Hell's Pawn (31 page)

The air was ge ing tense with confused passion when the clouds parted enough to allow a beam of sparkling sunlight through. R immon kept dancing, but one by one he lost his audience to the glimmering beauty that now stood in their midst. The goddess was difficult to see clearly, light moving along her skin, the sun’s reflection on water.

E very part they could see—a hint of eyes, a li le bit of leg—was perfection. The goddess turned to watch Rimmon, laughing in delight.

S he was given a good show, as piece by piece, the demon took off his costume without missing a beat. S oon he was revealed in all his glorious masculinity, even managing to wipe away the makeup in a becoming manner. The skirt was the last to fall away, and after an appreciative gasp from the audience, R immon snapped his fingers and was dressed in contemporary clothing again. Then the audience began to drift away, all of them in pairs. The men had something they wanted to prove, and the women were in the mood to let them.

“Amaterasu,” Rimmon said. “You honor us with your presence.”

“I ’ve never seen a
kagura
performed like that before,” the goddess said, her voice the sound of wind chimes on a summer breeze.

“I hope it was still to your liking.”

“O h, it was,” Amaterasu breathed. “I shall commit the details to my memory for all eternity.”

R immon smiled as he hopped off the barrel. “You fla er me, sweet sun goddess. I t pains me to ask for anything more than your generous presence here, but I believe you recently rescued a friend of ours. We’d very much like to be reunited with her.” The light of the goddess dimmed suddenly, revealing her frown. “You mean this?” There was a scream from the sky that grew louder as it neared, ending with a thump. Fumiko pulled herself up from the dirt and scowled. “W hat was that for?” she demanded. “This is how you treat your guests?”

“Not since my brother S usanoo overstayed his welcome has my home been made so miserable,” the goddess complained. “I n fact, I rather prefer S usanoo’s company to that of this witch! You will do me a great favor by taking her back into your care!”

“My only wish is to serve you,” Rimmon said solemnly, “ but I can’t help notice that she is no longer wearing the jewelry she left with.”

The R egression R egalia! W ithout it they couldn’t transform Dante back. For all of his shortcomings, at least the I rishman wasn’t as treacherous as the old woman before them.

Amaterasu cupped her hand, and the jewels appeared there. “I took them as payment for the generous accommodations I provided, although a mountain of jewels wouldn’t have been enough!”

Fumiko didn’t have a retort. S he was eying her surroundings with an all-to-familiar air. E scape was her intent. R immon must have sensed this, for he stepped forward and grabbed her arm.

“As much as you deserve compensation for your troubles,” R immon addressed the goddess, “those jewels weren’t Fumiko’s to give.”

“You would take them from me?” Amaterasu sounded surprised.

“Not without giving you something in return.”

The full force of R immon’s allure hit J ohn like a wall. He was nearly overcome with the urge to run to him, until he realized that he wasn’t the intended target.

The goddess’s eyes sparkled as they grew wide. “What would you offer?” Rimmon’s reply was quick. “I’d show the sun how to move through the night.” J ohn’s stomach sank. Was he serious? Was he really going to sleep with the goddess just to get the R egalia back? He could barely stomach what happened next: Amaterasu handed him the jewels, her hand lingering on Rimmon’s and moving up his arm.

J ohn tore his eyes away, pulse beating in his neck. The green-eyed beast inside him stirred, refusing to be silent this time. J ust the thought of R immon being with the goddess was enough to make J ohn shake with anger. W hen had this happened? W hen had he decided that R immon belonged to him? J ohn never should have touched his incubus heart, but until now, he hadn’t fully understood the ramifications.

“John.”

The demon stood before him, a knowing expression on his face. J ohn met his gaze with difficulty.

“Take these,” R immon said, handing him the jewels. “Use them on Fumiko, but not in front of anyone. We dare not reveal their value. I ’ll be with you again in the morning.”

J ohn couldn’t answer. He looked away to where a number of terraco a soldiers were holding Fumiko in place.

“When I see that expression,” Rimmon sighed, “it’s like seeing his face again.” J ohn turned away. I t was bad enough that R immon was prostituting himself. The reminder that his heart had long been taken by somebody else was too much to bear.

B y the time J ohn gathered the strength to raise his head, the demon and the goddess were gone.

