Johnny Black, Soul Chaser: The Complete Series (Johnny Black, Soul Chaser Series)

by JJ Zep

  “All I remember is waking up with Belial screaming in my ear.”

  “That happens sometimes. That fall from the roof of the bungalow may have given you amnesia. Nonetheless, all souls entering hell have to cross the River Styx and go through immigration.”

  “Immigration? But you said customs.”

  “When in pursuit of a fox, you have to think like a fox. Pandora knows we’ll likely be waiting for her at immigration, so she’ll try to bring Bacchus in as cargo. Probably jar him and try to smuggle him in as some exotic potion or something. There’s a good market for such things in hell, you know.”

  “But surely the customs officials will see right through that ruse?”

  “You really expect to find an honest customs official in hell?”

  “Probably not,” I said.

  “And besides, you’ve seen Pandora Jain. How much attention do you think the customs official is going to be paying to her cargo?”

  I could see his point. “Not a lot,” I said.

  “Damn straight, not a lot,” Dope said. “And if all else fails, Pandora can always fall back on her famous malficium mind trick. That’s what makes her so good at what she does, she can screw you any which way.”

  “Come on you laggards,” Jitterbug yelled from up ahead, “We haven’t got eternity.” We caught up with the imp standing in front of a rocky wall, looking bemused.

  “I could have sworn the portal was here,” Jitterbug said.

  “It’s a sidestep,” Dope said.

  “Of course,” Jitterbug grunted. He turned side-on to the wall, took a step towards it and disappeared. Dope did likewise and then I too turned, putting myself at a right angle to the wall. A doorway suddenly opened in front of me and I stepped through.

  I found myself in a huge, well-lit hall that was bustling with activity. To the front there were at least fifty cubicles manned by customs officers, mainly humans, but a few trolls, and ogres as well. A single queue snaked back from the cubicles folding upon itself again and again. Every few seconds a buzzer sounded and a number was illuminated on a board indicating the next available booth.

  The patrons in the queue were a mixed bunch - humans, imps, dwarfs, goblins, trolls and the like. And they carried all manner of strange wares. I saw a Cyclops dragging a large obelisk, an imp with a crate of Talisker single malt whiskey, and a couple of dwarfs struggling under the weight of a stuffed crocodile. What I didn’t see, was Pandora Jain.

  “Move along there,” an imp in a customs uniform growled at me, “Nothing to see, here. Move along, I say.” He prodded at me with his nightstick, then spotted Jitterbug. “Mr. Pavarotti. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize this stiff was with you.”

  “I know you?” Jitterbug said.

  “I’m Half Nelson, Catamaran’s kid. You used to play poker with my pop.”

  “Oh yeah,” Jitterbug said. “How is ol’ Cat?”

  “Strikes and gutters, swings and roundabouts” Half Nelson said. “So what brings you down here?”

  “Looking for some hotsy-totsy dame in a tight leather outfit, most likely trying to smuggle a jarred soul into Underworld. You ain’t seen her have you?”

  “You’re talking about Pandora Jain,” Half-Nelson said. “Yeah, we pulled her off the line earlier. Tried shaking her tushy at one of the staffers up front, when that didn’t work, she tried the malficium mind trick. Unfortunately, for her she pulled a troll. Not in the least bit interested in her tushy and too stupid to fall for the old malficium. The two of them got into a right ding-dong, almost spilled the soul jar.”

  “So where is she now?” Jitterbug said.

  “We got her in the cells out back, but don’t tell anyone I told you or my boss will have my guts for garters.”

  “Who’s running this place these days?”

  “Azalel.”

  “Heard she’s a right bitch.”

  “Mister you don’t wanna know. Listen, I gotta go. Been swell talkin’ to ya.”

  “Thanks, Half, say hello to your pop for me.”

  “Will do, Mr. Pav.”

  XXVIII

  “Absolutely not!” Azazel yelled. “She’s my prisoner and I’m not handing her over to the SPAA or any other spook Bureau.”

  “Actually,” Dope said. “In a soul smuggling case involving Hades Correctional, the SPAA has jurisdiction.”

