BURN IN HADES

by Michael L. Martin Jr.

  He refrained from wiping the sweat dripping down his cheek and remained focused on his opponents, trying not to even blink. Blink and he was burned. He blinked.

  Diamond Tooth and the Raven twitched. Cross drew his weapons slower than either of his opponents had drawn theirs. He aimed at Diamond Tooth and pulled the trigger of his Colt. The revolver clicked and didn’t fire.

  Son of bitch! He was going to burn.

  Fortunately for him, the Raven and Diamond Tooth converged on each other. Tiger claws darted at the Raven. Ropey flashed toward Diamond Tooth. Both dodged each other’s attacks. Both ignored him, which made him feel a little slighted. To them, he was that much of a weak opponent that they didn’t even bother considering him a threat.

  He took that opportunity to open the cylinder to the Colt and checked to see what was jamming it. All six bores were empty. The magic round was gone. The Raven must’ve emptied it. She was the only one close enough to him to do it.

  As furious as that made him, he wanted to trust that she had some kind of plan that would suit both their interests. She obviously knew that he had no ammunition in his pistol and could have easily burned him, but since the battle had begun, she hadn’t once turned his direction, and that was the only reason Diamond Tooth hadn’t focused on him. The demon couldn’t have turned away from the ebony bird for one second, not even to burn him. Ropey would have skewered her if so.

  If he had treated the Raven better in the earlier part of their relationship, maybe she would have let him in on her scheme. She didn’t trust him even though she could have. He had only planned to burn her if she ever tried to burn him again. He should have trusted her. He did trust her, even if she didn’t trust him, which was possibly stupid of him, and would most likely get him burned.

  The angel and demon grappled with each other. Diamond Tooth’s tiger claws sliced inches away from the Raven’s nose. Cross aimed the tip of the parasol like a rifle and waited for them to separate just enough for him to take out Diamond Tooth. When he finally saw that opening, he took the shot.

  Both the demon and the angel flipped out of the path of the lightning without even looking, almost as if expecting it. Ropey wrapped around the umbrella, snatched it from him, and slung it over the impaled heads and out of the bone orchard. Tiger claws stabbed the skulls at his feet. He leapt to the side and rolled.

  Boomph. Diamond Tooth blew into the air. She landed on a headless spear, skewered. The tip exploded through her chest. The spear split in half. She plopped to her bottom, but hadn’t burned. The Raven raised the hammer to finish the demon off.

  “Diamond Tooth’s mine, remember?” said Cross.

  Sish. Blood splattered out the Raven’s hand. The hammer flew behind her. She crouched over in pain, grasping her leaking hand.

  Cross regretted distracting her, but after all he had been through, Diamond Tooth was his. The Raven didn’t know about the astrolabe and he had to retrieve it before it was accidentally or purposely destroyed.

  The demon, now back to her feet, but with a spear sticking out of her chest, aimed her bagh nakhs to end his precious angel’s afterlife. Without a weapon to shoot, Cross grabbed a skull from the ground and clocked the demon in the head with it. Diamond Tooth turned her attention to him, looking annoyed that he had hit her so easily with a simple skull instead of with a tricky weapon. Her fists rotated in his direction.

  Ropey cracked across the arena and speared through Diamond Tooth’s pretty little head in a thunderous plunge. The nasty crack of her skull tore through the air.

  The demon’s wrists dropped instantly. The bagh nakhs swung at her sides. She dropped to her knees, and slumped forward, braced up against the spear protruding from her chest.

  Her spirit wasted away and the Nothing claimed her.

  “I didn’t even have to use your true name,” said the Raven. “Fair is fair. So long old friend.” Ropey delivered the astrolabe to the Raven and then slithered around her waist.

  To his surprise, she was aware of the astrolabe, but she may not have known that he knew. If he could really trust her, she would confess what she knew about the object despite the fact that she wasn’t a talker. She would tell him her secret plan.

  Cross fell into his acting mode to see if he could pull the information out of her.

