Hell's Pawn (20 page)

The effect was unnatural rather than comforting, for li le about O siris was familiar. He may have had the shape of a man, but his strange clothing and green skin made him alien. Even the scent of him was unusual: a mixture of cloves, incense, and honey.

This wasn’t working. J ohn needed something else to take his a ention away from their journey or he feared he would snap.

“Dante?” he began, unsure at first what he intended to say. I t didn’t take long to find a topic he wanted to broach. “I need you to tell me what everyone is keeping from me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“C ome on, you know what I mean. W hat Asmoday told you in his office. W hat Manannan mentioned before you asked him not to tell me.” Dante’s chuckle was loud in the stillness surrounding them. “I t’s nothing bad. The opposite really, since it made all that stuff you could do in P urgatory possible. We never would have made it out otherwise.”

“Then why can’t anyone tell me?”

“I t’s like one of those Z en things. I f you don’t know, it’s a good thing, but if you did know it would be bad.”

J ohn gri ed his teeth. He had never enjoyed riddles, meaningless answers hidden behind deliberately obtuse questions and thinly veiled jokes. He realized that some people reveled in their challenge, but they always left John feeling stupid.

“W hat’s bad if you know it, but good if you don’t?” J ohn said, not hiding the sarcasm in his voice. “When is a door not a door? What gets wet when it’s drying?” Dante was silent for a moment. “The truth, when it’s ajar, and a towel.”

“I hate you.”

“Sorry, mate.”

I n his irritation, J ohn shook Dante’s hand off and immediately wished he hadn’t, for the moment he did everything disappeared. E verything in this case was O siris, who could no longer be seen, Dante who he could no longer feel next to him, and B olo’s steady panting, which he could no longer hear.

J ohn clamped down on his rising panic. S o this was the test? They wanted to see how he would fare when alone in the dark? B ring it on! W hat child hadn’t grappled with and eventually conquered this fear?

J ohn stood motionless, waiting for his eyes to adjust to light that wasn’t there. W hen it became clear that he wasn’t going to regain his vision, he systematically began exploring his surroundings with his hands. E ach stone wall was still there, separated by about thirty feet of space. He was still on the same path. M aybe the others had disappeared while he remained.

He stayed close to one of the walls, keeping his hand in contact with it as he walked.

W hat had O siris said? The trip would take the length of a night? Another riddle. W ho knew what that really meant, but J ohn was going to find out. The sound of gravel beneath his feet was the only sign of his progress as he marched blindly forward. He disciplined his mind, dismissing fears and focusing on the light he hoped to see,
had
to see eventually, at the end of the tunnel.

W hen his hopes became reality and that light finally appeared, it didn’t come from ahead as it should have. I t came from behind, a strong yellow floodlight that ripped away every shadow and rendered the tunnel in stark detail. The light roared and rumbled like a train, and as J ohn turned to look, what he saw terrified him more than darkness ever could.

A raging yellow sun came rolling down the corridor, its rays instantly transforming the rock around it to molten lava. B ut it was much, much more than that. This was god. Order, power, creation, direction. Ra.

The other gods J ohn had met couldn’t compare with R a. The chief of E gyptian gods was on an entirely different level. I f gods had deities of their own, this is who they would worship. The idea of a power greater than this was incomprehensible.

J ohn screamed as the sun rolled nearer, at first unintelligibly, before screaming the god’s name over and over again like a deranged cheerleader. “R a! R a! R A!” He wanted to be noticed, desperate for the giant to look down at the ant below him before he was crushed, before his soul was incinerated into oblivion. J ohn wanted to turn, to run, but the sun was all there was now and its heat—glorious and life-giving—held him in place like a physical force. Had J ohn’s eyes still been flesh, they would have been overwhelmed long ago, but here they were wide in rapt a ention even as the sun was just a hair’s breadth away.

Then John burned.

* * * * *

Pain.

J ohn’s body ached so much that he felt certain he was alive again. A pleasure came with the pain, a positive association that took him back to days on the beach lazy as a full-bellied cat. He shifted, his skin stinging with sunburn.

