by J. P. Rice
There went any opportunity I had to get into the Gallery and snag the Harp. Now the room would be swarming with demons for days. It meant my trip had been extended and that I’d have to go through with the wild hunt.
Fook me. This put the entire mission in jeopardy. What kind of excuse could I use to get out of the wild hunt?
I went to leave but my limbs failed me. I sank down behind the statue, my back scraping against the stone wall. I landed on my ass. The weight of everything caused my body to panic, sending fear through me and paralyzing my movement.
My breathing and heartbeat raced, sending a thrumming sensation through my chest. Oh, no. I felt it coming on as everything slowed down and my vision swirled.
There was a loud knock at the door. The sound shocked me awake. I was sitting in the interrogation room in my mind. As I went to jump up, malleable metal constraints curved over my wrists on both armrests, then it hardened into unbreakable steel, locking me to the silver chair.
The bright light above hurt my eyes. The spirit entered the tiny room that comprised my chair, three walls and a fourth wall that doubled as a chalkboard. As soon as the door closed, the wide movie screen lowered from the ceiling in front of me.
Agramon was in his dark snakeman form with the extra spider legs stemming from his sides. He approached and leaned in close, his fuzzy spider appendage rubbing against my neck. I gagged and the hair on the back of my neck stood at attention.
“Long time no see,” he whispered in husky tones, “Let’s not do that again. I missed you.” He backed away and laughed, but it came out more like a grunt.
“I haven’t missed you.”
“That saddens me to the depths of my heart.” His forked tongue poked through his long mouth, a sign he was enjoying himself, the bastard. “I know you came here to watch the greatest hits.”
The crackle of empty sound filled the room and my stomach rolled. No. Not again. Why did this keep happening?
I tried to look away but the muscles in my neck wouldn’t allow it. Something had a hold of me, forcing me to watch these hideous films. A beam of projected light sprang from behind me, widening as it traveled to the white screen.
There he was in all his magnificence. My one. My only. My Darabond. Dressed in his white enameled battle gear, his sword dangling by his side, occupying the bronze scabbard that scraped the summer grass beneath his black boots.
His shaggy blond locks ruffled in the uneven wind. He stared at me, his blue eyes burning a hole in my soul. Tears rushed to my eyes. Then, he smiled. But he wasn’t smiling at me. Standing next to his wife, he leaned down and hugged two children, a boy and a girl.
As the silent film went on breaking my heart into pieces, Agramon spoke, “Sure looks happy. I can’t recall, did you two have children together?”
“You son of a bitch. Stop this right now.”
“Oh, I think we both know you can end this any time you want,” he stressed every syllable. “But you don’t. You need me. You want me.”
“How do I get rid of you?” I asked plainly.
He laughed. “Oh, why would a stupid demon know something like that?”
“Just tell me already.”
“Would you like to make another deal?” he asked, for what must have been the thousandth time.
“How many times do I have to tell you no?” I asked rhetorically. “I’m not falling further into this rabbit hole. I’m already in way too deep.”
“Then you haven’t much to lose.” He stood in front of the screen and leaned closer to my face. “It should appear to me.”
“No way.” I tried to look away, but couldn’t.
“You haven’t even heard my offer.” He backed away and softened his tone, “Only a fool would reject something without hearing a proposal.”
“Let’s hear it, then.” I pretty much knew what he was about to ask.
“You’ve allowed me residence in your mind. A scary place, I must say.” He paced in front of me. “I could lighten your burden if you know of anyone else who will grant me space. Someone who scares easier than you.”
“Forget it,” I said immediately. “I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. Not even my enemies.”
“As you wish. Shall we continue,” he said and gestured with his spider legs toward the screen.
Agramon stepped aside and the screen faded to black as tears streamed down my cheeks. I was helpless to wipe them away. Bruceras appeared on the screen with his back turned.
Bruceras said, “Is she dead?”
