Devil Take Me

by Jordan L. Hawk

  A figure stands at the stern, leaning on an oar. He cocks his head in Asuka’s direction.

  Asuka doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. Just keeps holding the coins out.

  The ferryman eventually dips his oar into the river and crosses the intersection. He stops at the crosswalk and reaches out. His hand is thin, and the fingers are too long to be human. His face is obscured by the hoodie of an oversized sweatshirt.

  “I’m seeking Phobetor,” Asuka says with grim determination.

  The ferryman startles and draws his hand back.

  “He’s in a cave, outside a field of poppies.”

  The ferryman doesn’t deny this but says nothing either.

  Asuka frowns. “Will you take me to where the West Side and East Side meet or no?”

  The ferryman seems to consider the request. He once again reaches out. Asuka drops the coins into his palm. The skin is taut. The ferryman pockets the coins and waits.

  Asuka climbs into the boat and sits on the small board at the bow.

  The ferryman pushes off the bank of the crosswalk, and the boat glides through Times Square. Each dip of the oar into the river brings up the cries of the few souls remaining in the Underworld. Perhaps these ones, forever drowning, were once men who ran afoul in life, who made bad decisions, or who hurt others. Maybe they are unwelcome in the more… restful parts of the Underworld.

  Wherever those may be.

  There are a few monsters on the banks of the river as they move between avenues. Asuka shoots their bloated black bodies with flare cartridges, and they drop dead. One screeches from the side of a building it’s climbing. Asuka stands, careful not to rock the tiny boat. He unhooks his sword as the monster jumps and flies directly toward them. Asuka raises his glowing blade and then swings as if it were a bat, slicing the monster in two.

  Greasy refuse sprays him and the ferryman as the top portion of the nightmare topples over the edge and into the river. The bottom portion—tentacle appendages still twitching—lies in the boat. Asuka stabs it and hoists the carcass up. The muscles in his arms bulge and flex as he heaves the disgusting slop into the Styx.

  Asuka wipes his brow on the sleeve of his shirt.

  A ghostly, faraway-sounding laugh comes from the direction of the ferryman.

  Asuka turns as the ferryman flicks his hand, oil dripping from his fingertips. “Sorry,” Asuka says.

  THE BOAT lurches to a sudden stop at Fifth Avenue. Asuka grabs the sides to steady himself. He looks over his shoulder. The ferryman is pointing a long finger in the direction of downtown.

  The New York Public Library.

  Not a cave, but certainly a marvelous feat of marble and human ingenuity three stories tall. And it’s one of the few places in the city where the atmosphere is intentionally quiet so one can work—or dream—in peace.

  Asuka climbs out of the boat and puts his feet on the solid sidewalk.

  “Little bird.”

  Asuka turns.

  The Devil is sitting where he had just been seconds before. He’s smoking a cigarette. “My brother is very busy.”

  Asuka doesn’t respond.

  “He’s not noticed what Phobetor has done. It’s not his fault.” The Devil taps ash that doesn’t exist. “Don’t break his heart by telling him.”

  The Devil reaches into his coat and removes a card. He extends it outward. Asuka accepts it. It’s a New York Public Library card with his name on it.

  Asuka is silent. The ferryman turns the boat with practiced ease. As it floats back the way they’d come, the Devil dips his hand into the water and comforts the crying souls.

  They disappear around the corner and Asuka is alone again.

  With his sword still in hand, Asuka walks to the end of the block. He stops in front of the lion statues, Patience and Fortitude, that flank either side of the steps to the main doors. The stairs are covered in millions of red poppies, seemingly sprouting from the cement itself in violent determination.

  Asuka goes into the library.

  VII

  THE READING Room.

  This is where Asuka is going. He’s seen no one else in the vast expanse until he reaches the third floor. Outside of an elegant, arching doorway made of richly colored wood—which here in the Underworld is nothing but a bland shade of gray—are two signs.

  Visitors to the left.

  Quiet Study Zone to the right.

