by Alex Siegel
Walton felt a mixture of relief and anxiety. The failure hadn't been his fault. He couldn't be blamed. On the other hand, he had a more difficult problem on his hands then he had expected.
"This is a disaster."
"No," the celestial face said, "it is a magnificent triumph. I couldn't be more pleased."
"I don't understand."
"You don't need to. These four agents will continue to seek Daniel. You must engage them in battle. Force the enemy to go through you to get to Daniel."
Walton shook his head. "That wasn't the deal. You told me to support and assist Daniel, not be his bodyguard. He can protect himself just fine. I built the demon trap, and as far as I'm concerned, the terms of our arrangement were satisfied tonight. I'm done."
"I'm changing the terms," the face said.
"No. You can't do that."
"I don't see how you have any leverage in this negotiation. Do I need to list your sins again?"
"That's not necessary," Walton said.
"Alphabetical order this time. Abortion, adultery, defrauding, divorce..."
"Is that really a sin?"
"Envy," the face said, "gluttony, greed, lust, masturbation, murder, perjury..."
"A matter of interpretation."
"Pride, rape, scandal, and wrath. You are destined to spend eternity in the deepest circle of Hell suffering the cruelest torments. I'm your only hope of escaping that fate. You will do exactly as I say, or I will abandon you to the punishment you so richly deserve."
Walton's shoulders sagged. "OK. You win."
"You will fight your adversaries. You will not retreat from them. Even if the cause is hopeless and death is certain, you must fight."
"Do I have to die? What if I win? I could still destroy them."
"Feel free to try," the face said. "I judge your chances to be poor. We are done. Leave me."
Walton moved his head, and the face vanished. He saw only stars now.
He left the glass shed and walked over to the lavender bushes. A gentle breeze ruffled the flowers. The darkness and quiet helped calm him down.
He needed a plan. Dealing with ordinary demons was frightening enough, but he was facing four nearly indestructible creatures with human minds and unknown capabilities.
Walton wanted to run but couldn't. The face in the night sky had made that perfectly clear. He would have to fight using every resource at his disposal, but fortunately, those resources were very considerable.
He remembered the enemy team had five members, not four. The last was an ordinary human named Thomas Haymaker. Walton's people had identified him from photographs. Haymaker was the Chicago detective assigned to lead the murder investigation, so his identity hadn't been hard to discover.
Haymaker was the weak link. He would lead Walton to the rest of them. Once the targets were located, he would find a way to destroy them, even if it took a howitzer.
He smiled a little. Maybe achieving victory wouldn't be so hard after all.
Chapter Fourteen
"Careful!" Sara yelled. "Don't drop him!"
Virgil couldn't do anything to help, so he just held still. Sara and Alfred were carrying him down the steps behind Red Palace Antiques. Virgil's limbs were barely functional, and in some places, barely attached.
His teammates carried him into the basement and to a couch where they gently set him down. He wondered if his black blood would permanently stain the fabric. At least he wasn't feeling any pain. The many deep and ghastly wounds were merely irritating.
Sara and Alfred went back to fetch Lisa from the car. They returned a minute later, supporting Lisa under her shoulders. She had one good leg to hobble on, but the other was shredded. Her clothes were stained almost completely black. It looked like somebody had attacked her with a chainsaw, but Virgil knew he was even worse.
Sara closed the back door.
"Who do we talk to first?" she said. "Mammon or Barachiel?"
"Both at the same time," Virgil said. "We can start by asking for medical advice. I don't think Lisa and I will heal on our own this time."
Alfred positioned the filthy, cracked mirror on a coffee table where everybody could see it. Sara filled a silver tray with clean water and placed it near the mirror.
"Mammon!" Virgil said. "Can you hear me? We need you."
Mammon's grotesquely obese face appeared in the mirror. A forest of dead, thorny trees was behind him.
"What?" the demon said. "Oh. You've been in a fight. What happened?"
