Letters From Hades

by Jeffrey Thomas

  "Please don’t," I whispered, stroking the smooth round ball of her shoulder. "Don’t even say it."

  "Your friend, from the forest," she began.

  "Caroline."

  "I didn’t catch up with her. I’m not sure if she made it to Oblivion or not."

  "But if you had found her, you’d have punished her. Because she wanted me to kill you."

  "I didn’t catch her," Chara snapped. "That’s all I wanted to tell you. You must have been wondering."

  "She wasn’t my girlfriend. We had sex once. Out of loneliness."

  "I didn’t ask that, did I?" She sighed, calming her temper. "Tell me about this man who came to see you," she said. "Tell me everything…"

  So I related Turner’s visit. I told her about the Celestial.

  "As frightening as they might seem, they can be killed like we Demons can," Chara said by way of slight reassurance. "They’re tougher to kill and faster to heal, but they can die. Like Demons, they aren’t true souls. Not human souls. We aren’t immortal like you Damned and the Angels are."

  "You said some of the Demons are hunting for you. But others aren’t?"

  "I think nearly all of my own kind would turn the other way if they saw me…even Abbadon. He’s Captain of the Demon soldiers in Oblivion. But there are other demonic races in the city, not of my kind, and not as sympathetic. I can’t let myself trust any Demon here, just to be safe."

  "Then shouldn’t you get out of Oblivion? Go someplace far away, another city or someplace remote?"

  "I’m sure I will."

  "So what have you been waiting for?"

  A few beats, then: "I’ve been waiting to see you."

  I lifted my hand to stroke her sweaty black hair, then kissed her damp white brow. "I want to go with you," I said.

  "All right," she answered, perhaps too embarrassed by her unfamiliar feelings at that moment to meet my eyes.

  But we didn’t discuss plans or destinations just then. We made love again. This time Chara allowed me to take a more aggressive position, entering her from behind, holding onto her waist as I pumped into her hungrily. Her dragon’s wings again extended to their full length, and I switched my hands to them, running my palms over their taut skin, then gripping them at their roots as I drove myself deeper into Chara’s body. I cried out in a series of moans when I came, and sounded to myself as if I were being tortured.

  Day 68.

  Between bouts of lovemaking, Chara would tell me about some of the more remote places we might flee to…

  She told me about the Red Sea, which was not far off. It was an ocean of living blood. I pictured this crimson ocean stretching off vast into the horizon, thick foam-crested waves of gore rolling in to crash against rocks of obsidian and beaches of glittering black sand. When the tide went out the shallow tidal pools began to congeal. Masses of gelatinous tissue as small as a fist or as large as a whale were frequently washed up, but were eaten away by the eel-like creatures that swam through the air. Chara assured me there were parts of the immense shoreline where these voracious eels were less common. She cautioned that there were occasional jet boats driven by Angels, who harpooned the Damned who attempted to make their way on rafts to the secluded obsidian islands sometimes found offshore.

  Besides these smallish islands, there were caves in the cliffs of volcanic glass that towered above some sections of the Red Sea. These possibilities did not sound attractive; the living sounded bleak. I told her I had never been much of an outdoors person, and it was hard for me to give up the idea of living in a city.

  There was a city called Sheol, she related, on the floor of this sea. Getting to it was a bitch, but the Damned couldn’t stay drowned or suffocated. Once in the enclosed sections of the city one could breathe the air again. The Demons who presided over the city were a gilled aquatic race. Chara herself could drown, so her kind were not to be found amongst its citizenry…and thus the city itself was out of the question, as was any large city, really…at least in this vicinity.

  Farther away and perhaps more safe an area was a frozen waste of snow and ice, a good many days’ walk from here. There were small towns there, and a huge city made largely of ice, called Pluto. Its Demons were for the most part a race of shaggy, primitive, wolf-like creatures, but her own kind were not unknown there. It sounded like a good possibility, as uncomfortable as that constant cold sounded. Still, it was more attractive a concept than the scorching desert areas she described. Given a choice between heat and cold, I find cold the lesser evil.

  Chara paced her room and muttered to herself, "We’ll have to pretend you’re my servant most of the time. Or my prisoner." And then she mused, "Maybe I should cut my wings off. Then I could wear a robe and a hood, and pass for human from a distance…"

  "No," I protested. "Don’t say that. I love your wings." Then I felt a bit embarrassed, but she looked at me and smiled. "Anyway, up close people would see your skin, and gray lips, and…"

  "I wouldn’t be the only crippled Demon in Hell. Anyway…since I was attacked and crucified, my wings have been in pain."

  "I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that." I hoped I hadn’t handled them too roughly in the frenzy of ardor.

  "It was just a thought," she murmured, pacing again.

  "It’s ironic that they’re hunting you down at the same time they’re torturing the men who attacked you. Turner told me the background on what happened to you…how you and some others were hunting those men, and you got separated…"

  "They’ll make martyrs of them, torturing them in public like that. It might convert more to their cause than it does dissuade others from following them."

