Hell's Pawn (8 page)

J ohn frowned in puzzlement. He hadn’t seen anything of the sort. He was about to turn and look when the woman began to blur as if she was somehow moving. And then she was gone.

J ohn considered what this meant, coming up with a few theories. He liked to think that the old woman had seen Heaven, and that was where her soul belonged. M aybe he had just witnessed a soul gravitating to where it was meant to be. That would be nice if it were true, but maybe the woman’s soul had become weak after being frozen in place for so long. Perhaps her soul had extinguished, fading away before his very eyes.

J ohn decided to pull another person free, this time intentionally choosing someone he didn’t know. O ut came a stocky middle-aged man who glared at him and the realm beyond with disdain.

“W hat’s all this then?” he spat in a thick S co ish accent. “All a bit science fiction, isn’t it?”

John didn’t know how to respond to this, so he continued to quietly observe.

The man seemed happy to see a dog and was reaching down to pet B olo when he suddenly stood straight up again.

“Do yeh hear it?” he whispered. “Gabriel’s horn! It’s a-callin’ me. Do yeah hear it?” Like the woman before him, there was the curious notion of movement along with a blurring before the man disappeared. J ohn felt certain now that the souls were finally going to where they belonged. He realized that he could free them all, dismantle the dome piece by piece. I t would take forever, but maybe if he did this, he too would be called away to an eternal reward.

J ohn was careful with his next selection, making sure this time to choose J acobi. The old man awoke with a start and took in their surroundings with wide eyes. J ohn was looking so intently for any sign of departure that he flinched when J acobi starting shouting with glee.

“We’re free!” he said, doing a little jig. “Oh, by the heavens, we are FREE!” J ohn laughed. “That we are. Do you feel all right? You don’t hear any horns or see any pearly gates?”

“Look around, John! This
is
Heaven!”

B ut J acobi must have meant this figuratively, because he didn’t disappear. J ohn described what had happened to the other souls, Jacobi listening with rapt attention.

“I t could be any number of reasons,” J acobi surmised. “O ur souls may still be tuned to P urgatory, since we never truly earned our graduation. That means we are still in balance, not quite good or bad enough to be summoned elsewhere. O r maybe it is a lack of desire or faith that leaves us free to choose our own destiny. Yes, I like that.”

“We be er be sure before we pull Dante out,” J ohn said. “S omething tells me he’s the ideal candidate for a trip south.”

“Nonsense,” J acobi said dismissively. “He’s one of us! P urgatory’s great escapists!

B esides, he always kept his points in balance so he wouldn’t be expelled. L et’s pull him free. Then together we can decide what to do next.”

S till J ohn hesitated, but he couldn’t just leave Dante trapped forever. He reached down, grabbed the hand sticking out of the barrier, and pulled.

The I rishman groaned when he was free, mu ering something about a bender. He glared at each of them before rubbing his eyes. “I take it we ended up in Hell?”

“O n the contrary,” J acobi said. “M y theories were correct. We are now on the astral plane. Here we will be able to give shape to the formless, to create a world of our choosing!”

“So which one of you made the train station?”

They looked to where Dante had nodded, but neither J ohn nor J acobi could see anything but swirls and stars.

“You feel that?” Dante asked. “Like being pulled by an undertow. What is that?” The I rishman’s features began to blur, but before he could disappear, J ohn leapt on him, wrapping his arms firmly around Dante’s torso. He wouldn’t let him fade away!

There was a terrible sinking sensation, and J ohn strained against it until it passed and Dante’s features went from blurry to solid again.

“That was a close one,” John said with relief.

“Think so?”

A train whistle startled J ohn into le ing go. He spun around to find himself submersed in a massive station. Trains from all time periods occupied the platforms, passengers pouring out of each one. There was no sign of B olo, J acobi, or the psychedelic lights of the astral plane. All of it was gone, replaced by a train station where everyone seemed to be arriving, but no one was departing.

“Doesn’t look so bad,” Dante said with cautious optimism as he stepped into the crowd.

John hurried to keep up with him, grabbing his jacket so as not to lose him.

“Dante, what was your standing in Purgatory? How many points did you have?”

