King of Hell (The Shadow Saga)

by Christopher Golden

  The reception area had been broken into pieces and crushed to the ground. The glass exit doors had all been shattered and glass shards scattered the floor like crystal knives, though most of them would have fallen outside as people crashed through — attempting to escape — and demons raged after them. Splashes of blood were everywhere, but other than torn clothing and strips of flesh that hung from the shards that were still stuck in the window frames, there were no corpses or even body parts on the floor.

  No, not on the floor.

  "Phoenix," Ronni rasped, her voice ragged from screaming. "What is it?"

  How could she not know? Phoenix had taken one look at the grotesque sculpture that filled the center of the atrium and knew immediately what it represented. The demons had collected many of the corpses of the patients and staff and forced them together like children building rudimentary sandcastles. Limbs had been snapped, bones bared and then stabbed into other flesh, legs twined together . . . but something else had been used as well, some hellish paste or mortar that held them together, and the demons had sculpted the dead into an arch twenty-five feet high. Even the base of the arch — the threshold — had been forged of broken bodies.

  The opening in the arch should have allowed them to see right through to the other side, to see all of the demons gathered there and all the way to the far end of the lobby. Instead, a scarlet mirror seemed to hang there, rippling and undulating, a vertical pool of bright red blood beneath which something seemed to swim.

  Don't you get it? she wanted to ask Ronni. Don't you see?

  It's a door.

  As if summoned by the thought, a hand emerged from the archway, pushing out through the blood as if piercing some grotesque membrane. The figure that emerged with it shocked her, but not with its ugliness. Phoenix caught her breath in surprise at the utter normalcy of the man who came through that portal. He looked to be no more than fifty years old, with olive skin and graying hair. Average height, average build. A beard slightly more silver than his hair.

  The new arrival took a deep breath and a grin spread across his features. He laughed as the demon throngs bent their heads lower, chanting something short and guttural that might have been the man's name or some greeting.

  "But he's just . . ." Ronni began. "He's human."

  Naberus struck her so hard that her lip split and one of her teeth flew out to skitter across the floor.

  "Hush, woman," the crowned demon spat. "You will kneel to the King of Hell."

  The tentacled thing dropped them to the ground and used its extra arms to turn them into puppets again, making them kneel. Phoenix did not fight it; her focus remained on the newcomer. He might look human, but she had not needed Naberus's reassurance to know that was not the case at all. A dreadful energy had begun to pulse around his hands, a bruise purple light that grew and spread. His eyes glowed with the same dark light and a crackling mist began to spill from them.

  The demons chanted again and the man turned and gestured back at the portal. A single tendril of purple light unfurled from the energy thrumming around his right hand and shot through the bloody membrane of that doorway and a moment later he stepped away from the portal to make room for two figures who shuffled through into Phoenix's world with a sleepwalker's gait. An Asian man with long black hair tied in a knot at the back of his head, and a pale woman with long brown hair framed her face in an unruly tangle. Their eyes glowed the same bruise purple but they seemed nearly dead.

  Not dead, Phoenix realized. Mesmerized.

  The man clapped his hands together with a smile that seemed almost jubilant.

  "This is it," he said. "This is just . . . perfect."

  Even his voice sounded ordinary.

  "Home sweet —" he began.

  With a furious roar, Ronni tore herself from the tentacled demon's grasp. She flattened her hand and drove her fingers into its eyes and it shrieked, and then she ran. Its grip on Phoenix loosened and she realized that its grasp upon them both had been slipping ever since the sorcerer — for that was what he had to be — had stepped through the portal. The demon had been distracted by his master.

  "Run, Phoenix!" Ronni screamed.

  Phoenix tried to pull free, but she had lost precious seconds and now the tentacled demon tightened its grip so ferociously that she felt bones popping inside her. Not broken, not yet, but compressed. She tried to breathe and could not, and knew that the demon would kill her.