"Hold on," Sara said. "Barachiel! We need to talk."
Barachiel appeared in the tray of water, although the sharp angle made it difficult for Virgil to see the angel's face.
"I'm here," the angel said in a voice reminiscent of a children's choir. "You two are a mess!"
"We walked into a trap," Virgil said.
He described recent events in a crisp, professional manner. He included every detail he could remember, and he had an excellent memory.
Mammon and Barachiel were silent for a moment.
The demon eventually said, "This is very troubling. It sounds like that trap was strong enough to destroy a major demon. You are very fortunate you're not pure demons. I think your human souls saved you."
"I can believe that," Virgil said, "and of course, Sara and Alfred were very helpful."
"Daniel certainly didn't construct that trap. He has neither the knowledge nor the resources."
"As I stated previously, he must be working with others."
"Not just any others," Barachiel said solemnly. "I recognize the design of that trap. One exactly like it protects the gateway to the Fifth Level of Heaven. It is an ancient bulwark against evil. The idea of an angel bringing that sacred design to Earth is extremely offensive."
"Sounds like there is a traitor among you," Mammon said.
"Or a demon disguised as an angel."
"You know that's impossible."
"Lying and deception are common sins," Barachiel said. "I would think demons are good at them."
"We stay in Hell, and you stay in Heaven. Those are the rules."
"Except when visiting Earth for purposes of possession or inspiration, subject to budgetary constraints."
"And miraculous or infernal interventions," Mammon said.
"If they comply with the Contract."
"Of course, but regardless of the rules, no demon would attack Virgil or Lisa. They are Hell's agents. If anything, Sara and Alfred would be the targets. They are made of weaker stuff after all."
"Weaker?" Barachiel said in a tone of shock.
"Nothing beats mud from the Plain of Fire if you want to build a warrior."
"I disagree. Sara and Alfred are woven out of strands teased from the Saturnian Rings. Their strength is without peer."
"You can't really believe such idiocy," Mammon said. "Planetary ornamentation can't do anything. Maybe they should fight each other so we can find out."
"Excuse me," Virgil said. "We seem to have drifted off topic. Two of us were nearly destroyed tonight. Somehow the enemy knew we were coming. Everything was perfectly arranged."
His phone in his pocket began to ring.
"Uh, can somebody grab that for me?" he said. "My hands don't work."
Sara hurried over and grabbed the phone. She read the display. "It's Haymaker."
"Answer it," Virgil said. "Put it in speaker mode so we can all hear."
She touched the screen. "Hello? Hello?"
"I'm at the candy factory," Haymaker said, "but there isn't much left. Where are you guys?"
"We're already back in Chinatown," Virgil said. "The operation turned out to be an ambush. What do you mean 'there isn't much left'?"
"The factory was burned to the ground. The fire department is here, but they're just spraying water on smoking bricks and melted steel. The fire was hot enough to shatter concrete."
"Sounds like somebody destroyed all the evidence. I'll give you the story when you get here. Just come to Chinatown."
>
"But I just spent an hour and a half driving to a pile of rubble," Haymaker said, "and it's getting late."
"Sorry."
Haymaker sighed. "At least the traffic won't be bad on the way back. Bye."
Sara stuffed the phone back in Virgil's pocket.
"As I was saying...," Virgil said.
"What you were saying is impossible," Barachiel said. "All this is impossible. A conspiracy among angels cannot exist. I must meditate." The angel abruptly vanished from the pool of water.
"I must admit," Mammon said, "I'm also having a difficult time comprehending what has occurred. I haven't been this confused and distressed since the Harrowing of Hell. You four must carry on the fight without my guidance."
"Sure," Virgil said, "but Lisa and I aren't in a condition to do much fighting at the moment."
"Oh, right, both of you need a transfusion of Hell mud, the quicker the better."
"I'll take care of it," Sara said. "I'm the healer here."
"There are two ways to make Hell mud," Mammon said. "The first is brewing it from special ingredients."
