“Aha! Not just the Afterworlds,” Argus corrected. His empty eye sockets turned towards Zac. “Have you ever felt that tingle up your spine telling you ‘Hey! What is this? I am not alone!’? Have you ever had the feeling that someone was watching you? Like when you were in your bedroom, let us say, just before the Monk killed you?”
Zac thought back. The rooftop along the street. He thought he’d seen someone watching him just before he closed the curtains.
Argus saw the realisation spread across the boy’s face. “Yes, yes. That was me. You see, no matter what legend says, I am not having a hundred eyes. No, no. I am having a hundred billion of them. Watching. Always watching everything and everyone.”
Steropes leaned over him. “But not in a creepy way or that,” he reassured.
“Oh no,” said Argus. “Not in a creepy way.” He slapped a drumbeat on his belly before speaking again. “This is how I knew you were coming. And I must say, your antics in Asgard made for most amusing viewing. And you,” he said, fixing Angelo with an approving look, “you were the biggest treat of all.”
“I was?”
“You are – how you say? – remarkable, do you know?”
Angelo grinned. “I am?”
“Enough small talk,” interjected Zac, before the demon could give away what had happened in Asgard. “Can we get down to business?”
“Ah, yes, we must press on, I think,” said Argus. “But first, drinks. I have taken the liberty of preparing your favourites.”
Steropes recognised his cue. He scuttled over to a bar at the back of the room, then returned carrying a tray. Two glasses sat on it, both resting atop little paper doilies.
“For you, Zac, lemonade, just the way your grandfather makes it. You like this, yes?”
“Ha!” laughed Herya. “Lemonade. You’re such a child.”
“And for you, Herya of the Valkyries, yak’s milk, warmed to five degrees above room temperature.”
It was Zac’s turn to laugh. Herya blushed. “You’ve made a mistake,” she told Argus. “I drink ale.”
Argus frowned. “Oh. My apologies. I did not know this. I have watched you many, many times – almost every moment of your life – and I have not once seen you drink ale.”
“Well, I do,” she insisted. “Gallons of it.”
Zac patted her on the arm. “You know, there are organisations who can help you with that. Admitting you have a problem – that’s the first step.”
“Funny guy,” she said, and she flicked milk in his face.
“What about me?” asked Angelo. “I’m thirsty too.”
“Ah, yes,” nodded the demon. “We have a real treat in store for you, I think.”
Steropes set down the yak’s milk beside Herya, who made a point of ignoring it completely. He scurried over to the bar again. They all watched as he pulled a welder’s mask over his head and slipped thick gauntlets over each hand.
“We cannot be too careful, yes?” Argus said. The Cyclops stalked slowly back towards them. He was holding a pair of metal tongs and using them to carry a small silver flask.
Zac turned to Angelo. “What do you drink? Plutonium?”
The flask was set carefully on the table beside Angelo. Steropes quickly backed away, visibly relaxing as he did.
“Holy water,” Argus explained. “Lethal to demons. Your favourite, I believe, yes?”
Angelo’s eyes lit up with excitement. “You’re not wrong there.” He unscrewed the lid of the flask and sniffed the contents.
“From eighteen seventy-eight. A very good year, I am told,” Argus said. “Blessed by Pope Pius the Ninth himself, mere days before his death.”
Angelo took a sip. He licked his lips, then smacked them together. “Yummy scrummy in my tummy,” he said. He grinned at Zac, who rolled his eyes in response.
“You said you knew what was in the tenth circle of Hell,” said Zac, steering the conversation back to more important matters.
Argus gave Steropes a nod as the Cyclops set a glass of dark red liquid down in front of him. “I did not say this. You said this.”
Zac frowned. “What?”
“I do not know what is in the tenth circle of Hell.”
“I thought you saw everything?” said Herya.
“I do,” nodded Argus. “Or I did. I knew many moons ago that they were starting work on the new circle. I saw them cut the turf and lay the very foundations, watched them build it brick by brick.”
“So what happened?”