“About five thousand.”

“Oh. Good!”

“In the red.”

J ohn gaped at Dante who was grinning. “Do you know what that means? Do you realize where we are?”

“Yup.”

“Then why are you acting so nonchalant?”

Dante stopped, the crowd pouring around him as he turned to face J ohn. “B ecause for the first time since dying, I feel like I’ve come home again.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” John said through gritted teeth. “What about me?” Dante shrugged. “You managed to break out of P urgatory easily enough. I ’m sure your superpowers can help you leave here if you want, but I think you should wait.

I ’ve been here before. Well, not
here
but the equivalent on E arth, and I think you’re going to like it.”

They were alone now, the most recent arrivals having dispersed to whatever their destination was. Not knowing what else to do, J ohn followed Dante through a large ornate hall. The exit was blocked by the standard passport control usually found in airports. E ven the guard on duty, who appeared human enough, seemed appropriately bored with his post.

“What are we going to do now?” John asked.

“S how them our I Ds, of course.” Dante pulled a passport from the air. He looked as surprised by its appearance as J ohn did. The passport was blood red and had the word

“Hell” emblazoned on it beneath a stylized depiction of a devil’s head.

“Where did you get that?”

“I don’t know,” Dante admitted. “I was going for our papers from Purgatory.” John tried the same trick but came up empty-handed. “Now what?”

“Let’s see what they say. If you aren’t allowed in, then they’ll show you the exit.” W ithout waiting for approval, Dante strode up to the guard on duty and presented his credentials. He was waved through the barrier, where he waited for John.

“Passport,” the disinterested guard droned.

“I don’t have one.”

“He’s with me,” Dante offered.

“Get lost,” the guard growled. “Next!”

John looked behind him. There was no one else in line so he stayed where he was.

R eluctantly, the guard turned his a ention back to him. “I said to get lost, so turn around and go back the way you came. Don’t make me sick the three-headed dogs on you.”

“Forget him,” Dante called. “Who follows the rules in Hell anyway? Come on!” The guard bared his teeth and stood, readying himself for conflict, but then a look of surprise crossed his face. He placed a finger to one ear and listened, responding finally with a humble, “Yes, sir.” S i ing back on his stool, he thumbed toward the barrier, indicating that John could pass through.

“W hat did I tell ya?” Dante smirked. “No problem. P repare yourself for some fun, Johnny-boy, because I was right. See for yourself!”

O utside the station was a long stretch of concrete slashed across by rail tracks.

B eyond this, an old E uropean city was squeezed in between rows of canals. The buildings, tall and narrow, were covered in ornate detail that had been worn down over the centuries. From behind the station, barely detectable over the typical city sounds and smells, was the scent of a harbor and the occasional call of a seagull.

“Welcome to Amsterdam,” Dante said, throwing an arm around J ohn’s shoulders and leading him forward.

“I thought we were in Hell.”

“Call it what you like, but either way it’s paradise to me.” As they made their way around the stationed trams, J ohn read their destinations: L as Vegas, S odom/G omorrah, Shanghai, Bangkok. Despite his apprehension, J ohn couldn’t help but laugh. So Hell was one big bachelor party?

Dante’s earthly visit to Amsterdam must have been fresh on his mind, because he made a bee-line for the old part of the city. Here the cobbled streets narrowed so much that the sky above was almost lost behind the tall, leaning buildings. All around were smoky coffee shops, windows full of blow-up dolls and pornography, and stores offering a plethora of mushrooms and herbs. The streets were stuffed full of people, not all of them entirely human, but J ohn couldn’t focus on them lest he lose Dante in the crowd.

Dante led them to a coffee shop on the corner. The smoke was thick inside the dark interior, and most of the stools were filled with patrons not the least bit interested in coffee. David B owie was blaring over the speakers, singing something about sound and vision, as Dante pointed happily to the ceiling and grinned. J ohn realized he hadn’t heard any music in P urgatory. He couldn’t imagine going without it for as many years as Dante must have.

