Donny's Inferno

by P. W. Catanese

  There was another chariot ahead of them, and ­others arrived from different directions, carrying more red-robed figures and their guards. They rode as far as they could go, until the heaps of shattered stone blocked the road. The council members who had already arrived climbed the new mountain of rubble and headed for a spot where a tall, imposing figure waited, perched on a stone. Even from this distance, Donny saw the monstrous whorl of his skull. It had to be Formido, leader of the council.

  They stepped down from their chariot. Angela tugged off the glove she always wore, revealing the reptilian scales beneath. The pointed fingernails looked like they could punch a hole in a can. She touched the gold bracelet on her wrist but then paused to look at Donny. “You ready for this?”

  “Sure, no problem,” Donny told her, and then he held his breath and clenched his hands.

  She winked and pulled the band off. The transformation began in an instant. Row by row, the diamond-shaped scales swept up her arm, until the effect was hidden by the sleeve of the robe. Her torso stretched. She grew taller before his eyes. A look of pain or pleasure—it was hard to tell which—came across her face, and she arched her neck as the scales swarmed up like thousands of falling dominoes. Sounds came from her body, like bones creaking and soda fizzing. Her chin and cheekbones sharpened. Her brow jutted. Her ears stretched and grew points. Spiked fins rose from her scalp, running over the top and back of her skull. She reached up and gathered her newly blond hair in one hand, just in time for every strand to release from her scalp. She held out her arm and let the locks fall to the ground. It was as easy as shedding a wig.

  The eyes were still her eyes, though they blazed a ­little brighter, a flickering candlelight in the center. Donny finally let out a breath when she looked at him. “This doesn’t bother you?” she asked. She gestured to her face with her pointy fingers.

  The first time he saw it, her demon form was a shock. This time he was ready. It was still terrifying but at the same time transfixing. “It’s still you,” he said. “You look good either way,” he added.

  She punched him softly on the shoulder, careful to curl her fingers and keep those wicked nails from raking his flesh. “Flattery. Always a good strategy.” She looked up at the mound of broken rock. “I’ll join the others now. We’ll summon you when it’s your turn. Wait here until then. Arglbrgl, keep an eye on Donny. If Butch shows up and gives you trouble, give a shout. You understand?”

  “GRRRGRRGL.”

  “Wait,” Donny said. “Is Havoc up there?”

  She nodded. “Right, you wouldn’t recognize him in this form. See Formido, sitting higher than everyone else? That’s Havoc, closer to him.” Donny saw who Angela meant—a slender figure with four horns on his face: two at the top, jutting back, and two at the jaw, jutting dangerously forward. He looked away as Havoc gazed in their direction.

  Angela ruffled Donny’s hair. “Don’t mind him. See you soon.” She headed up to join the others. Like a mountain goat, she hopped from boulder to boulder and finally took a seat far from Havoc Arcanus. Donny found his own rock to sit on. Arglbrgl spent the time circling him, sniffing the air and peering in every direction, now and then puffing himself up for no apparent reason.

  Before long, the rest of the surviving council members arrived and climbed to where the others sat with their robes spread wide, crimson splashes across the dull gray stones.

  Donny watched as the meeting began. Now that they were convened in the open instead of under the dome, he could marvel at their strange appearances. Their skins were silky, gnarled, beaded, or plated. Sails, spines, horns, plates, and spikes jutted from foreheads, temples, and jaws, and one had what looked like a pair of beetle mandibles that grew from his chin like a beard. They were beautiful but grotesque, and fascinating to behold, so the time passed quickly until he saw Angela stand. She pointed directly at him, and waved for him to join them.

  CHAPTER 34

  Donny clambered awkwardly up the mess of stone. He had to use his hands and feet to climb, and occasionally gathered himself for a treacherous leap across a gap. All eyes of the council were on him as he approached, and he felt his heart thump and his nerves jangle.