"What ingredients?" she asked nervously.
"Aborted fetuses, pig vomit, spider brains, fresh mold scraped from the coffin of an excommunicated nun..."
"What's the second way?" Sara said quickly.
"You come down to Hell and get the mud."
"You want me to go to Hell?"
"Limbo, at least," Mammon said. "I'll have a fiend meet you there with a couple of casks. You don't have to descend all the way to the Plain of Fire, although you would find the journey interesting."
"No, thanks. Limbo will be enough of an adventure. How do I get there?"
"Virgil and Lisa used a cursed portal to get out of Hell. You can come in the same way."
"Where is it?" Sara said.
"Do I have to explain every little detail? They can tell you. Use your nose."
The demon vanished from the dirty mirror.
"Use my nose?" She furrowed her brow.
"I'll go with you," Alfred said.
"That's great. We can get lost in Limbo together. So, Virgil, where are we going?"
"Uh, I wasn't paying a lot of attention on the way out," Virgil said.
Sara raised her eyebrows. "This keeps getting better."
"We'll figure it out," Lisa said. "Just grab some paper and take notes."
Sara took a sheet of paper and a pencil from a shelf. She sat at a table. "Go ahead."
"Go back to the Red Rose Pub," Lisa said. "Wait. Before I forget. When you get to the hatch, you have to strip naked."
"Why?" Sara said.
"The heat in Hell will burn your clothes to ash if the toxic smoke doesn't dissolved the fabric first. The environment is nasty down there. Leave everything behind, or you'll have nothing to wear when you come back."
"That's good advice. OK. I start at the pub...."
* * *
Sara looked up at a grid of steel I-beams. Decades of exposure had left them pitted with rust. The structure didn't look particularly safe to her. She knew that cars and trucks were passing overhead, and those rusty beams were the only thing keeping them from crashing down onto her head. She wondered if her new body could survive being crushed like a bug.
She put aside her anxieties. She and Alfred were walking along the roadways beneath Chicago. They had discovered a city under the city, a world of concrete, asphalt, and steel. The skyscrapers above took their deliveries down here, and the locals used the subterranean roads as shortcuts. Soot and grime made every surface gray. The sounds of traffic echoed along the passages. Clouds of car exhaust drifted through the air.
Alfred pointed at a brown door marked "KEEP OUT."
"That must be it," he said.
Sara checked the notes in her hands. The directions she had received were jumbled and confusing, but she and Alfred were finding their way.
They waited for a break in the traffic and ran across the street. Alfred tried the door.
"Locked," he said.
Sara sniffed the air. Her nose had been mostly useless since her arrival on Earth, but now she smelled something. As a medical examiner, she had exhumed bodies on several occasions. In one case, she had pulled a corpse out of the ground after it had been buried for ten years. That subtle stench tickled her nose now, but there was something else.
"You smell that?" she said.
Alfred nodded. "Hopelessness and despair. Hell is beyond this door. Let's force it."
He pulled on the handle with all his strength, and she did her best to help him. The handle abruptly broke off. Bits of the locking mechanism fell out.
"I like being strong," Sara said.
He smiled. "So do I."
They managed to open the door and continue their journey. They didn't need directions anymore. Their noses guided them unerringly. They couldn't smell earthly scents, but they could sniff out damnation easily.
Alfred and Sara proceeded through basements and subbasements, taking many confusing turns. The corridors became narrower and dingier. Water leaks created puddles on the cracked, dirty tiles, and one set of stairs led down to a room that was completely flooded. She heard a rat squeaking.
"It feels like we're halfway to Hell already," she said.
"I wonder who comes down here," Alfred said.
"Somebody has to change the lightbulbs at least."
They came to two male corpses lying on the floor.
"Looks like two vagrants got into a knife fight," Sara said. "They both lost."
Alfred nodded. "Look! There it is."
