Immortal Divorce Court Volume 2: A Sirius Education

by Kirk Zurosky

  “Pain . . . death . . . whatever,” sniffled the Hellevator demon.

  “We gave our word,” said Rat Face.

  “We did?” Praying Mantis said, confused.

  The Hellevator demon lunged and punched Rat Face on the side of the head. “We are demons,” she scoffed. “Like our word means anything. Serves that power-hungry judge right for thinking he could trust us.”

  “But of course,” I said. “So why do you penis chompers want to kill me?” Hades was no longer mad at me. Or at least I hoped she wasn’t. I hadn’t taken any of her lovers to bed recently that I knew of anyway.

  “Hell has grown boring,” the Hellevator demon said. “Sure, there is the usual array of tortured souls to punish. And shoving a burning poker up some poor wretch’s ass for a century or two is always fun. But ever since you came to Hell, and Hades showed her true self, things have not been the same. She is always smiling, eternally happy as she flits from girl to girl, satisfying her every whim and desire. Ugh!”

  “And that involves me how?”

  “Well, it’s your fault of course,” the Hellevator demon said. “You are a man, so it is always your fault, but with that enchanted member of yours, you are absolutely insufferable.”

  “So when Scorn came to you for help, and paid you handsomely for your services, you just could not help yourself?”

  “Oh no,” the Hellevator demon said. “You have it all wrong. We sought him out. Found him dousing some poor bloke in basilisk venom. And you thought you were having a bad day. Well, we gave the old Head Magistrate quite a start! He doesn’t like surprises. But he wanted you to suffer, and he graciously supplied the poison to take you out permanently.”

  Rat Face opened her mouth to speak, but wilted at the Hellevator demon’s glare. Praying Mantis just grunted happily. But Red Hair was not to be denied her point of view and again butted in. “The deal was that he said he wanted Sirius Sinister to suffer, not die.”

  The Hellevator demon whirled. “Why are you speaking? I don’t care what Scorn said. I don’t care about the deal. Give it a rest. Sinister ruined Hell. He’s got to pay for that you know.” She reached between her legs and rubbed herself. “And besides I am hungry for what he has, at least for the moment, between his legs.”

  I could see that got Rat Face and Red Hair thinking, but Praying Mantis wasn’t about any kind of thinking, apparently. Rat Face looked at Oliver, and her long pink tongue snaked out. “Hmmm, troll testicles.” She slurped.

  Red Hair leaned on her blade. She looked me up and down like I was the prize bull in the auction. In actuality, I was a penned bull facing a vagina chop. “Scorn will have his Moon, and he will be happy,” she rationalized. “The deal will be done in spite of Sinister being a corpse.”

  “Corpse,” Praying Mantis repeated.

  “And we shall pick out his flesh from our teeth with the Maltese’s bones,” Rat Face said, looking genuinely happy at the prospect. Garlic not so much.

  Discretion is ever the better part of valor, I reasoned. “Garlic,” I said. “Bark us out of here.” We would have to take our chances that the demons could follow us through the wormhole.

  Garlic leaped forward and barked sharply, sending sonic blasts in the demons’ direction. The sound waves blasted into them, knocking them to the ground, screaming and covering their ears. Garlic turned and barked again, and a wormhole began to form, and then faded. She barked again and again but to no avail—each time she barked the hole would form and then fade before we could jump through to safety. The only creature I had ever seen affect Garlic’s wormholes was Hades, and if she was involved with these demons and Scorn, we were surely doomed. I looked at Garlic’s collar and saw the crystals were once again black as Hell’s deepest crevices.. We were in deep trouble indeed!

  Across London, in Saint James’s Park, Adams was plotting his own doom for the Wood brothers. He circled around the lake, following the shoreline until he came upon a canal that fed into a small side pond completely ringed by a high brick wall. He had found what he was looking for and caressed the iron gates that penned in the death that lay within. A few well-aimed kicks dismantled the gate lock. He had to thank that odd hooded fellow for showing him these beautiful killers. He sniffed the air and saw the water ripple as two snouts broke its surface. They swam closer, scenting the deer, and their reptilian eyes zeroed in on the bloody meat on Adams’s shoulder.

