Which was exactly what he used them for a moment later. "Welcome to your first day in Hell!" he said, and then he rammed me with those horns, jamming them into my chest. Then he dragged them downward, tearing deep gashes in my flesh as I screamed.
"You're gonna love it here," he said when he'd pulled back, leaving my viscera to ooze from the gashes. "You and I are gonna spend some serious quality time together."
With that, he plunged his clawed fingers into my wounds and pulled out a length of intestines, which he draped around his shoulders like a mink stole. As I howled in agony, he giggled.
"Don't worry, you'll never pass out or sleep. You won't miss out on anything." He took a bite out of one of the intestines, and brown slime oozed down his chin. "You've got a hundred years in Hell, guaranteed. That's your sentence, like it or lump it."
He took another bite, and I shrieked. Then he really went to work on me.
*****
Day after day, night after night, A.E. subjected me to an endless stream of tortures. He performed every atrocity imaginable on my helpless form, laughing in counterpoint to my ceaseless screams.
And he was right about my never missing out on anything. As bad as the pain got, I never blacked out. As awful as his treatments were, I never dropped away into oblivion.
The scarlet sun rose and set, rose and set. My days blurred together, varying only in the specifics of the tortures he inflicted.
Every morning, he asked me the same question. "Do you genuinely regret what you did to me?"
Like everything else, it always ended the same way. "Yes!" I said the same thing every time. "I regret it!"
After which, A.E. would narrow his fiery yellow eyes and meet my gaze, staring deep into my soul. And then, he would shake his head and cluck his tongue. "You lie. If you had it all to do over again, you would still do the same thing."
Then, he would grab a fire poker or power drill or whatever was closest at hand and go back to work on me.
All day long and deep into the night, I would howl my way through the unending waves of pain and try to summon the feelings he was after. I thought I had plenty of them already; from my first moment in Hell, I'd been flooded with regret at ending up there. I wished with every fiber of my being that I could go back in time and change what I'd done--anything to end the punishment I was enduring.
But somehow, it was never enough for him. All my assurances, all my apologies, all my shameless abject begging was never enough.
A.E. just kept the show going. And he got crueler and more imaginative all the time.
*****
Years passed. I counted the days as a way to stay sane, at least a little...though I admit that I often lost track.
Ten years on, he threw me what he called an anniversary party, which amounted to he and a gaggle of his demon friends setting me on fire and blowing out the blaze to make a wish...then setting me on fire again and again.
Twenty-five years after I got there, he set me free and sent me back to Heaven--for thirty seconds. No sooner did I let out a deep sigh of relief than he hauled me back and subjected me to twenty-five new tortures.
I had been there just over fifty years when he created a clone of me. He made me watch as he showered it with affection and luxury, then proceeded to desecrate my own body in unspeakable new ways.
By the time I got to my seventieth year in hell, there were twenty clones, all working with A.E. to make me suffer.
Eighty years passed, then ninety--and I never got used to it. I never stopped screaming, never felt the agony any less. He made sure of it.
And every morning, before he went to work on me, he asked the same question, which I answered exactly the same way. "Yes! I regret it! I regret it!"
And he never believed me. Never showed the slightest hint of mercy.
Until my hundred-and-fifteenth Helliversary.
*****
That day, like any other, he started by asking the usual question. "Do you genuinely regret what you did to me?" He was sharpening his horns with a cherry-red superheated file when he said it.
For some reason I still can't explain, I felt a surge of pity alongside the usual blast of fear and hatred when I looked at him. Somehow, I managed to feel sorry for the guy, whose existence I'd reduced to a never-ending act of vengeance against me.
And as I felt sorry for him, everything else shifted. My hatred of him turned to hatred of myself. My regret at ending up in Hell became regret for choosing my own selfish needs over his one and only life.
It just came over me. Even before I answered, I could see in his eyes that something had changed. I could see that he already knew.
"I do regret what I did." As the words left my mouth, I felt the truth of them in every cell and atom of my body. This wasn't lip service or desperation or misunderstanding. It was beyond twenty-five earthly years of lying to gild my career or one hundred and fifteen hellish years of trying to force feelings where they didn't exist. It was just real, and true, and there...and then it was said. "I genuinely regret it."
"You do?" His eyes widened, and he backed away a step. He looked stunned, as if I'd just torn a hand free of the cross and punched him in the nose with it. "You do, don't you?"
Blood trickled down into my eyes as I nodded. "I'm truly sorry, A.E. I mean it from the bottom of my heart."
He tossed the superheated file over his shoulder and sighed. "I guess I should be sad. This is our last time here together."
"That's too bad." I didn't believe him. He'd fooled me too many times before, telling me I was free, then surprising me with some new and more extreme torment.
A.E. shrugged, then grinned and cracked his knuckles. "I don't suppose you'd like to have one last go-round for old times' sake?"
"No thanks." For the first time in decades, I smiled. It wasn't the old patented Stag Lincoln Hollywood grin; my teeth were all broken and rotted away, and my gums had turned black. But it was still a smile. "I've got plenty of memories to keep me warm at night."
