All Hell (14 page)

“But I’ve got to be honest. It was mostly Father Miguel that kicked his ass. I’m just here to finish the job.”

“Then I’ve got bad news for you. You’re running a fool’s errand. Balzuzu’s not like us, he’s not like ordinary monsters. The devil can’t be killed.”

“He’s not
the
devil. And bullshit,” I protest. “Everything dies.”

“He doesn’t. That’s why I tried to stop him before he broke through.

“Yeah… and how does a disembodied soul do that?”

My brother goes silent again, a pause that lingers long enough to where I wonder if he’ll ever be coming back. Then his voice returns. “Fine, I’ll tell you. But promise me you won’t take it to heart.”

“Take what to heart?” I question.

“Dad pissed off Balzuzu something good. Out of revenge, Balzuzu took me. Heck… I figure I was headed here anyway, just not so soon… you know.”

“You weren’t. Father Miguel says only the worst of the worst end up here.”

“Either way, I was on the path,” Christian says. “Father Miguel did his best to right me, but I let him down each and every time. Anyhow, Balzuzu had fun with me for a long while. He played with me the way a cat does a mouse. He tortured me until I couldn’t feel anything anymore, ripped my soul to pieces. Then he’d put me back together just so he could do it all over again. Can’t even remember anymore how many times.

“The final time, though, was different. He was molding me, changing me, trying to forge me into something different… something more in his image. He spent a long time breaking me. Suddenly, he started rebuilding me. When he was done, he shifted my soul top side into the body of a werewolf, made me a card carrying member of his evil army. He thought it would be the ultimate irony, me racing into town with the pack to kill my father. He just didn’t realize I’m more stubborn than a billy goat after lunch. All he did was make me mad.”

My eyes widen.
I see where this is going and I’m not sure whether to kick myself into next week or drown my sorrow in a bottomless bottle of Jack.

Christian continues. “We all knew his plan. We were all part of it. Balzuzu was going topside, this time personally
, to take humanity to task for every fucked up thing it ever did. He promised that fuckwad Frank Jones immortality for his family if he willingly sacrificed himself to open the gate. That stupid fuck was going along with it, knowing full well what Balzuzu planned to do, how many millions he planned to kill. I had a counter plan. I went into town, gutted the old prick—heck, that fuck deserved to die—then I left him like that as a warning to dad as to who and what was behind it all. Apparently, you got there first.”

“Oh my god… I killed you,” I mutter. “I sent you back here to this godforsaken place. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Cause then you never would have killed me. I wasn’t living as no werewolf. No way I was going to play any part in what he had planned. I wanted to come back here. I wanted Balzuzu to know that no matter what he did to me, I would never belong to him. I didn’t care if he tortured me for all eternity. It would have all been worth it for that one moment I saw he knew what I did and I got to spit in his face. And then, every time he’d come to torture me, I could laugh at his ugly mug knowing that no matter what he did to me, ultimately I got the better of him. Every time he looked at me he would stare into the face of his own failure.”

“You’re as vengeful a prick as I am,” I say.

“You betcha,” he says back.

“Then I stumbled into the graveyard like a fool
and fucked everything up.”

“Yeah, but seeing what you did to him, I’d call it even.”

“Not yet, it’s not,” I add.

“You know… I was gonna lead you back to the gateway, get you the fuck outta dodge.”

“Fuck that,” I defy.

“Fucking right, fuck that. I’ll take you to his home. I still don’t think we can kill that asshole, but maybe we could find a way to put mayonnaise in his jock strap.”

Chapter 26

I’m riding the bike. My brother’s riding shotgun in my head. My load’s a lot lighter now that we’ve strategically placed half the C-4.

“I have no idea if any of this is going to work. If it doesn’t, take the bike and get the fuck out of here,” my brother says.

“And what about you?” I ask.

“I’m stuck here no matter
how this thing plays out. By the way, how did you get by Cerberus? That dog takes shits bigger than you.”

“Let’s just say Balzuzu’s going to need more than a pooper scooper to clean up that mess,” I joke.