  “Take it to a tribunal, buddy,” Azazel said. She was a tall, bony demon with grayish skin and a pair of leathery wings. She was dressed entirely in black, except for her shoes which somewhat resembled the red pumps Dorothy wore in the Wizard of Oz.

  “Fine, hold onto her, if you must,” Dope said. “We’re not so much interested in your prisoner as we are in her cargo.”

  “Unfortunately she spilled the cargo trying to get away. No sign of the general. For all I know he ended up stuck to the bottom of someone’s shoe like a bit of doggie doodah. We do have the empty SPAA Apprehension jar, which you’re welcome to, if you like.”

  “Can we at least talk to her?” Dope said.

  “What variety of no don’t you understand, mister,” Azazel screeched.

  “I could take this up with Mr. Abaddon, you know.”

  “Ooh, I’m so scared,” Azazel said. “It may have escaped your attention that I’m a public official. I don’t work for Hades Correctional, so don’t bother trying to threaten me with old Baddy Abaddon.”

  We walked away from the customs hall and sidestepped through the wall and headed back towards Hades. I was feeling pretty downhearted, but not so much as Jitterbug. The little imp had wanted more than just to recapture General Bacchus, he’d had a personal score to settle.

  “Maybe we should start thinking about going after Commodus,” I said, as much to get a rise out of Jitterbug, as for any other reason.

  “Not me,” Jitterbug said. “I’m done with soul chasing. If you ever send Dexter out again, Dope, you’ll have to find someone else to babysit him.”

  “Cheer up,” Dope said. “It could be worse. It’s not like you lost your bobbit or anything. Oops, sorry Jit, forgot about that.”

  “Yeah, thanks Dope. Now I feel even worse. Klutzy broad, who spills an Apprehension Jar for crying out loud? It’s almost impossible to do.”

  A thought occurred to me, something that didn’t quite gel, something someone had said. And then it hit me, clear as daylight. “Pandora didn’t spill the jar,” I said.

  “Thanks for trying to cheer me up, Dexter, but…”

  “She didn’t spill it,” I insisted. “Half Nelson told us so, he said Pandora got into a right ding dong with the troll, and almost spilled the soul jar.”

  “So he did,“ Dope said. “I think you might be onto something, Blackwell.”

  “But if Pandora didn’t spill the jar, who has it?” I asked.

  “Azazel. Has to be. No-one else has the authority to confiscate contraband of that nature.”

  “So Azazel has the general, but to what purpose? You think she’s planning on letting him go?”

  “Fat chance,” Dope said, “No, Mabel Azazel will be wanting to turn a profit on this. Probably planning on selling the general to Underworld. Except, she can’t do it alone. A demon, especially a public servant, trading in souls? It would never fly, not even on the black market. Azazel must have an accomplice, and I think I we all know who that is.”

  XXIV

  “If only I had my bobbit,” Jitterbug said. “I’d be able to sneak in there without being seen.”

  “Couldn’t you just hide in the walls, the way you always do?”

  “That may fool you humans, Dexter, but an imp would see me coming a mile away.”

  “We don’t need to sneak in there,” Dope said. “All we have to do wait for Ms. Pandora Jain to step through the wall and then follow her.”

  “Why follow her?” I said, “Why not just grab her the minute she steps through?”

  “Because, I’m interested to see who her contact at Underworld is,” Dope said. “Bit of intelligence
like that provides good leverage at tribunals and such.”

  “I say we just tag the bitch, nab the general, and then send her back to Purgatory where she belongs.”

  “Now Jitterbug, you promised you wouldn’t make this personal.”

  “Are you calling my professionalism into question, Dope?” Jitterbug growled.

  “All I’m saying is…”

  “Ssh! Someone’s coming.”

  From our hiding place in the shadows we saw a woman step through the wall, an incredibly beautiful woman in a tight-fitting leather outfit.

  “Now stay well back,” Dope whispered, “Don’t let her see…”

  “Pandora Jain!” Jitterbug yelled, stepping into the light. “Hand over the general, you soul-stealing hussy!”

