Down in Flames

by P. W. Catanese

  “Welcome to Varosha,” Osman said. “This seemed like the safest place to have the fire, without burning the whole town by accident or being seen by the authorities. It’s important to stay out of sight. You could get arrested, or even shot, just for being here.”

  Donny tried not to groan out loud. As if the rogue ferryman wasn’t enough of a problem, they had to worry about the local police, too. “But why?” he asked. “Why is this a ghost town?”

  “You do not know?” Osman said. He looked surprised, and a little discouraged. “In 1974, Turkish forces came to Cyprus. The armies met here, and all the residents of Varosha fled. Tens of thousands of them. The town has been fenced off since then. It is a buffer zone between the sides. There is hope that the dispute will be settled soon, but for all the buildings here, it is too late. They have fallen into such decay that nothing can be saved. Everything must be demolished if we ever want to use this place again. What a shame, because before that happened, this was a beautiful resort town. The beach is one of the Mediterranean’s finest. Long ago many movie stars came here.”

  Angela gasped. “Jimmy Stewart?”

  Osman’s brow wrinkled. “I do not recall if Jimmy Stewart was here.”

  “Never mind,” she said, waving her hand. “So, do you have a bead on what we’re looking for?”

  “My brother does,” Osman said. “He is very sensitive, and wanted to keep his distance from you. He waits for us, down the street. Follow me.”

  Osman led them out of the depths of the garage, past more decades-old cars. They neared the exit, where a payment booth still stood, its glass blurry with age and dust. Donny couldn’t see Agony, but he was sure that the ferryman was close behind.

  They stepped out of the parking garage. It was late at night, but the moon was bright overhead, and so Donny could see clearly. Directly across from the garage was the ruined side of a tall hotel. The windows were gone and shutters hung askew. The elements had gnawed at the walls and balconies. The city may have been off-limits, but people had clearly snuck in over the years, spraying graffiti wherever they could reach. The pavement of the street had fractured, weeds and trees sprouting in the cracks. Over the top of another building, an old construction crane still loomed high.

  “This whole city is fenced off?” asked Donny.

  Osman nodded. “Chain-link fencing and barbed wire, all the way around.”

  “How did you get in?”

  “You can swim around the fence in the sea. Or there are holes in the fence, if you know where to find them. We crawled through the holes in the dark.”

  “What if you got caught?”

  “Big trouble,” Osman said.

  “That’s why we pay you the big bucks,” Angela said.

  “This is true,” Osman said. He tapped his camera bag. “If we are seen, I tell them I am just an innocent photographer here to take pictures for fun, and hope for the best.” He pointed to a white building, a block away on the other side of the street. It was maybe twelve or fourteen stories tall. “Do you see that building over there? That is where we are going. I don’t think we’ll be seen, but let’s stay out of the open as we move.”

  “Just a sec,” Angela said. She leaned close to Donny and whispered. “Put some drops in, okay? I want you to be able to see.”

  Donny fished the tiny bottle out of his pocket. He tilted his head back, squeezed a drop into each eye, and blinked slowly while they soaked in. When he looked around, his heart thumped a little faster as he spotted Agony. The ferryman was clearly visible where before there had only been shadows behind them, watching and waiting.

  “Look up,” Angela told him. He peered at the top of the buildings across the street. When he squinted, he noticed the slimmest thread of darkness in the sky. It curved down like the track of a roller coaster and veered close to the roof of that tall white building.

  “Just like in Puerto Rico,” Donny said.

  “All set,” Angela told Osman. They crept quietly down the sidewalk, staying out of the moonlight.

  “There is my brother,” Osman said when they were across from the building he’d pointed out. It was another hotel. A circular driveway where cars would have pulled in was on the other side of the street. Just outside the doors of the hotel, a dark figure stood, half hidden behind a cement column. The man raised a hand in greeting.

  “Let me go and speak to him,” Osman said. He darted across the street, looking furtively around him. The brothers put their heads close for a minute and talked quietly. Then Osman’s brother walked back the way they had come, but on the other side.