“You are amazing, little bro. Larger than life. Don’t ever forget that. How’s Dad?”

“Not to stay on the subject but shitty… and that’s when he has his head out of the bottle. He never got over what happened. Now I see why.”

“Tell him it’s okay. I understand. I know he didn’t know. I never blamed him. Tell him I love him and I forgive him.”

I nod.

“How’s Mom?” he asks.

“Mom left. Took off shortly after it happened,” I tell him.

“She must blame him too. Tell her not too. Balzuzu has ways about him. I’ve seen that fuck twist lifelong saints into sinners in under an hour. And those were on days he was bored. He took his time plotting how to hurt us the most. No one could have spotted his deceptions. It’s not Dad’s fault. Make sure she knows that.”

“I will.”

The canyon-like walls narrow and the stones blacken. The rock valley reeks of death. At the end is an immense cocoon, almost hive-like but with a shell of solid granite, pock marked at varying heights with multiple tunnels that presumably lead inside. A few of the entrances are accessible at ground level.

“This is his house, if you can call it that,” Christian says.

“Lovely. The place could really use a woman’s touch. A little Arm & Hammer wouldn’t hurt either,” I quip, repulsed by the pungent scent.

“I couldn’t tell ya,” my brother replies. “Us disembodied souls don’t have noses.”

“Well, trust me. A dragon fart would improve the smell of this place.”

“It is Hell,” my brother reminds me.

“Which entrance should I take?” I question.

“All roads lead to Balzuzu. But the one in the middle is the most direct. Set more C
-4 charges here and here,” he says.

He can’t point, but in my mind I see exactly where he wants me to place them. I follow his instructions to the letter, insert the blasting caps, and double check the coded triggering mechanis
m so they won’t explode until they receive the correct signal from the remote detonator I’m holding. I just need to be within twenty yards to be good to blow.

“Leave the bike here. The terrain in there gets a little rough.

I hop off and lean the cycle against a wall. We enter the wide tunnel. It’s straight but the ground is jagged and bumpy. The further we walk the worse the smell gets. After about twenty yards, I can’t even see the reflective glow of the crimson stone outside. It’s pitch black. I wouldn’t be able to see a thing without my night vision goggles. My brother instructs me where to stick more C-4.

“What’s he doing in there?” I ask.

“He’s gathering. You weakened him severely. He heals by filling himself with new souls,” my brother answers.

“You’ve seen this before?” I ask, wondering how he would know that. “Have you or the other tortured souls ever fought back?”

My brother laughs. “We would need arms and legs for that… can’t do more than buzz in his ear. We’re at his mercy, completely helpless. But he’s not the only devil down here. Occasionally, they fight.”

The Nephilim.
“Great! What do they fight about?”

“Souls, who can claim what, territory; they’re a notoriously greedy lot, not big on sharing.”

We walk a little further. I set more charges. My brother’s plan is simple; we get to the lair, get his attention, lure him into the tunnel, run like the world is about to blow up, then blow up his world. With luck his entire house will collapse and bury him for a long, long time.

But it’s not enough for me
.

“Where do the other tunnels lead?” I ask.

“A few lead to the far side of his lair. Some lead above. Others branch off to different parts of this lovely establishment.”

Above.
“Show me,” I say, as I reverse course and start walking back outside to where we came from.

“Whoa. What are you thinking, little bro? Whatever it is, I already don’t like it.”

“It ain’t a fight until someone gets punched in the face. You taught me that. And if anyone needs a punch in the face it’s Fuckzuzu.”

“Don’t get crazy. Even in his weakened state, if he gets a hand on you, he’ll snap you in half.”

“Well, I’m already halfway to heaven,” I retort.

We’re back outside. I scan the multiple tunnels. “Which goes up?” My brother remains silent. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll just pick one,” I argue.

“There,” my brother responds. I can hear the reluctance in his voice as he mentally directs me.

“This is where you get off. Looking at how thick this place is, there’s a chance he doesn’t know I’m here.
But he may sense your soul. Your presence might give me away.”

