parted. He gasped in surprise, finding himself kneeling on the floor over R immon’s body. The heart floated gracefully down, rejoining its host. The body became solid again. Rimmon’s eyes fluttered open, turning at once to seek John’s.
Did he know? Had he felt it too? The essence had fled from J ohn, everything of R immon now back where it belonged, but something remained. The intimate comfort that came with being with someone for a long time, of knowing who the other person was, even if the full story of his life hadn’t yet been revealed. J ohn had touched his incubus heart and been burnt by its love. B ut if R immon had come close to J ohn in a similar way, the demon’s eyes betrayed nothing as they broke contact.
Chapter Ten
The world outside the mosaic door was Egypt as it had never been seen before.
L uscious green grass carpeted the gentle hills, each rise cresting with a fine crease at the top before sloping downward again in the manner of all sand dunes. P yramids populated th
ese hills, each a different color. J ade, onyx, ruby, sapphire—the great bricks were hewn from impossibly large precious stones. I n the distance were four great sphinxes in cross formation, their backs turned to the powerful geyser fountain in their center. The water rained down and pooled around their massive paws. C hildren laughed as they splashed each other in the fountain, the adults among them distinguishable only in size as they joined in the revelry.
“I had such hopes. Despite the beauty of Nut my heart yearns for something different.” The voice of O siris was sad, his dark eyes fixed on the star-swept sky. “You have either deceived me, or you were mistaken about what you saw.” J ohn needed a moment to understand what he was talking about. “M y neck is still sunburned,” he said, half turning so the god could see. “I saw the sun beneath the ground.”
O siris sighed. “Perhaps the same reason that compelled R a to leave us continues to keep him away, for I don’t believe there is any being who could impede him against his will.”
“How long has it been?” Rimmon asked.
“Weeks, months, an eternity. The passage of time means nothing without night and day to gauge it by.” O siris still searched the horizon, not having given up hope. “Do not tell the others what you have seen. It will only turn them against you.” They were led to the largest of the pyramids, the light of the moon playing along its diamond surface. The pyramids J ohn had seen on television were always silent, the decaying bodies of giants, but here throngs of people crowded the pyramid’s base.
M any were on their knees, bowing and chanting prayers. O thers were delivering food or fulfilling other duties.
Navigating the crowd would have been difficult had O siris not been leading them.
People moved willingly out of his way, their eyes filled with love and admiration for the god who walked among them. J ohn and his companions were as good as invisible, weeds growing next to the most beautiful rose in the garden.
The interior of the pyramid also defied expectation. No passage was dark or dusty, nor was there a mummy or sarcophagus in sight. The outer areas of the pyramid were illuminated by light filtering through the diamond bricks. Further in, golden bowls blazing with pure white fire hung from the ceiling at regular intervals. The crowds thinned as they journeyed deep into the pyramid’s interior; only the occasional priest in decorative robes crossing their path.
