Anomaly Flats

by Clayton Smith

  The voice in the darkness chuckled. “I’m in a bit of a fixed state,” it admitted. Then, “Where are my manners? I imagine you’d do well with a bit of light.”

  On his command, an orange glow with no discernible source filled the chamber. It was warm, and welcoming, and Mallory felt her shoulders involuntarily relax a bit. She could see the entire room now, and it wasn’t nearly as large as she’d imagined; it was just about the size of a basketball court…which meant she had no trouble seeing the ancient evil where he stood at the far end of the room.

  He was tall, but not overly so, and his clothes were surprisingly plain and hellfire-free. He wore brown linen pants and a white, long-sleeved waffle shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He wore a dusty brown cowboy hat, and with his head tipped down, she couldn’t see his face beneath the brim. He was slim, and in good enough shape to send an involuntary flutter through Mallory’s stomach (Seriously? Now? she scolded herself), but it was the man’s chains that really demanded most of the attention. He had shackles around each wrist, and another pair clamped tightly on his ankles. Thick, heavy chains linked them to gleaming stakes in the stone wall behind him. Even from the distance, there was no mistaking the finality of those bonds.

  “I hope you won’t think me a poor host for not greeting you at the door,” the creature said, raising his hands as far as he was able, the chains clanging until he had pulled them taut. “I’m not quite as mobile as I’d like to be.”

  “Who did that to you?” Mallory blurted. She had a strong feeling that she shouldn’t provoke a primeval demon, but seeing him in chains was such a shock, she couldn’t help herself. Besides, odds were she was going to meet a horrible, painful end down in this dungeon, and if she was going to die, by God, she was going to die a well-informed woman.

  “Protestants,” came the easy answer. He said it as if the idea was terribly amusing to him. For all she knew, it was.

  Mallory took a deep breath. Her life had rocketed so far past surreal, it wasn’t even worth wondering how she’d managed to find herself in this particular predicament. She decided just to roll with it and see how it all played out. But even so, she wasn’t quite ready to approach the imprisoned creature. Not yet.

  “So you’re just stuck there? A bunch of Protestants overpowered something like you and locked you into the wall?” she called out.

  The ancient evil snorted. “People…can surprise you,” he said, with a little laughter in his voice.

  Mallory frowned. “You sound awfully chipper about it. All things considered.”

  “I suppose I shouldn’t be,” the man admitted. “But when you’ve lived as long as I have, any bit of surprise is an opportunity to smile.”

  Mallory glanced down at the ancient spear in her hands. Then she looked back up at the man chained to the wall. He looked pretty spry for being a few million years old, restraints notwithstanding. “This might be a weird question…but you are the ancient evil, right?”

  The man on the other side of the room smiled. Mallory couldn’t see it, but she could hear it, somehow. “I suppose that’s as accurate a description as most of the others,” he assented. “I wouldn’t go around calling myself evil…but I see where others might get that idea.”

  “And you’re the one responsible for…all this?” She waved her hand up in the general direction of the town above. “For Anomaly Flats?”

  “It may be more accurate to say that Anomaly Flats is responsible for me. I found myself helplessly drawn to its singular qualities some time ago. I’ve become a bit bonded to the fabric of the town over time, it’s true. But Anomaly Flats was a dimensional oddity long before I came to town.”

  Mallory took a step toward the creature. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way,” she said, trying to sound braver than she felt, “but I’m supposed to stab you through the heart.” She cleared her throat. “With this magical crowbar from space.”

  The ancient evil shrugged. “Makes sense,” he admitted. Then he raised his head, and his dark eyes bored into Mallory’s, a sneer creeping up along his lips. “I’d probably be more surprised if you’d said you came here in peace.”

  Mallory gazed into his face. His features were confusing; that was as specifically as she could describe them. His dark eyes seemed to almost radiate light, but that might have been an optical illusion caused by the fact that they were constantly changing size and shape. First almond-shaped, then round, then up at the corners, then down, and on and on and on, as if they couldn’t make up their minds. His nose, too, blurred through a series of various shapes and sizes, and his mouth flickered above his ever-shifting chin, trying on a different set of lips each half-second that passed. He was a never-ending slot machine of features.

  “What’s wrong with your face?” she blurted.