  “You axe wound!” he said. “I know you unloaded my gun. I could’ve gotten burned.”

  She picked up the shiny white skull from the center of the quarry and carried it out of the arena.

  Cross followed her back to the pit where Sebelius used to be. “And why did you take the umbrella away from me?”

  “The same reason I tried to shoot you off that barbot on the way over here,” she said. “I was protecting you.”

  “You have a funny way of looking out for me,” he said.

  “I knew Diamond Tooth would be waiting for us. She may have been the demon of pain and suffering, but she was very calculated. I’ve never seen her burn a soul without motive. Whether it’s vengeance or to achieve the high that some demons get from evil deeds, she’s always had a reason for doing what she used to do. I knew that as long as you didn’t attack her, she wouldn’t consider you a threat. Burning you wouldn’t have meant anything to her.”

  “Well, I appreciate your concern. But I can handle myself.”

  “Of course you can.” She flipped the blood-smeared skull over to display the name she had carved inside it. The carving was actually a question mark instead of a name.

  “I had to do everything I could to make sure Diamond Tooth didn’t find the Toran,” she said. “If she had burned us both, at least she would have been stuck with the fake name of the skull.”

  “What’s the name of the real skull?”

  “There are two kinds of spirits in the underworld,” she said. “Those that remember and those that don’t.” She stepped in front of the head directly beside Sebelius’s pit and asked the head: “You there, what’s your name?”

  “My name?” said the head. “I—I do not remember. I do not know who I am. Who am I?”

  “That’s what Balfour told me,” said the Raven. “The man with no name. Right beside Sebelius. But Balfour couldn’t pass through the gate because he didn’t have the key.”

  “Key?” said Cross, playing dumb just to test their partnership even further. “What key?”

  She smiled and held out the astrolabe. “Diamond Tooth had it the entire time.”

  “You knew?”

  “The only thing I knew is what Balfour told me. But you don’t have to play dumb with me. We’re friends.” The Raven stripped her sleeve and bandaged her injured hand with the cloth.

  “Balfour said all that in his dying breath?” asked Cross.

  “He said some guy named Carson had the key.”

  Cross drew back a step. Could it have been his old boss, Mr. Carson? He had recently met Jesse. “Carson you say?”

  “You know him?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Well Forfax, that squal you let burn,” she said, “he and Carson were in the Tribulation with Balfour and another man called Rowings. Forfax told me he met Diamond Tooth about a ring the day we were in Amenthes and she was searching for Balfour. When I saw her with this little object, I put the puzzle together myself.”

  “So now what?” he asked.

  “Now you dig,” she said.

  “Okay, I’ll go find the hammer. We’ll be outta here in seconds.”

  “I’ll go find the hammer. You get started.” She kicked the spade over to him. Ropey snaked its head in his face and challenged him.

  Cross wasn’t going to refuse or argue though. Spade or hammer or bare hands, he was going to get the job done. He wanted that Toran dug up more than anyone. It was his destiny.

  He crouched, scooped dirt, and pitched it behind him, removing pebbles, rocks and boulders the size of his head. Soon he uncovered a stone beam. He brushed the cross-piece off with his fingers and admired the five lanterns and other designs carve
d on it before he returned to his enthusiastic dig.

  After removing the dirt off the cross-piece, a faint green light pierced through the cracks of soil. He was getting closer. Infatuated with the light, he shoveled with tunnel vision, following the green.

  He had never had any idea of how large the Toran would be, but it was already bigger than his body, and he judged that it was not nearly halfway out of the ground yet. He wiped sweat from his forehead and accidentally smeared dirt on his face, but the soil cooled him off.

  He shoveled into the ditch ruthlessly, and bit by bit the Toran took shape. It was covered in carvings: depictions of men who had many arms, sitting in the lotus position; elephants and men riding them; and also the astrolabe.

  The ecstasy of green shined brightly on his legs. He pitched more dirt up and out of the pit. The Toran presented itself through the rubble slowly. The sculpted cross-piece rested on two upright posts. Snake carvings decorated the posts along with chiseled lanterns, demonic faces, and floral designs.

