DIRE : HELL (The Dire Saga Book 6)

by Andrew Seiple

  “I am saying that if it comes to that, we will not get the chance!”

  “ENOUGH. PEACE.” I gestured. Khalid was an old friend, and an invaluable resource, down here. Without his knowledge, we wouldn’t get very far. “WE’LL TRY AND AVOID FALLEN ANGELS IF WE CAN.” Time to change the subject. “OF COURSE, THAT GETS EASIER IF WE KNOW WHERE WE ARE FIRST.”

  “I have been giving that some thought. Assuming that the Damned we spoke with are truthful, we are in the fifth circle.”

  “Circle?” Beta looked to him.

  “Hell is called a pit for a reason,” Khalid reached into one of his pouches, pulled out a set of concentric rings. “The First Fallen landed here, like a meteor from above. The blast hollowed out all of Hell.” He placed rings above each other, starting with the smallest and getting larger with each placement, using his fingers to separate them.

  “So there’s a larger planet outside of the pit that’s Hell? Or is that Hell, too?” Beta persisted.

  “That is where my knowledge ends. I am not even sure it is a planet, in the conventional sense of the word. At any rate, judging by the scenery and the nature of the punishment of the Damned, I believe us to be in the fifth ring; the space reserved for the wrathful and sullen.”

  “THE DAMNED SOULS WE PEELED OFF OF THOSE SPIRES DIDN’T SEEM VERY WRATHFUL. THOUGH A FEW DID SEEM SULLEN. DIRE CHALKED THAT DOWN TO AWKWARD CIRCUMSTANCES AND THAT WHOLE EXCRUCIATING PAIN THING.”

  They’d either fled, or assumed that we wanted to enslave them. It had taken some discussion to convince them otherwise, and I still wasn’t sure they believed me. But that was a matter to sort out later, when we got back to the base camp.

  Khalid shook his head. “Sullen can refer to a buried wrath, passive-aggression. Or it can refer to sloth, which I believe is the greater category of those punished here.”

  “So they’re lazy?” Delta shook her head. “Didn’t seem that way to me, once they got to work.”

  “It is a greater sloth. I believe that they are all people who were caught in a bad situation, and rather than make a choice, hesitated. And through hesitation, they allowed evil to happen.”

  “That’s rather specific,” Epsilon spoke up. “Can you explain the reasoning behind that theory?”

  “Certainly. All the sources I have studied suggest that Hell operates under a sense of cruel irony, attempting to tailor punishments whenever possible and utilizing symbolism that is easy to grasp with some meditation. In this case, the spires and impaling spikes represent the dilemma they were caught upon, preventing them from acting. The hellspawn, such as the one we are currently within, represent the evil that befalls them due to their hesitation. They can see it approaching, but can do nothing, and thus they are devoured wholly by it.”

  We digested that for a minute.

  “Okay, that’s pretty fucked up,” Delta said.

  Alpha shrugged. “Hell.”

  “SO WHAT WILL BECOME OF THOSE WE FREED?” I wondered. “NOT THE ONES THAT ENLISTED, THE ONES THAT RAN.”

  “That is a matter of conjecture.” Khalid tried to rub his beard, but recoiled when his fingers met the symbiote wrapped around his face. He rubbed his hand on his pants with annoyance. “I imagine that eventually they will be found and returned to spires. That is the constantly-agreed-upon fact of Hell, that torment is eternal and unending.”

  Vector spoke up. “So wouldn’t, I don’t know, being eaten by Beaky or Beaky’s relatives, end that torment?”

  Khalid shook his head. “Doubtful. The Damned are slain over and over again, here. Even being devoured by hellspawn would not end one’s torment. The only things that might be able to deliver permanent death to the Damned are Fallen Angels, and even then, perhaps not all of them.”

  I felt my muscles ease a bit, in relief. We’d had to feed Beaky to get him down here. Foolish or not, I felt bad for sacrificing those Damned souls, leaving them on the spire when we’d saved several hundred more from other spires two days ago. Even now they were digesting in Beaky’s belly, but they’d be back... somehow.