  “Hello, boys,” he called. “I have a little treat for you.” He cut into the deer carcass and held it over the pond. The blood turned the water red and spread out toward the toothy terrors. “But I need you to be really angry,” he added. “So angry that your jaws will not stop until the Wood brothers are buried under some log in your pen as your next meal.”

  He took a small vial of black liquid from his pouch and stared at it suspiciously. The hooded fellow had offered him ten pouches of gold to stick a knife in Angus’s back at the coronation. He had taken the gold. Oh, how he hated Angus and wanted the baron’s title, power, and land. But all the gold in the world was not what mattered to him. Then, old red eyes asked what he wanted to have most in the world. And that was easy to answer—Angus’s women.

  The hooded one had told him to stab Angus, and the women would follow. But even the hooded one could not have known that the Wood brothers would be joining them. The beasts were supposed to take care of the Blackheart guards and leave the bitches to him. But it was so much better now that they would be the ones to seal the Wood brothers’ fate. So he had gold, a plan to take Angus’s women, and amazingly now, he had the Wood brothers too. The hooded one had said the poison was from a basilisk and would drive the creatures in the pond crazy with blood rage. He had also warned Adams not to get any on his skin. He had scoffed at the hooded one—basilisk poison, right. He dismissed that as the rambling of a fool, but just in case he poured it carefully down the deer’s mouth, taking great care in not touching it.

  Satisfied, he tossed the carcass over the gate and watched with great pride as the feeding frenzy began. Powerful jaws made short work of the deer, and the pleasurable sounds of the bones splintering and tendons snapping were like music that soothed Adams’s depraved soul. He envied their ability to be so deadly. He could crush a bone, yes, but not as majestically as these creatures.

  He retreated to his hiding place to set the second part of his trap, remembering how the last time he had visited the crocs, a merman had silently risen from the lake and nearly caused him to soil his breeches. Nobody snuck up on Adams, but this guy had managed it. But the merman said he was not there to fight, staring at Adams with cold gray eyes that told Adams he was a kindred spirit. Adams could not believe his luck when he was offered merfolk war machines that cast nets even a werewolf could not escape. Adams wanted to know his price, but all the gray-eyed fish-eater said was there was no price. So he had shrugged, took the war machines, and now would have his revenge on the Wood brothers. He readied the bladders filled with deer blood that would douse the brothers after they were suitably trussed up by the netting. In the meantime, the poison would be working its way through the crocs’ systems, not enough to kill them, but ample enough to suitably enrage them. Adams rubbed his hands together eagerly and then thrust one into his breeches and waited for his prey.

  Adelaide had not stopped running since she entered the park and was pleased to see Connor at her side. He smiled at her encouragingly, and she promptly ignored him. There would be time later for smiles and idle chitchat. As they neared the lake, a gaggle of geese burst from a thicket, followed by a brace of bunnies, herd of deer, and lastly a screaming, incoherent mass of mortals. These females were all tears and teats as they ran with their guardsmen away from the lake. Beatrice and Will had caught up, and they all watched the parade of panic go by with some degree of amusement and concern.

  “As funny as that was,” Will said, “I have a feeling they were running from our boy Adams.”
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br />   “What concerns me, dear Will, is that, yes, the women should be running from him, but unless he likes to stick his cock in bunnies, there is something else out there for us to fear,” Beatrice added. “Trust the animals, and they will never steer you wrong.”

  “And don’t trust the humans,” Will said. “Because they will always steer you wrong? Especially the men, right?”

  “You said it, not me,” Beatrice said. “But we all know it is the females who are the more deadly, no matter the species.”

  Will smiled and repeated, “You said it, not me. All right, let’s fan out and catch this foul beast.” He sniffed the air but was clearly unable to scent Adams. Adelaide rolled her eyes and pointed to her left. “Like you said, Bea, more deadly.”

