by Tim Marquitz
status increase if it were to work out that way, I wasn’t sure either of us could handle so much raw power all at once. We could be committing suicide and wouldn’t even know it until it was too late. I sighed, unable to think of a way around it, nodding at Katon to let him know I agreed.
Nothing like a good game of Russian Roulette to take your mind off your troubles.
“In theory, it resolves your issue with Gabriel and gives us the best shot at having some small measure of success. If Glorius is gone, Armageddon is off the table, for a little while at least.” He turned to face Scarlett.
“Are you going to have a problem with this?”
She met his gaze, but I could see her eyes were moist. “I’ll do what needs to be done.” She was a trooper.
“I guess that’s it.” He looked to me. “Gather what you need and meet me at the receiving room in twenty minutes.” Without another word, he left to prepare. My eyes met Scarlett’s. “You ready for this?”
She shrugged. “As ready as I can be.” I shared her sentiment.
I waved her to the door and let her go first. I figured if we were on our way to die, I was gonna get one last good look at her leather-clad ass before I went. It’d be the closest thing to Heaven I would see before Hell came to call.
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Into the Mouth of Hell
We arrived in Hell, just inside the cavern of Lucifer’s private chambers. Alone in the room, we let loose a collective sigh of relief as our entrance went unnoticed.
Little room for error, I surveyed the scene. With a mixture of trepidation and relief, I noticed the carved archway behind us, which led out into the common area of the Ninth Plane, was open. The massive slabs of stone, which had been used to seal the chambers, were missing, flickering light filtering in from the outside, illuminating the chamber in soft yellows. I gave the thumbs up sign, letting Katon and Scarlett know we were in the right place. Asmoday had to be here. My guns drawn, I led the way.
I felt the tug of emotion as I crept through my uncle’s quarters. Every piece of furniture, every book, even every painting reminded me of the times I’d spent here, listening to Lucifer tell me the way of the world. In my head, I could still hear his deep voice echoing through the rooms as he explained the intricacies of Hell. In his best Pinhead impersonation—he loved the Hellraiser movies—he would tell me of his days in Heaven and of the Fall. He was my own private rock star. I loved spending time with him here. Page 261
Now with him gone, the place felt hollow, like a grave that’d been dug up and left open, the corpse long gone. I felt like a thief, sneaking through my uncle’s chambers. For the first time in my life, I felt unwanted there. That was hard to cope with.
But with no time to think about the past, its maddening touch both depressive and bleak, I sped my pace and hurried toward the sanctum. As we traveled the long, circuitous route, I glanced back now and again to ensure Scarlett and Katon were still behind me, that they hadn’t lost their nerve and dropped off. Resolute, they were always there. Strengthened by their commitment, my own wavering with every step, I continued on.
At last we came to the sanctum God had gifted my uncle. The cavernous entryway was like the mouth of a mythical dragon gaping wide, waiting to swallow us whole. Its upper lip disappeared into the shadows that hovered near the roof. Jagged rocks ran the length of it, each a sharpened tooth, circling down to a point that sunk into the floor. Only a narrow corridor running down the center was clear of the teeth, the flooring stained a deep crimson giving the impression of a lolling tongue. The almost imperceptible scuffling of my companion’s feet, which had shadowed me the entire way, ceased suddenly as they looked up in awe at the doorway. I laughed inside. I’d done the exact same thing the first time I saw it.
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Taking advantage of the pause, I focused my attention beyond the entryway. From within, a rhythmic thump could be heard, a deep droning beat that was focused by the door and reverberated out toward us. Guttural moans drifted along on the undercurrent of the sound. I could hear the misery and torment in their raw cries, their groans a dirge. I had an idea as to who one of the voices belonged to—Glorius—but I was hard pressed to imagine who the other might be. I figured I’d find out when we got inside.
Seeing no point in delaying the inevitable any further, giving my doubts time to fester and sound the retreat, I crept forward, waving Scarlett and Katon along. At the back end of the tongue, I was glad to see Asmoday had set no guards. I thanked my uncle for having the foresight to keep his lieutenants in the dark as I inched closer.
