Ransom For Hire - Appointment In Hell (3 page)

He stopped shaking Romock but still held on tight to the Imp’s neck as he examined his right hand. The Imp had bit him deeply, and the puncture wounds bled, but it wasn’t too severe. It hurt, but that was all.

Ransom let up on the pressure he was putting on the hateful little creature’s neck and the Imp sucked in a deep breath. “You…you not nice man,” Romock said to him.

“No. I’m not a nice man. I’m a man you don’t mess with. I’m the guy who puts people here in Hell. People, and non-people, and all kinds of things nastier than little Romock, so little Romock had better not mess with me anymore!”

To Ransom’s surprise, Romock smiled at him. “You guy who put people in Hell. Someday, you die and be in Hell with Romock too.”

“Someday,” Ransom acknowledged. “But not today. Today, you’re going to take me to my wife and then I’m leaving.”

Romock glared at him. But nodded.

Hell is immense.

Imps have free run of Hell. The souls of the dead and damned are restricted to a certain area, where they exist in pain and misery. The demons of Hell have their own designated places of existence, when they’re not on Earth. Satan, of course, runs the place and can go wherever he wants within Hell’s boundaries. Visitors are escorted in, and back out. But the little Imps go here, there, and everywhere, pretty much at will.

Traveling in Hell is a matter of wanting to be somewhere. That’s why the souls of the dead can’t ever leave the place they're bound to. They don’t know any of the other places in Hell. They can’t want to be somewhere they don’t know exists. The Imps know everywhere. And when they want to be in a different place, they think about being there, and then they are.

Romock closed its little Imp eyes tightly, stuck its tongue out between its teeth, and thought about the place Ransom’s wife had been taken.

And just like that, they were somewhere else.

Ransom stood on a cliff face overlooking a barren plain below. A narrow ledge of rock ran under his feet, along the face of the cliff in both directions. He hugged the cliff wall, the sheer drop below into nothingness taking his breath away. Romock sniggered at him until Ransom squeezed its neck harder.

To his right there was a cave opening, and Ransom thought that maybe it was the one Romock had spoken of. Until he saw the naked man step out and onto the ledge.

The man was dead, of course, and this was only a representation of the guy’s soul. The essence of the man’s self-image as he remembered himself from life. He was tall, pale skinned, and scrawny. His nude body was coated in sweat, and his light blonde hair was filthy and stiff with it. Next to the man walked a beautiful woman, as naked as the guy was. At a second glance, Ransom changed that opinion. She wasn’t just beautiful. She was the kind of woman that Playboy and Penthouse would have paid top dollar for. The kind of woman a guy would do anything for, just to be allowed to touch her.

The woman made it painfully obvious that she was offering herself to the man. And the man’s face twisted in agony the more she did. She kept pushing up against the man, humping him, putting his hands on her body, forcing him to do things to her that would have made any man burn with desire. But for this man, Ransom could see, what she was doing was torture. His eyes grew wide and glassy and terrified as he slowly gave in to her advances. The man’s stiff erection quivered as it pierced her dripping cleft.

And then, pulling away violently, he turned and jumped off the cliff into the ashy air to fell to the plains far below.

This was Hell. Your choices in life were fed back to you again and again. Ransom knew that. But it was still disturbing to see. That guy had probably cheated on his wife with this woman, ruined his marriage, ruined his life, maybe even killed himself over it, and the choice was being offered to him again and again. Either that or the woman was the guy’s sister. Hard to tell what agonies plagued a man in life.

She looked over at Ransom. And winked.

Ransom looked quickly away from her. The fewer…people you engaged in Hell, the better. On his left, another cave burrowed back into the cliff face.

“This way?” he asked Romock. The Imp nodded. And smiled. Ransom did not like that smile.

“You’re coming with me, Imp, so I wouldn’t be so happy.”

Romock snickered. “Go in, go in. Romock brought you where you wanted.”

“If you’re lying to me, I will kill you. I know how hard it is to kill an Imp. But I’ll enjoy every minute that it takes me to make it happen, got it?”

Romock snickered again.

There was nothing for it but to go into the cave, so Ransom stepped in.

