Hell Gate

by Josh Matthews

  Jason spoke quickly. “I know you don’t have a lot of people left—”

  “That’s not the problem,” interrupted Reno. “I haven’t sent teams into Paris for almost three months because it’s too dangerous.”

  “It’s our only chance of closing the Hell Gate.”

  Jeanette leaned forward. Her voice was soft and soothing. “Jason, you have no idea how dangerous Paris has become. The Hell demons you encountered so far are nothing compared to what you’ll find in Paris. Most of the demons that come out of the portal don’t venture beyond the city. Paris is full of monsters.”

  Jason felt his hopes sink. “So you won’t help us?”

  “I didn’t say that,” said Reno. “I have to give it some consideration. You realize that there’s a good chance none of you will come back from this trip? If I send any of my people with you, I’m condemning them to certain death.”

  “I know that. But we have to try.” Jason paused. “I hope you agree with me.”

  “Let me discuss it with the others. I’ll give you my answer in the morning.” Reno stood up from his chair, signifying an end to the conversation. “Until then, please enjoy our hospitality.”

  “We will. Thank you.”

  Reno motioned for Jeanette to follow, and the two disappeared into the kitchen.

  When they were out of earshot, Sasha asked, “Do you think he’ll help us?”

  “I hope so.”

  “You heard them,” said Slava. “Paris is crawling with Hell Spawn. What if they decide not to help?”

  Jason thought for a moment, although he already knew the answer. “Then we continue to Paris without them.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Lucifer rolled onto his back, grateful for the tummy rub from Jeanette. As she gently scratched her fingers up and down his stomach, he twisted from side to side, his tongue drooping out of his mouth in canine ecstasy. Lilith was more cautious. She circled the group from a distance of five feet, her gaze switching from Jeanette to Jason and back. When Jason urged her to go ahead, Lilith inched forward, her neck stretched and her ears flat against her head. Much to Lucifer’s chagrin, Jeanette stopped scratching and gingerly reached out, palm down, to Lilith. The werehound sniffed Jeanette’s hand for several seconds before licking it once. Jeanette moved her hand toward Lilith’s head. The werehound flinched, yet let the young girl proceed. All resistance crumbled when Jeanette began scratching behind Lilith’s ears.

  “So these really are demon dogs?” asked Jeanette.

  “We call them werehounds, but yeah. Lilith changes into something that is a cross between a porcupine and a scorpion, and Lucifer morphs into this scaly, spiky thing I can’t even describe.”

  She looked between the two werehounds. “Which one is Lucifer?”

  “The one on his back with the forlorn eyes because you stopped petting him.”

  Jeanette reached out with her free hand and began scratching Lucifer’s stomach again. He whined with joy and rolled around under her touch. “You say they’re fierce fighters?”

  “I’ve seen Lilith and Lucifer rip apart Nachzehrer like they were rabbits. They can even take down soul vampires.”

  “Where did you find them?”

  Jason chuckled. “Actually, they found me. About five months ago, we were out on a search and destroy mission when we stumbled across them outside of Calais. They were in animal form, and none of us knew the wiser. They followed us back to Mont St. Michel, so I adopted them as pets. They accompanied me every time I left camp. I didn’t realize they were werehounds until three weeks later. On one run, we were ambushed by three soul vampires. We probably would have lost several of our people if these guys hadn’t changed into their demonic form and tore into them, at least the ones going after me. I don’t know what scared me more. Almost being killed, or watching them morph.”

  “I’m surprised you were allowed to keep them.”

  “They had never threatened anyone, so Jacques, our leader, agreed to let them stay as long as they posed no danger. Andre pitched a fit. Thankfully, he lost that one.”

  “Who’s Andre?”

  An image of the wasp stinging Andre in the head and flying off with him crossed Jason’s mind. He quickly forced it out. “He was a friend.”

  “Oh.” Jeanette knew enough to drop the subject. “I’ve never seen werehounds before.”