  There is a constant rotation of men and women, dressed in the same outdated fashion as the Devil, parading out of the Quiet Study Zone hall. They walk past Asuka without any sort of acknowledgment, as if he is invisible or they are completely indifferent toward his existence. Every single one holds a hardcover book under one arm.

  Asuka lowers his sword when he realizes the… librarians?… are of no threat. He cocks his head in order to catch the titles embossed in golden font on the covers.

  They all read the same.

  Nightmare.

  And under each is the name of a person. The names mean nothing to Asuka, but he understands now. These are the dreams being delivered to humanity.

  The Quiet Zone must be the gate of horn.

  Asuka takes a few more steps forward and leans into the open doorway. The procession seems never-ending, but silent, somehow, like the librarians wear rubber-soled shoes. He quickly moves to the far wall to avoid being caught in the midst of their duties and spares a glance back the way he came. The librarians get about halfway down the hall Asuka had taken to reach the Reading Room, before they simply snap out of existence.

  Strange.

  But not the strangest occurrence Asuka has experienced.

  Keeping his weapon lowered and his back to the wall, Asuka slides into the main room. The length of it spans over two city blocks. The walls are lined with bookshelves, and the floor layout is a perfect organization of study tables, chairs, and lamps. Lines of librarians in three-piece suits and ankle-length dresses file out of a single doorway at the end, weaving in and out of the tables and eventually reaching the book-return counter. They appear to patiently stand in line, then go out to the hall Asuka entered from.

  Everything is quite beautiful, even for this inside-out interpretation of reality.

  Asuka takes a step forward, and his boots sound on the marble floor.

  A librarian at a podium directly in front of him raises her finger and says, “Shh….” She then taps the sign hanging from the pedestal.

  No Weapons

  Asuka glances at his sword and back at her.

  She raises an eyebrow.

  He hesitantly extends the grip. The librarian comes around the podium and accepts the sword. She walks back and stuffs it into shelving where it cannot possibly fit. She then takes Asuka’s double holsters and puts them away in her podium.

  The librarian extends her hand once more.

  Asuka shakes his head. He has no other—oh. He pulls out the library card from his pocket.

  She nods.

  He offers it to her.

  She takes it, reads the name, then places it inside her podium with his gear.

  Asuka hesitantly moves toward the return desk, and when she doesn’t stop him, he figures he’s obeying the rules accordingly. There are several large windows open at the long desk, but they appear unmanned, as the librarians are all gathered into a single-file line. Asuka leans into an empty window and studies the employees-only section. A man sits in a chair, but Asuka cannot see what he’s doing with the books brought to him from the other side of the counter.

  Making sure the podium woman isn’t watching him, Asuka jumps up, slides his legs in through the window first, and lands on the opposite side. He approaches the man and can see he opens each book entitled Nightmare, stamps the due date card, then hands it back.

  The man yawns in between each stamping.

  Asuka wishes Merrick is here. He doesn’t know this man’s name.

  “Excuse me,” he murmurs.

  The man leans back in his chair. He looks at Asuka, g
ives him the briefest of once-overs, then returns to stamping.

  “Are you the Devil’s brother?”

  He chuckles. “Our names have certainly changed over time.”

  “What do I call you?”

  “Sleep.”

  Huh.

  “Are you—related to the Dreams?”

  “They are my sons,” Sleep says before yawning once more.

  “I see.” Asuka watches the next librarian approach the window and extend a book to Sleep. “What are you doing?”

  “Approving sleep cycles and dreams to be dreamed.”

  “Of course,” Asuka quickly says, as if he should have known that. “I’m sure you’re very busy.”

  Sleep leans forward on the counter, suddenly drops his head against the solid wood with a thud, and begins to snore peacefully.

  Asuka startles and looks toward the line of librarians. They’ve all stopped, standing still where they are, heads down and shoulders slumped. Everything remains as such for nearly a minute.

  Sleep sits up again. He yawns wide enough to crack his jaw, then accepts the next book in line. Asuka watches this happen at random and without warning several times over the course of nearly thirty minutes. In this time, he also watches where the librarians are coming from. The room at the back is a special room.