  "Their cause?"

  Chara stopped pacing like a caged lioness to eye me. "Turner didn’t tell you everything, then."

  "What didn’t he tell me?"

  "Those men we were flushing out…the ones who attacked me…they’re rebels. They’re trying to organize a force, an army. Most of these little groups are small and scattered, but some of them have been trying to combine their efforts. This was one of the more determined units."

  "Rebels? Turner made it sound more like they were just this little band who killed Demons out of spite, or vengeance."

  "It isn’t much more organized than that. Yet. But there are rumors that it’s building up, getting ready to launch a full scale attack. Possibly on cities like Tartarus, where a good many of us Demons are given birth and trained."

  "Sounds like pure suicide."

  "Maybe. But remember…even though Tartarus can churn out more and more Demons to make up for those that are killed, the bottom line is that Demons can be killed whereas the Damned cannot be. And as I told you, even if the Celestials were sent here to put down a large-scale rebellion, they can be killed, too. A truly organized army of the Damned, if it was large enough, could be slowed down, split up, inconvenienced, made to give up its efforts. But it could never be killed. Not even by an army of Angels. It’s the greatest fear of Demon and Angel alike. It’s no wonder Turner didn’t put it in that perspective for you."

  Now it was my turn to pace the small flat thoughtfully. "Wow," was all I could think to say at the moment, however.

  "So now you sympathize with those bastards who attacked me."

  "I don’t justify what they did to you. Raping you. Torturing you. Not for a minute. But…"

  "Well they deserve what they’re getting now, don’t they?" she challenged, her tone icy.

  "Yes!" I faced her. "They do! These individuals do. But I can understand their hatred, and their cause…"

  "They can never organize themselves into a large enough group to take control of Hell. Maybe a town. Maybe even a city. But in the end, they’ll be overthrown, and they’ll regret it like these few bastards are regretting it. That’s what keeps the average Damned from pursuing these feelings of rebellion."

  "You just told me that an army of the Damned couldn’t be destroyed."

  "It can’t be killed. But it can be stopped. People fea
r pain, even if they’ll recover from it. People are sheep, and they can be easily broken. People are selfish, and they’ll take the easier way out, even if it means an eternity of misery. Better that than an eternity of intense torture, like these rebels face." Her eyes narrowed to cruel-looking slits. "If you ever think of joining in an effort like that, you can kiss me goodbye."

  "But you hate the Creator, the Angels, this whole system, too!"

  "What do you want me to do? Sympathize with an effort that would pit you against my kind? Help you to slaughter my kind?"

  "I’m not asking you to sympathize. Just…understand."

  In a softer tone she said, "I do. I do understand. But now is not the time to get intrigued with the idea of revolution. We have to think of ourselves, just you and me. That’s the only thing we can join in together. A war would by necessity split us apart."

  I came closer to Chara. "I’m falling in love with you." I saw her eyes avert. "Do you love me?"

  "I can’t love."

  "No? What is this, then?"

  "I desire your companionship." She paused, groping for words. "Because you interest me."

  I didn’t want to press the point, and goad her denial into anger. I steered us off the personal again, back to the larger picture. "I understand your commitment to your kind. But I have a responsibility to my own."

  "Good for you. But you’ll find that few of your own kind are as noble as you are. It’s a waste of time to think of these things. But if you want to go off and pursue them, then be my guest. Go fight alongside men like those who defiled me."

  "I told you, I don’t condone what they did to you!"

  "These people are terrorists."

  "They’re guerillas."

  "It’s all semantics."

  "You’re right, there. I might think of a Demon as a terrorist. For inspiring terror in people like me. Do you condone that?"

  "It’s all horrible. All of it." Her voice drifted. "All of it. That’s why I want it to be just you and me. Not armies, not races, not prisoner or punisher. Just you and me. Is that a terrible thing?"

  "No," I sighed. "It isn’t. It’s what I want most, too." I went to her and embraced her tenderly, this time more mindful of the constant aching in her wings. I stroked them gently as they lay folded to her back. "We’ll go to Pluto, then. I always liked winter more than I liked the summer."

  "We should leave soon, then. Maybe waiting a few days, though, until the hunt for me dies down in intensity. They’ll assume I’ve already left. Also, this band of Angels who rode into town will leave in a few more days, I heard. I doubt that the two who are crying for my blood will remain behind."

  "Okay," I said. "That will give me time to buy some heavier clothing, to gather up my things, make a little more money before we leave."

  "You should go back to your apartment, then, and your job. Act normal. I’ll be in touch with you, somehow or other."

  "All right. But if I don’t at least hear from you in a few days, I’ll come here looking for you."

  Chara didn’t argue.

  So I left her in her apartment, or compartment, under the viaduct-like bridge, and with some effort found my way at last back to my own neighborhood.

  When I was finally outside my own flat, unlocking its door, I noticed the subtlest of glows casting my shadow in front of me. A soft footstep. I whirled about.

  "Sorry to alarm you!" Inspector Turner chuckled sympathetically, holding up a calming hand. "I should have called your name first."