The walls of the cave were lined with bones. Human bones. Animal bones. Ransom even recognized the bones of a Megolith, and what might have been a dragon’s skull. Nothing would surprise him. Not here.

Torches lined the walls, giving off an oily black smoke and very little actual light. They created shadows that wavered over the skeletal pieces and gave the illusion of movement to things long dead. Ransom stepped carefully as the cave floor sloped down, and down further still.

At its end the cave opened up into a round room. An empty, round room.

Ransom swung Romock back against the wall, knocking the Imp’s head against some poor soul’s spinal column, shattering several vertebrae and making the Imp scream. “You said she was here!”

“Don’t blame Romock for nothing, Ransom, truly” a whispery voice said behind him. “I tolds him to bring you to me first.”

Ransom looked back over his shoulder and saw a form materialize against the far wall. It had been cloaked against the bones, like a chameleon blending into its background.

“Lan Protegux,” Ransom named the demon. It stood hunched over, its massive arms trailing hands against the floor, muscles made of thick cords rippling beneath its thin skin. Its head was elongated like a dog’s, thick canine teeth poking out of its mouth, pointed ears laid back flat.

It smiled at Ransom. “What an honor that I woulds be remembered by you, truly an honor.”

Ransom held tight to his little blue Imp as he turned to face Lan Protegux. “I remember you, Lan. I sent you back to Hell, what was it, twice?”

“It was three times, truly, but who is counting, right?” The demon smiled and stepped closer to Ransom with a rolling gait, its hands knuckling against the floor.

“That’s close enough, Lan,” Ransom threatened.

Lan Protegux stopped where it was, but then smiled. “What is you goings to do, Ransom? You can’t sends me to Hell again. I’s already here.”

“I just want my wife, Lan. After that, I’m gone again.”

“Oh, yes. Your wife. She is a lovely woman. Truly lovely. I can see why you woulds fight your way through Hell to saves her, truly I can.”

Ransom didn’t have time for this. “I can’t stay and reminisce with you, Lan. I need to go get her.”

Lan Protegux nodded its long head. “Yes, truly you do. There are some very nasty…things thats are holding her here.”

Ransom lost control of himself for a second and nearly crushed Romock’s neck in his hand. “What things, Lan? Where is she?”

The demon shrugged. “I knows where she is, Ransom. Truly I do. But I should tell you? Why?”

“Because I’m going to tear through this place with my bare hands until I get to her, and you know I will. You know I can.”

“But, Ransom, you do not understands me. I wants you to do exactly that. Truly.”

Ransom knew he was missing something. “What are you talking about?”

The demon stepped closer still. “You is one of the few beings who could stands a chance against him, yes? Truly? You will takes him down, and then you will gets your wife back.”

Take…
him
down?

Ransom couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You want me to take out Satan?”

Lan Protegux smiled. “I knews you was smart, Ransom. Do this thing for me. You will haves your wife. You will haves money, and power, and anything you wants.”

Ransom almost laughed. “That’s it? Just take out Satan for you? Just kill the most powerful demon in creation? And then what, go spit in God’s eye?”

“Whatever makes you happy, truly,” the demon said, spreading its hands wide. “But Satan first.”

“No,” Ransom said. “This is not a suicide mission for me. I’m here for my wife. That’s all.”

Lan Protegux sneered at him, growling. “You will do this for me. Truly.”

“No, Lan, I won’t.”

Ransom turned to go.

The demon hissed behind him. “Kills him.”

From the walls appeared another four demons, hidden with the same camouflage technique Lan Protegux had used. All of them had twisted, deformed bodies, long and segmented legs carrying muscular masses of flesh, long arms sprouting from heavy shoulders, heads with faces that had been modeled by some insane artist. All of them carried long, twisted daggers.

Ransom swore loudly.

And swung Romock the Imp at the nearest one.

The Imp screeched loudly as it connected solidly with the face of the demon. Bones crunched. Black ichor, the stuff that passed for blood in the demon world, spattered everywhere. The demon stopped, stunned, and it was enough for Ransom. He raised his boot in a high kick to the thing’s face, felt more bones crunching, and wrenched the dagger from the things grip with his free hand.