  Invitation only.

  He remembers this from visits to the real library before life was turned upside down.

  Sleep’s head drops onto the tabletop again with a loud bang. The librarians come to a halt. Everything is still. Asuka creeps forward as Sleep rests deeply. On the wall beside him are a number of pockets containing paper permits. They allow passage to restricted locations within the library. Asuka reaches over Sleep’s head and grabs one marked Rare Books & Manuscripts. It slips and flutters free from Asuka’s hand and lands on Sleep.

  Asuka freezes.

  A noise sounds from within the Reading Room. Asuka looks out the window as a librarian in line shudders and convulses. Its gray garb and skin tear away as if it is a costume, pooling to the floor like rubber another can put on and wear. A bulging black nightmare with writhing tentacles chomps its massive mouth.

  Sleep continues to snore.

  Asuka ducks back out of view and listens to the monster drag its disgusting husk out of the Reading Room in search of souls to eat in the Underworld. A faraway screech echoes from the library stairwell.

  Safe, Asuka slowly reaches for the fallen permit and then for Sleep’s stamp. He utilizes it to mark the form as APPROVED in bold letters cracking from age and use.

  Sleep awakens and raises his head.

  Asuka takes a step backward.

  He yawns, stretches his neck from side to side, and motions for the next librarian.

  “I’ll leave you to your work,” Asuka says politely.

  Sleep hums in acknowledgment as he stamps another book.

  Asuka turns and climbs back through the unmanned window he’d entered. His boots hit the marble with a loud clap, and the podium librarian hushes him again. Asuka bows his head in apology. He carefully moves across the floor so his steps don’t make a sound. When he reaches the librarian, Asuka offers her his permit.

  She takes the paper, studies the stamp, and nods sagely. The librarian motions for Asuka to follow her, and they head in the direction the parade of gray people originates from. Librarians carrying copies of Nightmare exit the locked door as if they were ghosts, passing through like nothing stood in their path at all. Podium librarian reaches her hand through the knob.

  Click.

  The door gently swings open before Asuka.

  She motions once again with a finger to her lips, then leaves Asuka alone.

  The parade continues, uninterrupted.

  He swallows and enters the restricted room.

  VIII

  PHOBETOR IS a thing of beauty. A perfect specimen of man—if he were at all… a man. He’s massive in build—a giant over fifteen feet in height—completely naked, and sitting hunched on the floor in front of a table that he dwarfs. A pair of small black wings protrude from either side of his head. He plucks a new feather free for each copy of Nightmare, and he uses it as a quill to write the book before passing it to an awaiting librarian.

  Three of the walls appear to be bookcases behind protective glass. The ones on either side have rows and rows of priceless books from floor to ceiling. A staircase separates the lower and upper levels for easier access. The wall directly behind Phobetor, however, does not house books. Instead, there are two nearly identical giants, one on top and one on bottom, locked away behind the glass.

  Morpheus and Phantasos, no doubt.

  Asuka reaches for his sword but grasps only air.

  Shit.

  No weapons.

  Phobetor looks away from his book as he plucks another feather free from his head. “What are you?” His voice is so loud and deep, it rattles chairs and shelved books alike.

  Asuka notices from the corner of his eye that the librarians are all gone. He is alone with the origin of nightmares.

  “I am Asuka Kawashima.”

  “I didn’t ask who,” Phobetor rumbles. “I asked what.”

  Asuka doesn’t answer right away. He feels the weight of Merrick’s mouth on his. Feels Merrick’s hands in his own. Merrick’s belief warms Asuka’s cold, neglected heart in ways he never could have imagined.

  He squares his shoulders and raises his head to look up at Phobetor. “I’m a hero on a journey.”

  Phobetor screams. He throws the book in his hand and lunges at Asuka.

  Asuka jumps back. He dodges and rolls under a table as Phobetor’s fist slams into the door. Wood cracks and splinters. Phobetor screams again and picks up the table Asuka is under. He throws it and shatters cases on the left side of the room. Books tumble to the floor and are covered in shards of glass like sprinkles on a cake.