  “Neither have I. These are the only ones I know of.”

  “They’re not like any of the other Hell Spawn. These guys are gentle.”

  “Doc theorizes that the Nachzehrer are humans condemned to Hell for their sins, so he thinks that’s probably what happened to Lucifer and Lilith.”

  “What type of sin can a dog commit?”

  Jason shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe chasing Jesus’ cat or shitting on God’s front lawn.”

  Jeanette threw her head back and laughed. Not a girly laugh, but a guffaw. Her face lit up when she did. Jason took it all in. The dimples on her cheeks. The bounce of her hair. The way her chest arched out. He couldn’t remember the last time he, or anyone else in Mont St. Michel, had laughed like that. My God, he thought. How could someone living so close to the Hell Gate still enjoy life so much?

  As Jeanette caught her breath, her mood suddenly became serious. “Do you believe in God?”

  The question caught Jason off guard. “Do you?”

  “Not anymore. I mean, if God did exist, how could he allow the Hell Gates to happen?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe we’re being punished.”

  “So you do believe?”

  “I guess so. I never believed in God before. My mother w….” Jason stopped himself, not wanting to admit to Jeanette that his mother created the Hell Gates and that maybe the world was being punished because of her actions. “My mother wasn’t religious and never raised me as such. What else can I think, though? We’ve seen Hell. And if there’s a Hell, there must be a Heaven. So it only makes sense that there must be a God.”

  “Then that means there also must be a Satan?”

  As if trying to pick up the mood, Lilith stepped up to Jeanette and licked her face. The young girl squealed and held the werehound close, hugging her neck. They fell over backward, with Lilith landing on top of Jeanette.

  Jason jumped up. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” Jeanette giggled. “Get her off of me. She’s heavy.”

  Lilith responded by licking even harder, her tail wagging so hard it slapped against her legs. Now Lucifer rolled over and joined in, lapping Jeanette’s other cheek. Jason only half-heartedly tried to pull them off. When he yanked on Lilith’s thighs, the werehound shifted her weight, knocking him over. Jason tumbled on top of Jeanette, and she quickly wrapped an arm around his waist. Their laughter cut through the underground bunker.

  The laughter also sliced into Sasha’s heart.

  She stood by the door leading into the room where Jason and Jeanette were playing with the werehounds, hidden by the wall as she peered around the jamb. She had been searching for Jason so she could thank him for coming to her rescue that afternoon. That was only a pretense, though. She had decided to tell Jason how she truly felt about him. Petra’s suggestion a few nights previous that the rules about dating had died along with everything else in society had made sense. She had given Jason his space after the incident with Christophe and the events in Falaise, not wanting to add to his confusion. However, a special urgency was created that afternoon with the arrival of Jeanette. That little flirt infuriated Sasha, though nowhere near as much as the way Jason fawned all over her. Sasha realized that if she didn’t make a move soon, someone like Jeanette would steal him away.

  As Sasha neared the room, she knew it may already be too late. Jason had never laughed that way around her. It sounded content, a rare quantity in the Hell Gate world. Her worst fears were confirmed when she peered around the doorway and saw the two of them rolling around on the floor, Jeanette’s arm clutched around Jason, the two werehounds jumping into the
fray with their tails wagging. It reminded her of back home in the days before the portals, of the good times with her family, and of a life that she would never get back. She could tell by the gleam in Jason’s eyes and the way he smiled that he felt a genuine affection toward Jeanette. Sasha had seen him look at her that way on dozens of occasions, and each time had scorned his advances. What hurt most was that it easily could have been her on the floor in Jason’s arms. She and Jeanette were so much alike—two beautiful, tough, strong-willed young women who had so much to offer. The only difference was that Sasha had squandered her one chance at happiness in life while Jeanette embraced it. The emptiness in Sasha’s heart felt like a void. Her chest restricted, and it seemed as if the life had been sucked out of her.