“They did not build a door,” Argus explained. “Or windows. They have it locked down tight, sealed so the eyes of Argus cannot see in. Whatever they are doing down there, they do not want anyone knowing about it.”
“Wow,” said Zac quietly. “That must really kill you.”
Argus’s head twitched, as if he were shaking off a fly. “Yes,” he admitted. “It does. When you’re used to seeing everything, having a blind spot is very... troubling. Which is why I have a proposal for you.”
“What sort of proposal?”
“A – what is the word – a collaboration of sorts,” Argus said. “If I help you get to Hell and tell you what I know of the tenth circle, can you find a way inside?”
“Yes,” said Zac without hesitation.
Argus nodded. “Then I propose just that. I arrange for you to be transported to Hell, and give you some tools that may be of use. The rest is up to you. Once inside, you may retrieve your book and do with it as you will. It is of no interest to me.”
“And what’s in it for you?” asked Zac.
“Knowledge,” Argus shrugged. “This is all. I would ask that you leave an eye or two of mine behind when you make your escape. This is not too much to ask, I think?”
Zac looked to his companions. Angelo shrugged. Herya glanced away.
“OK. We can do that.”
“I am very glad to hear it,” Argus replied. He held his arms out to the side, dropped to one knee, then bounced back up again. “We celebrate with dance, yes?”
Angelo stood up. “Conga, conga, cong-a!”
Zac shot him a withering glare, and Angelo reluctantly sat back down again.
“We’ll probably just shoot off,” Zac said. “If it’s all the same to you.”
“Very well. But you should know, Zac,” said Argus, “about Haures.”
“The Duke of Hell guy? What about him?”
“He knows you are coming. He wants you to come.”
Zac paused while this new information sank in. “Why?”
“That I do not know,” Argus admitted. “But Haures is a monster.”
“Says the man with the child-skin statue.”
“Haha. There are different types of monster, Zac, some worse than others. Whatever Haures wants you for, I cannot imagine it is anything good.”
“Right,” said Zac. “I’ll keep my eyes open.”
“As will I,” said the demon. Argus slapped himself on the belly. It made a sound like the cracking of a whip, and every part of him from his neck to his waistband rippled. “Are you ready, Zac Corgan?” he asked. “Are you ready to mount your assault on the domain of Satan himself?”
Zac stood and looked the demon squarely in the nipples. “Yeah,” he said with a shrug. “Why the Hell not?”
“ABRIEL, THERE YOU are. Have you brought news?”
“Not much, sir, I’m afraid.”
“Has he got the book yet?”
“Alas, no, sir. Not yet. The operation is ongoing.”
“Hang it all. What’s taking them so long?”
“The methods they are employing are... unexpected, sir.”
“Oh? How so?”
“They went to Asgard, for starters. Entered the Hall of Valhalla and had something of a falling-out with Odin. Young Angelo got... upset.”
“How upset?”
“Very upset, sir. If you know what I mean?”
“Of course I do! I wasn’t created yesterday. Has he calmed down yet?”
“Merci
fully, yes.”
“Well, that’s something, although I don’t see why you had to send the boy in the first place.”
“He volunteered, sir.”
“Yes. So I’m led to believe. Where are they now?”
“Hades, sir.”
“Hades?”
“Yes, sir. Hades.”
“Why are they in blasted Hades? What’s in Hades?”
“Argus, sir. We believe they’ve asked for his assistance.”
“Hrmph.”
“We thought that was rather resourceful, sir.”
“Hrmph.”
“Rest assured, everything is continuing as planned, despite their unorthodox strategy.”
“Really? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”
“Oh, no, sir. Everything is unfolding as we anticipated. They’ll be inside Hell within the hour. Whether they’ll make it back out, of course... Well, that remains to be seen.”
AC AND ARGUS stood by a wide window, looking down through gaps in the cloud. The ground was a dizzyingly long way away, and it was impossible to make out many details. Even the River Styx was little more than a squiggly black pencil line on a vast black page.