I reached the edge of the door and peered inside, only a tiny piece of the room visible from where I stood. I was shocked by what I saw.
Embedded halfway into the stone wall was The Gray, Henry McConnell. Upright, spread-eagle, and naked at approximately ten feet from the floor, the entire back half of his body was missing as though he had melted into the rock. His face was contorted in agony, mouth and eyes frozen wide with horror. His bruised face, beard, and body were caked in dried blood, which broke off and fluttered down in dark flakes as he Page 263
squirmed. Wisps of light drifted up from his eyes, nose, and mouth, to fade away within the obsidian cloud that rumbled just above his head, vibrating the walls. His was the other voice I’d heard as we approached. I took a closer look, immediately regretting my morbid curiosity. Sickened, I turned away, trying to expunge the image from my mind. The drifting lights came not only from his face, but from every visible orifice of his body. Tendrils of illumination also leaked from his ears, his nose, and even oozed from the tip of his dick as though he were orgasming a sunbeam in slow motion. Even worse, it was obvious the light had substance, his flesh shifting and stretching painfully to accommodate its passage.
As much as it would upset me to see anyone suffer such horrific torture, I couldn’t find in it in me to feel sorry for McConnell. He’d known this was coming and if he’d had his way, it would be Rahim buried in the wall, in his place. Sad as it was to admit, that thought made it just a little easier to stomach what I’d seen. I still didn’t like it, but it couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.
Scarlett, anxious to get on with it, went to look around me. I stepped in her way.
“You don’t want to see it. Trust me,” I whispered. The look in my eyes must have been convincing. She stared at me for a second, backing down without argument. Katon didn’t even bother to try. Page 264
After I steeled myself, I moved even closer to the edge of the door so I could see further into the room. I purposely avoided looking at McConnell, my eyes half closed as they swung past, ignoring the nearby shelves with my uncle’s belongings piled atop them. Once all that had moved to my peripheral vision, McConnell out of sight, I peeked once more.
What I saw was even worse.
Stretched out inside a silvered pentagram etched onto the floor was a man who I could only presume to be Glorius. Like McConnell, he was also naked. His muscular arms and legs were bound to the rock floor with the magic-nullifying manacles, the cuffs glowing bright white like they’d just been removed from a blacksmith’s forge. I could see tiny drops of something leaking out from inside the cuffs, dripping slowly to the floor. A small puddle of the waxy substance coalesced on the rock beneath him. I remembered the other sites and a shudder ran down my spine as I realized it was his flesh that was being melted away from his wrists. Unable to bear the sight, I examined the rest of his body. I immediately wished I hadn’t. One of these days I’ll learn to keep my curiosity in check.
Pustulant boils sprung up all along his skin, each easily the size of a quarter. They rippled like a churning storm-driven ocean, bubbling up with vile, blackened pus that seeped from their bursting heads. For each Page 265
which spewed its repugnant load, tiny volcanoes of sickness and rot, another rose up to take its place in an endless parade of gurgling putrescence. Unable to stomach any more, I looked to his face. Though hard to see beneath the wild mass of his
blond hair, I spied the misery carved there in deep lines. Yellowish-gold tears streamed from his narrow eyes. They trailed down his cheeks in waves, staining his flesh in bright streaks. His face was scrunched as he fought against what must have been excruciating pain. His teeth were bared, snapping together in a frenzied staccato. Though he seemed to be screaming, little sound came from his throat. I had no doubt he’d screeched it raw, the vocal chords so damaged they could only produce a senseless groan. His head thrashed about, swaying from side to side without rhythm, squirming to be free. The muscles beneath his boiling flesh rippled with strength as he fought against his binds. I didn’t care what Gabriel had claimed, one look at Glorius’s tortured face made it clear to me he wasn’t accepting his fate peacefully. He was fighting his bondage with all of his might. There was no way Glorius was a willing accomplice in Asmoday’s plans, he was a victim.
I sighed. That was a twist I hadn’t foreseen coming into this.
As if to reinforce my presumption, I heard Gabriel’s voice call out to the angel. Page 266
“Be still, Glorius. Put aside your anger and accept your fate. Your struggling changes nothing. The end is at hand. Let us finish the ritual without distraction so you may find your peace.”