  It seemed like an hour passed before he stood by ­Angela’s side. The faces that stared down were already intimidating, but a few of the archdemons seemed irritated by how long it had taken him to climb up, or perhaps by the mere presence of a mortal. Havoc’s eyes were narrowed to slits, and his lip curled on one side of his mouth. Formido was more frightening up close—as burly as a gorilla, with scales almost as red as his crimson robes. Heat came off him in waves and distorted the air around him so he looked like a highway mirage.

  “This is Donny Taylor of the mortal realm,” Angela said to the others. “A witness to this terrible crime.”

  “Or accident,” Formido thundered.

  “There was no crime!” Havoc shouted. He sprang to his feet and flung his arms wide. “And no accident, either. Can’t you see what this was? A sign from below! It is the will of Lucifer himself. His return is upon us! This is our last chance to redeem ourselves and restore the Pit of Fire!”

  “Get a grip, you fraudulent buffoon,” said Angela.

  Formido raised a thick clawed hand. “Hold your tongue, Obscura. And you as well, Arcanus. This isn’t the place for your bickering.” Donny’s head sank between his shoulders as Formido turned his way. Like Angela, like all of the archdemons, he had that flicker of candle flame in the middle of each eye. “You. Mortal boy. Tell us what you know.”

  Donny looked at Angela, who smiled and nodded. He had to clear his throat twice and swallow before he eked out his first words. “I . . . I just got a bad feeling.” Once he started, it was easier. He told them how he’d suspected the truth behind Sooth’s final riddle, and the other clues: the theft of the fire, the return of the shreeks who might have carried the fire up to the stalactite, and the release of the clouds that would hide it all from sight. He talked about his glimpse of the burning rock, his race to warn Angela, and how the Jolly Butcher had stood on the bridge with a perfect view of the disaster.

  When he finished, the council members exchanged glances and leaned toward one another to whisper. “Is that everything you have to say?” Formido asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Donny replied.

  “Mortals have such vivid imaginations,” Havoc said. It was easy to spot his allies among the group, because they chuckled at his remark.

  “Most of us would be dead if it weren’t for his ‘imagination,’” Angela retorted. “Everyone except you, of course, Havoc. You were conveniently late for the meeting. Even your friends on the council must be pondering that coincidence.”

  “Fortune favoring the true believer,” Havoc shot back. “Where you see conspiracy, I recognize omens.”

  “Be silent, both of you,” Formido growled. He looked at Donny and pointed back in the direction he’d come. “We are done with you for now, mortal. Be gone.”

  Donny was tempted to say, You’re welcome, but ­Formido and the others were simply too intimidating. Instead he said, “Yes, sir,” and headed back down the pile of rocks.

  When Donny reached the place where Arglbrgl and the chariot were waiting, he found Zig-Zag there as well.

  “How did you fare?” Zig asked.

  “Okay, I guess,” Donny said. He heard voices rise in anger, and glanced back up at the mountain of rubble. “Angela and Havoc really hate each other, don’t they?”

  “GRGRBRGRGL.”

  “They hold opposite beliefs, and so they clash,” said Zag. “But, remember, Havoc is only doing what he believes is right, and there are many who agree.”

  “What does Havoc believe?” Donny asked.

  “Nonsense is what he believes,” said Zig. “Ancient superstition.”

  Zag pinched the bridge of his nose. “Zig, would you kindly let me speak to the boy without inter
ruption? Just this once? You owe me this. Remember, I dozed while you showed him those abominable Caverns of Woe.”

  Zig puffed air from his cheeks. “Very well.”

  Zag put a hand on Donny’s shoulder. “You know about the being who once ruled this underworld, do you not?”

  “You mean Lucifer,” Donny said.

  “Yes. That is the one. The founder. To Havoc and the other believers, our purpose was defined by him long ago. By extinguishing the pit, we defied the founder’s will.”

  “I understand that. But Lucifer is gone,” Donny said. “Angela says he may even be dead.”

