by J. P. Rice
Bruceras entered the room. He ripped off his duster and handed it to one of his assistants.
“Bres, get these scoundrels off me,” Vlad screamed. “Now.”
Bruceras crossed his arms over his gigantic chest, creating a stance of judgment. “Brother. We know the truth. We know you allowed that little demon into the Gallery.”
“I did nothing of the sort. This is a set up.” Vlad jerked his arms around wildly, but the demons had a firm grip on him.
Bruceras walked up to him and got down on one knee, letting out a little grunt as his body settled. “We trusted you with our lives. And you betrayed us. You betrayed every demon who pledged their lives to the cause. You betrayed your fellow devils. Your brothers. For what?”
Vlad glanced around the room, his glossy eyes appeared to be taking stock of the situation. “Someone is lying to you.”
Bruceras inclined his head to meet Vlad’s glowering eyes. “I’m looking at the man lying to me. And it saddens me greatly. Why did you do it?”
I could hear the sadness in his inflections. He really had taken this personally.
“You need to stop this,” Vlad screamed as a demon wrenched his arm behind his back. In a calmer tone, he said, “We need a fair trial so I can explain myself.”
“Explain yourself,” Bruceras indulged him, shifting his weight around as he was clearly uncomfortable kneeling.
“Montidore. He’s been trying to eliminate me for years. I’ll bet he’s behind all this. Bring him in here,” he cried out, his words reverberating off the cave walls.
Bruceras covered his face with his palm and lowered his head. “Poor explanation. And it doesn’t account for the missing glove.”
“Going by your story, the kid has had the glove for weeks and no one noticed it was missing. Is that possible?” Vlad hissed, his words drenched in venom.
The demons secured Vlad’s hands behind his back and tightened the noose around his neck. Then they threw the loose rope over a pipe hanging just below the ceiling. Vlad thrashed around until the demons pulled the rope and it tightened around the devil’s throat.
Vlad the Impaler had barely escaped Wallachia with his life and had run from angry mobs before, but he knew resistance would only result in hanging himself. So he stood still as the demons smiled at each other.
I strained my eyes to see something behind Vlad. As I zeroed in on it, I realized it was several fresh dead bodies. Apparently, dead at the hands of Vlad. The apprehension had cost them.
Why was I here? If they were going to kill a devil, they would have no problem following it up with a few humans. A rotten feeling fell to the pit of my stomach as Bruceras rose slowly to his feet.
Bruceras looked around at the small collection of demons and humans. I inched closer to Cheryl and prepared for the worst.
Bruceras paced in front of Vlad and orated, “No one is immune to punishment in the Red Cavern. Vlad of Wallachia. You’ve been credibly accused of crimes against your fellow demon folk. We all took an oath, and brother, you broke that oath.”
“I didn’t break anything,” Vlad growled.
Bruceras wheeled around and uncorked a straight right fist that landed right below Vlad’s left eye. Vlad smiled in response as Bruceras turned back to the group. “I’ve gathered you all here to see what happens when someone breaks their oath to the Red Cavern. It’s important to remember that we all serve a greater cause than ourselves. We are all working toward the same goal. And when we achieve that, we will all be equal.
“But we can worry about that later. Right now, we have a problem to take care of.” Bruceras pointed at Vlad as he spoke, “Vlad of Wallachia has weakened our cause. His actions fly in the face of everything we stand for.”
Did this guy have a point? I felt like he was just saying the same things over and over, trying to be dramatic.
“Vlad of Wallachia. You’ve been found guilty of breaking your oath by not protecting the Gallery. Either by malevolence or woeful ignorance, you allowed the Devil’s Glove to go missing. A broken oath carries only one punishment. Hang him high,” Bruceras ordered.
His minions sprang into action and it looked like a furious game of tug-of-war with the demons yanking on the thick rope, pulling it over the pipe. The four men pulled feverishly and within a few seconds, Vlad’s feet lifted into the air.