  Pandora seemed momentarily surprised, but she recovered her composure quickly. “Why Jitterbug,“ she said, unleashing a dazzling smile, “This is a pleasant surprise.” And then she turned and ran.

  “After her!” Dope shouted.

  With Jitterbug in the lead, Dope following and me bringing up the rear we chased after Pandora. I was out of shape from the months and years spent behind a desk and I quickly lost touch with them. Pretty soon all I could hear was Jitterbug’s voice screaming insults in the darkness, and then even that faded. Before long I was hopelessly lost.

  I reached a t-junction that looked vaguely familiar and stopped to rest a while. I was blowing hard and I took in deliberate deep gulps of air until my breathing steadied. I listened hard into the darkness, hoping to hear the sound of running footsteps or Jitterbug’s high-pitched yells, but there was nothing.

  Just then I heard a noise behind me and Pandora stepped from the shadows. “Johnny Black,” she said. “Just the man I was hoping to see.” She gave a coy smile and sauntered towards me, swaying her hips like a tigress on the prowl, only more beautiful, and more dangerous.

  “I was wondering when we’d get to spend some time alone,” she said. “You do want to spend time with me don’t you, Johnny?”

  I tried to say yes, but I felt like I was unable to speak, so I nodded.

  “And you would like to help me out of this spot of bother I’m in, wouldn’t you?” she said, baby-talking.

  I nodded, and Pandora said, “You need to say it out loud, honey bunny,” and I suddenly realized what she was doing, her famous malficium mind trick.

  “I would like to help you, Pandora,” I stammered.

  “No, no, no,” Pandora said, sounding suddenly annoyed, “You need to say, I will help you, Pandora.”

  “I will help you Pandora,” I said.

  “Good,” Pandora said, radiant again. “Now here’s what I need you to do. When Dope and Jitterbug catch up with me, they’re going to search me and they’re sure to find this.” She produced a silver canister that looked like a hip flask.

  “The general?” I asked.

  “The general,” she confirmed.

  “I want you to hold on to this. Think you can do that for me, sugar britches?”

  “You want me to hold on to this?”

  “For me,” she said, breathlessly.

  “You want me to hold on to the general?”

  “Yes of course, I want you to hold on to the general,” Pandora said, annoyance creeping back into her voice. “What else would I want you to hold on to? Jeez!”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll hold on to the general.”

  “Good,” she said, slipping the hip flask into my pocket. “You may kiss me now.”

  “What?”

  “Kiss me, you fool.” She threw her arms around my neck and moved in towards me. I could feel the heat from her body, smell the sweet scent of Jasmine, feel the swell of her breasts. I felt myself becoming light-headed, like I was made of nothing but air. Pandora’s lips touched mine and parted slightly.

  “I’ll find that broad if I have to search under every rock in Hades,” I heard Jitterbug say.

  “Face it, Jit, she’s outfoxed us,” Dope said.

  “The fox that can outfox this imp hasn’t been born yet,” said Jitterbug.

  Pandora pushed me away from her, fluffed up her hair and said, “Jit, are you talking out of school about me?”

  “Who said that?”

  “Through here fellers. I’m afraid your man Johnny Black was too smart for me. He has me dead to rights.”

  “Told you we’d get her,” Jitterbug said. He skidding round the corner, came to a halt inches from Pandora and did a little impish jig. “Good work Dexter he said, then to Pandora, “Not so smart now, are we now, Miss Purgatory Palisades 1885?”

  “No,” Pandora said. “You boys from Hades are way too sharp for a little ol’ independent contractor like myself.”

  “Where’s the general?” Jitterbug demanded.

  “As I was just telling Johnny here, I don’t have the general, Azazel took him. For all I know she dumped him in the Styx.”

  “Yeah, Yeah,” Jitterbug said. “Search her Dope, I ain’t touching the broad.”

  Dope didn’t wait for a second invitation, he walk over and patted Pandora down.

  “Stop it, Dope, that tickles,” Pandora giggled. “You do realize that a female officer should be doing this don’t you. Ooh quit, that tickles.”

  “She’s clean,” Dope announced after taking more time than he should have.