  They slowed their paces considerably and fanned out slightly, letting Adelaide take the lead. They had just about neared the lake when they heard a slight rustle, and whirled around, weapons at the ready, only to see a deer bound past them. But relaxing for a moment and cracking wry smiles had consequences, for flung out of the bushes came the netting of the merfolk, instantly binding up the four and dropping them to the ground. They heard an all too familiar laugh, and then Adams stood over them each in turn, sniffing the girls and getting in a grope or two while kicking the Wood brothers each so hard that a few ribs were sure to have been broken. Adams dragged them into a clearing just in front of the gate where Adelaide, Beatrice, and the brothers could hear a wild thrashing in the water.

  “This isn’t good,” Adelaide hissed.

  “Oh, but it is,” said Adams, studying her every curve. “But first I have a few presents for the assholes of the Wood.”

  He squeezed out the bladders, drenching the brothers with the deer blood until they were crimson from head to toe. The crocs were now thrashing and bumping against the gate as the scent of the blood, combined with the poison pumping from their cold reptilian hearts into their primordial brains, was driving them mad with bloodlust. “That is better,” he said. “You boys have never looked better. And ladies, well, well, well,” he said, grabbing his crotch and loosening his belt. The nets were going to make taking them so easy, but he was conflicted on whether that was a good thing or a bad one. “I am not sure which one of you I am going to have first. I am torn—so alike and yet so different. Well, not really, you all feel the same to me. Hmm, should I wait until the boys are croc meat or make them watch? Or, I know, I will take one of you now, and then the other while the boys are getting eaten! That’s it!”

  “What it is Adams, is me ripping your cock off and beating you in the face with it.” Adelaide sneered. “You touch us, and the Blackhearts will torture you until you are begging to go to Hell.”

  “No they won’t,” Beatrice said. “Father and our sisters will get to him first, and there will be nothing left for the Blackhearts . . . or Hell.”

  “I am not afraid of the assassin,” Adams said, though his face said differently. “I have friends who are going to take care of him.”

  Will and Connor were straining with all their might against their bonds, drawing blood as their hands were fairly shredded by the netting. But they did not stop trying until Adams saw them, came over, and stomped on their hands, smiling as he heard the crunch of a bone break in Will’s hand. Not like a croc, but satisfying all the same. “I really, really hate you two,” he said. “I mean, come on now, how many beatings have you given me?”

  “Apparently not nearly enough, you insufferable bastard.” Will scowled. “I will get out of these bonds, and I will kill you.”

  “You are doing a great job so far,” Adams said. “Bravo, good man. Keep trying. Jolly good effort. All right then, time to get back to the girls—or is it on the girls?”

  “Touch them and die,” Connor said.

  “You know, I don’t know why you people keep saying that,” Adams said. He leaned over and spat in Connor’s face. “Because actually, you are the little bitch that is going to die.”

  I had never really considered the possibility that I could actually die. But this situation was putting the die in dire!

  “All right, Oliver,” I said. “I will take Hellevator, you take Rat Face, and, Garlic, blast the red hair clean off the other bitch! Right now the last thing they would expect is for us to attack, so let’s have at them! The odds are even since Praying Mantis is having a go at herself.”

  “Were even,” Oliver grumbled. “Look!”

  I turned to see the demons shaking out their hair once again, and tiny black bugs fell to the ground and grew to the size of wolves. I would have much preferred a pack of rabid Himalayan wolves to these six-legged, double-jawed, armored menaces. The demons sat back, laughing and pointing as the insects attacked, giggling so hard they nearly fell over as our blades clattered harmlessly off of the carapaces of these critters. Even Garlic’s bark seemed to have no effect, bouncing off the hard shells, barely slowing them down. The bugs regrouped for another run at us.

  “Tired yet?” Hellevator called. “You will be!” The other three almost fell down again as our predicament was apparently the funniest thing they had seen in a century. Perhaps they were right, and Hell had grown old and stale for them—again, not my fault.

  “Look on their forelegs,” I shouted to Garlic. “Their ears . . . hit them low with as big of a bark as you can muster.”