  Osman waved them over. His face looked a little paler when they arrived.

  “My brother was confused. He said he felt the presence of something terrible, up there, on top of the building.” Osman’s hand trembled as he pointed to the rooftop. “But then he felt something similar, which came from where we stood. The feeling was too strong, and he could not stay. His heart was racing, and it was hard to breathe.”

  “That all makes sense,” Angela said. “The first thing he sensed is what we’re after. The second one was the tall, scary guy you saw in the garage. This is good stuff, Osman. Is there anything else you can tell us?”

  Osman gulped and nodded. “Yes. We learned this yesterday. When the presence is not up high, on the roof of this building, it is down low. In the basement, maybe.”

  “Perfect,” Angela said. “I think that’s all we need from you. Howard will be in touch. Good luck getting out.”

  “And the same to you,” Osman said.

  Yeah, Donny thought. The same to us.

  CHAPTER 45

  One large pane of glass in the lobby doors had shattered long ago. The shards crunched under their feet as they stepped inside.

  A once-beautiful lobby had turned into a nightmare. Wallpaper was peeling off in sheets. Pieces of the ceiling had rained down. A chandelier lay on the floor, its crystals scattered everywhere. The lobby furniture remained, but the cushions were rotting. The smell of must was overpowering.

  “Our quarry is up top, but the lair is below. So how do we get there?” Angela mumbled.

  Donny saw elevator doors in the corner of the lobby. Obviously they couldn’t take the elevator. But a sign next to the elevator had a little map that showed what he was looking for. “Over there,” he said. “The stairs.”

  “Right,” Angela said. “Let’s go.”

  She turned the handle of the stairwell door and pushed it slowly inward. The rusty hinges squealed in protest, and Donny gritted his teeth at the sound. Angela didn’t open it any farther than she had to. She just turned sideways and scraped through the opening. Donny and the ferryman went in after.

  When they closed the door behind them, it was pitch-black. Angela took out a penlight and shone it around. Donny had brought a powerful flashlight of his own, but for now he decided not to use it. A brighter light might give them away.

  Below them, the metal stairs descended under street level. Above, they climbed all the way to the roof. There was a narrow rectangular gap in the middle, an empty shaft around which the steps rose, flight after flight. Donny leaned over and looked up through the stairwell. The upper reaches vanished into darkness.

  Behind him, he heard a fierce whisper from Angela. “Hey!”

  Donny turned to see Angela, her hand gripping Agony’s arm. Agony had one foot on the stairs that led up. Angela glared at the gaunt ferryman. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “This is foolish. I know he is there. I will go and take him,” came the hissed reply.

  “Nuh-uh,” she said. “This is my operation, mister. If you go up there, we could lose him on the rooftops. We’re going downstairs, where he’ll be trapped. And we’ll wait for him to open that fire-portal before we do anything. Then you can have him. Understand?”

  Agony leaned over and put his head directly over hers. She had to crane her neck to meet his seething stare.

  “Don’t test me, ferryman,” she said
. “You wouldn’t be here if my people hadn’t tracked him down.”

  Agony tapped Angela on the shoulder with the tip of his blade. “Who are you to tell me what to do?”

  Angela put two fingers on the side of the blade and turned it away. “I’m Angela Obscura of the Pillar Obscura. Member of the Infernal Council. Instigator of the Great Reform. And if you go up those stairs, I’ll scream so loud, your brother will be sure to get away.”

  Donny felt rage emanating from the ferryman. Agony’s spindly fingers curled tightly around the handle of his weapon. “I could silence you first.”

  “Then my little friend here will scream for me.”

  Agony’s cloaked head turned to look at Donny. Donny nodded. “Yes. I would definitely scream, super loud,” he said. That was a perfectly honest threat, because a lot of loud screaming was exactly what he would do.

  “Enough already,” Angela said. “We’re wasting time.” She went down the stairs, trusting that the ferryman would follow. And he did, but Donny made sure to tuck in behind Angela first. There was no way he would let himself be the last one down, or the first, for that matter.