As Vlad the Impaler gagged and quaked in short tremors, I remembered he was Jonathan’s father. How would I explain this to him? With Vlad being an immortal, I wasn’t sure that a hanging would kill him permanently.
The men held the rope firmly and Vlad’s wide body swung from side to side, rotating as it went. As he spun around, it appeared that he was close to breaking out of the rope around his wrists. But after a few more turns, his hands went limp and his body went completely still.
The demons let go of the rope and Vlad crashed to the ground. Bruceras nodded to the demons and they ran out of the room. Bruceras stood in front of Vlad’s crumpled body facing the silent group.
“We have witnessed a cleansing of our order. Although it is a difficult choice, choosing to ignore the problem is detrimental. When we start a journey...”
Vlad’s body straightened and his head sprang forward. His mouth snapped at the back of Bruceras’s leg, who screamed out in pain. Bruceras ripped his leg away, exposing Vlad’s head, alive again, smiling with bloody lips. I knew they hadn’t killed the vampire.
Bruceras kicked Vlad in the head a few times and his demon soldiers rushed through the door with lava swords. The full-length blades had lava coursing through them, yet held a fine edge perfect for precise slicing. The sight of lava made me a bit lightheaded and I grabbed onto Cheryl’s arm for support.
One demon ripped a stroke through Vlad’s right leg, removing the limb right above the knee. A shower of blood trailed the follow-through of the glowing blade and fountained up from the injury.
Tears sprang from their ducts and I wasn’t sure why. I hadn’t known Vlad personally, but perhaps his association with Jonathan was giving me the feels. Or maybe I was sick of watching innocent people die.
Bruceras approached me, an angry scowl developing on his face. “Crying? Why would you be crying?”
Oh shit. What could I pull out of my ass here? “My lord, I took an oath to serve the 13. I guess I’m torn on one of them dying.”
“You took an oath and you’ve lived up to your end. Vlad did not. He got what he deserved, just as you will if you decide to travel the same road as he. Now stop the sniveling or you will be next.”
Those words gave me the motivation I needed to stuff down the emotion.
“Chop this disgrace to pieces,” Bruceras commanded. “Then shovel his sorry remains into buckets and take him to the dump. Make sure the contents are well spread out. I’ll be inspecting it myself,” he said, raising an eyebrow to enforce his point.
The devil looked at the group. “You are dismissed. Actually, we need a few to stay and carry. You, you...” Bruceras kept pointing at people and said, “You, you, you.” He gestured at me and then at Cheryl. “You and you. That should be enough. Get the flat shovels to clean up this mess.”
Chapter 19
The sword-wielding demons continued to chop Vlad’s body into little bits, their glowing blades slicing through bone like soft butter. I could feel the warm breeze as the blades whooshed through the air, chopping into tiny bits the remnants of what was once Vlad the Impaler of Wallachia.
Telling Jonathan his father had been hung was one thing. But I wasn’t going to tell him about the unnecessary sashimi-style treatment he had received afterward. The first part would be hard enough.
A few demon helpers ran into the room and handed out flat head shovels to everyone. Staring at the grotesque mess on the floor, the shovel landed in my hand. I grabbed it from the assistant as my stomach spiraled in discomfort. The helpers returned with buckets.
Scraping along the stone floor, I scooped the soupy remains of Vlad the Impaler into a white buck
et. The metallic funk in the room pasted itself to the back of my tongue. No matter how many times I swallowed, the nasty taste persisted.
We each filled up most of our respective buckets and I thought the nightmare was finally over.
“Now you need to take the buckets to the dump. You and you.” He pointed to Cheryl and me. “You will take the far route and make sure the remains are spread over a safe distance. No less than twenty yards. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, and Cheryl repeated my words.
Each of us carried the buckets through the dim tunnel hallways. The bodily sludge shifted back and forth as my arm swung from walking. Then a rancid stench hit my nostrils and I stopped in my tracks. I put down the bucket of Vlad’s remains. I was at the back of the line, so I took a few seconds and calmed my stomach down.