They walked into a small, square room. Black mold was growing on the walls and ceiling. The bones of a small animal were lying in the corner, and the creature had four eye sockets.
A square iron hatch was in the middle of the floor. Sara couldn't read the exotic symbols engraved on the surface, but she instinctively knew their meaning. Abandon all hope, you who enter here. She wasn't worried though.
She and Alfred combined their strength to pull open the iron hatch. Scorching hot, sulfurous smoke billowed out of the opening.
"Time to strip," Sara said.
The two of them took off their clothes, folded them, and placed them on the cleanest spot on the floor. She glanced at Alfred to make sure he wasn't staring at places he shouldn't. He was keeping his eyes up like a gentleman.
"Ladies first," he said with a smile.
Sara took a deep breath. She began walking down a stone staircase into the dark, smoky unknown.
* * *
Virgil heard footsteps coming down the concrete stairs behind Red Palace Antiques. He assumed Haymaker had finally arrived.
"Come in!" Virgil said. "The door is open!"
A basement door opened, and Haymaker walked into headquarters.
The detective froze. "Oh, God." His face paled.
"I guess we look pretty bad." Virgil smiled. "Don't worry. It doesn't hurt much."
Haymaker gazed at him and Lisa with an expression of horror. "Did you guys get dropped into a wood chipper?"
"No, worse."
"You should be dead! Err, deader!"
"We'll make a full recovery," Virgil said. "Sara and Alfred went off to fetch some special medical supplies. While they're gone, we can talk. Take a seat."
Haymaker was shaking a little as he sat on one of the antique chairs in the basement.
Virgil explained what had happened. Lisa contributed by elaborating or clarifying details. Haymaker listened intently during the entire report.
Virgil concluded by saying, "The one thing that really bothers me is the precision of the ambush. Our adversaries didn't just know who would be coming. They knew exactly when. That ceremony was in progress when we arrived. The sentries were in position. Everything was perfectly arranged to make us believe that girl's life was in danger."
"And that trap was built specifically to kill demons," Lisa added. "We were the targets. Us."
Haymaker pursed his lips. "Assuming that's
true, what can we conclude? The bad guys must've seen us visit Sebastian Miller's house."
"And the secret library was a false clue," Virgil said. "We were supposed to find that map and go straight to the factory. The desk was covered with clues."
"The ex-wife sent us to the house," Lisa said.
"Which means she was a fake, too."
Haymaker nodded. "When I was researching Sebastian, I found an official record of a divorce, but there was no associated court case. It smelled fishy even then."
"The white idiots led us to the ex-wife," Lisa said.
"Not exactly," Virgil said. "The county records for the house did. The idiots were clueless. That explains why they were recruited! The point was to fool us into thinking it was a real cult with Daniel as the spiritual leader."
"This is quite a trail of breadcrumbs," Haymaker said. "We went to the house because of the Prosphora."
"Which we read about in Mackey's scrapbook. That's where the trail began." Virgil paused. "Mackey and Daniel were lovers. Maybe they still are."
Haymaker shook his head. "It's hard to believe anybody would attempt such an elaborate ruse. Too many steps involved."
"Think about it. Some mastermind is behind all this. Let's call him Mr. X. He knows Hell isn't going to just let Daniel run free on Earth. The dark princes will send demons to hunt him down—big, nasty demons. Mr. X knows this and starts building a demon trap right away. He gets the design from the angels who are secretly working with him. Building the trap is relatively straightforward. The hard part is getting the demons to walk into it."
"Exactly," Lisa said. "Demons don't have the brightest minds, but they know a lot about deception. They would sniff out an obvious trick. The hoax had to be complicated."
"You're giving this Mr. X an enormous amount of credit," Haymaker said.
"He's part of a conspiracy that busted a deranged serial killer out of Hell," Virgil said. "That's never been done before. He deserves all the credit in the world. We can't afford to underestimate him again."
Virgil heard more footsteps on the rear staircase.