* * * * *

The old woman growled and launched herself at him again. S he had recovered surprisingly fast from the piledriver J ohn had subjected her to. S he came at him with splayed fingers, her nails whistling past J ohn’s nose before he ducked and shot an uppercut straight into her chin. The old woman spun in a complete circle before falling to the ground.

Doing ba le with a senior citizen was hardly his proudest moment, so J ohn was relieved no one was around to witness it. O btaining privacy hadn’t been difficult. L iu W u had raised his eyebrows when first seeing Fumiko squirming to get loose from J ohn’s grip, but had shrugged in a manner that suggested it was no concern of his. He probably thought J ohn had taken an unwilling lover, but the truth couldn’t be explained without revealing the Regression Regalia.

Fumiko now lay on a floor that was just as bare as the walls. O nly a bed furnished the room, on it the priceless jewelry. J ohn grabbed the R egalia before pouncing on Fumiko, punching her a few more times after she spit in his face and bit his arm. After a couple more amateur wrestling moves, J ohn managed to get the necklace and bracelets on her arms and neck. He stabbed at the onyx jewel on the left wrist, glad when the venomous old woman finally disappeared in a lightshow. The potbellied, ginger-haired man appeared next. J ohn didn’t give him a chance to speak before he pressed the dark gem again.

He sighed with relief when Dante’s familiar form reappeared.

“Get these things off me!” he spluttered. “And then you get off me, too!”

“S orry!” J ohn said, doing as he was told. “For all of it, I mean. We should have explained the plan, given you a choice.”

“I t’s just as well you didn’t,” Dante grunted as he stood. “I never wanted to be her again. Not in a million years!”

J ohn paused, unsure if he had understood. “You mean you knew about Fumiko even before all of this?”

“Her and everyone else I ’ve ever been, yeah.” Now it was the I rishman who expressed surprise. “You mean you don’t?”

“No,” John said flatly. “Why do you think that is?”

“S ide effect of the big spooky secret, I suppose,” Dante said, wiggling his fingers theatrically. “I t’s not as interesting as you’d think, remembering past lives. They’re just the numbers that add up to the sum of who you are. I ’m sure you noticed that Fumiko and I share similar morals. S he was just me a few steps back, that’s all. I t’s like remembering what an awkward twit you were at twelve.”

J ohn thought of how he had been all teeth and legs back then. “You’re right. That doesn’t sound like fun.”

“I t wasn’t all bad. At least I got to spend time with the goddess. Not as a man, unfortunately, but that had its benefits. S he even asked me to help her get dressed once. Can you believe that?”

J ohn’s stomach sank, the idea of R immon sleeping with the goddess causing a dull pain in his chest. L ogically, he knew he shouldn’t be bothered. He’d known what R immon was since they first met. C all him incubus or ambassador, when R immon’s profession was boiled down to the basics, he was first and foremost a hustler. I n a way, all politicians were whores, doing everything to please the right people in order to get what they want. R immon was simply more honest and direct in his methods. And he had always been honest with J ohn—right from the beginning—by never making any false promises.

I f only J ohn could make his stupid heart understand that, maybe the pain would go away. He thought of the goddess’s hand on R immon’s arm and shook his head. W hat a terrible way to realize he was in love.

J ohn wasn’t helpless though. He could leave. His work was mostly done anyway.

The most powerful gods had been gathered together, and now they had an army to command. All that remained was the inevitable victory, and they didn’t need J ohn for that. All he needed to do was climb into the driver’s seat of the steam coach, and he would be free. J ohn thought he knew his destination. R immon had hinted about it being where he belonged, a place where Dante or the incubus couldn’t follow. W here else could it be but Heaven?

“I ’m leaving,” J ohn said, heading for the door. “W hen R immon gets back, tell him to find someone else to wear the jade suit. I t won’t make any difference to L iu W u. He doesn’t even have to know.”

“J ade suit? Wait, leaving?” Dante followed J ohn into the hallway. “W hat do you mean?”

“I ’m taking the steam coach for a spin. O r you could save me the trouble and tell me the big secret.”

“C ouldn’t if I wanted to,” Dante said. “Asmoday has some sort of spell on me, but I don’t see how the coach is going to help you any.”

“M anannan thought it might. I f I take the driver’s seat, then it will take my soul to where it belongs.”

Dante’s eyes widened. “You think that will work?”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

J ohn picked up his pace. The chariot was just outside the tomb, moonlight glistening off its black finish and brass pipes. J ohn climbed the two small steps to the driver’s seat.