  It was hard to walk on the creaking metal stairs in complete silence, but they did their best. “Oh yeah,” Angela said. “This is the place.” She waved at what was below. A flight of steps had been torn out, creating a gap. “An obstacle to keep the curious out,” Angela said.

  “Just like in Puerto Rico,” Donny added. The whole situation was eerily similar. “Angela, I’m not sure if I can make it across that—” Before he finished the thought, she put an arm around his waist, lifted him, and leaped across the gap. She was nimble and came down softly, but the steps still groaned when they landed. Agony came next. He covered the gap in a single long stride, with much less noise. They paused there and peered up the stairwell, listening for any sounds from above.

  The bottom of the staircase was one more short flight below. Donny peered into the darkness, which wasn’t as dark as it ought to have been. “There’s light down there,” he said.

  Angela switched off her penlight. “Hmm.” They crept down the remaining steps and entered a stark hallway, dirty cement walls on both sides, wires and plumbing above. The ceiling was low, and Agony had to hunch to pass through. They went by a bathroom, and then a storage room with janitorial supplies, where all the shelves had collapsed. On the other side was what looked like an old office. Inside was a desk covered with moldy papers and stacks of manuals. Paint was bubbling off the walls.

  Angela stopped, tapped Donny on the chest with the backs of her knuckles, and pointed at the floor. In the dust were long, narrow footprints, twice as long as Donny’s feet. “Definitely the place,” she said.

  The meager light came from just ahead, through an open doorway at the end of the hall. Angela reached the threshold, put her back to the edge, and leaned her head over to peer in. Then she smiled and waved them in.

  Donny sighed. Here they were, in another disgusting room that felt like a deathtrap. This one was an eerie maze of mechanical things, surrounded by walls of brick. It smelled like oil and grimy rags. There were silvery ducts and pipes and valves everywhere, a corroded electrical panel mounted in one corner, and a table covered with fat wrenches and other rusted tools. A boiler that was nearly as big as a school bus was at one end of the room, shedding its paint in long curls.

  On the far side of the room, Donny saw exactly what they had expected to find: shelves full of dark jars with twinkly souls inside, and a clear space along the brick wall that was covered in scorch marks where a fire-portal had been lit. The light that they had seen came from a couple of clear bottles with flames inside. They weren’t earthly flames, Donny was certain. That fire, burning in a closed bottle with no oxygen to feed it, could only come from Sulfur.

  “This is abhorrent,” Agony said as he surveyed the jars.

  “Right. But you know what? I think we’re in luck,” Angela said.

  Donny wasn’t feeling very lucky. “How’s that?”

  She pointed to the shelves. “All those jars are full of souls. If those are meant for the other side of the portal, maybe it’s time for a delivery.”

  They gazed around in silence. Then all three of their heads turned as a faint, echoing, metallic sound rolled down from the far end of the hallway.

  “What did that sound like to you?” Angela said.

  “Like a door slamming shut, way at the top of those stairs,” Donny said.

  “I’m picturing our quarry,” Angela said. “He finished up on the roof, closed the door behind him, and now he’s making his way downstairs.”

  “Yeah, I’m picturing that too.” Donny reached behind him to pat the container with the fire escape, which was nestled inside his backpack. He wanted to be sure it was still there.

  Agony unleashed a long, slow, chilling hiss. Dust fell from his hands as he compressed them into fists.

  “Time to hide and see what happens,” Angela said.

  CHAPTER 46

  They stood behind the boiler, where they could peer out between thick vertical pipes. Donny’s eyes were already accustomed to the gloom, and the meager light that the bottled fire provided. He closed his eyes to focus on his hearing, and thought he detected the faint scuff of footfalls on the metal stairs.

  Then came a screech and groan of metal bending. He just stepped across the gap, Donny thought. Beads of sweat sprouted along his hairline. The footsteps grew more distinct, and added to them was the muffled clink-tink of glass. More jars of souls, inside a sack, Donny thought. His hands shook, his heart thumped, and his lungs screamed for more air. He had to breathe through his mouth to keep the air from whistling out his nose.