  On the creatures came, but this time Garlic barked the loudest and shrillest bark I had ever heard from her, and not only did it deafen the huge insects, but it also took off their forelegs, sending the bugs crashing to the ground, where Oliver flipped them over one by one, and with a sharp stab to their soft underbellies, I made sure they would not be a threat to us again. We whirled to face the disappointed demons. “Sorry about your pets,” I said. “But we couldn’t let them bug us any longer. So I say to you, give us the Moon, and we will let you live. And then go back whence you came. Hell, I am sure, misses your cheerful dispositions.”

  “Oh, I am not going back to Hell,” the Hellevator demon declared. “I like it far too much here to go back there. Once we kill you, my sisters and I are going to embark on a mission to eradicate all your family, and then perhaps we will settle down somewhere nice and populous—say, Rome—and torture some mortals. It is time to restore the Colosseum to its true purpose and spill some blood to keep up the traditions of long ago.”

  “You are going to bring back the gladiator games,” I said. “That is truly ingenious. Do you have an original thought in your head?”

  “I was not talking about gladiator games,” the demon said. “But spilling blood at the site of the Colosseum—now there is a custom I can sink my vagina teeth into.” She gave me her best fanged smile. “Now those happy thoughts do give me a cheerful disposition. So thank you, Sirius Sinister. Now prepare to meet your doom.”

  I readied my sword, again wondering why the Blade of Truth was conspicuously absent. Was not fighting four hellacious demons deemed to be a time of need? If it wasn’t, what would possibly qualify?

  The demon sisters began to spin, faster and faster, and their blades spun with them, slicing through the air so quickly that they began to whistle louder and louder like four terrible tornados of terror about to wreak vengeance. Oliver turned and kicked heavily at the magicked wagon, which might as well have held the world in it instead of just bricks, and it proved immovable for even a troll. “Had to at least try,” he said. “My eyes told me no, but my fear made me give it a go.”

  “It is the fool that does not fear danger,” I said, staring at the demons and trying to think our way out of this jam. “And right now, I am pretty much the village idiot.” I had a few thunder crash bombs in my pocket and hurled one at Rat Face whose spinning wind deflected it before it reached her, and it flew high in the air where it detonated harmlessly. “Damn,” I said. “I thought that would happen, but I had to try something!”

  “Perhaps Garlic could try a wormhol
e again,” Oliver suggested. “Maybe what was dampening her abilities has passed. We have nothing to lose.”

  “Just our lives,” I added. I gave Garlic an encouraging pat and hurled my last two thunder crash bombs at the demons’ feet where they detonated impressively and stopped the wild wind of blades, at least momentarily. Garlic assessed the situation and barked again. A wormhole popped into existence—the most impressive she had ever formed. It kept growing and growing, and soon was big enough that I could pilot my father’s boat through it. “Uh, good job pup,” I said. “I guess you were really focused this time, eh?” Garlic merely growled at me and sat down on her haunches. She was not going into this wormhole. And neither were we apparently, because something very big was coming out of it, so big it got the four sisters’ attention, and they stopped their death spin and moved closer together with an unmistakable look of fear on their faces.

  It was the two-hulled prow of a great black ship, seemingly formed from a single piece of jet-black metal, not unlike the blue metal in Hedley Edrick’s vault. But whereas that metal was full of life and energy in its majestic sapphire sheen, this ebony metal seemed to suck in all light around it, which made sense when I saw, standing on the deck of this vessel of doom, the Lady of the Underworld, Hades herself, surrounded by dozens of impossibly beautiful women clad in Gothic leather uniforms that were so scant of material that they left nothing to my imagination. Think a whole lot of form, and not a bit of the uni, and you get the picture.

  “I see you approve of my crew, Sinister,” Hades said. She was dressed in a revealing pirate getup that would almost have to be considered conservative compared to that of her minions. “Wouldn’t do to have my tits out there for all of the earth to see now, would it?”

  I smiled having forgotten for the barest of moments that Hades could read minds. “Indeed it would not,” I agreed. “And as for your crew, I believe they could revive a dead eunuch. And I am happy to see a few familiar faces among them.”