  “The founder vanished a century ago—that much is true. But if you ask me, he is too powerful to die. The Merciless believe he merely sleeps, or bides his time, and will return one day. A hundred years is nothing to a being so old. What if he is testing us to see if we would stay true in his absence? When he returns, the believers say, and he sees what we have done, the vengeance he will wreak on the blasphemers will far exceed the torture inflicted on the dead.

  “To Havoc, that is the truth. To him, the reformers have lost faith and turned their backs on the founder. Havoc wants to save himself from Lucifer’s wrath, but he also means to save the rest of us too. That is why he will go to any lengths to see the pit restored and the dead cast back into the flames.”

  Zig sniffed and shook his head. “Donny, do you see why I call this superstitious nonsense? This is not faith. It’s blind adherence to an outdated belief. Havoc and his ilk would have us frozen in time, unable to change, denied the chance to make the underworld a better place. Who can honestly believe that the Pit of Fire, with its mindless suffering and torment, is a better and wiser punishment than the Caverns of Woe? And what does it say about us that we would revel in that torture?”

  “But the pit is the reason we exist,” said Zag.

  “We are the reason we exist!” snapped Zig. “We were given minds so we could always seek a better way!”

  “Zag, are you a believer?” asked Donny. “Do you agree with Havoc?”

  Zag frowned and looked up at the council members arranged on the broken stones, still debating. “I do. In my heart I think the pit should be restored. But I also believe in the rule of law. The council still votes that the caverns shall be used instead of the pit, and I will abide by that ruling, even while I hope it someday may be overturned.” He looked at Zig. “And yet I have to wonder,” Zag said. “What is to become of me, a believer bound to one who does not believe? When judgment comes, how can one be punished and not the other?”

  CHAPTER 35

  Angela returned to her home hours after Donny had gotten back, announcing her arrival with a violent slam of the front door. She was back in human form, this time with red hair fiery enough to match her temper.

  Donny was playing Chutes and Ladders with Tizzy, secretly cheating on her behalf to keep the game close. Before he could ask Angela how it had gone, she spoke. “Bunch of bozos.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing. And nothing will.” She sank into the chair beside the table where they played. “Without more compelling evidence, I doubt they’ll do anything about Havoc. Looks like he’ll get away with it.”

  “Is the inquiry over?” Donny asked.

  “Hardly,” Angela said. She folded her arms and twisted her mouth. “But the rest will happen without me.”

  Donny furrowed his brow. “How come?”

  “Formido says I’m too biased. Of course, I might have given that impression when I punched Havoc in the face.”

  Tizzy had been concentrating on the game, but her head popped up. “You punched him in the face?”

  Angela leaned down and held Tizzy’s chin between her thumb and forefinger. “Yes, I did, and I’m a terrible role model. People mustn’t go punching people, young lady. Unless one person is me and the other is Havoc.”

  Donny thumped his fist on the arm of the chair. “You really can’t take part in the inquiry?”

  “Nope,” she said. “Formido asked me to stay out. I’m thinking I should take a little break from Sulfur.”

  “Oh,” Donny said. He slumped in his seat.

  “Get out of Dodge for a while. Clear my head.”

  “Right,” he said, slumping a little more.

  “I know just what we should do,” Angela said.

  The word we improved Donny’s posture. “What’s that?”

  “Well, those on the council who aren’t complete morons are very grateful to you for saving their lives. They’d like to see you rewarded. Even I want to see you rewarded, despite your boneheaded stunt at my apartment. And I think I know how to do it.”

  Donny looked at her, unable to imagine what she had in mind.

  “There was something you wanted me to do for you,” she hinted, with a little smile.

  “There was?”

  She backhanded his shoulder. “You forgot? It seemed pretty important at the time!”

  He shook his head and raised his palms.

  “Silly Cricket. I’m going to scare your father straight, just like you asked. Go pack some stuff; we might be gone for a couple days.”

  CHAPTER 36

  They arrived at the same Midtown basement room in New York, but the jigsaw-puzzle man wasn’t so startled this time.

