by Kylie Chan
It hit me: Martin was about to slice into me with that axe and it would hurt like hell, and I would die. All my self-preservation reflexes screamed at me to run. I knelt in the middle of the room on the crinkly tarpaulin and put my head down, fighting the panic.
Leo knelt next to me, and took my hand in his.
‘Does this become easier the more you do it?’ I said.
‘It’s harder,’ Leo said, his voice rough with emotion. ‘For god’s sake, Ming, make it a single blow. Please.’
Leo’s hand was shaking as he held mine.
‘Who’s first?’ Martin said, standing next to us.
Neither of us replied.
Martin grunted as he slammed the axe into Leo’s neck. It hit him off-centre, taking half the bottom of his head with it, but it was clean. Leo’s head hit the tarp, his hand went limp in mine and he toppled, then his body disappeared.
‘I don’t know how to take the body with me!’ I said, panicking even more.
I half-rose, and Martin’s axe hit me across the shoulders. My back and shoulders blossomed into agony. I fell face first onto the tarp, suffocating on blood, the taste of the plastic in my nose and mouth. Blood pooled under my face, sticky and hot.
‘Sorry,’ Martin said, and the second blow slammed into me, crushing my head flat.
* * *
‘Holy shit, that was fucking awful,’ I said, leaning on the wall of my cell.
‘I am so sorry, Emma. I did it quickly so you wouldn’t have time to think,’ Martin said from his cell on the other side of the corridor.
‘No, it was my fault, I shouldn’t have stood up like that.’ I put my hands either side of my aching head.
‘You stood up?’ Leo said from the cell next to mine. ‘How many hits did it take?’
‘Two,’ Martin said.
‘Ouch,’ Leo said. ‘You should have done her first.’
‘I couldn’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because he loves you,’ I said. ‘The minute I’m home, I am having John teach me shen suicide whether he likes it or not.’ I shook my head. ‘How come I have a headache? I’m in Hell now.’
‘Residual nerve stress,’ Martin said. ‘Your brain thinks the wounds are still there. Clear your thoughts. Do a quick inventory that everything’s still present, remind yourself that you’re whole, and if the pain won’t go away, block it.’
I did as he said, and when my head still pounded I blocked the pain. The panic was still with me, making me weak and shaky. I touched the earth, touched the sky, cleared my thoughts, and the trembling stopped. I wished I had the Murasame with me; when the sword was in my hand I felt unstoppable.
‘Got it?’ Martin said.
I nodded.
‘Let’s go,’ Leo said.
‘Here she comes,’ Martin said.
The demon guard nodded to us, then opened the cells and released us without saying a word. We walked up the stairs onto the central island that was the Celestial side of Hell. The wind whistled across the deserted space; the lawns and gardens had been abandoned and were full of weeds where they weren’t dying off. We headed past the destroyed Court Ten building and to the edge of the newly-dug hole that stopped the demons from crossing onto the island.
Katie was patrolling the area with a laser weapon slung over her shoulder. When she saw us she quickly turned and headed in the opposite direction.
I changed to snake and we floated across the water barrier between the island and the end of the causeway. Martin made us invisible, and we headed towards the entrance to Level Eight. We had to pass through Eight to reach Nine.
Frankie? I said.
The reply sounded like a sharp intake of breath.
I stopped. ‘I have him. A moment.’
Leo and Martin halted beside me.
Don’t block me, I said quickly. It’s me, Emma, the lady who played cars with you on the floor. Remember? And I showed you ponies and dogs. We had a lot of fun!
Emma? he said, his voice bright with hope. Are you coming back to play with me?
Yes, I am! I’m bringing some friends, and we’ll have a lot of fun.
That would be good. Mummy knows you’re coming, right? Mummy said it’s okay?
Your mother says that you should be with me, I said, trying to control the emotion.
Martin broke in. Do you know where to go once we’re in Level Nine?
The stone gave me a rough idea. Hopefully we can sneak through and find him without being detected.
You ask much, he said.