And buried it to the hilt through the demon’s heart.

The demon melted into thick goo at Ransom’s feet.

The other three had advanced on him while all this was happening and Ransom had to roll out of the way to avoid several swipes from those wicked blades.

The Imp in his hand was screaming through bleeding lips. “No! No! NO! NO!”

Ransom didn’t have time for this. Or patience.

Two of the demons came at him in a rush and swung their blades down.

The Imp made a passable shield, the daggers burying into its belly and sticking there. Ransom shoved towards the two demons, stolen knife blade out, and managed to gut the one on his right, sending it falling to the floor trying to gather together its insides as it bled out. The other one was still trying to pry its dagger out of Romock as Ransom pushed back against it.

The remaining demon that Lan Protegux had called forth came at Ransom from behind. He saw it just in time and ducked to his right as its blade came in. The sharp edge of it grazed his left arm and continued on to pierce through the chest of its fellow demon.

The knife in its chest confused the demon. It stopped trying to pull its blade out of Romock the Imp, and felt at the blood pouring down its body from the wound. And then it fell dead, dissolving into the thick goo of dissolving flesh that marked the death of all demon-kind.

The demon who had just slain one of its own stopped in shock, its black eyes wide.

“Killed one of your own,” Ransom said to it with a small shake of his head. “What circle of Hell does that land you in?”

And then he rammed his twisted dagger up into the demon’s throat, hard enough that the point stuck out through the top of the thing’s head. The blade became caught in the demon’s skull. The thing splashed to a puddle of muck at Ransom’s feet.

Yuck, Ransom thought to himself. He hated Hell. For so many reasons.

Three demons dissolving into goo. One dying on the floor with its black organs spilling out around it. And a bloodied and broken Imp, a dagger still caught in its body. Ransom couldn’t tell if the little creature in his fist was alive still or dead and he really didn’t care at that moment. He tossed Romock to the floor and rounded on Lan Protegux.

The demon backhanded Ransom across the face. Those muscularly framed arms carried a lot of force and Ransom fell backward onto his ass, his head spinning and his ears ringing, as Lan Protegux stalked toward him.

From the inside pocket of his long coat ransom pulled out his own dagger with the blue jewel in its tip. “Carish-lae-nok,” he breathed.

The dagger flew from his hand and imbedded itself in Lan Protegux’ neck.

The demon pitched forward onto the floor and died in a burst of flame. The fire was quickly consumed into the goo that had once been one of the most feared demons in all of Hell’s domain.

The smell was horrendous. Ransom was glad for the handkerchief tied around his face.

Death in Hell wasn’t like dying on Earth. Dying on Earth meant the release of your soul. It meant your essence could continue on by being sorted to Heaven, or to Hell.

Death in Hell meant the end of your existence. Forever. Done. Gone.

Lan Protegux was truly dead.

Done.

Gone.

Forever.

Ransom took several breaths to calm himself. Damn all demons, and their games. He had lost time he sorely needed to get to his wife. He got up to his knees and took stock of himself.

His right hand had stopped bleeding where Romock had bit him. It was purple and bruised but thankfully not infected. His left arm had a slash through the coat and into his skin from that one demon’s knife. It was oozing blood but the cut didn’t seem to be deep. The way those knives had been twisted, though, it wasn’t a clean cut. No way it would heal over on its own. He put pressure on it with his hand and closed his eyes tightly before breathing, “Nokto.”

His skin burned. He smelled the rich odor of sizzling meat as the wound cauterized shut.

Ransom had learned the art of using words of power during his time hunting down and murdering creatures of the paranormal kind. He had needed every edge he could get to stay alive long enough to reap the sizable paydays that kind of work offered. It had actually been Al’Gamesh who taught him most of the words he used. But he had learned whatever he could from whoever would teach him. Some of the things he knew how to do were merely helpful, like this one. Others were deadly. Some of what he could do scared him.

But in Hell, his little tricks wouldn’t be enough.

Over on the floor, Romock groaned and sat up. He looked with disgust down at the dagger through his torso and then yanked it straight out, screeching loudly as the twisted metal shredded more of his body on its way out.

Ransom walked over and stood over the little Imp. “You done playing games now?”