  Though if permanent death was a kinder freedom, perhaps my morals were questionable in this instance. It would be worth consideration in the future. Also immaterial unless I somehow managed to convince a Fallen Angel to see things my way.

  Vector interrupted my stream of consciousness. “We’re good.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Gamma said.

  “No, I mean we should have a breathable atmosphere, now. Khalid, are you still up for the honors?”

  “Gladly. Could you?” Khalid gestured to his symbiote.

  We’d agreed that Khalid would be the canary in this particular coal mine. He was theoretically immortal, and I wasn’t.

  I turned away as Vector detached the facesucker from Khalid and tucked it into a pocket. I still caught a glimpse of writhing tendrils in my peripheral vision, and for the thousandth time I was glad that my armor was more or less a sealed system.

  “Ah,” Khalid said, and I heard him taking deep breaths, and coughing. “It smells... about as bad as I thought it would.”

  “It does take some getting used to,” Vector said. “Slow down a bit. Let your system adjust.”

  Minutes passed, and I turned back in time to see Khalid nod. “I think I am well.”

  Vector took a blood sample, ran it through a few vials, and finally looked up at me. “He’s fine. You can get out of that thing, now.”

  I closed my eyes. Finally. I tugged on the release, tapped the code, and vapor hissed as my armor’s back unsealed. I took the opportunity to unhook the catheter, and hissed in a breath as I realized how sore the damn tubes had made me.

  And oh, inhaling was a mistake, given the smell that rushed in. Long-rotted chicken, mixed with farts from very sick old men. My gorge rose, and I denied it, clawed my way outside, getting free of the metal casket that I’d been trapped in for days.

  I will not vomit. I am Dire. I will not show weakness, even here, especially here. I told myself that until I believed it, and the smell, thankfully, faded a bit. Or maybe it was psychosomatic, my perception of it waning, or simply the appropriate part of my sinuses dying off from the stench. Either way it worked; I was fine.

  The heat was the next thing that got to me. Moist, molten, and humid, something like Jersey on a summer’s day. Sweat boiled up along my neck, and I stretched my shirt, trying to get air onto my breasts. “This is not comfortable,” I grumbled.

  “But it’s liveable,” Vector smiled. “Everything else is just a matter of time and effort. Though we’ve got other priorities, I’d say. Now hold still.”

  I found a somewhat-comfy spot to sit while he pulled out a series of syringes and then inoculated me. “There. Proof against the local pathogens that we’ve encountered so far, an adjustment that will let you eat the same things I’ve been consuming. And also a fast-acting relaxant.”

  “A what?”

  “It’ll make you sleep for a while.”

  “Hold on, Dire didn’t reguest... request...” I sat bolt upright, tried to anyway. Then Alpha was there, holding my shoulders.

  “It’s cool. I did request it. I know you haven’t gotten any sleep in days.”

  “No!” I pushed him away, then fell over onto my face. My muscles were jelly, but my anger was molten jelly. Molten jelly. I giggled at the thought. Wait no, I was supposed to be angry. “Issas outrache!” I snorted into the funk of the meat floor. Gods, it was, wasn’t it? “Meet jelly?” I mused.

  “We talked it over and you need a nap, boss.”

  I was aware of the Greek Chorus standing around me now, settling down in a loose formation, a guarding formation. My minions. My treacherous, loyal minions.

  “Isssn over,” I slurred. And then it was, and warm darkness was my lot in life.

  I woke to find Khalid sitting next to me, and the Chorus departed, along with Vector. “Bastards,” I snarled, rising to my knees, then hauling my weary self upright.

  Khalid rose as well.

&
nbsp; “If it helps, you may include me in that invective. I accepted their vote to enforce your slumber.”

  “Et tu, Janissary?” I was tempted to punch him, but it passed. The others I could get mad at, but not Khalid. He had helped me early on, long before Vector or the Chorus were in the picture. Even literally taken a bullet for a friend, though the gesture had come too late.

  Probably why they’d left him to be the one to greet me when I awoke, come to think of it.

  Meh, we had more important fish to fry than my anger. They did have a point too, not that I’d ever admit it to them. Under good circumstances I’d usually push myself to exhaustion and beyond before I rested, and these were by no means good circumstances.