  “Look again,” Jitterbug growled. “I’m sure she has him.”

  “I’m telling you she’s clean,“ Dope said.

  “Rats! Foiled!” said Jitterbug.

  “Actually,” I said. “The reason Pandora doesn’t have the general, is because I have him.”

  “You what?” Dope said.

  “I have him right here,” I said, pulling the flask from my pocket.

  “Johnny!” Pandora said, “How could you? We had a deal.”

  “Indeed we did,” I said. “You told me I should hold on to the general. The malficium mind trick, I believe it’s called.”

  “Looks like the malficier has been malficiered,” Jitterbug chuckled, and Pandora shot me a glare that would have done Medusa proud.

  XXV

  After General Bacchus had been returned to his cell and Pandora had been sent on her way, Dope filled me in on what had been going on in hell in my absence.

  “Strike’s over,” he said. “It’s always over by Halloween anyway. Nothing gets these deadbeats motivated faster than the opportunity to dress up and go door-to-door scrounging for candy.

  “But, I’m afraid you have other problems my friend. Belial lodged a complaint to Abaddon about his staff being used for SPAA work. Abaddon, of course, knew nothing about this latest assignment. He didn’t half chew my ass I can tell you.”

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” I assured him. “I’m used to Belial’s hissy fits. I’ll just nod in all the right places and apologize and say I’ll never do it again.”

  “It’s far more serious than that, I’m afraid. Abaddon himself wants to see you. There’s been serious talk about transferring you to the Global Warming Department.”

  I don’t need to tell you that this was not good news. Global warming was the one job nobody in hell wanted. Even the pyromaniacs gave it a wide berth. It meant operating the big boilers twenty-four seven, shoveling coal and chopping wood and working the bellows.

  “Way I see it,” Dope said, “is you can take it like a man, give yourself up and face the music. I doubt they’ll give you more than a few decades, a century at most. Or …”

  “I’m liking the or part already.”

  “Or, I can send you on another mission, starting right away.”

  “I’m going to go with option B,” I said.

  “Wait, till you hear the mission first, I need you to go after Commodus.”

  “I figured as much.”

  “There’s a wrinkle,” Dope said.

  “Isn’t there always.”

  “The wrinkle is, we don’t know where he’s got to.”

  “Not at all?”

 
“Not a clue. He gave Jitterbug the slip coming up the tube from the Tiber, must have ducked into one of the side shafts. Now we’re pretty sure which one he took, but the problem is we don’t know where it leads. You could end up on one of the moons of Jupiter, in the Triassic sea or in the middle of the Black Plague. I just don’t know.”

  “Compared to working the furnace, it sounds like a holiday.”

  “Another problem?”

  “There’s more?”

  “Because we don’t know where you’re going to end up, we can’t guide you towards a host. You’re going to have to figure that out for yourself. Still in?

  “Still in.”

  “Good man. I’ll get Jitterbug to take you to the portal. He’ll show you where he lost Commodus, but he’s sitting this one out.”

  “He’s not coming?”

  “No, he’s got some vacation time due. Thinking of going to France, if you can believe that.”

  “So, I’m basically going in with no back up.”

  “Fraid so.”

  I thought about that for less than a second. “Let’s do it,” I said. “What have I got to lose?”

  “Only your five lives,” Dope said. “And your cushy job here in hell.”

  We found Jitterbug down on U14 standing next to the yellow pool that had led us to the Tiber. The little imp seemed to be prepared for his French vacation already, and wore a striped t-shirt, a neck scarf and a black beret.

  “Bon jour, monsieur Black,” he said, and then giggled self-consciously.

  “You look like Marcel Marceau,” I said.

  “Who?”

  “Never mind,” I said. “Ask around when you’re in Paris. This is the portal is it?”

  “This is she,” he said. “Now, about half way down on your right, or is it left, no right, I’m sure it was right. Anyway, halfway down you’ll find a portal. The water looks kind of green, kind of slimy, kind of cold. That’s where Commie gave me the slip.”

  “So is it left or right?”

  “Right, I’m sure…although it could be left.”

  “Thanks, Jitterbug, for those impressively precise instructions.”