"You do, don't you?" He smirked sheepishly, scuffing his ebony hoof in the blood-soaked dust.
Just then, Hell started fading around me. The crimson sky dimmed, and the screams of the damned grew fainter.
"I hate that you're leaving." A.E. sounded crushed. "You always think there'll be one more grueling torture session, don't you? And then one day, poof."
"Don't feel too bad," I said. "You made the most of it."
That seemed to cheer him up a little. "I did, didn't I?"
"Goodbye, A.E.," I said as the final fade took me. "I really do regret what I did."
"Not me!" he said. "You deserved it!"
And then I was gone.
*****
The next thing I knew, I was back inside the silver spire, sprawled on the floor.
Blinking under a beam of light cast down from above, I sat up and looked around. I'd been in Hell for a hundred years; I expected to see the spire's interior rimmed with cobwebs and frosted with dust. Perhaps Lillian's mummified remains would be tumbled nearby if she hadn't managed to escape during my century away.
Instead, I saw something even more incredible. Something that made me gasp.
There wasn't a cobweb or layer of dust in sight. There wasn't a trace of a mummy or pile of bones, either.
What I saw instead was this: Lillian standing exactly where I'd left her, still surrounded by the misty ghost fish.
"Stag!" As soon as she called my name, the ghost fish swirled away, setting her free. She ran to me instantly and threw herself down beside me. "Are you all right?"
I nodded. "I am now."
"I was worried." Her fingertips found my cheek. "You've been out for hours."
"Hours?" I scowled. "I could've sworn it was more like a hundred and fifteen years."
She looked at me like she thought I was kidding. "How would you know? You were out cold."
"Awake the whole time, you mean." I shook my head. "And it was a hell of a lot longer than a few hours. Belie
ve me, I counted."
Lillian frowned. "Sounds like a pretty vivid dream."
Suddenly, a new voice spoke, deep and commanding--yet somehow independent of actual sound, existing only in my head. "Not a dream, Stag Lincoln."
I looked at Lillian, whose eyes had just shot wide open, and knew she'd heard it, too.
"Accelerated purification," said the voice. "For all intents and purposes, you did spend a century in Hell."
"You lived through damnation," said another voice, higher-pitched and feminine. "Endured the punishments you required to reach a state of true absolution."
"And then, we brought you back here," said the deeper voice. "Mere hours after your initial departure."
"Why?" I said. "Who are you, anyway?"
At that moment, the misty ghost fish drifted out of the shadows and hovered above us, gazing down with their long, dark eyes.
Two voices, two ghost fish. Finally, after all their cryptic maneuvering, they'd decided to talk to me.
"We have been helping you," said the female voice. "Preparing you to help us--and the world--in return."
I frowned. "How exactly am I supposed to do that?"
"By becoming our prophet," said the male voice. "Proclaiming the coming of the heavenly kingdom on Earth."
"And helping bring it to fruition," said the female.
When I met Lillian's gaze, I could feel the pressure of her uncertainty. She looked as confused as I felt--so I reached out, took her hand, and squeezed it. She smiled faintly and squeezed back.
"Heavenly kingdom, huh?" I shrugged. "I thought this was the heavenly kingdom."
"It is only the beginning of one," said the female. "Meant to make the true one a reality."
"With this," said the male.
Instantly, the interior of the silver spire lit up, banishing the darkness that had filled it until then. Finally, I could see what lay around us: gleaming sloped walls covered with swirls and shapes and arcane characters like ancient mystic runes, all glowing with multicolored light.
As I watched, the symbols blinked and flashed and shifted, sliding over the surface to take up new positions. They made clicking sounds as they moved, then emitted soft pinging noises when they came to a stop.
"What is it?" I asked.
"The Empyrean Engine." As the male voice said it, one of the ghost fish rose up, extending its misty tendril into the heights. Stag guessed that one must be the male, not that there was any obvious visual difference between the two.
"It will restore the world to paradise," said the female. "It will bring back Heaven on Earth."
Looking around at the array of glowing, shifting symbols, I decided I needed a better look. When I'd gotten halfway to my feet, Lillian helped me the rest of the way. "What do you mean, 'restore?'"
"Thousands of years ago, the Earth was paradise." The female gathered her misty form into a loose spiral like the coil of a snake. "Then, paradise fell. But there were survivors."
"Like us." The male drew the rippling length of his form down out of the spire's heights. "And we used the splinters of the original paradise to build this. An engine that can bring it all back."
"But there was a problem," said the female. "Over the millennia, we have become little more than wraiths. We found we no longer possessed the power to activate the Empyrean Engine."
"Which is why we caused the counterfeit Heaven to be created," said the male.
As the words settled in, I wondered if I'd heard correctly. "Counterfeit Heaven?" But the mental math only seemed to add up one way. "You mean Byzantine's Heaven?"
"In a manner of speaking," said the male. "Though it was never truly his."
Just then, Lillian decided to join the conversation. "You created it?"
"We caused it," said the female ghost fish. "We reached out into the world...inspired the rich and powerful to come here and build their private paradise."
