Donny's Inferno

by P. W. Catanese

  Donny pressed his lips together to keep them from trembling.

  “Before Butch puts an end to you, I think you should experience the flames,” Havoc said. “You can’t appreciate them until you do! Are you ready?”

  Donny shook his head. “No.”

  Havoc brought the jar down to where Donny’s hand was clamped on the arm of the chair. Donny made a fist, but Havoc uncurled it easily, and held the fingers out. He brought the jar toward Donny’s fingers, and when they were mere inches away the flames snapped forward and latched on.

  Donny’s head rocked back. His legs jolted and kicked madly. It felt like a bolt of lightning had struck him in the hand, surged through his nervous system, and lit up his brain. He clamped his teeth together, trapping a scream inside his mouth, and rolled his head from side to side. Pain was the only thing that existed, the purest agony he’d ever known.

  Havoc pulled the jar back, and the pain vanished instantly. Donny trembled, all his muscles turned to jelly, and moaned softly.

  “Open your eyes and look at your hand,” Havoc said. Donny shook his head. With his thumb and a finger, Havoc pried open one of Donny’s eyelids. “Come on, mortal. Take a look. I know what you’re thinking: You are sure the flesh has been burnt away. But behold! You are unscarred!”

  Donny looked. It was true. His hand was almost a blur because it shook so hard, and he saw it through tears, but the flesh was undamaged. He stared, horrified, at the jar in Havoc’s hands. The flames still groped for his fingers, hungry for flesh.

  “See?” Havoc said. “I could do that to you for a year, and nothing would burn. Shall we try again?”

  Donny turned his head away, unable to bear the thought of another second of that agony. How right Angela was, to put a stop to it. He rocked from side to side in the chair, trying to break away, but the clamps on his arms held firm.

  A voice called from above. “GRGRBRGRRR!” Donny looked up. Arglbrgl was there, peering through the grate that covered the opening of the cone. His bristles were up. He spat with fury and tugged at the grate.

  Havoc sniffed. “Isn’t that Angela’s imp? Butch, go tell the guards to dispose of him. And remind them to keep their eyes open!”

  As Butch trotted away, his eerie high-pitched giggle rolled off the walls of the corridor.

  “Hello there!” Havoc called up to Arglbrgl. “Would you like to come in? Wait right there—I’ll send my friends to fetch you!”

  “GRRBRRGRR!”

  “Arglbrgl, don’t!” Donny shouted. “Run!”

  Odd sounds came from the hall where Butch had disappeared. First the groan of ancient hinges as Butch opened the door. And then a shout, abruptly silenced. Next came a series of thumps as an irregular object rolled out of the dark corridor and into the red light of the central chamber. It tumbled across the stone floor until it thumped against Donny’s legs and rocked to a stop.

  Donny sucked in a sharp breath when he saw what it was. The head of the Jolly Butcher stared up. Mist flooded from his neck. With a strenuous effort of his jaw, Butch managed to rotate his head enough to look Havoc in the eye.

  “Er, Havoc?” said Butch.

  Havoc didn’t answer—he just glared down the hall from which the head had just been bowled.

  “You’ll never believe who I just saw,” Butch’s head said.

  “What are you babbling about?” Havoc spoke to Butch, but his gaze was locked on that dim corridor.

  Butch cackled so hard, his eyes squeezed shut. He sounded more unhinged than ever. “Oh! Of course! I should have thought of it sooner!”

  Havoc didn’t respond. He backed toward the wall behind him, still watching the corridor.

  “Angela’s guard, Echo—that imp with the giant mouth,” Butch said through his laughter. “I just remembered what his old job was, in the pit!”

  Havoc’s lips pulled back and bared sharp teeth. Against the wall stood a long trident with three barbed points. He wrapped his free hand around it, and kept the jar of flames in the other.

  “Echo used to swallow the dead whole then spit them out. So now I’m thinking, just before the fire hit Angela—”

  “Shut up, you idiot,” Havoc snarled.