“And that’s it?” said Zac, when Argus had finished telling him how to get to Hell. “That’s all there is to it?”
“This is all there is,” Argus said. “This is all you need to do. It is only a few miles downriver.”
“It seems too easy.”
The hollows of Argus’s eye sockets widened in surprise. “You would prefer difficult?”
Zac scratched his chin. “No, of course not.” He shook his head. “It’s just... nothing’s ever that easy.”
Argus clapped Zac on the back. “You worry too much, Zac Corgan,” he laughed. “What you must remember is that no one has tried breaking into Hell before. No one has ever been so – what is the word?”
“Insane?” suggested Herya, who was standing by the child-skin statue, looking up at it.
“Foolish,” said Argus. “Only a fool would try to break into Hell, so they do not worry too much about building defences, I think.”
“Oh, well, thanks for that,” Zac said. He had to admit, though, it did make sense. Only a fool would try to break into Hell.
“Steropes will take you to the Styx. I have a boat there you can borrow. Borrow, yes? I would like it back. It is not too big, but it can float very good. All you must do is follow the Styx and soon you will find the Hell you are looking for.”
“That’s all, eh?” Zac mumbled. He turned from the window to look for Angelo and found the boy standing right behind him. Angelo smiled eagerly. “You sure you still want to come?” Zac asked.
“I Scooby-dooby-do!” Angelo yelled. He caught Zac’s expression. “That was a yes, by the way.”
Zac nodded. “Fine.” He looked over to Herya. “You ready?” he called to her. “We’re leaving.”
“You’re leaving,” said the Valkyrie.
“What?”
“I never said I was coming with you. I said I’d take you to Argus.” She pointed to the bare-chested demon. “There’s Argus. Job done. You’re on your own from here on in.”
“But I thought—”
“Well, you thought wrong.”
Zac glanced at the others, then back to Herya. He strode over to her. “Can I talk to you in private for a minute?” he asked, ushering her towards the far corner of the room.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she said. “I’m not coming. I never said I was.”
“Maybe not,” Zac admitted, “but you never said you weren’t, either. I thought you were into this stuff – adventure and excitement and all that.”
Herya folded her arms. “Yeah, well I thought you didn’t want me coming along. You work better alone, you said.”
“I did. I do,” said Zac. “But, well, you’ve got experience of these places. You’re our expert. You know your way around. You said so yourself.”
“Ooh, liar, liar pants on fire!” called Argus from across the room. He slapped himself on the hand. “Sorry. I lip-read. It is a terrible habit.”
“She wasn’t lying. She does know her way around. She led us here.”
“Oh, really?” said Argus. “You ask her yourself.”
Zac turned back to the Valkyrie. “You do. Don’t you?”
Herya sighed softly. She shook her head. “He’s right. I don’t know anything.”
“What? Yes, you do. You knew about the Nether Lands, about Hades and Eyedol. You’d been to them all before, you—”
“I haven’t been anywhere.”
Zac blinked. “What? But...”
“I haven’t been anywhere, OK?” The Valkyrie looked down at the floor. “I’ve never even left Asgard before today. I’ve barely set foot outside Valhalla.”
“But... all those things you knew.”
“People talk,” she said. She shrugged, sending a stab of pain through her injured wing. “Especially when they’re drunk. They talk. I listen. I hear them going on about all these... these amazing places, and they sound so exotic and exciting and... I never thought I’d get to see any of them. So I just listened. And I’ve been listening for a long time.”
Angelo appeared at Zac’s back. “That’s OK,” he said cheerfully. “We don’t have a clue where we’re going, either. She can still come, can’t she?”
Zac searched Herya’s face. “She doesn’t want to,” he said at last. “Do you?”
Herya met his gaze just briefly. She shook her head. “Guess I’m not as tough as I say I am. I’ve never even been in a real fight before. Some warrior, huh?”
Zac didn’t quite know what to say. “What will you do?” he asked.
“Go back to Asgard,” Herya said. “Face my punishment. Hope they take me back.”
