The Book of Doom (15 page)

With a wink of his nipples, Argus turned and gestured towards the elevator doors, just as they opened with a
ping
.

HERE WAS A
momentary commotion within the elevator, and then Herya was bundled out. The bouncer shoved her forward, then stepped out after her.

“Here she is, Mr Argus. Like you asked,” he said. “Gimme a shout if she gets out of hand.”

With a brief nod to his employer, the bouncer stepped back into the lift. Herya glared after him as the doors slid closed.

“Yeah,” said Herya. “That’s right. You’d better run, if you know what’s good for you.”

She stood up and dusted herself down, then looked over to Zac and Argus. When she saw the demon, her eyes widened just a fraction.

“All right?” Zac asked.

“Yes,” Herya said defensively. “Of course.”

“Herya of the Valkyries,” Argus said. He spoke her name grandly, as if announcing her arrival at a formal dinner party. “Such a beautiful girl, you no think, Zac? That hair. The wings.” He adjusted his fez and smiled more broadly than ever. “Beautiful girl.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot you two know each other,” said Zac.

Argus laughed as he skipped over to the Valkyrie. “Ah, but if only I had such good fortune,” he said, planting kisses on both of her cheeks. “Today is the first day I have had the pleasure.”

Zac looked to Herya. “But I thought you said...?”

“No, I didn’t,” she replied quickly.

“But you—?”

She gave him the same look Argus’s nipples had given him just minutes before. “Leave it,” she said, then she added, “please.”

Zac gave an uncertain nod and leaned back into the couch. Argus took Herya by the elbow and steered her over to join him. “Please, sit. Little Angelo will be joining us...”

A squirming sack landed with a
thud
on the floor between them.

“...now.”

An enormous man in a small loincloth thudded down on to the carpet from a large hatch in the ceiling. The man straightened up and groaned as his back went
click
.

“Ooh, that’s better,” he said. “I’m not as young as I used to be.”

The man had one eye set in the centre of his forehead. It blinked slowly as it looked at Zac and Herya.

Zac stood up. “Who is this?” he demanded.

“Ah, do not worry, do not fret. This is my assistant, Steropes,” said Argus. “Steropes is a Cyclops, yes? You see the irony? I have many eyes; Steropes has only one!”

Zac stared up Steropes. Aside from having just one eye, the Cyclops looked much like a man. A large, mean-looking man. With tattoos.

His hair was clipped short and a rough stubble covered his chin. He was stockily built, with a broad neck and bodybuilder arms. Although he wore no clothes aside from a worryingly small loincloth, his tattoos covered his skin like an all-over rash.

Despite his appearance, Steropes’s voice was soft and quiet. “Afternoon,” he said. He gave Zac a friendly nod, which the boy felt obliged to return.

“All right?” Zac asked.

“Yeah, not bad, not bad,” replied the Cyclops. “Thanks for asking.” As he spoke, he bent and tore open the sack, letting Angelo spill out on to the floor.

“Wh—?” Angelo spluttered, blinking frantically in the sudden light. He flailed around on his back for a moment, before scrambling to his feet. He screamed when he spotted Steropes – a high-pitched girly screech that made the glass in the chandeliers quiver.

“Whoa, easy, easy,” soothed the Cyclops. “Sorry about the whispering and the bundling you up in the bag an’ all that. Boss’s orders. Hope you weren’t too traumatised by it all.”

Angelo screamed again in response.

“Angelo, Angelo, relax,” Zac said. He stepped closer to the boy, then tried to pull back as Angelo threw his arms round him. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t break the bearhug.

“Oh, it was horrible,” Angelo gasped. “Just horrible!” Zac could feel the boy’s heart pounding inside his chest. He was uncomfortably warm to the touch, but he was still a few degrees away from being
hot
. “I thought I was never going to see you again,” Angelo sobbed. “Can you imagine how horrible that would be?”

Zac hesitated. “Horrible. Yeah.”

Angelo spotted the Valkyrie and yelped with delight. “Herya!” He detached himself from Zac and hurried over to her, his arms spread wide.

“Don’t even think about it,” she warned. Angelo faltered to a stop just a few steps away from her, but his smile didn’t fade.

“You’re alive. We’re all alive!” He raised both hands triumphantly above his head. “Go, Superfriends!”

There was a moment of embarrassed silence. Angelo lowered his arms again.

“Nice, nice! Is very nice, yes? Happy reunion,” said Argus. “Please, my apologies for the way you were all brought here. In my line of work I find direct approach is simplest. Besides, I have an image to maintain, yes?”

Zac looked at the belly, the curly shoes and the tiny fez. “I’m sure you do.”

Angelo glanced nervously at Zac. “Is that... Is that him?”

“Argus the all-seeing,” said Argus. He did another twirl. His flabby torso undulated like a lava lamp.

“Why do they call you that?” asked Angelo.

Herya answered for him. “Legend says he’s got a hundred eyes.”

Argus nodded. “Very good! It does say that, doesn’t it? But legend, it is a fool. It knows nothing.”

“You haven’t got
any
eyes,” said Angelo, who had no intention of looking at any part of Argus below the neck, thank you very much.

“Ah, not here, maybe,” conceded the demon, tapping a manicured finger against his temple, “but everywhere else. Downstairs. Outside. All across Hades and all through the other Afterworlds.”

“Nipples,” blurted Herya. She was staring at them, apparently having just noticed them for the first time.

“Ah, yes!” Argus said. He puffed up his chest proudly. “You like?”

Herya faltered. “Not really.”

Argus grabbed two rolls of flab and made the belly-face again. “Oh, that is not vewy nice,” he said. Then he laughed, spun on the spot, and trotted over to an antique globe that stood just a little away from the fireplace. The lid flipped open and smoke billowed out from within.