  Naberus caught Ronni in three long strides, picked her up with those huge, sharp hands, turned and flung her toward the congregation of hellions. Ronni struck the floor and rolled, limbs flailing. Demons made way, staring at this human who'd been tossed into their midst. Some of them laughed, but Phoenix could barely hear them. Tentacles tightened around her and she thought her skull might just burst.

  A skittering demon, a kind of cyclopean praying mantis, clambered on top of Ronni as if laying claim to her.

  "That's enough!" barked the sorcerer. The ordinary man. The King of Hell.

  The demons, his minions — even Naberus — obeyed without question. They turned toward him, the mantis-thing sliding off Ronni. The tentacles around Phoenix loosened again and she drew a massive gasp of air, heart thundering as the blood rushed back through deprived parts of her body.

  "Bring them!" the sorcerer commanded.

  Phoenix fell again, slapped against the floor as the tentacled demon dragged her toward the portal. She struggled and swore, because something in the eyes she could see beyond that bruise-purple mist told her that whatever happened, she did not want to go through that portal. Not ever.

  And yet . . . he looked so human. Her mind had been screaming at her about demons, thoughts full of panic and horror, and here was a human being, something ordinary instead of grotesque. Unless his grotesquerie was simply not visible from the outside.

  "Please . . ." she managed, as she was whipped around and forced to her knees again, only a few feet from the sorcerer and the two mesmerized slaves he had brought through the portal after him. They looked human as well, but how could Phoenix know?

  The tentacled demon slammed Ronni down beside her.

  "Now, now. Gently, please," the sorcerer said. He smiled at them, came forward and reached out rough hands — human hands, crackling with that purple light — to touch Ronni's hair and stroke her cheek.

  "Who are you?" Ronni asked in a quavering voice.

  The power that burned around his hands seemed to diminish, as did the veil of mist in front of his eyes. He turned to Phoenix and one corner of his mouth lifted in an amused, lopsided smile.

  "Oh, my darlings, you'd never believe me if I told you."

  The sorcerer raised his hands and the demons chanted those same, choking, guttural syllables once more and then raised their heads. They remained on their knees — all except for Naberus and the tentacled demon — but they were watching their master now. Their king.

  "Let's make a little bargain, you and I," the sorcerer said, glancing from Ronni to Phoenix. "You tell me what I want to know, and I'll let you live as long as your species survives. You'll be the last two human beings I let the hordes of Hell devour. How does that sound, good?"

  "Oh, sweet Jesus," Ronni said, a plaintive, broken prayer.

  The sorcerer snapped his head around and glared at her. "Oh, he's not coming. Trust me. That son of a bitch is the ultimate fair weather friend."

  Phoenix shuddered and hung her head, but the sorcerer bent, stroked her chin, and lifted her face so that he could gaze upon her.

  "Tell me all you know about the current status of Peter Octavian and his fellow Shadows."

  He said the last word as if merely speaking it soiled his tongue. His nose curled in distaste as he pronounced it. Phoenix frowned, shaking her head.

  "Never heard of them."

  Anger furrowed the sorcerer's brow. "Look around you, girl. Hell has come to Earth. For all the time Octavian has spent repelling such incursions . . ." He took a deep bow. "Here we are. I
don't know why you would want to protect them unless . . ."

  The man cocked his head, studying Phoenix and Ronni. Then he turned to the mesmerized pair he had brought through the portal with him.

  "Kuromaku. Allison. Are these two your kind?"

  The female — Phoenix figured this must be Allison — glanced at the sorcerer with that bruise-purple glow in her eyes. Without a word she strode toward Ronni, dragging her feet a bit as though somewhere inside she fought the control the sorcerer held over her. Her companion, Kuromaku, struggled a moment before marching stiffly toward Phoenix.

  The tentacled demon released them as the sorcerer's minions approached. Allison grabbed a fistful of Ronni's hair and dragged her to her feet, studying her eyes. As Kuromaku strode toward Phoenix, she flinched and took a step backward, bumping into a thin, wraith-like demon who seemed little more than wispy skin and thin bones — a black-red kite of a creature.

  "What are you?" Allison asked, brown hair veiling one eye.