I hooked my hand through the carrying handle and hustled to catch up to the rest of the group. As we neared the dump, the fetid funk intensified and I felt a strange energy in the air. The hot, heavy air made breathing difficult. A tiny shaft of light appeared ahead.
The group went into the bright opening and I followed them through. We stood on the lip of the dump, which was a huge craterous hole that consisted mostly of bodily waste. Several pipes for feces-laden urine from the bathrooms led right into the middle of the pool. High above us, long fluorescent light bulbs illuminated the entire area.
Fighting away the constant urge to puke, I stared down at a steep incline of soft dirt that didn’t look well suited for carrying buckets of chopped up bodily remains. Then I remembered that Cheryl and I had been instructed to carry our buckets twenty yards past all the others.
The dirt incline merged into a chunky pond of black liquid spiked with aged feces and stale urine. The rest of the group started down the hill as Cheryl and I turned to each other.
“Lucky us, huh?” I tried to lighten the mood.
With wide eyes, she shrugged but didn’t say anything. I pointed and said, “So I guess we should go down there and walk along the liquid line since we can’t get around there from up here.”
“Yeah. Would have been nice if there was a track up here.” She thumbed to where the upper lip of the dump ended.
We headed down the hill, and I slid on the loose ground, almost dumping out the contents of my bucket. My sliding foot finally caught firm ground and I came to a halt. As I readjusted myself, the rest of the group had already dumped their buckets and were scurrying back up the little hill.
Cheryl and I continued trudging down and stopped about three feet from the sludge line. The ground was still tilted and moist, so carrying a heavy bucket with the constant urge to throw up would be a major task right now.
I peered up the hill. The rest of the group disappeared into the tunnel, leaving us alone in one of the most disgusting areas I’d ever been in. This business could take you to some pretty gross places, but basically being in the bowel of the demons was the worst.
We walked in silence. There weren’t many words that would make this situation any better. Something silver caught my eye and I turned toward it. It stood out in the murky liquid, and as I looked closer, there were silver strands leading up to my bucket.
The strands yanked on the bucket, not allowing me to move forward. I tried to fight against it. I took a step and my right ankle buckled. I listed to the right and knocked into Cheryl. As I fell, I let go of the bucket and so did Cheryl. My knees hit the moist soil first and Cheryl fell onto her side.
Our two buckets collided and crashed down, the contents of Vlad the Impaler leaking into the nasty sludge. We both looked at each other, eyes wide and full of fear. My heart thumped as I gazed around the waste dump and didn’t see anyone.
Then I peered into the water. Just below the surface, there seemed to be a silver snake, lurking and waiting to strike. Bubbles formed on the surface. Something was breathing under there.
My mind drifted to Romanian vampires. The Varacolaci were the most powerful of the undead. And Vlad the Impaler was the strongest among them. Apparently, you could chop them to pieces and still not sever their silver cord that connected the physical body to the higher or astral being. My heart pumped as I realized that wasn’t a snake under the nasty liquid.
Cheryl said, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
She scared the shit out of me.
I nodded and grabbed the empty bucket. We trekked along the incline with dirt pouring into my shoes. My mind raced, wondering if they had surveillance cameras set up in the room. It didn’t make sense to keep watch on a dump, but who knew with the demons.
Cheryl made it to the top first and I was right on her heels. Then my foot slipped, and my body slid backward. The more I tried to stop the momentum, the worse it got until I stood on the bank of the funky body of liquid again. As I clawed my way up the hill again, I couldn’t see Cheryl anywhere. I surmised that she’d assumed I was behind her and kept moving.
A loud grumbling behind me stole my attention and I slid down again. I turned over my shoulder and the swirling remains of Vlad the Impaler raced through the waste to reunite. His silver cord came up out of the water. It looked like Christmas garland, and in some thin spots, it resembled loose tinsel. The silver cord gathered the pieces of the physical body and started to organize them in a pile.
The contents of the two buckets Cheryl and I had dumped raced through the sludge and jumped up on the silver cord. The bits and pieces sped along the cord and started to fuse with the rest of the remains. The chopped-up pieces of his body morphed together. As the process went on, his silver cord became a thick, uniform cylinder.