  Donny heard steps from that passageway, scraping across the stone. His heart thumped so fast, he thought it might burst. A shape appeared from the shadows and stepped awkwardly into the hall.

  It was the rest of Butch, a body without the head, dressed in the bloody butcher’s apron and striped shirt. The arms reached out and groped blindly at the air. Mist wafted from the top of the neck, just above his red bow tie. It gave him the look of a snuffed candle.

  “Over here!” Butch called out, and the body dropped to its hands and knees and crawled toward the head.

  Donny glared down at Butch’s face. “You dropped the fire on Angela,” Donny said. “And you killed Sooth, too, didn’t you?”

  Butch snorted, suppressing another laugh, and winked at Donny. The body was almost there, reaching for its head. Donny clamped his teeth together, drew his leg back, and, with a furious grunt, kicked the head as hard as he could. The sound of Butch’s laughter rose and fell as the head tumbled across the floor.

  Donny hadn’t aimed it, but the head rolled all the way to the deep, flame-spouting crevice in the center of the chamber. With its last revolution, it teetered on the edge, like a golf ball over the hole. Butch felt himself tipping over, and his eyes bulged, but he went on laughing as he dropped over the edge and into the flames. The laughter faded into nothing as he plummeted to depths unknown. The rest of his body crawled on hands and knees all the way to the crevice and followed the head down. The last Donny saw of Butch was his legs kicking as they slipped from sight.

  A second figure stepped out of the corridor. Havoc gasped and dropped the jar. It shattered on the floor, and the fire spilled out.

  “Hello, Cricket,” Angela said. She was in her serpent form, terrifying and beautiful, dressed in leather armor with a silver breastplate. There was a sword in a scabbard by her side.

  Donny tried to speak, but with his breath hitching, all he managed was “Hi.”

  “Havoc. You look surprised,” Angela said.

  Havoc took the trident in both hands. “I am.”

  “I finally got to see your place,” Angela said, glancing around. “It’s cozy.” She put a hand on the hilt of her sword.

  Donny saw something bright move near his feet, and his joy evaporated for a moment. The flames that spilled from the shattered jar had composed themselves into a liquid spidery shape. They crawled toward him and reached out hungrily. He lifted his feet off the ground and put his heels on the seat.

  Angela drew her sword out of its scabbard. It was enveloped in white-hot flame, and it filled the room with flickering light.

  Havoc sneered. “Didn’t know you had one of those.”

  “Family heirloom,” she said. “For special occasions.”

  Havoc tightened his grip on the trident. “Shall we?”

  “Maybe we should,” Angela said. She stepped closer. “Echo is dead because of you. You plotted to destroy the council. And you tried to kill me.”

  “I haven’t finished trying,” Havoc said.

  Angela swept the sword through the air. It left a trail of flame in its wake. “You’re such a card,” she said. “You almost had the council convinced, you know. But here’s the truth. There were no omens. There were no signs of Lucifer’s return. There was just a murderous, misguided fanatic.” She took a step forward and leveled the sword at Havoc.

  His mouth bent into a sneer. “I did what had to be done.” He thrust the trident forward, meaning to swat the sword aside, but Angela swirled the sword, evading the points, and leveled it once more.

  “You did it, all right,” she replied. “And that’s why nobody would blame me for letting the fire out of you.” She
lowered the sword, stepped back, and relaxed. “But I’d rather see what the council wants with you, once they find out what you’ve done.”

  Havoc bent at the knees, ready to spring. “Perhaps they never will find out.”

  “You’re going to hate the next part,” Angela said. She called over her shoulder. “Come in, everyone.”

  Red-robed figures filed into the room and gathered behind Angela, staring furiously at Havoc. They were the surviving members of the council.

  “Havoc Arcanus,” rumbled Formido, looming above them all. “You and I believe in the same cause. But your methods cannot be abided.”

  “See, Havoc? Even your allies are disgusted,” Angela said. “Now put your silly weapon down. You know I’m stronger. You can’t hurt me.”