“I’d touch you, but I fear it would only hurt you more.” J ohn opened his eyes, marveling at how his eyelids had been burnt as well. The sight that greeted him was worth the pain. R immon’s handsome face loomed above him, his golden eyes wet with concern. J ohn would have stolen a kiss, if his barbecued lips weren’t aching.

“I take it we’re somewhere safe,” J ohn rasped, “otherwise you wouldn’t be outside Dante.”

“Quite the contrary,” Rimmon replied. “Can you sit up?”

“Yeah,” J ohn said, not knowing if it was true. As it turned out, he had nothing to fear. His chaffed skin smarted as his clothing shifted, but aside from discomfort he appeared unharmed. He winced as his palms pressed against the floor, the tender skin burnt there, too.

“I don’t suppose you can heal me?”

“Heal you?”

“Like you did in Hell, from the glass man’s touch.”

The incubus shook his head. “That was an emotional wound. W hat you are suffering from now is something different altogether.”

“Might be worth a shot anyway.” John’s grin was suggestive.

R immon matched it. “And to think I was once sent to seduce you! As tempting as you are, I prefer my men rare rather than well done.”

“That bad?”

“C ould be worse, but I hate to imagine how. Tell me exactly what happened to you.”

J ohn related the details, the demon’s face growing serious but then reflecting surprise when Ra’s name was mentioned.

“Then consider yourself lucky,” R immon said. “M ost souls would have been atomized back into the ether by an experience like that.”

“Which means?”

“W hich means that it would have taken you a very long time to find yourself again, if ever.” Rimmon’s eyes were smiling. “You’re just full of tricks, aren’t you?”

“A magician who doesn’t know his own secrets,” John said with a sigh.

“The burns are already fading, which is promising.” R immon offered his hand. “We need to go. The others are waiting for us.”

“Why didn’t they come with you?” John asked as he stood.

“They were needed as collateral. O siris was much more surprised by your sudden disappearance than he was by my appearance.”

“Then they knew about you?”

R immon nodded. “C erberus tipped them off. Hades said something to O siris about my presence, but I couldn’t understand much of the archaic tongue they were speaking. R egardless, your vanishing act wasn’t part of the plan. O siris wasn’t willing to leave the path to come find you, so it was up to me.” They began walking. J ohn was glad that the soles of his feet hadn’t been roasted as well. “Do you think Hades could be behind this? Any reason he would have a grudge against us?”

R immon grimaced. “Against me and all of my kind. The C hristian Hell is based on his realm more than any other. O ne of his territories in particular, Tartarus, is a great flaming pit where evil souls are sent to suffer. This concept was a part of G reek religion before the C hristians adapted it to their own needs. S ince then, the C hristian Hell has become much more prevalent than Tartarus, something Hades takes personal offense to.”

“Divine plagiarism?”

“S omething like that.” R immon chuckled. “B ut to answer your question, no, I don’t think Hades is behind this. He wanted to know what we were hiding, but he wouldn’t interfere with the gods of another pantheon to find that out.”

“I can’t blame him for being suspicious,” J ohn said. “I f you had been open with them from the beginning—”

“Then they wouldn’t have listened to a word we had to say. Hell’s reputation is darkly tarnished and for good reason. We embrace every sin, vice, and despicable trait with open arms. Honest as I may be, truth rarely touches the tongues of most demons.”

“Fine, but why didn’t you reveal yourself later? We were sending them on a boat to Hell, after all, and Mercury didn’t seem to mind you being a demon.”

“M aybe I should have, but I think you underestimate the level of mistrust felt for my kind. It certainly doesn’t help to be hidden in the body of a kleptomaniac.”

“Dante stole the crown, didn’t he?”

Rimmon nodded. “Quiet now. We’re almost back to the others.”

“One more thing,” John said. “How did you find me?”

“We have a connection.”

“A connection, eh? Next thing I know you’ll be asking me to move in with you. Not that I would mind.”

The demon’s lips turned up at the corners. “The connection exists because when we slept together, an emotional bond was created between us. I was able to follow the remnants of this bond to find you. This is a natural ability of the incubi, and not at all romantic or indicative of fondness, although I do consider you my friend.” John rolled his eyes. “I bet you say that to all the guys.”