Chapter 20
The reassembly happened randomly as his physical body began to take shape. Bones and muscle tissue formed in his arms and legs like a puzzle was being put together. Then a flash of pale light meshed everything together seamlessly, but it left Vlad with awful scarring from head to toe.
I turned and went to run up the hill. “Hug the ground or Dante will kill you.” The raspy, dead-sounding voice stopped me in my tracks.
I fell forward, my chest and face hitting the soft dirt. As I hugged the ground, I peered over my shoulder, and Vlad sat up with his arms folded in an “X” over his chest, his hands clutching his shoulders. “Not now. When the time is right.”
What the fook was going on here? Enough hugging the ground. It was time for evacuation. Using my hands and feet, I bear-crawled up the hill and pulled myself over the top. Everything in my head told me to run for the tunnel and get the hell out of there. But I wanted one last peek.
I spun around and stared at the area in which Vlad had just been sitting. It was nothing but a black ripple of shit and piss. I scoped out the entire area searching for the risen devil. Where the fook had he gone? This was beyond freaky.
Then it hit me. The Varacolaci were rumored to travel on an astral thread. Vlad could have used it to teleport out of the Red Cavern. He could travel in between the worlds of the living and dead until he reached an anchor point. I didn’t have a clue where Vlad’s anchor point would be. On further thought, maybe I didn’t want to know.
“What are you doing?” someone asked from behind me.
My heart almost exploded as I jumped in fear. I whirled around, eye to eye with Cheryl. “Nothing. I fell down the hill.”
“You ready to go back?” she asked, gesturing with her head at the exit.
“More than ready,” I mumbled, and we plunged into the dark tunnel.
So that was why they’d wanted us to spread his remains out. Even if we had taken our buckets the distance they had wanted, it wouldn’t have made a difference. Vlad had seemed determined not to stay dead. He’d seen me with that bucket. He could think I was the one responsible for this.
And what was that cryptic message about Dante? Dante Alighieri? Who the fook was Dante? I took stock of all the people I’d met recently and none of them were named Dante. None of the demons were named Dante. In fact, I couldn’t remember ever meeting an individual named
Dante.
As I dwelled on the name, I wondered what to tell Jonathan about his father. He’d fallen out of favor with me lately, and he never talked about his father to keep his identity hidden, but he would want to know. At least, I would want to know. What would I tell him?
I still hadn’t processed what the hell had just happened. How could a silver cord be strong enough to put back together a hacked up physical host? How had the cord remained invisible until it hit the sludge?
Hug the ground or Dante will kill you. What the hell did that mean?
As soon as we came out of the tunnel and into a communal area, Dweezil asked, “Everything all right?”
I assumed he was referring to me since I probably looked like I’d just seen a ghost, which in my defense, I had. “Fine. That’s just a nasty area.”
“I will not enter a debate with you on that. You made sure to take those buckets the specified distance, yes?”
“Of course,” I said, and Cheryl repeated it and added a sharp nod. She probably hadn’t seen anything other than the grotesque foulness in the shit swamp. The extrasensory vision was a blessing and a curse. Call me a rookie, but I’d never seen a mutilated body reconfigure and then go poof before.
Dweezil smiled shyly and turned away. Then he raised his chin and a serious look came over his face. “Good. I need to speak with both of you about something of vast importance.”
The devil’s assistant led us back to our cave room in silence. My stomach and head were still recovering from what I’d just witnessed. What had I witnessed?
Dweezil lit the torch ensconced in the wall of our room and the modest dwelling area came into focus. I wondered what was of vast importance.
Dweezil went to speak, but hesitated. “You two have been selected for a high honor. You will be joining Bruceras on a very special mission. You won’t know the exact manner of the mission until you travel to the location.”
He was beating around the bush, but I knew it was a mission to recover the Devil’s Glove from the boy who had taken it. However, it didn’t make sense to take two unskilled humans along.