  The silhouette of the rogue ferryman filled the threshold, and then he entered the room. He let the bulging sack droop to the floor, and then dragged it the rest of the way toward the charred wall and the shelves filled with souls. Donny glanced at Angela, who kept a firm hand on Agony’s wrist.

  The ferryman paused near the wall. Donny held his breath, certain that the ferryman was about to start the fire. He sensed Agony tensing, ready to rush out from hiding. But then their quarry stepped to the shelves, ran his fingertips across the surfaces of the jars, and selected one. He pried the top off the jar and held it to his chin. A twinkling cluster of lights drifted up. A human soul, Donny thought. His stomach curdled as he watched the ferryman open his mouth and draw the soul in with a horrid slurping sound.

  Donny had to turn away. That used to be a person, he thought. But worse still, the soul that drifted from the jar had been a bright, almost angelic color. It was never meant for Sulfur. It was someone like the sisters in Old San Juan who’d been so kind to Fiasco. Or somebody’s kindly grandmother. And now it was extinguished forever. When Donny looked at Angela, her lip was curled, her nostrils were flared, and her body swayed from side to side. She was like a cat ready to spring. Agony’s knuckles crackled as he tightened his fists.

  The rogue ferryman sighed, long and deep, as if he’d taken a cold drink on a hot day. He set the empty jar down and then returned to the spot where the portal would be lit.

  This is it, Donny thought.

  And this time he was right.

  CHAPTER 47

  Next to the charred section of the wall stood a huge brown glass jug, like the ones they’d seen in Puerto Rico. The rogue ferryman pulled the stopper and tipped the jug. A glowing liquid spilled out and filled a long narrow trough that had been gouged into the floor, next to the wall. Flames sprouted from the liquid and rose high. The fire hissed, like waves washing up on a beach.

  Angela leaned over and whispered to Donny. “You, stay behind me. Use the fire escape if I call for it. Remember, all you have to do is smash it against a wall.” She leaned the other way to whisper to Agony. “You take care of him. I’ll grab the gatekeeper on the other side.”

  Donny slipped off his backpack and took out the fire escape, still cushioned inside its pouch. He peered out from between the pipes
again. A dark shape grew in the center of the flames. The rogue ferryman picked up the bag of souls and stepped through. Ash fell around him like filthy snow. All Donny saw beyond the portal was a narrow tunnel without another being in sight.

  “Go,” Angela said to Agony. “Hide next to the fire. Grab him when he comes back.”

  Agony hissed and raced out from behind the boiler.

  “Just like we planned! Come on,” Angela said to Donny. She bolted and followed in Agony’s footsteps. Her hand slipped into her pack and came out holding the knockout bottle.

  I can’t believe this is happening, Donny thought for maybe the hundredth time since Angela had appeared in his life. He kept up with her as well as he could, careful not to trip or kick some debris and make too much noise, but she was halfway down the room before he’d taken three steps.

  Agony reached the fire-portal and pressed his back against the wall beside it. His curved blade hung at his waist. Angela stood beside him. Donny arrived just in time to see the rogue ferryman step back out of the portal, pushing what looked like an enormous, ancient wheelbarrow.

  There was a blur of motion as Agony reached out, seized the rogue ferryman by the neck, and dashed him to the ground. Donny wasn’t sure if the splintering and crunching sounds came from the ferryman’s bones or whatever was scattered on the floor beneath him.

  Angela made a quick sideways leap to the portal, and another directly through it. Donny raced after her. With one step, he was in the basement of a forsaken hotel in a historic island off the coast of Turkey. With the next step, he was somewhere else completely. And the first thing he heard was Angela’s shout.

  “Duck!”

  When Angela leaped through, she had guessed that the gatekeeper sat to the right, where Porta would have been found. But the keeper of this portal sat on the opposite side, and when Donny stepped through, he’d put himself right between them.

  This one was like Porta’s twin. It was a tiny, fearsome creature with a plump body but long spidery arms. One of those arms held a double-headed ax.