  “I’ve always liked it myself,” he said, pretending to be taken aback by her brazenness. Then he smiled through his shifting lips. “I just can’t seem to settle on any one look. I often try to assume features that appeal to the person I’m addressing, to put her at ease...but I confess, I’m having a hard time pinpointing what exactly those features might be for you, Mallory. And in any case, wearing a mask is disingenuous; and I think I owe you a bit more than pretense.”

  “Ah,” she said, as if that all made perfect sense, although it made absolutely none whatsoever.

  “Does it bother you?” he asked.

  “It’s not what I expected,” she admitted, taking another step closer.

  “And what did you expect?” he asked, clearly amused. “Slime? Entrails? Pus and blood and sulfur and ooze?”

  “I mean…yeah.” She shrugged.

  “I would imagine so,” he smiled. “I’ve seen the drawings they’ve made of me.”

  “And the wood cuttings?” Mallory asked. She took yet another step in his direction.

  His pulsing eyes gleamed with interest. “Someone made wood cuttings? How wonderful.”

  “Wonderful isn’t…quite the word.” Mallory shifted the weight of the Spear of Rad, and she was almost close enough for its ages-old but razor-sharp point to pierce his chest. Just another few steps, she thought.

  “Do you really mean to run me through?” He asked this calmly, almost passively, as if he’d just asked if she wanted cream in her coffee.

  “I can’t really think of a reason why I shouldn’t,” she said, working hard to keep her voice even. “You know. All things considered.”

  “How about because I’m fettered to a wall and completely helpless?” He spread his hands again and jangled the chains.

  “Something tells me you’re probably a little less helpless than you let on.”

  The ancient evil clucked his tongue. “The things people must think of me up there…” he mused.

  “They think that you shove hot sticks up people’s asses and skin them alive and sew their heads onto decapitated deer bodies,” she snapped. She knew she probably shouldn’t take such a cavalier tone with an old demon, but the scenes from the woodcuttings disturbed her so, so much.

  The ancient evil laughed, a loud, long, throaty chuckle. “I see why you brought the spear,” he said. He shrugged one shoulder up to his face and wiped the tears from his eyes on his sleeve. “Humans are so…imaginative,” he said gleefully.

  “Are you saying you didn’t do those things?” Mallory said, squinting and trying to seek out his face for lies. It was a difficult thing, since the entire face was a lie. It cycled through its seemingly endless array of options and gave nothing away.

  “It’s not really my style,” he grinned. Then he bobbed his head a bit and added, “Well, the impaling. I did do that. But you have to understand, that was a different time. That sort of thing was expected. It wasn’t even my idea; it was the suggestion of the town’s mayor at the time. He said, ‘I suppose you’ll be shoving red-hot pokers up o
ur arses now,’ and I thought, ‘Sure, yes, I suppose I can do that.’ But I’m really more of a slash-and-burn kind of guy, to be honest.”

  “I’m not sure splitting hairs over which type of eternal hell you prefer is really all that important.” Mallory took one more step, and she was finally close enough to reach the evil with the spear. The stakes that held the chains into the walls glittered more brightly, to the point of blinding Mallory if she looked directly at them. It was almost as if they were made of light.

  “You may be right,” he admitted. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset you, Mallory. I just want to be honest with you.” He peered directly into her eyes and said, “I will never lie to you.”

  His gaze had a strange effect on her knees. They suddenly felt watery, and she had the overwhelming urge to collapse. She closed her eyes and shook her head, shaking the memory of those eyes from her mind. “You know my name,” she said without opening her eyes, trying to change the subject. “What do I call you? Just…Ancient Evil?”

  The demon laughed lightly. “You’re right. I’m being a terrible host; I completely bypassed proper introductions. You can call me the ancient evil if you’d like. But I’d much prefer it if you called me Chad.”

  Mallory blinked. “The great and powerful ancient demon is named Chad?”

  The ancient evil raised an eyebrow. “Is it really that surprising?” he asked.

  Mallory thought back to all the Chads she’d known throughout her lifetime. She shrugged. “No, not really,” she admitted.

  Chad indicated the weapon in her hand. “I assume that’s the Spear of Rad?” he said. Mallory nodded. “How wonderful,” he smiled. “I’ve heard stories of its power, but I’ve never seen it up close.” He jangled the chains again. “I’ve been a little tied up.”

  “Prison humor,” Mallory muttered. “Hilarious.”

  “You have to find joy where you can,” Chad said. “Would you mind…could you hold up the spear? So I can get a decent look?”