I know how good you are at hiding things, I said.
We reached the end of the causeway; the brass-studded doors were closed. I changed back to human and we stood invisible in front of the doors to study the guards on either side.
We will have to take out both of them at the same time, Martin said. Leo, how’s your ching use? If we use ching and make them implode without leaving a trace —
NO WAY, I said fiercely, and Leo’s expression matched my own. I glared up into Martin’s eyes and poked him in the chest. I know what happens when you use ching and I do NOT want to see that.
You could just look away . . .
I am not doing that in public, Leo said.
We’re invisible! Martin said.
Emma can see us! Leo shot back.
I changed to snake, went to the demon on the left, bit its head off and pulled the essence into me, making it implode. The other guard was only beginning to register what had happened when I took its head off and ate it as well.
There, I said. Achieved exactly the same thing without ruining my pants.
Conceded. I’m glad you had an alternative, Martin said.
He went to the doors and touched the ring hanging from the left one. It slid open towards us and we backed up. On the other side was a four-metre-wide corridor with rough stone walls. We drew our weapons and eased ourselves into the corridor, checking for sentries or eye demons. Nothing.
We crept for twenty metres to the end of the corridor and stopped. There were no doors but the corridor was blocked by a shimmering field of blackness, like a net over the opening.
Sealed, Martin said. And by a real expert. This is a quality job. Can you break it without alerting the guards? I said.
No, Martin said. He looked back down the corridor. Only way in.
Is that what our seals look like to the demons? Leo said. That thing is really disturbing.
Similar, Martin said. Ordinary seals are invisible; it has to be a really good seal to be visible like this. Ours appear white to them. He shook out his shoulders. It’s possible that alarms will sound when I break it. Be ready.
He charged two steps through the barrier. It opened for him and closed behind him. He turned to face it, and opened a cut in his palm. His face went serene as he traced blood around the doorway. The edges of the opening glowed blinding white, and the seal barrier disappeared.
Leo and I went through, and the three of us ran down the corridor towards the Lake of Blood. A couple of half-dormant guards were at the entrance to the lake room, and Leo and I worked together to destroy them without being noticed.
There was a commotion behind us: more guards searching for whoever had broken the seal.
The Lake of Blood, Level Eight’s torture pit, stretched before us. Waxy lifeless body parts floated to the surface of the red liquid and disappeared again.
I headed around the lake to Level Nine on the other side. Leo followed me, but Martin hadn’t moved. I turned to see him: his face was rigid with control and his eyes glittered as he stared at the lake. His throat quivered.
‘Ming,’ Leo said, touching Martin on the arm.
Martin ignored him.
‘Ming, love. Martin?’ He put his hand on Martin’s cheek. ‘Martin, I’m here. You’re safe.’
Martin turned his face to Leo, but didn’t appear to see him.
He was in that lake for six years, Leo said to me. In fifteen pieces, paralysed and drowning in blood,
for six years. If his head made it to the surface, he could see and hear and breathe just for a moment, then he’d go back under and drown again.
‘Ming Gui,’ I said.
His only respite was when they’d fish him out, let him reform, and take him to the Nests for the Mothers to play with.
‘Martin? We have to find Frankie and the Murasame,’ I said. ‘If they win, you’ll go back in there.’
He turned towards me and his eyes were wide and unseeing. ‘I can’t,’ he said, as if from a great distance. ‘I’ve been trying to attain Enlightenment, detachment, so that it holds no fear for me, but I can’t face it. If they win, not even death will save me from it.’ His voice broke and he dropped his head into his hands. ‘I can’t go back.’
‘This sword is our only chance to avoid that fate, Ming Gui,’ I said, trying to sound like John. ‘We must find the Murasame, otherwise all of us will end up in there. You, me, Leo, Simone —’
‘Buffy,’ he gasped and straightened. ‘Let’s go find that sword.’
We slipped around the lake and I tried to avoid looking at the dismembered body parts that occasionally surfaced. If someone’s head came to the top, it would emit liquid-filled strangling gurgles until it submerged again. Martin winced every time the heads made a sound.