  He was so deep into the ditch that he would need Ropey’s help to climb out. His shirt was now soaked with sweat and covered in soil, and his arms were molasses. A nice breeze swept around the pit, relieving him from the constant barrage of the burning blue sky.

  He dropped the spade and scooped with his hands near the base of the Toran, and finally, it emerged from the rubble in its entirety. He bathed in the green glow it belted out. The base and the two posts were bigger than his body, and the cross-piece hung high enough above his head that he had to lift his chin straight up to see it. In the center of the Toran gleamed an enchanting, emerald green canvass of glorious light. His mind raced with delirious excitement and joy.

  “It’s all ours, Raven. We can finally leave this Hell!”

  The Raven stood at the edge of the pit holding the obsidian blade with the hole through its flat side. “You remember this blade, don’t you?”

  He laughed. “Very funny. Help me up.”

  Ropey darted down to him, wrapped around his waist and hoisted him out of the pit.

  “Took you long enough to find that hammer,” he said.

  He expected Ropey to let him go, but the rope constricted his mid-section and dangled him in the air for a while. The Raven pulled his wrists behind his back and bound his hands. She jammed the grip end of the obsidian blade into the ground right under some kind of table-like structure made of spears strung together.

  The odd construction formed a table without a surface, just the legs and frame. The obsidian blade sticking up from under it was reminiscent of when he made her lay on the table at Eirenos Inn. She must’ve built it while he was digging.

  His aching back felt as if the burning ice of Niflheim poured down it. His limbs went week from the horror of her seriousness. “You’re joking, Raven. You wouldn’t.”

  “It’s no joke, Cross. I want you to lay face down across these spears and put your neck over the blade. You know how it works. It was my idea, but you perfected it. Of course I made some adjustments of my own. I don’t have to shoot any table legs. It’ll be all your doing. You’ll truly have the freedom of choice of when you decide to fall on this blade.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” he said. “You can just leave the underworld. You have the astrolabe. You don’t have to burn me. You wouldn’t. We’re friends. You’re an angel.”

  “Fallen Angel,” she said. “Now lay down.”

  Ropey dropped Cross, and he obeyed reluctantly. He laid face down on the rickety contraption. His legs and forehead rested on the edges of the table-like frame while his neck hovered over the triangular tips of the obsidian blade. One false move and he would drop. The blade could separate his head from his spirit in one neat slice.

  “Well, now,” said the Raven. “This looks familiar.”

  THE RAVEN’S FOOTSTEPS SHUFFLED ALL AROUND HIM. He could only see her boots when they passed the corner of his sight as he lay face down, dangling inches above the razor-sharp blade.

  “You know what you are, Raven? Just a dirty, rotten, filthy cunt like your mother Lilith!”

  “Lilith wasn’t my mother.”

  “You don’t even know who your mother is. But I do. She’s a whore. Any one of a thousand devils could be your father.”

  “Watch how you speak of Magna Mater,” she said.

  “There’s no way the Great Goddess could have ever birthed you. Even if it were possible, that’s probably why you’re here in the underworld. It’s the perfect cage for a wretched ebony bird like you.”

  “I’m glad you mentioned that. See, it’s like you said. I’m an Angel. And what kind of Angel would I be if I let a scumbag like you go back out there into the world of the living? We’re here because we got ourselves here. None of us deserve to leave. Every spirit here deserves all the punishment that this place dishes out.”

  “You say that like you’re not leaving.”

  “I’m not.”

  There wasn’t a hint of guile in her tone. He could tell she was dead serious. “Then why’d you make me dig it up?” he asked.

  She grabbed her sack off the ground, ignoring him.

  “Why’d you make me dig up the Toran if you’re not even going to walk through it? What sense does that make?”

  She dropped beside him and brandished the hammer in his view. “So I can destroy it. First, I’m going to drop this astrolabe into the Inferno. And when I get back I expect you will have finally shut your big, stupid mouth.” She walked away out of his sight.