  “I’m never taken seriously!” Phobetor roars. He grabs for Asuka again, but his bigger, bulkier form has trouble keeping up in the enclosed space. “Not by my brothers! Not by the gates! Not by man! It’s my turn!”

  Asuka is under the second row of tables, moving fast on his hands and knees. He comes across the feather Phobetor had plucked from his head before being interrupted. Asuka stomps on it as he climbs to his feet.

  Phobetor roars as if in pain and grabs his head in both hands.

  Asuka lifts his boot and looks down at the mangled plumage.

  A black feather will help, he recalls Merrick saying.

  He stares upward. Phobetor’s power is in his wings.

  Asuka turns and races up the stairs to the second level. Phobetor slams his hand into the steps and destroys future access. Asuka has a single chance. He runs along the corridor and climbs onto the banister. When Phobetor faces him, Asuka jumps.

  He lands on Phobetor’s head, slips, and slides onto the appendage just above his ear. Asuka hoists himself up on the wing, holds where the bend is, and yanks it backward with all his might. Phobetor reaches up, grabs Asuka, and tries to tug him free. But as he does, there’s a loud snap and a spurt of blood.

  Phobetor’s scream shakes the very foundation of the library. Plaster falls from the ceiling, and the marble floors crack. Asuka gives the wing another swift yank and tears it completely free from Phobetor’s head. Phobetor crashes to the floor, his naked body shivering.

  Asuka leaps down, tosses the bloody appendage across the room, then climbs onto Phobetor’s shoulder. He reaches for the second wing and snaps it back brutally fast and hard.

  “I’m sorry,” Asuka says over the sounds of blood-curdling defeat. “But I cannot allow you to kill any more innocent people. I cannot allow you to snuff out the souls who reside here in the Underworld.”

  Asuka tears the second wing free. He’s soaked in blood as he climbs off the giant and drops to the floor. He turns around to throw the wing in the direction of the first but pauses. That’s when he sees the two other giants are awake and watching him behind th
eir glass prisons.

  Asuka plucks a large feather free and tosses the rest of the wing aside. He warily approaches the lower-level case, where Morpheus stares with intense rainbow-colored eyes. He brings his finger to the glass and taps it near where there is a lock on Asuka’s side. Asuka pushes the shaft of the feather into the lock, and the glass from the lower and upper levels melt like water.

  Asuka takes several steps backward.

  The giants unfold from their cramped prisons and stand, glorious and naked before Asuka.

  “My name is Asuka Kawashima,” he states. “And it was necessary that I kill your brother.”

  “Why?” Morpheus asks, and his voice echoes as if three of him are speaking.

  “I sold my soul to protect humanity,” Asuka answers. “This was the only way for me to uphold my promise and make my sacrifice worth the pain.”

  He does not mention their uncle, the Devil, has requested Asuka destroy Phobetor. He does not want to cause family drama. Asuka is amused that he even considers the needs of the Devil. He may be without a soul, but perhaps his heart has been beating all along.

  Phantasos crouches to be level with Asuka. His eyes are completely black. “Have our father and uncle survived his nightmares?”

  “They have.”

  Phantasos stands again and seems to converse with Morpheus through thought alone.

  “We accept your decision,” Morpheus says after profound silence.

  Asuka closes his eyes and expels a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. When he opens them again, the furniture, books, broken glass, and giants alike are floating.

  Frozen.

  Suspended.

  Asuka checks his watch for the last time.

  11:59 p.m.

  He turns around to see the Devil standing in the shattered doorway. He’s holding a skeleton key in one hand. “This is for you.”

  Asuka marches toward him. “No strings attached? Everything will be as it was before? Don’t be coy and send me back to when I’m falling to my death.”

  “I promise to do no such thing. Everything will be nightmare-free, and you may dream your dreams until sweet death.” The Devil smiles that wide smile and holds the key out in the palm of his hand. “When we will finally meet again.”