‘We can do this,’ he said grimly. ‘We can.’
‘We can, love,’ Leo said.
Martin took Leo’s hand and clutched it as we walked around the lake. Leo pulled him closer and they walked with their arms around each other’s waists, Martin leaning into Leo.
The entrance to Level Nine was on the other side — the Pit of the Trees of Swords. White corpses hung on the metre-long blades that protruded from black pillars, their arms and legs cut off.
Martin clutched Leo as we skirted the black-walled edge of Level Nine. Cells were carved into the rock wall of the cave on the far side. The demons in them were in human form, naked and emaciated, covered in filth. They screamed silently at us as they reached through the bars.
‘With anti-psychotics,’ I said, ‘anti-depressants, basic care and hygiene —’
‘These are the past Demon Kings and they knew this would be their fate if they fell,’ Martin said. ‘Each of them has been responsible for the deaths of thousands.’
‘Oh,’ I said, and shook my head. ‘Still. A captor this cruel has lowered himself to their . . .’ I realised what I was saying. ‘Never mind.’
‘Someone may be merciful in future and destroy them,’ Martin said. ‘In the meantime, they are a warning to any who would attempt the top job.’
‘Why don’t they make any noise?’ Leo said.
‘They’re making plenty of noise, it’s just muted so nobody can hear it,’ Martin said. ‘Sometimes . . .’ He gathered himself. ‘Sometimes they’d pull our heads out of the lake, throw them into a big net, and bring us to listen. We made more noise than they did. The Demon King called it his “Chorus of Delight”.’
‘Try not to let it get to you,’ I said.
‘Way past that,’ he said. ‘So where?’
‘The stone said there’s an opening deeper into the cell complex.’ I pointed at a rectangular doorway between two of the previous Kings’ cells. ‘That looks like what it was describing.’
We moved as quietly as we could down the tunnel, with the old Kings scrabbling at us through the bars of their cells and silently screaming. The tunnel opened into a cavern that was a hundred metres each side. It contained a single-storey village-type house with a pitched tiled roof and plain concrete walls.
There are no guards here, Martin said. That means we’re probably on camera. We don’t have long.
I know, I said. But the three of us are a formidable force and the King will want to round up some really high-level guards to face us.
All the biggest guards are here on Level Nine. The most senior Mothers are in a Nest on the other side of the Trees, he said. We need to be quick.
I may not be able to when I’m talking to — I said, and stopped when Frankie opened the front door of the house and stood in the doorway watching us.
My baby. The living embodiment of everything John and I meant to each other, and the child I would destroy the world for — and he didn’t even know who I was.
He saw Leo and Martin, turned and ran into the house.
We followed him through the front door and down the plain whitewashed hallway with the living room on one side and the bedroom on the other. He slipped into the bedroom, then hid in the gap between the bed and the wall.
‘It’s me, Emma,’ I said without moving closer to him, both men behind me. ‘I’m the lady who played with the cars with you. Remember?’
‘He’s a bad guy,’ Frankie said from behind the bed.
‘Goddamn television,’ Leo grumbled under his breath.
‘What?’ Martin said.
‘I’m black,’ Leo said, ‘and he’s been watching television while his “mother’s” away. Every black man on American TV is either a gangster or a thug. It’s the stereotype. I have this problem in Hong Kong as well. Everyone assumes I’m a bad guy.’
‘They can be police chiefs too,’ I said, sitting on the bed to get closer to Frankie. ‘And the production companies are attempting to subvert the thug stereotype in kids’ shows by making the black kid the geek.’
‘Still . . .’ Leo began.
‘We do not have time for that particular discussion,’ Martin said. ‘Guards will be here soon.’
‘I know.’ I leaned over the bed to speak to Frankie. ‘It’s okay. These are my other sons. They’re like brothers to you, even though they’re grown-up, and they love you as well. They want to play.’