  Havoc’s eyes bugged, and his mouth curled in a sneer. “I know how to hurt you,” he said. He brought the trident over one shoulder and threw it like a spear, straight at Donny.

  Donny threw himself back, but moved only inches as he struck the back of the chair. There was no way to avoid the three-pointed weapon as it flew toward his chest. A white-hot light flashed before his eyes as he heard a harsh clang of metal on metal and felt a sharp pain.

  Angela’s flaming sword had swept down, catching the trident between two of its prongs. The longest point had pierced Donny’s skin, but not terribly deep. The trident clattered to the ground.

  Havoc turned and headed for the wall, where other weapons were mounted. But with shocking speed, the red-robed figures swarmed past Donny. They pounced on Havoc and lifted him off the ground. He was carried out of the chamber, held by his arms and legs as he thrashed and shouted terrible threats. Lucifer would return. The Merciless would seize control. The pit would be reignited. They would all be annihilated. Finally Havoc saw Angela and twisted himself around to shout at her. “And you, Obscura! You and your friends! You will suffer most of all!”

  Angela gave him a mock salute. “Go smite yourself.”

  Once they were gone, Havoc’s threats echoing into silence, Angela and Donny were left alone. She walked to where he sat. The flames were still crawling up the leg of the chair, reaching for Donny’s foot. She peeled them off and tossed them into the crevice.

  “You’re hurt,” she said. She looked at the red stain that surrounded the torn fabric on Donny’s shirt.

  “I don’t think it’s too bad.”

  “We’ll take you to the doctor though.” She put a warm hand on his cheek.

  Donny trembled, this time from relief instead of terror. “Echo really saved you?”

  She nodded. “My darling Echo. I barely knew what was happening. He just stuffed me into his mouth when the flames hit.”

  “I’m glad you’re alive,” Donny said.

  “You should be. I’m your best friend, aren’t I? Say that I am, or I’ll leave you here to rot. Say it right now.”

  “You’re my best friend.”

  “Swell. Now let’s get these manacles off and go see Doctor Stupid.”

  CHAPTER 46

  Angela was away for much of the next few days, dealing with further inquiries into Havoc’s treachery. She came home each evening after visiting the mortal realm for takeout food, and told Donny what was happening: Havoc refused to reveal who had helped him plot the destruction of the council; more guards had been assigned to the barricade that kept the Merciless trapped inside the Depths; and discussions were ongoing about who would replace Havoc and those who had been slain on the council.

  Donny was fine with the slow pace. He needed it to recover from his ordeal in Havoc’s lair, and especially from his exposure to the Flames of Torment. Sometimes he woke up thrashing and screaming in his bed, his mind filled with a vivid, almost physical memory of the pain. During the day it was good to pass the time with Tizzy. They played games, and he read her old Batman comics.

  A week later he was woken by Angela in the middle of the night.

  Donny blinked and dug grit from his eyes. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s your dad,” she said.

  Donny sprang up, electrified. “My dad?”

  “He’s here.”

  “Here? What do you mean here? If he’s here, that means—”

  Angela nodded. “Sorry, Cricket. Get dressed and meet me downstairs.”

  Donny ran down the stairs a minute later, still pulling his shirt over his head. “How did you know?”

  “Howard got a message to me.”

  Donny’s brain felt numb, his thoughts muddled. “Then . . . what? Where is he now? In the caverns?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet. We managed to find him and take him aside. Come on. I have a chariot waiting.”

  • • •

  The chariot clattered through the dim Sulfur night, only a few wisps of the fiery clouds lighting their way. Donny stood beside Angela as they rode, and she kept an arm around his shoulder.

  “What happened to him?” he asked.

  “I don’t know exactly. Howard didn’t give me a lot of detail.”

  “Was it an accident? Was he sick?”

  She looked at him, bit her bottom lip, and shook her head.

  They rode another mile in silence.

  “How am I doing?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m trying to be sad on your behalf and comfort you. Is it working? Am I a good friend?”

  Donny didn’t think he was capable of a smile just then. But he was. “Yeah. You’re doing swell.”