A shimmering white light settled over Glorius, the manacle cuffs flaring up. The angel’s head snapped back and slammed into the stone floor with a dull crack and lay there as though being held by some unseen force. His squirming arms and legs struggled against the light, yet they too succumbed, sinking to the floor to twitch helplessly. Though pressed down, Glorius still fought. Every muscle in his body surged as he strained against the restraining magic. For several seconds it looked as though he might win out, his limbs lifting away from the floor, battling the pressure to stay down. Then, I heard a muffled snap and saw his arm bend back at an awkward angle. Mouthing a scream, his resistance crumbled. His body slammed once more to the floor and he lay shivering, writhing. Behind me, Scarlett gasped. Having snuck up alongside me while I was distracted, she had seen Glorius’s arm break. Her agonized voice carried out into the room.
Any chance we had of catching Asmoday and Gabriel off guard died on the vine. All eyes in the room turned to us.
Gabriel sneered, rage burning in his cheeks. “I should have known you’d fail me, Asmoday.” His hands Page 267
glowed with shimmering white light, yet he didn’t move to attack. He did, however, throw up a spell. The air around Glorius twisted and warped, vomiting color like a demented kaleidoscope. The space between him and us was instantly distorted, so much so I could make little out of the entire back half of the room. My stomach tightened into hard knots as I recognized what he’d cast, its magic altering the very nature of the affected part of the room. So much for my guns.
I’d hoped to take Glorius out from a distance, avoiding a close brawl with his captors, but Gabriel had ruined that idea with his spell. Anything that struck the whirling shield, which was smaller than a man and faster than a turtle, would be reflected away uselessly by the colorful maelstrom. With that, Gabriel had effectively cut our options in half. If we were gonna kill Glorius, we’d have to do it up close and personal, and that was really gonna suck. The last thing I wanted to do was murder the guy while he watched it happen. It was a good thing I’m part devil, because this was the kind of shit that gets you sent to Hell. Asmoday just stood there oblivious to what his partner was doing, his eyes wide with surprise. He stared at us, saying nothing as I imagine he tried to figure out how we knew where to find him. I saw sudden realization dawn on his face. Appearing crestfallen, I watched as he struggled with the fact Lucifer had Page 268
betrayed him, favoring me over his own lieutenant. The look on his face warmed my heart, but I didn’t get the chance to enjoy it. Scarlett, enraged, shoved me out the way and leapt at Gabriel, her arms outstretched, hands balled into fists. Stumbled, I couldn’t stop her.
She streaked through the air like a missile, ramming her fists into Gabriel’s face. Judging by the offended look on it, he seemed more galled she’d actually gone and done it than he was hurt by it. The two tumbled into a ball of wailing limbs, rolling about on the ground in a flurry of sparkling energy. Thunderous booms echoed throughout the room as they battled. Katon stepped out from behind me, his crimson sword held tight in his hand. “Like we planned, Trigg. Nothing changes, do you hear me?” His voice was like steel, tempered only by his professionalism.
“Yeah,” I muttered, as I tore my eyes from Scarlett’s suicide mission. Angry she’d screwed up our plan, there was nothing we could do but go on and hope for the best. She didn’t stand a chance at beating Gabriel so we needed to get on it fast before we had the archangel up our asses.
Katon understood the same. In a blur of movement, he launched himself toward Glorius, weaving back and forth to avoid being struck by Asmoday’s magic. I took off after him, tracing my own winding path toward the bound angel, making sure Page 269
there was plenty of room between us so the demon couldn’t target us both.
Asmoday, his disappointment having turned to rage, was raring to fight. Firelight leapt to life at his fingertips. Clearly not interested in trying to snipe Katon, his lateral movement random and unpredictable, Asmoday settled for an area effect. He tossed two flaming balls of fury into the air, which took off of their own volition. They streaked above the running assassin and as they neared, rather than try to strike him directly, they exploded in the air above him. Fire rained down like a volcanic storm. Katon did his best to avoid the burning fall, but there was too much of it.