“We could still use you,” Zac told her. “You knew about these places. It doesn’t matter how you knew. You knew about them. We could use your help getting the book back.” Zac glanced back at the others and lowered his voice. “I could use your help.”
Herya drew in a shaky breath. “I’m scared,” she admitted, and her voice cracked with the weight of the word. “I don’t want to go to Hell. I don’t want to die. Not for the sake of some book.”
“It’s not just some book.”
She smiled sadly. “It is to me.”
“But... the team,” whimpered Angelo. “You can’t break up the team!”
Zac leaned back and folded his arms. “Forget it, Angelo. She’s made her mind up.”
“But... but, the team!”
“There is no team,” Zac snapped, suddenly angry. Angelo took a startled step back. “Don’t you get it? There’s me doing the work and then there’s you tagging along and getting in the way.”
He saw the wounded look on Angelo’s face and felt that pang of guilt in his chest again. It wasn’t the boy’s fault, but there was no denying the facts. “I’m the one they picked to get the book back. I don’t need anyone’s help.”
“You do need this, though,” said Argus, holding up a small black rucksack and grinning like some demented clown. “It may be of assistance. Usually it is not possible to bring things with you in or out of Hell, but anything inside this bag will make it through. I have placed some eyes in there. Once you are inside, you know what to do, yes?”
“I know what to do,” said Zac, swinging a strap of the bag over his shoulder.
“Are you sure I cannot tempt you with some weapons?” the demon asked. “A flaming sword or two, maybe?”
“They’ll just get in the way,” Zac said. “The plan is to sneak in and out. If we get caught, then it’s game over. Swords won’t help.”
“You are wise beyond your years,” Argus acknowledged. He lifted his tiny fez in salute, then replaced it on his head. “And you are right, of course. But perhaps you will take this, at least?”
He passed over a leather case about the size of a small laptop computer. A slim buckle held it closed. Zac
unclipped it and the case fell open.
“A gun?”
“A tranquilliser pistol,” Argus said. “The darts, they are tipped with a unique blend of draughts and potions. They will send a manticore to sleep for a week, and they will do the same for any demons you meet.”
Zac took the pistol from the case and tossed it from hand to hand, assessing the weight. “How many darts are in it?”
“Eight,” Argus said. “This is all I have. The materials required for the poison are not easy to come by.”
Zac tucked the gun into a fold inside his jacket. “Right,” he said. “And, well... thanks.”
“Do not thank me, Zac Corgan,” Argus said. “It is you who are doing me the favour, yes? Deliver my eyes. Find your book.”
“I will.”
“Well, yiassas,” Argus said, then he leaned in and pecked Zac on both cheeks. “Yiassas, Angelo,” he continued, moving to kiss him too.
“Ugh, get off!” Angelo yelped, ducking for cover behind Zac. “I’m not kissing a demon!”
Argus looked puzzled. “What? But you are—”
“Leaving,” said Zac hurriedly. “He’s leaving. We both are. Right now.”
Herya was suddenly standing beside them. Zac turned to her.
“Changed your mind?”
“No,” the Valkyrie replied. “I was just going to wish you luck.”
“I don’t believe in luck,” Zac told her. “Come on, Angelo. We’re going.”
He turned and made for the lift. Angelo hung back. He started to close in on Herya for a hug, then thought better of it and just waved instead. “Bye, then,” he said, then he scampered after Zac and ducked into the elevator just as the doors swept closed.
“Bye,” whispered Herya, watching the lights above the lift door begin counting down.
“Do not feel bad, Herya of the Valkyries,” Argus said. “Not everyone can be the fearless hero.”
He turned and flashed her his toothiest of grins. “Now, are you going to leave quietly?” he asked. His hands went to his belly and he formed the folds into the shape of a mouth once more. The flab-roll lips wobbled up and down as he made them speak: “Or must we have you killed?”
Zac and Angelo stood at a ramshackle wooden jetty on the banks of the River Styx. The black water burbled and boiled, bobbing a small motorboat up and down on its surface.
The Book of Doom Page 13