Frankie didn’t move, his terrified breathing echoing against the wall.
‘Have you ever wanted a pet lion?’ I asked him. ‘I’ve brought you a tame lion to play with.’
‘Tame,’ Leo muttered.
‘Hardly,’ Martin said in the same low tone.
Frankie’s breathing accelerated. Wrong move.
‘If they go away, will you come out and talk to me?’ I said.
There was no reply except for the sound of his head moving against the blankets.
‘Quickly, Emma,’ Martin said. ‘We don’t have much time.’
They went out.
‘They’re gone now,’ I said.
Frankie crawled down the side of the bed and appeared at the end. He looked nearly ten years old, but his dark eyes held the innocence of his real age; he was just over a year and a half old. He stood up and looked around, then threw himself at me and buried his head in my chest.
‘Hello! Thank you for coming back!’ He pulled back and wiped his eyes, and I did as well. ‘Mummy says I have to tell her if you come visit. Will she send you away?’
‘Probably,’ I said sadly. ‘But you don’t have to tell her right away. We can play for a little while first, and then you can tell her.’
‘But she’ll send you away,’ he said.
‘I’ll come back.’
He thought about it for a moment, then nodded. His mid-brown hair needed a cut and his fringe flipped over his forehead and nearly into his eyes. His smile was so full of desperate yearning for affection that I pulled him in for another hug.
‘It’s okay. I love you, Frankie, and I want to look after you and make you happy.’
He trembled in my arms.
‘I will never hurt you,’ I whispered.
He clutched me. ‘That’s what the lady said. She said you were good, and to talk to you if you came to visit.’
I pulled back to see him. ‘The Lady?’
He nodded.
‘Is she wearing all white and really nice?’
‘I don’t know, I’ve never seen her. She just talks to me.’
‘She’s wonderful, isn’t she?’ I said, and he nodded. ‘Listen to her because she’s always right.’
‘Don’t tell anyone about her,’ he said. ‘I like talking to her and I don’t want
her to be in trouble. Promise you won’t tell anyone? Promise!’
I hugged him again, he was close to tears. ‘Of course I promise. I won’t tell anyone you talk to the Lady.’ I looked around. ‘Would you like to play? Do you have any toys in this horrible little house? The other house was much nicer, this one is small and dark and awful. If I was looking after you, we’d be living in a lovely big house with a garden and dogs and cats and ponies and lots of friends and . . .’ I took a huge risk that he was our son in every way. ‘A big room for practising martial arts, with a whole wall full of interesting weapons to learn.’
He inhaled sharply and pulled back, his eyes huge.
‘You have a sister who would love to play with you and teach you to ride a pony, and the two men outside are like your grown-up brothers and would take you shopping and to theme parks,’ I said.
‘What’s a theme park?’
‘A place with fun rides and things to do. Do you like Batman?’
‘Yeah! I saw him on the TV.’
‘You could meet Batman.’
‘Cool!’
‘Would you like to go to one now?’ I said. ‘I can take you.’
He hesitated. ‘Daddy wouldn’t like that.’
‘Your father thinks going with me is the best thing you could do.’
‘You talk like my father is someone different,’ he said, morose. ‘Daddy doesn’t like me.’
So young to be so perceptive.
‘Maybe there’s another daddy, your real daddy, out there who would be kind to you,’ I said. ‘Maybe there’s another mummy out there who loves you and wants to be with you all the time. Maybe you should have a real mummy and daddy who would never, ever hurt you.’
He wrapped himself around me and gasped into my chest. He knew they were cruel to him.
‘Would you like to come home with me?’ I said.
‘I can’t. They’ll punish me. I have to stay here.’ He looked up into my eyes, his own full of tears. ‘If I leave, they’ll kill every servant in the house.’
‘Are the servants kind to you?’
‘They’re really nice,’ he said. ‘Last time you came, they found out and they killed Three-Eighty.’ His shoulders heaved. ‘They killed her.’
Time, Emma, Leo said. There’s movement over at the lake.