Reaching inside the globe, Argus pulled out a foil-wrapped bundle. “Febab?” he offered. “My own creation. It is kebab meat and the Feta cheese, all wrapped together with chilli sauce.” He gave his belly a rub. “Hot. Spicy. Very nice.”

“I’m all right,” said Zac. He glanced along the couch to the others. “I think... yeah, we’re all OK for now, thanks.”

Argus shrugged and dropped the foil bundle back into the concealed barbecue, before closing the lid. “Where was I?”

“You were telling us you see everything,” Zac prompted. “All the Afterworlds.”

“Aha! Not just the Afterworlds,” Argus corrected. His empty eye sockets turned towards Zac. “Have you ever felt that tingle up your spine telling you ‘Hey! What is this? I am not alone!’? Have you ever had the feeling that someone was watching you? Like when you were in your bedroom, let us say, just before the Monk killed you?”

Zac thought back. The rooftop along the street. He thought he’d seen someone watching him just before he closed the curtains.

Argus saw the realisation spread across the boy’s face. “Yes, yes. That was me. You see, no matter what legend says, I am not having a hundred eyes. No, no. I am having a hundred
billion
of them. Watching. Always watching everything and everyone.”

Steropes leaned over him. “But not in a creepy way or that,” he reassured.

“Oh no,” said Argus. “Not in a creepy way.” He slapped a drumbeat on his belly before speaking again. “This is how I knew you were coming. And I must say, your antics in Asgard made for most amusing viewing. And you,” he said, fixing Angelo with an approving look, “you were the biggest treat of all.”

“I was?”

“You are – how you say? –
remarkable
, do you know?”

Angelo grinned. “I am?”

“Enough small talk,” interjected Zac, before the demon could give away what had happened in Asgard. “Can we get down to business?”

“Ah, yes, we must press on, I think,” said Argus. “But first, drinks. I have taken the liberty of preparing your favourites.”

Steropes recognised his cue. He scuttled over to a bar at the back of the room, then returned carrying a tray. Two glasses sat on it, both resting atop little paper doilies.

“For you, Zac, lemonade, just the way your grandfather makes it. You like this, yes?”

“Ha!” laughed Herya. “Lemonade. You’re such a child.”

“And for you, Herya of the Valkyries, yak’s milk, warmed to five degrees above room temperature.”

It was Zac’s turn to laugh. Herya blushed. “You’ve made a mistake,” she told Argus. “I drink ale.”

Argus frowned. “Oh. My apologies. I did not know this. I have watched you many, many times – almost every moment of your life – and I have not once seen you drink ale.”

“Well, I do,” she insisted. “Gallons of it.”

Zac patted her on the arm. “You know, there are organisations who can help you with that. Admitting you have a problem – that’s the first step.”

“Funny guy,” she said, and she flicked milk in his face.

“What about me?” asked Angelo. “I’m thirsty too.”

“Ah, yes,” nodded the demon. “We have a real treat in store for you, I think.”

Steropes set down the yak’s milk beside Herya, who made a point of ignoring it completely. He scurried over to the bar again. They all watched as he pulled a welder’s mask over his head and slipped thick gauntlets over each hand.

“We cannot be too careful, yes?” Argus said. The Cyclops stalked slowly back towards them. He was holding a pair of metal tongs and using them to carry a small silver flask.

Zac turned to Angelo. “What do you drink? Plutonium?”

The flask was set carefully on the table beside Angelo. Steropes quickly backed away, visibly relaxing as he did.

“Holy water,” Argus explained. “Lethal to demons. Your favourite, I believe, yes?”

Angelo’s eyes lit up with excitement. “You’re not wrong there.” He unscrewed the lid of the flask and sniffed the contents.

“From eighteen seventy-eight. A very good year, I am told,” Argus said. “Blessed by Pope Pius the Ninth himself, mere days before his death.”

Angelo took a sip. He licked his lips, then smacked them together. “Yummy scrummy in my tummy,” he said. He grinned at Zac, who rolled his eyes in response.

“You said you knew what was in the tenth circle of Hell,” said Zac, steering the conversation back to more important matters.

Argus gave Steropes a nod as the Cyclops set a glass of dark red liquid down in front of him. “I did not say this. You said this.”

Zac frowned. “What?”

“I do not know what is in the tenth circle of Hell.”

“I thought you saw everything?” said Herya.

“I do,” nodded Argus. “Or I did. I knew many moons ago that they were starting work on the new circle. I saw them cut the turf and lay the very foundations, watched them build it brick by brick.”

“So what happened?”

“They did not build a door,” Argus explained. “Or windows. They have it locked down tight, sealed so the eyes of Argus cannot see in. Whatever they are doing down there, they do not want anyone knowing about it.”

“Wow,” said Zac quietly. “That must really kill you.”

Argus’s head twitched, as if he were shaking off a fly. “Yes,” he admitted. “It does. When you’re used to seeing everything, having a blind spot is very... troubling. Which is why I have a proposal for you.”

“What sort of proposal?”

“A – what is the word – a
collaboration
of sorts,” Argus said. “If I help you get to Hell and tell you what I know of the tenth circle, can you find a way inside?”

“Yes,” said Zac without hesitation.

Argus nodded. “Then I propose just that. I arrange for you to be transported to Hell, and give you some tools that may be of use. The rest is up to you. Once inside, you may retrieve your book and do with it as you will. It is of no interest to me.”

“And what’s in it for you?” asked Zac.

“Knowledge,” Argus shrugged. “This is all. I would ask that you leave an eye or two of mine behind when you make your escape. This is not too much to ask, I think?”

Zac looked to his companions. Angelo shrugged. Herya glanced away.