  The androgynous Celestial stood beside the robed Angel. In the gloom of the hallway, it seemed more luminous than it had at my plant.

  I tried on a shaky smile. "That’s all right, Inspector. Um…can I help you?"

  "Well, I’m sorry to disturb you again, and I know it hasn’t been long since last we spoke, but I thought I might touch base with you…see if you’d heard anything new. I went back to your work but found out it was your day off. So I was directed here. But…you weren’t here, either." He threw up his hands. "I assumed you were shopping, or visiting a friend. So I came back later and you still weren’t here. I was beginning to think you’d left Oblivion." He chuckled again. "But I thought I’d try your hotel one last time, and here you are!" He smiled.

  "Yeah…sorry about that. Yes, I was visiting a friend. Hey, uh, would you two like to come inside to talk?"

  "We could talk here, if it’s any trouble…"

  "Oh no, that’s okay. Here, come on inside…"

  But as I finished unlocking the door, my mind scrambled madly ahead of me into my flat. What might be lying about that could bring trouble on my head? The guns were safely hidden. I just hoped the Celestials didn’t have the sense of smell that the Demons had. It was no doubt my imagination but I thought there was a hint of machine oil from my two stolen pistols in the air.

  "Sit down," I offered. "Can I make some coffee, or…"

  "Oh no, no. We can’t stay long." Turner waved his hand. "Not a half bad little place you have here." He pointed to one of my carved gourds, now beginning to wither into what looked like a toothless octogenarian Jack-O’-Lantern. "Cute. Yeah, this is a cozy place, in a way. Not to brag, really, but I have a very nice place of my own, back home. I had it custom designed, a complete replica of my boyhood home. A lot of Angels want castles, palaces, plantations, and they can have them, of course. But I have more modest needs. I never believed in being ostentatious."

  "I know what you’re saying."

  As before, the Celestial said nothing. Its blurry-looking blue eyes seemed not to focus on anything in particular, even me, which I found more disconcerting than if it had openly glared at me.

  "So…you get a day off," Turner said. "That’s very good. Not every place does that. How often?"

  "Every nine days. Or every nine work periods. However you look at it. I don’t know why nine."

  "Well, you’re lucky."

  "Yup. So how can I help you, Inspector?" I repeated.

  "No sign of the Demon Chara, still? She hasn’t made an attempt to visit you here?"

  "No sir. I really don’t see why she would. Even when I rescued her from those rebels she seemed contemptuous of me."

  "Well, she wasn’t so contemptuous that she didn’t feel obligated to come to your aid in Blue." Turner was bending down to examine another of my Jack-O’-Lanterns, but his eyes lifted suddenly to mine. "Rebels? That’s a bit of a glamorous term for those few troublemakers."

  Shit. My mind scrambled again. "Well, whatever they are."

  Turner straightened. From inside his robe he produced a metal tin, and for a second I cringed, expecting a weapon. He flicked the tin open and there were cigars inside it. "Care for a smoke?"

  "Oh, no thanks. That stuff will kill ya."

  "Ha! That’s funny. Mind if I…?"

  "Oh no, go ahead." I placed a coffee mug in front of him and indicated with a gesture that he could use it as an ash tray.

  "You sure? Some folks really hate the smell."

  "Actually I like the smell of cigars and pipes, though I never smoked them myself." With his having once been a cop, I didn’t add that the same had been true with pot smoke.

  Turner lit up, exhaled, savoring the act. He hadn’t offered a cigar to his companion. "See? Even in Hell one can find little advantages. One can smoke without fear of the repercussions."

  "Maybe I should take it up after all, then."

  Turner smiled at me and in an off-hand tone said, "I’ve been busy talking to Demons since you and I last spoke. Everything from Chara’s kind to the Overseers. No one has spotted her. Or if they have, won’t admit to it."

  "It’s possible she’s already fled Oblivion, and that they’re telling the truth."

  "Mm. Well, I certainly hope so, for their sakes. Even Captain Abbadon professes to know nothing about her whereabouts, but I was under the impression that with their skill at tracking down renegade humans, and with their great sense of smell, that they should have located her by now." He shrugged.


  "That’s why I’m sure she’d have left already. Maybe you should send a party out beyond Oblivion, and…"

  "Oh, we already have a team on that." He exhaled again.

  How difficult would that make our escape to Pluto? And did this hunting party consist of Angels, Demons or, most frighteningly, of Celestials?

  "But if she is still here in Oblivion," Turner went on, "then I may have to take some drastic action. You see, Mr. Butler and Mr. Franklin are still very upset at the way they were treated, and they expect me to see to it that justice is done." He made a face that was meant to elicit sympathy from me. "So I told Captain Abbadon that I expect him to step up his efforts to locate the Demon Chara. And I also told him, quite frankly, that we may soon have to gather up and execute every last Demon in Oblivion…every one of them, and replace them with brand new Demons from Tartarus…to teach all of the Demon races an important lesson in where their loyalties should really lie."