  “Look at you: you’ve got it half put together again,” Angela told him. The man grinned back uncomfortably.

  Out on the street, Angela made a call. Donny listened to her side of the conversation, not sure who she was speaking to or why.

  “Hello. It’s me. . . . Yes, of course I know what time it is. Sorry, were you in your jammies? Yes, I agree. That was unfortunate. . . . Right . . . Uh-huh . . . Are you done complaining? Your message said you wanted to meet. . . . By the lions maybe? Swell. It won’t take long. . . . Half an hour okay? Sounds good. Thank you, darling.”

  She hung up and tucked the phone into her bag. “I’m sure you’re wondering,” she said to Donny. “That was a Foo.”

  “A Foo?”

  “F-O-O. Friend of Obscura. One of the people who helps me out with topside stuff. He doesn’t like to say much on the phone, so we always choose a place to meet. It makes me feel like a spy. I adore it. Now follow me.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Didn’t you hear me? By the lions.”

  “I thought you couldn’t go near zoos.”

  “Wrong lions. We’re going to the library.”

  “Oooh,” Donny said. He understood exactly. “Right.”

  • • •

  A pair of marble lions rested on pedestals on either side of the broad steps in front of the New York Public Library. Donny and Angela sat on the steps and waited for her friend to appear. Angela reclined with her elbows on the step above and gazed over her shoulder at the porticoes at the front of the library.

  Donny cleared his throat and asked a question that was on his mind. “Hey, Angela?”

  “Yes, dear?”

  He paused, hoping he wouldn’t offend her. “Which one is the real you? This one or the other one?”

  She arched one of her expressive eyebrows. “You mean my demon form? They’re both me. And if you want to be my friend, you have to appreciate me in every way. At my best and my beast.”

  Angela’s attention was diverted by a man walking toward them down Fifth Avenue. His hair was mostly white, and he looked about sixty years old. He appeared to have dressed quickly, wearing wrinkled slacks, a sweater, and loafers with no socks, but he still looked like the sort of man who played a high-powered lawyer on TV. He had a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. They stood to greet him.

  “Good evening, Miss Obscura,” he said.

  “Howard,” she replied. He was tall, and he had to duck his head for her to kiss his cheek.

  Howard looked at Donny. “This must be
the young man who caused all the fuss the other night.”

  Angela put her arm around Donny and gave him a playful hug. “That’s the little rascal right here! But all is forgiven.”

  “Hmmm,” Howard said. He didn’t sound like he agreed. “Well, it happened, and that’s that. Obviously, you won’t be going back to that apartment. But it’s fine; the tracks are covered. Any investigation into who owns it will hit a dead end. Also, I’ve got a friend in the police department, and he’ll let me know if there’s anything we have to worry about. But it doesn’t look like your pretty face will end up on wanted posters.”

  “Silver lining,” Angela replied.

  “We got lucky, honestly,” Howard said. “The world is changing quickly, Angela. It’s harder to keep secrets. Cameras are everywhere. If you don’t want to be revealed, you have to be more careful.”

  “You betcha.”

  Howard took a phone from the messenger bag. “New phone. Sounds like you need at least one.”

  Angela looked sideways at Donny, who rolled his eyes. “We might,” she said, taking the phone.

  Howard noticed their exchange of glances and shook his head. “Anyway, we’ll wait six months and then set up a new apartment in another part of town. Would the Upper West Side be satisfactory?”

  Angela tipped her head and put a finger beside her chin. “On the park?”

  Howard sighed. “Why not? It’s only money.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Angela said, pumping her fist. “Well, splendid to see you, Howard.”

  “Hold on. One more thing,” Howard said. He glanced at Donny again. “Your friend here. Donald Taylor. Yes, young man, don’t look so surprised. I know who you are, thanks to the police reports. And I did some homework on you.” He turned to Angela. “This boy is a missing person, Miss Obscura. He has a father who is desperate to find him.”