“Wait up!” Dante shouted.

“You can’t stop me,” John said, taking a seat.

“No, but you’ll need someone to pull your lever.” Dante grinned at him. “B esides, someone should see you off properly.”

J ohn smiled back and gestured for Dante to climb inside. He probably wouldn’t be able to complete the journey anyway. O nce J ohn was in Heaven, Dante’s soul would be kicked back to Hell, which was where he was happiest.

E ven though it didn’t need to, J ohn’s heart thudded in his chest while he waited for Dante to pull the lever. The steam coach lurched, first forward, then backward. I t spun to the left in a full circle before launching forward and halting, tipping forward dangerously on two wheels before it fell backward again. C learly the steam coach was confused. Then it went still, and just when J ohn thought they wouldn’t be going anywhere at all, the coach began to fade.

He looked down at his own hands to see they were now transparent as well. They disappeared entirely as he watched. He couldn’t see at all anymore, not even the world around them. There wasn’t black, white, gray or any other color. There was nothing.

Then they arrived, the world exploding back into existence. The room was dark, the orange street lights outside just bright enough to illuminate the details. Two beds were in the room, a flat-screen television mounted on the wall across from them. A utilitarian dresser sat next to each bed, a curtain separating the two, although it wasn’t pulled far enough to provide complete privacy.

They had arrived on E arth. J ohn resisted a laugh, thinking how much that sounded like a line from a cheesy sci-fi movie. He could probably turn on the television and watch one of those films if he wanted, and despite the inevitable commercial interruptions, the idea sounded blissful.

“A hospital,” John murmured. “St. Francis Memorial by the look of it.”

“All the answers are right here,” Dante said, appearing around the side of the coach.

“I can’t say them until you know them, but—” He gestured to the beds.

J ohn stood, walking with deliberate care down the steps of the coach, which didn’t even fit in the room. M ost of it had disappeared beyond the walls, sticking out into the hallway, although John doubted it was visible to the living.

The sights and smells weren’t lost to the dead. The drab furnishings and sterile smell took J ohn straight back to the time his grandmother had been in the hospital, shortly before she died. He had walked right past her bed the first time, no longer recognizing her because of the cancer that had ravaged her body.

J ohn didn’t need to choose which bed to look in; he was drawn to it, almost pulled across the floor. And there he was, sleeping on his back, his mouth open and slack.

J ohn looked at J ohn, and felt dizzy, delirious, horrified, and excited. He saw a heart monitor, and while it didn’t beep like they did on television, a steady green line jumped across the screen.

“I’m not dead,” he said, and his feet left the floor as he floated toward his body.

“W hoa, whoa, whoa!” Dante said, grabbing one of his feet. J ohn stopped like a balloon tethered by a string. “S ee, they told me this would happen. You’re drawn to your body like a moth to a bug zapper. That’s where you belong.” J ohn’s feet slowly returned to the ground as he regained control of himself. W ith considerable effort, he turned to face Dante, even though he wanted to dive into his body like it was the only pool on a scorching summer day.

“I’m not dead,” he repeated.

“That’s right. You’re still alive and kicking. S ort of. Your body is in a coma. No idea if you’ll wake up from it or not, but with your willpower, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Dante gave him a playful punch on the arm. “S o this is it, then. W henever you do get around to dying properly, I hope we see each other again. Not that I want you to go to Hell,” Dante backpedaled. “I just mean, you know … Look me up, all right?”

“We left B olo behind,” J ohn realized suddenly. “And R immon.” For the first time since entering P urgatory, J ohn felt like crying. He wouldn’t have a chance to say goodbye to them, wouldn’t see them again for a lifetime.

“I ’ll take care of the mu ,” Dante promised. “The demon can take care of himself, no doubt, but I’ll keep an eye out anyway.”

Dante would need to watch out for all of them because a war was coming, one of J ohn’s own creation. He had gathered enough forces for Asmoday to do whatever he pleased, and J ohn didn’t believe for a second that the Archduke would stop at P urgatory. Asmoday’s fear of Heaven would lead him to a ack there next, perhaps even first, and J ohn’s friends could be lost or hurt in that ba le. And yet, as much as he didn’t want to turn his back on all of this, his body was calling him home, urging him to return to life.