"What about the Rapture Program?" I said. "Was that yours, too?"
The female uncoiled and drifted down to face me. "The whole purpose of this counterfeit Heaven was to bring together the world's greatest minds and talents...its overachievers. Like you."
"So that they may succeed where we have failed," said the male. "So that they may work together to activate the Empyrean Engine and restore paradise on Earth."
I nodded grimly. "So it is because of you that I was brought here. And all the others, too. The Rapture Program is your baby."
"You just made Byzantine and the others think it was theirs," said Lillian.
"Yes." The male and female both said it in unison.
For a long moment, I stood there and tried to wrap my head around what I'd heard. The longer I thought about it, the less I liked it.
"So everything I've been through," I said. "Everything that happened to me here...and then a hundred years in Hell. It was all because of you."
The female's smoky tendril backed away. "But we did it all to bring true Heaven back to the world."
"At my expense," I snapped.
"That is correct," she said in my mind.
Anger rose within me, and I had to wrestle it down. Reminding myself how far in over my head I still was, I took a deep breath to keep my cool. "Okay, no worries. It's all good. I've finally found someone who can send me home, right?"
"Perhaps," said the male. "But we still need you."
"The world needs you," said the female. "To unite the opposing factions in this counterfeit Heaven and inspire them to work together to activate the Empyrean Engine."
"Look, I've had enough," I told them. "Honestly, I just want to go home now."
"But now is when we need you." The female swayed and pressed closer. "Before the civil war that is underway tears this counterfeit Heaven apart and destroys all hope of reviving paradise."
"Why do you think we needed to purify your soul so quickly?" said the male. "It is because time is running out."
I shook my head and turned away from them. "So find someone else." A sudden idea struck me, and I spun back around to grab Lillian's arm. "What about her? She's a good person. I'm sure she could do the job."
Lillian scowled at me and snatched away her arm.
"No," said the male. "Our calculations leave no room for substitution. It has to be you, Mr. Lincoln."
The female drew closer than ever, almost touching my nose. "Only you have the right combination of charisma, creativity, resourcefulness--and acting ability."
I shrugged. "I can't argue with that."
"Only you can pull off the performance it will take to make this miracle happen," said the female.
I let out a deep sigh, then tossed my head in frustration. I didn't want anything to do with any of this anymore...but God help me, I was starting to see their point.
If what they were telling me was true, how could I not go along with this?
"Ah, hell." I scrubbed my fingers through my hair, then cupped them over my face. "I can't believe this."
"Stag?" I felt Lillian's hand touch my shoulder.
Dragging my fingers down my cheeks, I snorted. "I can't believe I'm actually considering this."
"I do." She squeezed my shoulder and nodded. "I think it might be the right thing to do, Stag."
"Just great." I blew out my breath in mock disgust. "Now you're taking their side?"
"I'm on your side, Stag." Lillian smiled. "I have been from the start."
"I know you have." Suddenly, I felt a rush of affection for her. Next thing I knew, I was wrapping my arms around her and giving her a big hug.
Followed by an unexpected kiss.
The ghost fish let it play out for a long, lovely moment before breaking the mood.
"It is time, Stag Lincoln," said the female. "Will you agree to become our prophet? Will you proclaim the kingdom of Heaven on Earth and help bring it to fruition?"
I kissed Lillian once more for good measure, then turned my gaze to the misty tendrils circling around us. "There's just one problem, you guys. The second
I show my face back at the domes, Byzantine's going to kill me. That's if the rebels don't get me first. I betrayed pretty much everybody, remember?"
"Do not worry, Stag Lincoln," said the female. "We will not send you into the crucible defenseless."
"We will give you the power you need," said the male. "More than enough."
Before I could ask what they meant, the tendrils of mist streamed down and dove into my body--one penetrating my forehead, the other my chest.
I staggered backward, more surprised than anything else. My upper body tingled with what felt like a light electrical charge, and chills shot up my spine.
"Stag?" said Lillian. "Are you all right?"
I was just about to tell her I was fine when a blast of pain suddenly surged up within me like the mushroom cloud of an atom bomb. Screaming and clutching my head and chest, I crumpled to the floor.
Then the real firestorm swept through me...
*****
Chapter 12
As I writhed and shrieked on the floor, a wave of scalding pain roared through me, roasting every rational thought and normal sensation in its path. Even for someone who'd been through 115 years of pure Hell, it was impossible not to be crushed by the force of this cresting wall of destruction.
I felt like I was on fire, burning alive from the inside out. Thrashing and howling, I was too consumed by the blazing pain even to muster a conscious wish for it to end. I was reduced to a billow of sparks, unaware of anything but the heat of my own sizzling flame.
Then, I felt another force rise up within me and catch hold of the firestorm. Like mercury in a thermometer tossed into a bonfire, the pain soared rapidly, spiking to its highest intensity yet. Then it stopped and reversed course, dropping back along the peak it had just scaled. Slowly, awareness filtered back to me, reborn like pale green sprouts in a smoldering slashed-and-burned landscape.
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