  "I . . . I don't understand the . . . the question . . ." Ronni stammered.

  Allison snarled, nostrils flaring and eyes going wide as her teeth lengthened into glinting needle fangs. Ronni screamed and Phoenix spun to face Kuromaku. He sneered at her and she saw his own fangs, saw his fingers lengthen into hooked talons, and she knew.

  "Holy shit," Phoenix whispered. "They're vampires."

  Absurdly, surrounded as they were by demons, Ronni closed her eyes tightly as if she could make them go away merely by pretending, and said, "But there's no such thing as vampires."

  Allison cut her cheek with a talon and blood welled up in the gash. Ronni cried out and tried to flinch away, but the vampire had her by the hair and leaned in to lick the blood that dripped down her cheek.

  "Don't move," Kuromaku told Phoenix, and she did not argue.

  I'm going to die, she thought. Shit, I'm practically dead already. A terrible sadness crushed down upon her heart. Naberus had to pay for defiling her father. And this sorcerer — if what Annelise's spirits had told her was correct and demons were flooding out of Hell — he was responsible. She wanted to kill them both. Destroy them all. She had the will and the determination and the fire of hate burned inside her, but her only weapons were her two fragile human hands. Any one of the demons in that room could have killed her with barely a thought.

  "She's human, Lazarus," Allison said, turning toward the sorcerer.

  The purple light around the sorcerer's hands — Lazarus's hands, if that was his name — pulsed and turned darker, even as it grew and spread along his arms. The static mist spilling from his eyes increased but behind the mist they glowed brightly. The lights in the atrium flickered and Phoenix felt a ripple pass through the air like the brunt of distant fireworks thumping her chest. Two panels of the ceiling glass shattered, raining sharp fragments down upon the portal, and the October wind howled.

  "Human," Lazarus said, the word like a curse. "Listen to me, human women. I am going to ask again, and this time I will be very clear. You will not get another chance at an honest answer because you will be dead."

  "No, please," Ronni said, averting her gaze, unwilling to look into the vampire's purple, mesmerized eyes. "Anything you want."

  Kuromaku loomed over Phoenix, who nodded. "Me, too. We're not hiding anything."

  "What do you know of Peter Octavian —"

  "I swear to you," Phoenix said, "we've never heard of the guy."

  The sorcerer shook with rage. The aura of magic burning around him darkened further, nearly black now.

  "Do you expect me to believe —"

  Kuromaku grabbed Phoenix by the throat and hauled her toward him. He showed his fangs and she thought he would tear out her throat.

  "You've never seen a Shadow . . . never seen a vampire before," he said.

  "Of course not!" Phoenix cried, shaking.

  Kuromaku turned to stare at Allison. "She said vampires don't exist."

  Eyes wide and desperate, Ronni tore her gaze from Allison and stared at Kuromaku. "They don't! Until right this second, we thought vampires were just legends, monsters from movies and books. The same thing with demons."

  A wave of reaction went through the gathered hellions. They shifted and grumbled and some of them laughed. The motion raised a cloud of stink, the stench of gore and shit and charred flesh. Phoenix caught a glimpse of Naberus, who stared at Ronni with those spider-eyes. The crowned demon seemed to take a step back, glancing anxiously at the demons around him.

  Lazarus stood frozen, outlined against the vertical pool of blood that made up the portal behind him. His features had gone slack, but abruptly he began a low chuckle, the laugh of a madman.

  "Oh, no," the sorcerer said, as if to himself. "That just won't do."

  "It's true," Phoenix said quickly. "I don't know why you expect us to know —"

  "The whole world knows!" Lazarus roared. "Vampires and demons and Peter Octavian . . . the whole damned world knows!"

  Phoenix shook her head. "Not this world."

  Lazarus stared at her and then buried his face in his hands. At first she wasn't sure if he was laughing or crying, and she thought maybe he wasn't sure either. But then he sighed deeply and glanced out over the congregation of demons and the damage and slaughter they had committed in his name.