They wound through the tables until they found a free spot in the back. Dante left to order from the counter, leaving J ohn to examine the other patrons. For the most part those here were human, none of them appearing particularly seedy despite being in Hell. The rest were demons. He didn’t know what else to call them. They had red skin, horns, and tails, the basic criteria for such creatures, but the humans they intermingled with didn’t appear intimidated.

Dante returned with a tray loaded with a half-dozen joints already rolled, a plateful of brownies, and a couple of beers. I f Dante’s grin was any wider it would have severed his head in two.

“I found money in my pocket!” he exclaimed, tossing his change onto the tray after he was seated.

J ohn picked up a coin and examined it. O ne side was engraved with a sour, fat-faced devil. O n the other a pile of bodies engaged in an impressively detailed orgy.

“Why am I not surprised that Hell has an economy?”

Dante sparked up one of the joints and took an impressive pull that burned away half its length, something no mortal could have achieved. He then held it out to J ohn with a questioning look.

“No, thanks. I think one of us should keep a clear head.” Dante shrugged indifferently and finished it off in another drag. “You could have a brownie. They’re fine.”

J ohn rolled his eyes. “I ’m sure they are.” He left the hashish-laced brownies where they were, but allowed himself a few cautious sips of beer. The draft was cold and tasted even better than the German beer his father used to import.

J ohn realized that he was both literally and figuratively holding his breath. He kept waiting for a li le monotone voice to announce demerits. S o far their limited experience of Hell had been a marked improvement over P urgatory, which didn’t seem right at all.

“I f only I had known,” Dante said wistfully. “E ight years wasted in P urgatory when I could have been here. Here’s to eternity!” He raised his glass and gasped in satisfaction after a hearty swig. Then the music changed, and his ridiculously bloodshot eyes widened. “Hey, who’s singing this?”

“Nirvana. They’re after your time.”

“Man, they’re really good! Music is way better in the future.” J ohn thought of the endless boy bands and sophomoric teenage pop stars that had dominated the music scene since the likes of Kurt C obain had died, but kept his mouth shut. It was kinder to let Dante believe the lie.

“You boys must be new in town,” oozed a voice made of silk.

J ohn looked up to see five and a half feet of naked, red flesh.
Demoness
was the first word that came to mind, with
vixen
hot on its heels. Her clothing consisted of a single chain wrapped around her pert breasts, covering nothing more than her nipples. A similar chain circled her waist with a sparse curtain of chainmail hanging from it that left nothing to the imagination. L ong black hair complimented the shiny black lips that smiled around slightly pointed teeth. The delicate looping horns that protruded from her forehead silenced any doubt about what she was.

T his is it,
J ohn thought.
T his is where the good times end and the conflicts begin. H ell has
lured us in and is about to make with the torture and turmoil.

The demoness wrinkled her nose cutely at J ohn as if she could smell his distrust before turning to Dante. The effect on him was instant. He straightened up, like a puppet yanked on strings, his full a ention dedicated to the demoness. E ven the red from his eyes cleared as if he was shocked sober by his sudden need for sex.

“Do you want a brownie?” he asked stupidly.

The demoness laughed as if he had said something clever. “Aren’t you sweet?”

“And aren’t you lovely?” Dante responded, taking her hand.

“M mm, an I rishman! I haven’t had one in ages.” S he held out a black-nailed hand to him, palm side down. “Delilah. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Dante, at your service.” He took her hand and kissed it.

Another demoness joined them, this one blonde with a lighter tint to her red skin.

Her face was more angular and her body more petite. Unlike her companion, she was dressed respectably in a summer dress the color of orange sherbet. S he didn’t waste any time in dedicating her full attention to John.

“L ooks like someone could use a tour guide,” she said shyly. “I know the first few days here can be confusing.”

“Actually, we were doing just fine,” John answered coldly.

Dante spared him one glance, accompanied by an expression that said J ohn was crazy, before turning back to the vixen. “I wouldn’t mind a little exploration.”

“The sun has just gone down over Hades,” Delilah said seductively. “L et’s have us a night on the town.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” John said.

“O h! Daddy is cranky!” Delilah taunted as she began to drag Dante away. “I ’ll have him back in one piece, old man. Don’t worry.”