Both of us realize this is goodbye. “God speed, little bro. Don’t forget to tell ma and pa I love them. And I love you
, too. And when you see Balzuzu, give him one from me.”

I feel a light sting then my brother’s gone.

“Love you too, big bro,” I mutter.

I slip inside the tunnel knowing that somehow I have to kill Balzuzu. Even if Miguel can seal the portal forever and protect the Earth, the big red fuck is still going to be around to torture my brother’s soul for eternity. That’s something I can’t allow. The path slants upward then hits a wall. I grab hold of the jutted rock, get a good grip, and start to climb. Balzuzu and I are due for another face to face.

Chapter 27

I reach the top, my hand grips the ledge, and I pull myself up. There’s another wide tunnel here that digs inward on a downward slope about twenty degrees. I follow it. It takes a descending spiral, bringing me to the far end of the cocoon. The stone is slicker here, coated with something dark, wet, and sticky that vaguely resembles black jelly. The air is thicker and brings with it a stronger brimstone aftertaste. The quicker I’m out of here the better.

I run multiple strategies through
my head, realizing that each and every one of them is useless. All the C-4 I brought with me is carefully placed, I used all my grenades on Fido, and somewhere back in that stalagmite forest I lost my Lupara. All I have left are my two long daggers which I would like to use to cut his throat and stab his heart, except there isn’t a blade sharp enough to penetrate his rhino-like hide. Add to that the problem that once I get too close to him, he’ll twist my head off like it was a bottle cap. My brother’s plan was the only one that had even a five percent chance of success. If I was less stubborn, I would climb back down and follow the original strategy, but I’ll be damned to here if I’m leaving this place without sticking him with something.

There’s an eerie red glow at the end of the path, an evil light at the end of a dark tunnel that leads to the gooey center of this fucked up tootsie pop. I quietly make my way to the ledge and I’m looking down into an open chamber around a quarter of the size of a
football stadium where black ooze drips like moisture from hardened walls. The jelly is bubbling, pulsating, spurting out spores of black goo that looks like overheated caviar. I’m sweating, but not out of fear. The air is hot, thick, and moist like a sauna. Almost imperceptibly small lights are zipping and darting about like mosquitos. I gaze below. The floor is oval shaped, cratered in the middle, like the inside of a giant nutshell, and kneeling right in the center in a puddle of the vile black stuff is the chief nut himself,
Balzuzu
. I have to say, for a guy who is the king of his domain, he lives like shit.

His back is to me. His wings are spread and they don’t look nearly as damaged as they were. A circling blue-black light makes an abrupt downward turn and races toward him. It hits his skin like a raindrop, sits there a brief moment, but instead of rolling off like a drop of water
would, it absorbs into his skin like he’s a sponge. Balzuzu rises, turns, a wounded hulking red beast that looks surprisingly spry for someone that could barely move just a few hours ago. His lower jaw is almost fully reformed. The scarring on his face, what’s left of the bullet-holes I filled it with, makes him look even nastier then he did when he first came through the portal. I see the lateral muscle on his right side literally knitting itself together, healing rapidly right before my eyes. At this rate, he’ll be back to full strength ready to terrorize us again before the day breaks.

He
resumes his kneeling position in the center of the ooze. His arms spread and another light turns sharply toward him, as if he called it to him. The tiny light drop lands on his knee. He breathes deep and the light seeps inside him. He waits for a while then rises, pacing around, stretching his neck and circling his head like a boxer before a bout. When he’s satisfied, he repeats the routine, kneeling once again, but this time after he absorbs a light he grabs a handful of the poisonous dark jelly and washes with it. He stops, but the black ooze keeps moving, crawling over his wounds like a thousand insects, covering his skin until it becomes part of him. I notice him grin, a look of respite. This process is soothing him, helping him heal. Every light he collects a soul that empowers him, every application of jelly a balm that repairs his powerful physical form. Every moment I watch is a moment he makes himself stronger.