  Sasha quietly made her way down the hall, leaving the sounds of other people’s joy behind her. She contemplated heading back to the community room to rest, although she knew she would never sleep the way she felt. Instead, she made her way to Jeanette’s room to check on Petra.

  Doc stood by the bed, his fingers pressed against Petra’s carotid artery.

  “How is she?”

  The expression on his face told her the answer. “An infection has set in. She’s running a fever, and her pulse is elevated.”

  “How long…?” Sasha could not bring herself to finish the question.

  “Three days, maybe four. She’s very strong. This time, that’ll work against her.”

  “Is she in pain?”

  “She would be if I hadn’t shot her up with morphine. I don’t have enough to keep her drugged until the end. Jason is going to have to make a decision soon.”

  “Good luck with that,” Sasha mumbled.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” Sasha stepped over to the bed and took Petra’s hand. She could feel the fever through her fingers. “Can I stay with her for a while?”

  “I don’t see why not.” Doc started to leave and paused at the door. “Call me if she comes around.”

  “I will.”

  Sasha waited until Doc had left. When he did, she placed her head against Petra’s chest and cried.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Andre kept slipping into and out of a state of semi-awareness. He couldn’t even call it consciousness because, during those fleeting moments when he emerged from his stupor, all he could say for certain was that he was alive. Everything else seemed to have been wiped from his mind. Andre couldn’t feel his body, and none of his limbs responded when he attempted to move them. He had no idea how long he had been out, or how long he had been here. He didn’t even know where “here” was. Earlier he had been able to open his eyes by sheer force of will, yet the effort exhausted him so much he passed out. Not that it did much good, though. He could barely make out his surroundings because of the dim light.

  In his more lucid moments, Andre recalled the attack by the giant wasps, of being knocked from his horse and struggling with one of the insects, and of having it drive its stinger into his skull. After that, his body became paralyzed, and his memory faded. He had a fuzzy recollection of being carried away by the wasp, and another of the wasp perched on his chest, with something stabbing his stomach. At least he thought of it as stabbing. He had felt no pain, just an intense pressure pushing against his abdomen. Andre felt the same sensation again, only this time pushing outward. Thank God his nerves had been numbed by the wasp’s toxin otherwise, he knew he would be in agony.

  Andre tried moving his arms and legs to no avail. None of his limbs would respond. Instead, he concentrated on opening his eyes. After several seconds of straining, the lids parted enough to allow him to take in his surroundings. Soft white light filtered in from above, probably from the moon. His eyes scanned the area. Wherever he was, it was small; only a few yards square with stone walls and wooden beams. He focused on something large and dark directly in front of him. He recoiled in terror, or at least his mind did, fearing it might be the wasp. The object sat still and silent. After a few moments, he recognized the shadow in front of him as a huge bell. As Andre slowly put the pieces together, he realized that the wasp must have brought him back to the bell tower of St. Gervais.

  But why?

  The pushing sensation against his abdomen grew more intense. Andre tried to look down. His body did not respond. Summoning all his effort, he forced his head to lower until his chin rested on his chest. The skin around his abdomen had extended to five times its normal size, and it bulged as something moved beneath the surface. A stinger ripped through the skin and tore a six-inch-long gap up his chest. A wasp the size of a football pushed its way through. The hole widened, and more insects exited, nearly a dozen in total. They crawled over his body, down his legs, and across his chest. One scurried across his face. Andre screamed in terror, but only internally since his vocal chords were paralyzed. Panicking, he wanted to shake them off, yet his body refused to move. Andre watched as the wasps maneuvered around his torn-open abandon and formed a circle around the hole. One by one, they dug their heads into his body and began tearing off chunks of flesh with their mandibles.

  Andre lost what little rationality remained as he descended into insanity. In his psyche, he began laughing maniacally.

  Jason woke up with a start. Terror gripped him, and his heart beat frantically. Instinctively, he brushed at the wasps devouring his body, stopping only when he realized nothing was there. Slowly the fear subsided, although his heart still pounded and every nerve in his body seemed on fire. Thank God, he thought. It was only a nightmare.