“Yes, my lord,” a voice sounded from behind the hulking devil. “If anyone was in that room, it’s taken care of. We couldn’t risk saving the children. The woman and both children are now dead. Vlad said he will assign a team to clean it up.”
“Good, good. My hands are clean of the matter,” Bruceras said and laughed. His cohort joined in. But it felt like the Gods were laughing at me. The Celtic Gods specifically.
The sound from the movie lowered until it was silent, and Agramon said, “You couldn’t bear child to your first husband. Yet you had two babies with a devil. And then they died because of you.”
“It wasn’t my fault,” I said, trying to justify my actions.
“You couldn’t keep your children safe. That is all a mother is tasked.”
“No,” I yelled. “I don’t like this anymore. Get out of my head.”
I gasped for air as my eyes shot open and a dim underworld came into focus. My head tingled and I felt like I’d just woken up from a long nap. As I gathered my thoughts, I realized I was sitting behind the statue outside Bruceras’s office.
My heart was still racing and Agramon’s words were still bouncing around my head. He’d reminded me of my two biggest fears. That my husband had found a new family and left me behind and that I was responsible for the my children’s deaths. I couldn’t get over either of them.
I mopped the pool of sweat from my forehead with my sleeve and dabbed around my eyes. I rose slowly, and with my feet back under me, I darted for the kitchen hoping no one would see me.
Chapter 17
A devil’s assistant whose name I couldn’t remember popped into the kitchen. He walked right up to Cheryl and me. He pointed at us, his fat finger bouncing back and forth, and said, “You two have been requested at Bruceras’s office. Follow me.”
I gulped down the lump in my throat. This wasn’t a good sign. I turned to Cheryl, who had terror running through her eyes. Maybe she wasn’t stupid. Had they found out who I was? Impossible, unless one of the Celtic Gods had sold me out.
Then it hit me like a runaway train with no brakes. It probably wasn’t a God who’d sold me out, but a Goddess. My fookin’ mother. She’d already sold me out once. Why not again? The most likely scenario was that she’d told Merlin, and her little assistant had relayed the message to Bruceras.
From there, it would be a short step to figuring out which of the new recruits was me. I was trapped. If I ran, I wouldn’t be able to escape. There were too many demons around. Even if I busted out some serious magic, the sheer number would be too vast to overcome.
That wasn’t even taking into consideration what would happen if the Chieftains or devils got involved. I felt like I was on a death march. About to die twice in this wretched underworld. If I’d known it was my mother and Merlin behind the lava bath, I wouldn’t have embarked on this journey.
Had the Dagda set me up to get rid of me? Even if he hadn’t told Frigid, she could have heard through the grapevine. I’d tried to keep it a secret for this exact reason. Panic set in, screaming at my legs to turn around and run. It wanted me to do anything but go into that office.
But for some reason, I kept moving, putting one foot in front of the other until we reached the open door of Bruceras’s office. With my heart rattling around my chest, I noticed the devil wasn’t present. Instead, Dweezil stood next to Bruceras’s desk.
I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. Could be a trap of some sort. One never knew w
ith these crafty demons.
Cheryl and I walked into the office, which had a small desk and a wooden wheel chandelier holding rustic lanterns above my head. The stone walls were undecorated, making it one of the least impressive offices of a high-ranking official I’d ever seen.
Dweezil nodded to us, then looked over a little scrap of paper in his hand. Beads of sweat came to the surface of my flesh.
Dweezil pursed his lips and squinted. “You’ve been called in so I can inform you that the hunt has been postponed. An issue has arisen that takes precedence over the hunt.”
A giant figure emerged through the doorframe. Huffing and puffing, Bruceras stared at Dweezil, and announced, “We’ve found the culprit.” He gazed at me. “We will be putting the offender to death.”
He turned back to Dweezil. “Now we just have to figure out where that boy went. But first, we’ve been betrayed by one of our own. We must take care of that first.”