“No, usually I have to explain to them that nothing more will come of our association together. I must confess, I enjoy not having to worry about that with you.

My ego may be bruised, but it’s good to finally have a friend.” John couldn’t help smiling.

Familiar barks echoed down the tunnel. B olo performed his usual ritual of greeting while Dante looked impatient for them to continue, perhaps fearing that a pantheon of G reek gods was on his trail. O siris’ expression was harder to read. W hatever his thoughts were, the god’s eyes remained fixed on J ohn as if he would disappear again at any moment.

J ohn felt like he owed them explanation, even if he didn’t understand the reasons himself. He willingly told O siris what had transpired, but hadn’t been prepared for the reaction. Osiris, who had been stoic and distant, was suddenly animated, his eyes wide with hope and emotion.

“C ome!” O siris urged them on. “We must leave these dark passages and exit into the world above. There the skies will testify to the truth of your story!”

“Were you telling the truth?” Dante whispered as they followed.

“Yeah. C an’t you see the sunburn?” B ut as J ohn touched his own face, he realized it was already gone. Only the very back of his neck still felt raw.

“Did anything happen while we were away?” R immon asked. “I nterrogation?

Intimidation?”

“No, it was boring,” Dante said. “I tried striking up a conversation, but Kermit the Frog over there has never heard of football before.”

“We have arrived,” Osiris declared.

The phonics of the god’s voice were different now, due to the large chamber they had entered. E very flat surface was covered in hieroglyphics. A disturbing number of them showed green men holding human hearts aloft like trophies. An altar was the room’s only decoration, four stairs leading up to its apex where a set of gleaming, golden scales sat. S hining even brighter behind them was a pair of massive ornate doors, golden too but decorated with a jewel-encrusted mosaic that depicted a fertile land.

“Here the souls of the living are judged, to determine if they are worthy of joining the gods in the fields of Aaru,” Osiris declared.

“And if they’re not?” Dante asked.

O siris brought his crook and flail together with a clang. From beneath the altar, a pile of scales, fur, and weathered skin slithered out into the open. The beast had the head of a crocodile, but the rest of its body was a mesh of a lion and something gray and leathery. The creature gaited to its master’s side, where it waited in anticipation.

O siris reached down to stroke its head affectionately. “The hearts of those judged unworthy are fed to Ammit.”

“We are visitors here upon your request,” R immon said cordially. “S urely such trials are unnecessary for us.”

“The humans and the hound are welcome,” the E gyptian god responded, “but it remains to be seen if a creature of Hell can be trusted.”

“I can vouch for him,” John said.

Osiris shook his head. “Such decisions are not for you to make.” J ohn did his best to swallow his anger. “You want to join Hell in their war, but you won’t let one of their kind enter your land?”

“I say only that he must first be judged.”

G ut instinct told J ohn what was happening here. “I s this what you want, or is this what Hades told you to do?”

Osiris didn’t respond. Instead he turned his eyes on Rimmon and waited.

“What’s he have to do, exactly?” Dante asked.

“I f I remember right,” the demon sighed, “my heart will be removed and placed on the scales. I f it is too heavy, it gets fed to the beast. I f it is light enough, then my existence will continue.”

“What is your heart weighed against?” John asked.

“This.” O siris took a single feather from his crown and placed it on one of the scale’s plates.

“Forget it.” J ohn took hold of R immon’s arm to pull him away, but the demon didn’t budge.

“I warned you of their prejudice,” R immon said. “There have been too many demons and devils before me whose fame has tarnished all of our names. W hen my brethren choose to do evil, they excel beyond what any other race is capable of, and history has not forgotten.”

“Don’t do this!” John pleaded.

“I will be fine.”

“I t’s not like any of us need a heart,” Dante pointed out. “There’s no blood to pump.”

“The heart is merely a symbol,” O siris explained. “I t is the essence of his soul that will be measured and destroyed if need be.”

“Oh, well, that’s fine, then,” John snarled.

“E asy now,” R immon gently removed J ohn’s hand and stepped forward. “I am ready.”

At least there was no satisfaction on O siris’ face, no reaction that a victory had been won. If this was indeed Hades’ desire, then the Egyptian god took no pleasure in it.