  Unlike a dream, however, these images stayed with him and became more intense. Even though safe inside the bunker, Jason felt the terror and desperation welling up inside of him. He realized that what he experienced was much worse than a nightmare. He had seen a vision of Andre’s death.

  “Are you okay?”

  The question came from Sasha, who was in the sleeping bag beside him. She lay on her side resting on one elbow. Her eyes expressed tenderness and concern.

  “I’m fine,” he snapped, not knowing how to deal with what he had experienced.

  “Are you sure? You cried out a second ago.”

  Jason noticed that most of the others were also awake and staring at him. He spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “Everything’s okay. I had a really bad dream.”

  One by one the others rolled over and went back to sleep.

  “I’m here if you need me,” said Sasha as she slid back into her sleeping bag, though this time, she made sure to face him.

  Jason lowered his head back onto his pillow and pretended to sleep. He attempted to push the vision from his mind, yet it remained etched in his memory. He doubted he would be able to doze off after this.

  One nagging thought competed with the nightmarish images in his mind. By not killing Andre as the wasp carried him away, he had inadvertently condemned his friend to a fate more horrible than death.

  Jason vowed he would not make that mistake again.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Breakfast was as enticing as dinner the previous evening, with bacon and eggs plus assorted fruit. The newcomers ate heartily, none of them having seen a spread like this for months. Jason pushed the food around on his plate, occasionally sampling something, his mind still bothered by last night’s vision. The image of the baby wasps ripping through Andre’s stomach had become embedded in his mind as if it had happened to him. In a way it had, since he had channeled the Russian’s last terror-filled moments. Jason did not even want to imagine how unnerving the episode would have been if he also had been able to channel the pain Andre endured.

  Jason realized that he sat by himself. Everyone from his group had broken off in their own cliques and chatted while they ate, or were seated with the Enclavers, making new friends. The only ones paying any attention to him were Sasha and Doc, who sat with Neal two tables over. Sasha mouthed, “Are you all right?” Jason forced a smile and nodded.

  At that moment, Reno entered the dining hall. Jeanette was a f
ew steps behind him. On seeing Jason, they approached the table and sat opposite him. Doc and Sasha joined them. From across the hall, Slava and Haneef excused themselves and approached. Reno waited until they had all gathered around the table. “I consulted with some of the others last night about your request to provide an escort into Paris.”

  “And?” asked Jason.

  “We all agree that we can’t afford to send any of our people with you.”

  Jason made no attempt to hide his disappointment. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “To be honest, we’re not sure your plan will work. There’s more Hell Spawn in Paris than you can imagine, including demons you haven’t encountered yet that make the undead and soul suckers seem tame. Even if you make it to Notre Dame, we’re not convinced your device will succeed in closing the Hell Gate.”

  “Understandable.” Hell, thought Jason. I’m not even sure if it’ll work.

  “We’ve lost too many people already on our raids into Paris. It’s why we don’t go there anymore. However, we will provide you with support. There’s a fortified warehouse outside of Nanterre, near where the red line for the Paris Metro ends. It served as a layover when we used the subway system to enter the city.”

  “Why the subway?” asked Slava.

  “It’s the safest way to enter Paris. There are fewer Hell Spawn underground than on the streets.” Reno paused. “I’ll send along a team of four who will stay behind at the warehouse and mind your horses. They’ll wait forty-eight hours. If you’re not back by then, they will have orders to leave your horses and return to the Enclave.”

  “Aren’t you worried about letting so few people travel the countryside alone?” Sasha asked.

  “Not many Hell Spawn have wandered this area for the past few months. It’s a risk, but an acceptable one. It’s all we can offer.”

  “We’ll take it,” said Jason. “Thank you.”

  Jeanette cleared her throat. Reno ignored her. The girl reached over and nudged her uncle on the shoulder.