Bruceras spun around and hustled out of the room with Dweezil on his tail. The assistant stopped at the last second and turned to Cheryl and me.
Using both hands, he pointed at each of us. “Forget everything you just heard. That wasn’t for your ears. You can return to your duties now.”
As we walked back to the kitchen, I tried to put together what had just happened. The hunt had been canceled, which was great. I didn’t have to kill innocent people now.
It had sounded like the investigators had figured out who had taken the glove. I didn’t understand what Bruceras had meant about the boy. From what I’d gathered, one of the demons had taken the glove and given it to some boy. But why?
Had the demon been trying to hide the glove by giving it to a young boy whom no one would suspect? The more I thought about it, the more I realized I didn’t know exactly what had happened. I knew Bruceras had seemed awfully excited about the situation and understood why.
If he couldn’t deliver the glove to Merlin, it would be open season on the demons. The Supreme Magic Council could force the demons to stay underground. As I thought about the council, it dawned on me why they hadn’t made Pittsburgh a regulated territory.
Merlin was allowing the Red Cavern to run shenanigans in Pittsburgh with impunity. That was why the Red Cavern had such a strong presence in my city. The Celtic Gods wouldn’t have needed Mike Merlino to protect the city if the magic council guarded Pittsburgh. What a fooked up system. My head was spinning just thinking about all the machinations involved.
The bottom line was that I was even further away from obtaining the Dagda’s Harp than when I’d entered this underworld. With all the intrigue going on here, I couldn’t lose focus of my real mission. The citizens of Pittsburgh were suffering, and I needed to end it.
First, I wanted to figure out what Bruceras had been talking about. It appeared that I had some more snooping to do.
About two hours later, one of Bruceras’s underlings rushed into the kitchen. He rounded up some of the new recruits including Cheryl and me.
The assistant led us down a dim hallway. I heard incoherent screaming in the distance echoing off the walls. Everything had an ominous feel to it around here. A flickering light ahead beckoned us even as the off-putting smell of death and decay grew heavier by the footstep.
A biblical passage from Ecclesiastes jumped into my head. “Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken, or the pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern. Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was: and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it.”
Why had that just popped into my head? We rounded a bend and the light became stronger. My knees turned to Jell-O when I realized we were headed for the hanging room. Someone was about to die. Was I about to die?
Chapter 18
The assistant moved off to the side and gestured for us to enter the room. With great hesitation, I walked through the opening with no door and my eyes widened at the sight before me.
The demons had one of the devils surrounded, and they were trying to put a noose around his neck. Vlad the Impaler thrashed around, screaming and yelling his innocence. The puzzle was starting to take form.
Vlad the Impaler was a short man with a wide frame. His short, dark hair came to a sharp point at his pronounced widow’s peak. He had big ears, a big nose and his skin was deathly white with long tracks of blue veins running down his arms.
My snooping hadn’t yielded any results, but this picture in front of me told me everything. If my theory was correct, Vlad had given the Devil’s Glove to some young boy to hide from the demons. But why? As a devil, he knew the great importance of the glove. Did he think it was too powerful for the demons?
From his words, he hadn’t done it. And from the actions of the others, no one believed his denials.
I peered around the room and the aged blood stains on the walls and floor captured my eyes. Apparently, this room wasn’t just for hangings.
Bruceras entered the room. He ripped off his duster and handed it to one of his assistants.
“Bres, get these scoundrels off me,” Vlad screamed. “Now.”
Bruceras crossed his arms over his gigantic chest, creating a stance of judgment. “Brother. We know the truth. We know you allowed that little demon into the Gallery.”
“I did nothing of the sort. This is a set up.” Vlad jerked his arms around wildly, but the demons had a firm grip on him.
Bruceras walked up to him and got down on one knee, letting out a little grunt as his body settled. “We trusted you with our lives. And you betrayed us. You betrayed every demon who pledged their lives to the cause. You betrayed your fellow devils. Your brothers. For what?”