  "I believe you," Lazarus said with a too-wide smile. "That's the problem. I believe you completely. This world . . . it's so like the world of my birth, but more innocent. Or it was, until today."

  The sorcerer's smile faltered. He spun and gestured toward the crowd of demons. Purple-black light arced from his fingers and struck like lightning, lancing into Naberus. The crowned demon let out a cry of pain and protest as that lightning tangled itself around him and dragged him toward the portal — and toward his master.

  "Lord Lazarus, wait!" Naberus shouted. "I told you we couldn't be sure —"

  "You said you would open a doorway to my world!"

  "And I will!" Naberus snapped, struggling to stand as that purple-black light arced around him, holding and searing him. "If this isn't your world, it's very close. A twin. Don't do anything —"

  "You presume to tell me what to do?" Lazarus shouted, and that dark lightning dragged Naberus up off the floor, his hooves scratching the linoleum as he dangled aloft.

  Lazarus strode toward him, fury on his features. Phoenix held her breath as she watched, thinking the sorcerer would kill the crowned demon — wishing for it, praying for it. Ronni had ceased her whimpering, giving up on crying and fear, and now Phoenix could hear what sounded almost like a growl coming from her.

  "Go on," Ronni snarled at Allison. "Kill me."

  Allison's eyes narrowed, features pinched as if in pain. The vampire squeezed her eyes shut and when they opened, some of the violet hue had faded from them.

  "I don't want to," the vampire said.

  Phoenix blinked in surprise. Allison was struggling. She and Kuromaku might be monsters, but they were in the thrall of Lazarus. Fighting him, Phoenix thought. They're fighting him.

  For a second she let herself hope that she and Ronni might not be on their own, that the vampires might be their allies, but then she glanced up at Kuromaku and saw the hunger in his eyes and the glint of light off of his fangs.

  "Kuromaku! Allison!" Lazarus snapped. "Get them out of my sight. Take their blood if you want, but kill them. And don't let me hear them scream. We can't afford any more distractions."

  Phoenix's mind rejected the words. She tried to tell herself the sorcerer wasn't talking about her, that he'd just ordered someone else's murder, but then Kuromaku grabbed her by the wrist in an iron grip and she could not help it — she screamed. The sound burned up out of her throat as if it came from somewhere else entirely, someone else.

  Kuromaku struck her in the face so hard that when she blinked back the dark spots at the corners of her vision, she thought she might have gone unconscious for a few seconds.

  "Didn't you hear him?" Kuromaku said. "No sc
reaming."

  The demons began to shuffle toward Lazarus, closing the circle around their king. Phoenix caught a glimpse of Naberus being drawn nearer to the sorcerer, who barked commands at him — orders and warnings about what would happen if he failed a second time — but she could not focus on those words. Kuromaku dragged her from the atrium and Allison followed, one hand fisted in Ronni's hair. The demons flowed aside to let them pass, much more focused on their master's disappointment and wondering what came next than they were on the two women whose fates had already been decreed.

  "Ronni!" Phoenix shouted. "I'm sorry. I never meant —"

  Kuromaku hurled her from the lobby and into the corridor that led to the elevator banks. Phoenix hit the floor and rolled, smashed her elbow and cried out in pain. Her thoughts were muzzy and she thought she must have a concussion, but still she rose on her hands and knees and glared at the vampire, with his severe eyes and black hair in a tight ponytail. In his black pants and a tailored white shirt — now torn and stained — he looked as if he'd spent the night at a party somewhere trendy. Only his fangs and those glowing purple eyes gave him away.

  The vampire reached down to his side and drew a long sword out of thin air. One second there was nothing there and the next he held a Japanese katana, which gleamed along its arc as he raised it and strode after her. Somehow, after a day of horror and impossible things, she still managed to be astonished, to reject the reality of what she had just seen.

  Then Allison came around the corner and into the corridor, dragging Ronni by the hair. Ronni fought her, screaming, and though they were away from the atrium now — out of sight of the demons and their king — the screams must have echoed all through the lobby.

  "You don't have to —" Phoenix began.