  I glanced around at the chamber. A literal chamber if it had been a heart at one point. No sign of the guilty parties. Another thought struck me, and I gave it voice. “So did Vector ever figure out why this organ died?”

  “His current theory is parasites. But speaking as a physician, my wager is upon age.” He tapped the crusty wall. “This is desiccation, not corruption. And exploration of some now-sealed passageways showed clogging and other obstructions. Beaky, as they have named it, seems to be old by the measure of its ilk.”

  “Wonder if it’s like a tree, where you can count the rings, only instead of rings you’ve got mouths and heads.” I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. “Seriously, all those heads are overkill.”

  “Perhaps. Those parasites got in somehow. Maybe the heads are a defense against whatever lays eggs within it.”

  “Lovely.” I headed back to my suit, dug out the leads to the radio set I’d built within it. “Okay you malicious misanthropes, what do you have to say to yourself? Over.”

  “Kssshh, can’t hear you boss, Ksssssshhh, signal’s bad.” Delta responded.

  “It doesn’t work so well when you actually say ‘Kssshhh,’” I advised. “But Dire appreciates the thought.”

  “Sorry, they made me do it,” Vector interrupted. At any rate, the Conqueror Worm is doing its job with adequate efficiency.”

  “Conqueror Worm?”

  “It’s what he calls the parasite that’s jacking our ride,” Gamma explained. “Not that it’s got any phallic significance at all.”

  “Hey...” Vector whined. “I’m a supervillain. That means I get to give my things impressive names.”

  “So why did you settle for ‘Beaky’, then?” I asked.

  My minions snickered. “Anyway,” Vector said, “Alpha tells me it’s not dissimilar to piloting an airship. I’ve got your Chorus up on the edges of Beaky, feeding back information as we calibrate.”

  “Doesn’t he have the most heads along his edges?” I didn’t want my minions getting pecked to death. Or melted by fiery breath, for that matter.

  “Relax. I’ve shut them down for the minute. The Conqueror Worm’s locked down his aggression.”

  “Alright. So we’re not flying blind; we’re more or less coasting with spotters, while you fiddle around with his brain and try to figure out which sequences of pokes and chemical triggers make him go in various directions.”

  “A bit crude, but an accurate summary.”

  “Dire feels compelled to tell you that your brand of science would drive her nuts.”

  “Biology’s more of an art, really.”

  “At your level, maybe.”

  “Aw, you’ll make me blush.” Damn did he sound smug.

  “She’s very sure you have a chemical or something to fix that.”

  “Well yes, actually.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway I’m getting back to testing now.” The room shuddered. “Oooh! That’s a spicy nerve...”

  “Right. Leaving you to it.”

  “I am still trying to figure out what to make of that one,” Khalid said, once I’d set the radio down.

  “Oh?”

  “He is a coward, but he is also our salvation. Without him, we would be without air, food, potable water, and safe sleeping space.”

  “In the long-term. In the short-term, Dire would have figured something out.” I cracked my knuckles. “That said, anything she could do would have been a gamble. Though she’s objecting to the “safe sleeping space.” I gestured around. “This is safer. Not safe.”

  Khalid’s smile almost touched his eyes. I couldn’t quite tell in the dim light, now that I was out of my suit and only a few lamps challenged the cloying, sweaty darkness. “Then you have learned the most important lesson of hell.”

  “Oh?”

  “There is never any safe haven. Not for long.”

  I sucked my teeth. “About that. We should go and check on the camp.”

  He lost his smile. “I hope that you take my warning to heart.”

  “We saved them, Khalid. They agreed to help us. They are allies, now, and Dire does not mistreat her allies.”

  “Everyone who is in Hell, and got there after death, deserves Hell.” He folded his arms. “They are the Damned for a reason, and that reason is that they have earned it.”

  “Khalid—”

  He sighed. “I am not saying they cannot be good people, merely that it is unlikely. And also that it would be the height of foolishness to trust or depend on them. Demons have spent time immemorial dealing with Damned souls. They know how to use them, how to tempt them, how to prey upon their weaknesses.”