Vlad glanced around the room, his glossy eyes appeared to be taking stock of the situation. “Someone is lying to you.”
Bruceras inclined his head to meet Vlad’s glowering eyes. “I’m looking at the man lying to me. And it saddens me greatly. Why did you do it?”
I could hear the sadness in his inflections. He really had taken this personally.
“You need to stop this,” Vlad screamed as a demon wrenched his arm behind his back. In a calmer tone, he said, “We need a fair trial so I can explain myself.”
“Explain yourself,” Bruceras indulged him, shifting his weight around as he was clearly uncomfortable kneeling.
“Montidore. He’s been trying to eliminate me for years. I’ll bet he’s behind all this. Bring him in here,” he cried out, his words reverberating off the cave walls.
Bruceras covered his face with his palm and lowered his head. “Poor explanation. And it doesn’t account for the missing glove.”
“Going by your story, the kid has had the glove for weeks and no one noticed it was missing. Is that possible?” Vlad hissed, his words drenched in venom.
The demons secured Vlad’s hands behind his back and tightened the noose around his neck. Then they threw the loose rope over a pipe hanging just below the ceiling. Vlad thrashed around until the demons pulled the rope and it tightened around the devil’s throat.
Vlad the Impaler had barely escaped Wallachia with his life and had run from angry mobs before, but he knew resistance would only result in hanging himself. So he stood still as the demons smiled at each other.
I strained my eyes to see something behind Vlad. As I zeroed in on it, I realized it was several fresh dead bodies. Apparently, dead at the hands of Vlad. The apprehension had cost them.
Why was I here? If they were going to kill a devil, they would have no problem following it up with a few humans. A rotten feeling fell to the pit of my stomach as Bruceras rose slowly to his feet.
Bruceras looked around at the small collection of demons and humans. I inched closer to Cheryl and prepared for the worst.
Bruceras paced in front of Vlad and orated, “No one is immune to punishment in the Red Cavern. Vlad of Wallachia. You’ve been credibly accused of crimes against your fellow demon folk. We all took an oath, and brother, you broke that oath.”
Bruceras wheeled around and uncorked a straight right fist that landed right below Vlad’s left eye. Vlad smiled in response as Bruceras turned back to the group. “I’ve gathered you all here to see what happens when someone breaks their oath to the Red Cavern. It’s important to remember that we all serve a greater cause than ourselves. We are all working toward the same goal. And when we achieve that, we will all be equal.
“But we can worry about that later. Right now, we have a problem to take care of.” Bruceras pointed at Vlad as he spoke, “Vlad of Wallachia has weakened our cause. His actions fly in the face of everything we stand for.”
Did this guy have a point? I felt like he was just saying the same things over and over, trying to be dramatic.
“Vlad of Wallachia. You’ve been found guilty of breaking your oath by not protecting the Gallery. Either by malevolence or woeful ignorance, you allowed the Devil’s Glove to go missing. A broken oath carries only one punishment. Hang him high,” Bruceras ordered.
His minions sprang into action and it looked like a furious game of tug-of-war with the demons yanking on the thick rope, pulling it over the pipe. The four men pulled feverishly and within a few seconds, Vlad’s feet lifted into the air.
As Vlad the Impaler gagged and quaked in short tremors, I remembered he was Jonathan’s father. How would I explain this to him? With Vlad being an immortal, I wasn’t sure that a hanging would kill him permanently.
The men held the rope firmly and Vlad’s wide body swung from side to side, rotating as it went. As he spun around, it appeared that he was close to breaking out of the rope around his wrists. But after a few more turns, his hands went limp and his body went completely still.
The demons let go of the rope and Vlad crashed to the ground. Bruceras nodded to the demons and they ran out of the room. Bruceras stood in front of Vlad’s crumpled body facing the silent group.