One projectile struck him in the thigh, the sizzle of his flesh drowned out by his growling complaint. He stumbled, the burning flesh of his leg slowing him just long enough to be caught up in the storm. A second seared down the length of his back, melting through his leather jacket and leaving a trail of blackened, scorched skin behind. I could smell charred meat thick in the air. His rhythm interrupted, he could do little but endure. A third and fourth ball of flame tore into him, one setting his chest on fire, the second burning his arm as he frantically tried to put the first fire out. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to continue on without going to his aid. It took all of my willpower to not stop, but I knew we’d only get one chance at taking Page 270
out Glorius and I was gonna have a hard enough time pulling that off without getting caught up in heroics. So, leaving Katon to take care of himself, I cast a glance at Scarlett as I continued to run. I was amazed she was still holding her own against Gabriel. Flashes of light sparked all around them as they slugged it out. Gabriel, his hands still glowing, seemed out of sorts. He looked tired, distracted perhaps. Whatever it was, I hoped it lasted.
Turns out, it didn’t really matter.
Asmoday, confident he had Katon delayed, turned his fury on me. Distracted as I was by Scarlett’s success, I’d failed to notice the demon charging at me. I heard him an instant before he reached my back. With a hiss, I spun about to fire, but Asmoday was already on top of me.
He threw a right hook that would make Mike Tyson proud. Reinforced with magical energy, his fist slammed into my face like a high speed train wreck. Brilliant lights flashed in front of my eyes as my head snapped almost horizontal to my neck. Through the cluttered haze of my head, I heard several pops as I stumbled back and fell to the ground. The pain yet to penetrate the fog of impact, I didn’t want to think about what kind of damage had been done. Not that thinking in general was all that easy at the moment anyway. I tried to open my eyes and see where Asmoday was only to realize he was standing right in front of me. Page 271
Though it was hard to see him, his image wavering back and forth like a bad acid trip, I could see the murder in his eyes. I moaned as I noticed his hand extended toward me, his palm glowing with flame. Not a big fan of being charbroiled, I curled into a ball just as he released it.Like a flame thrower, his magic tore into me. I screamed, but my breath was sucked from my lungs by the heat while the fire lapped at my flesh. Al
l of my nerve endings picked up the pain signal at once and roared to life in a cacophony of searing agony. My face covered, I felt my scalp boiling up, blisters springing to life beneath the torrent of flame. The backs of my hands were the same.
Frantic, I fumbled with my gun belt with one hand, hurling it away before the shells could go off. Once it was clear, I threw myself at the ground, ignoring the violent collision as I rolled to put the fires out. My lungs tightened, the blast burning up all the oxygen in the surrounding air. Unable to see, I flopped against the hard stone, rolling back and forth. I could feel the heat melting my clothes, adding their scent to the bitter conflagration of burned flesh. After what seemed an eternity, the heat backed off, though I wasn’t sure if it was due to the fire going out or if my nerves had just been seared insensate.
I pulled my arms away from my face, daring to hope, and drew in a deep, pained breath. I could breathe again, however much it hurt. The fires were Page 272
gone and I was still alive. For what that was worth. I opened my eyes, dried out from the blast, and blinked to focus. Once I could see again, the tear ducts reluctant to engage, I looked to see how bad off I was. Nearly naked, my clothes having been burnt away, the skin beneath was black as coal. Much of it was the same consistency. The only parts of me that didn’t look like a charcoal briquette were my face and my backside where the flame hadn’t managed to reach. Overall, it could have been much worse. Given the level of power Asmoday wielded, I’d gotten lucky. Under any other circumstances, he’d have killed me outright. I guess our theory as to his having spent most of his energy performing the rituals was a good one. Though it gave me little comfort, it did conjure up some small inkling of hope we might survive long enough to pull off our plan.
As a living representation of fire safety, I pulled my crispy ass to my feet while looking for Katon. The assassin, having overcome his own encounter with Asmoday’s flames, was in the midst of engaging the demon. Though slowed by the damage he’d taken, he was still quite nimble. He dodged and weaved in close to Asmoday, taking him on up close.