  • • •

  From a half mile away, Donny recognized his father outside the mouth of the Caverns of Woe: tall, athletic, and like a movie star in his fine Italian suit. Zig-Zag was with him. Donny’s father heard the chariot coming, and his face transformed when he saw Donny. He sprinted over to meet them as the chariot rolled to a stop, glancing for a moment at the remarkable long-legged runner who had pulled the vehicle.

  “Donny,” his father cried. He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around his son. “It’s true—they do have you! Did they hurt you? I tried to be good. I tried to save you.”

  “Save me?” Donny said. He looked at Angela, who just shrugged back. “I don’t need saving. Angela, what did you tell him? Dad, what did she tell you?”

  His father glanced at Angela, and then his eyes returned to her for a longer look. He seemed confused at first, and then his jaw dropped and he sucked in a great breath of air. He lurched to his feet. “It’s her!” he said.

  “Nice to be remembered,” Angela said.

  “It’s all right, Dad,” Donny said.

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Angela sniped. Donny frowned at her, and then he reached out and took his father’s cold, waxy hand.

  Benny tried to push Donny behind him. “She’s a demon, Donny. A monster.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Donny said. He squirmed back in front. “And she’s a major pain sometimes too. But, Dad, you have to tell me: What did she say when she went to our house?”

  Benny looked at her, and back at Donny, blinking madly. “She . . . she said that you were here. In Hell. She said that they had you, and that you were burning, in the flames. She told me if I didn’t change my ways . . . if I wasn’t a good man . . . that you’d suffer until the end of time.”

  Donny looked at Angela, his head wagging. “Well, that was a lie.”

  Angela pinched a finger and thumb close together, almost touching, and mouthed the words, Small one.

  “Why’d you do that?” Donny asked her.

  “Hey, you asked me to make him go straight.” She folded her arms. “That seemed like a surefire way get it done. I figured he might care more about what happens to you than what happens to him. Isn’t that what human parents do?”

  Benny held Donny by the shoulders. His voice fell to a whisper. “What? Donny, what? I don’t understa
nd.”

  “I’m not in any danger, Dad. I wasn’t in the flames. But . . . well, that’s Angela over there. You saw what she is. I thought maybe she could scare you into being good.”

  Donny felt his father’s arms tremble. “You sent her to me?”

  Donny nodded. “I was right outside the house, Dad. I watched it happen. I wanted her to warn you, so you didn’t end up here.”

  Benny let go of Donny. He looked from Angela to Donny and back again, trying to absorb what he’d been told. Finally he breathed deeply and lowered his head. “I see. I get it. Thank you for trying. I . . . I did my best, Donny. After she came, I was better. I was as good as I could be.”

  “I heard what you did, Dad. I know you tried.”

  Benny kneeled in front of Donny. “I did it for you. When I thought they were making you suffer . . . Donny, you know I care about you more than anything, right?”

  Donny couldn’t talk. His eyes were burning. He sniffed, mashed his lips together, and nodded.

  Benny hugged him again, for a long while, and then he stood and looked at Angela.

  “So, we didn’t expect you so soon,” she said. “What happened?”

  Benny thought about that for a moment, and his eyes widened. He gritted his teeth and put a hand on the back of his head, probing. Then he looked closely at his palm and fingers but didn’t seem to find anything. He shivered a little from a terrible memory. “You get into business with the wrong people, sometimes they don’t want you to get out.”

  “Ah,” Angela said, nodding. “Well, don’t worry. Whoever punched your ticket is probably not too far behind you.”

  Benny sighed. “Now what happens?”

  “The judgment. The punishment,” she told him.

  “Will it be bad?”

  “Won’t be a picnic.”

  Donny watched as his father tried to come to terms with his fate. Benny stood straight, took a deep breath, and tugged the bottom of his jacket. He looked at Donny and smiled weakly. “I tried to change at the end. I know it wasn’t for long. But I was a different guy, no question about it. It’s funny, you can actually do a lot of good in a small amount of time. Will that make any difference?”