  I felt my lips tighten. “They are abusers. Let them come for Dire. They shall find no weaknesses, only determination enough to grind their little kingdom into dust.”

  “Then what?” He spread his hands. “Even if this were so, even if you were to somehow deal with the vast realm, and the Fallen Angels, and the First himself, then what? The Damned must remain in Hell. What would truly change?”

  “You’re defending this place?” I squinted in surprise. “You spent long enough keeping its messes out of Earth.”

  “I do not defend it, it is a wicked realm, and I hate that it exists. But I am saying that simply wading into demons like you would gangers or Nazis or superheros is not only a losing strategy, but futile in the long term. As is showing your back to the Damned, or trusting that your compassion to them will be regarded as anything but weakness. They are not homeless on a beach, Doctor Dire. They made their choice long ago.”

  I really, really wanted to take a swing at him.

  Instead, I took a breath of stinking air, a second, then whirled and paced, walking around the edge of the chamber, finally stopping with my back to him, hands clasped behind me. “Janissary,” I said, when I trusted my voice again.

  “Doctor?”

  “She’s come a long way, since that time on the beach. That frozen, dark, worrisome time.. She thinks that you worry yourself by thinking that she never quite left that place.”

  “Yes,” he said simply, and I heard his footsteps approaching. I turned and held up a hand, palm out.

  “Makes sense. Many villains never get over their early days. They fall, and cannot rise again, cannot overcome their initial weakness. Stuck in the past, doomed to repeat the same mistakes, over and over, often against the same foes.”

  Khalid halted now, his face in shadows save for his glittering eyes. Gods, he was short, I had a full foot on him. But his presence filled the ‘room’. “I would not accuse you of the same weakness.”

  “You just did.” I rotated my hand to raise my palm upwards, closing it into a fist as I did so. “Do you remember Tugs?”

  “I fear the name escapes me.”

  “Tugs, the junkie. Tugs, the murderer.”

  “Ah.” He shifted in the darkness.

  “You do remember.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you remember what Dire did to Tugs.” I brought my fist down like a hammer, into my other palm, with a meaty smack.

  He nodded. “It was just.”

  “Then trust her to have learned the lesson about letting the wicked gain power.” I strode over to him, clasped his shoulders. “Dire seldom makes the same mistake twice. The Damned start with
a tabula rasa, as far as Dire is concerned. She’ll aid the good, smite the wicked, and never, ever, give them a shot at anything vulnerable.”

  Khalid nodded again. “Then I will say nothing more on that matter.”

  I squeezed his shoulders. Then my stomach gave a rumbling growl, and we both looked down. I snorted laughter and he embraced me, laughing back. It felt good, the first hug I’d had outside of the armor since... well, since I lost my boyfriend.

  Not that I was shopping for a new one. No, Khalid was a friend, and it was good to have someone I could put my back against. Without the complications that literally would arise if I put other bits against him.

  “Come. Let us get you some filet of Beaky.” Khalid let go of me and beckoned toward a flickering light beyond one of the wall hangings.

  “We’re eating him now?”

  “Only parts that would have died due to damage from the parasites anyway. The injections Vector gave you should ensure his meat does not poison you.”

  “Still feels kind of strange.” My stomach growled again. “How’s he taste?”

  “Horrible. And there’s not enough meat harvested to properly feed us right now.”

  “He’s okay with a fire in his lungs?”

  “Technically we are no longer in his lungs. Also, it is smokeless flame, suspended on a patch that has no nerves, according to Vector. The burn will heal in short order, and his breathing mechanisms should remain un-irritated.”

  I snorted again, and made my way toward the campfire or whatever it was.

  So, naturally, the radio in my suit chattered. I headed back to it and pulled it free from the armor once more. “This is Dire.”

  “Boss? You might want to suit up.” Alpha sounded worried. Without a word, I slid into the back of the armor and began the startup protocols.

  “Sitrep?” I snapped.

  “The storm’s lifted a bit, and there’s smoke coming from the base camp.”

  We’d told them not to build fires. “How much smoke?”

  “Big fire.”

  I ran through the scenarios where they would have disobeyed me to that extent, and the most likely option came down to outsiders. That meant trouble. That meant violence.