  “Get back here! You can’t leave me like this.” The spears shook. He stilled himself and eyed the blade below. “The Toran is my destiny.”

  A barbot squawked, and wings flapped. A gust blew dust into his face. The Raven was gone.

  The more he struggled to stay upright, the more he lost his balance. His neck strained from hoisting himself up. All his weight was placed on his legs and neck and he was already fatigued from the digging. His muscles pleaded for rest, and the slightest move could bring him down on top of the blade.

  Everyone lied to him because they all wanted the Toran for their own selfish reasons. He deserved to be a Nothing for trusting the wrong souls. He was already nothing anyway. He meant nothing to anyone. He destroyed all of his good relationships. He always ended up in the exact same situations. It wasn’t everyone else who was the problem, like he had thought. He was the problem.

  Both in his life and his death, he had lied, cheated, stolen, and vanquished souls without a conscience, unapologetically. They were all deeds he thought he had to do for his own survival, but they got him nowhere and rewarded him with nothing but a blade at his neck every time. He was selfish. He cared about no one else but himself. Not even the poor draggles. They never did anything wrong to anybody. All they wanted to do was help him, and he set them up to burn so that he could get his stupid revenge.

  Poor Gimlet had suffered the same fate because of him. He should have never tamed her. He should have accepted Mr. Garrett’s offer the very first time. Maybe then he would’ve still been alive, and none of the awful things that followed may never have happened. He was a bad soul and no doubt deserved more torment than he ever received. He deserved to burn.

  His body shook and jerked, rejecting the tension of holding himself up. But more than that, he was tired of the mental battle. Kate was right. Surviving was just too exhausting.

  “I’m sorry,” he called out to the Great Goddess. ”Hear me? I’m sorry for everything. You may have forgotten about me, Magna Mater, but don’t forget about them. Bless all the souls I ever hurt. If you’re going to have mercy on any soul, it should be them. I forgive Kate. I forgive Mr. Garrett. I forgive the men who killed Mama. I forgive them all. I just wanna go. I’m tired. Just let me go.”

  Nothings crawled towards him in the form of serpents made entirely of faces. They waited around him patiently, silently. They were the only ones who would have him. He had shepherded the girl just like they had asked, and now it was finally time for hi
m to give in to his fate. He had prolonged it long enough. He took a breath, relaxed his muscles, and dropped.

  There was no pain, just a taste of bile as a bubble of grit rose up in his throat. The grains scraped his tongue as he belched chunky black blood. Second Death tasted worse than first death.

  He felt as if he had been stuffed into a hole the size of a needle point. The light of the underworld shined at the mouth of this perfectly round hole above him, but as he kept sinking deeper, the light shrank, smaller and smaller until it was the size of a pebble and disappeared. And still he continued to tumble. Down, down, down into nothingness, not fast or slow, but at a consistent and smooth pace. Nothing seemed to be pushing or pulling him. Even if something was, he couldn’t feel it.

  His spirit was numb all over. He felt nothing, neither hot nor cold, completely senseless, as if he never existed in the first place. He had an urge to wave his arms or kick his legs, but couldn’t move them or even see if he even had limbs anymore. His voice had gone from his throat. Not even a whisper would escape him when he tried to call out for help. Would he even hear himself if he could speak?

  For all he knew, he could have been deaf. No wind passed by his ears. There was no sound at all. Nothing.

  A vague drop in the pit of his nonexistent stomach was the only sign that he was going further and further downward, plummeting into the depths of the great unknown. There was a sense that his fall would never end. This pit was bottomless. He would never be at rest. The thought of spending all eternity in this state of existence terrified him. He was alone unlike he had ever been before and would always be alone.

  The light returned above him as if it had always been there. It had never left him at all. He hadn’t moved an inch. The underworld was simply closed to him and now it had reopened. He fought desperately to go into it but had no way of moving himself upwards.