  Mallory hesitated. She assumed this was some sort of trick. But his bonds did appear to be incredibly secure, and while Lewis had told her to pierce the ancient evil through the heart, she assumed that driving the spear through his skull would probably do the trick, too. So she raised the weapon, but she kept the tip pointed at the demon.

  He tilted his head so he could read the engravings on the side of the spear. In the strange, source-less light, the etchings almost seemed to be written in flames. “Sponsored by Dish Network,” Chad read. He nodded sagely. “I should have guessed.”

  “Wait, it really says that?” Mallory asked, incredulous. She pulled the spear back and examined the runes along its shaft. She couldn’t make heads or tails of the markings, but a nerdy scientist and an ancient evil couldn’t both be wrong. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “It is truly a weapon of extraordinary power,” Chad said, leaning back against the stone wall. “It would definitely do the trick.”

  “Well,” Mallory said, shifting the spear in her hands, “what’re we waiting for?” She gripped the shaft and took a series of deep breaths, trying desperately to work up the will to stab a well-mannered, human-looking demon through the heart.

  “I assume you’ve been told what to expect when you run me through?” he said.

  Mallory snorted. “I expect you’ll die a pretty painful death.”

  Chad smiled. “Yes, I imagine that’s likely true. But the future doesn’t look good for you, either.”

  Mallory tensed. Was this some sort of ancient evil trickery? It seemed likely. “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “This room is a cell meant for keeping me locked away. That is its only purpose. Once that becomes no longer necessary, the room has no more reason to exist. When I die, it will collapse in on itself, compressing into literal nothingness.” He gazed up at the heavy stones set into the ceiling. “How much do you think each one of those weighs?” he mused.

  “Come on,” Mallory scoffed. “You really expect me to believe that?”

  “I told you I would not lie to you,” he said simply. “If you want proof, I can deliver it. The spear is sharp enough; cut me.”

  Mallory raised an eyebrow. “Cut you?”

  “Cut me,” he nodded. “Anywhere you’d like.”

  She tapped her teeth together, thinking. It was almost certainly a trick…but then again, if he was telling the truth, she needed to know. A collapsing dungeon might change the game a bit. And besides, slicing open a hell-demon could only win her a few karma points. Quickly, before she could change her mind, she slashed the Spear of Rad across his arm. A long trickle of blood welled up and began dripping onto the floor.

  Something above her head shifted, and the entire room groaned.

  Little puffs of dust filtered down through the ceiling. Tiny pebbles tumbled to the floor.

  The dungeon shuddered like an old barn in a windstorm.

  “You see? Not that I think it should necessarily change your mind. I believe a person’s own destiny should always be fulfilled. If you’re meant to end my existence, then postponing that end is fruitless. I just want you to know what you’re in for when it happens. I want you to have all the information.”

  Mallory glanced nervously over her shoulder at the staircase. It wasn’t really that far away. “I can make it,” she said aloud.

  “Maybe,” he agreed. “I suppose we’ll find out.”

  “I suppose so,” Mallory said. But there was no mistaking the uncertainty in her voice. It was a perfect match for the uncertainty in her brain.

  The ancient evil surely heard it, and he seized his opportunity. “Would you permit me a bit of theatre before the end? If I’m destined to die, I won’t fight it, but we do all have our parts to play and our scripts to read. Do you mind?”

  Mallory groaned. She hated actors, and allusions to theatre. But she wasn’t necessarily opposed to postponing the self-sacrificial slaughtering of a demon. “Sure, Shakespeare. Knock yourself out.”

  He nodded, pleased. “I assume you’ve noticed the stakes that hold me here?” He gazed fondly at the huge nail above his left shoulder. “You see how it sparkles? Have you considered why it does that?”

  Mallory shrugged. “It was born that way?”

  An amused little smile played across Chad’s lips. “You’re correct, in a sense. There are rules, Mallory, about demons and angels and what can hold them and what can set them free. That,” he said, nodding down at the Spear of Rad, “is one of the things that can set us free. In a manner of speaking. And this,” he said, indicating the glistening stake over his shoulder, “is one of the things that can hold us. Take a closer look. Can you not see what the stakes are made of?”

  Mallory brought her eyes closer to the spike, but not so close that she was within reach of the man’s fettered hand. The nail was monstrous—the head alone was three inches in diameter, at least—and it was clear, but faceted, so the light played off its surface and sparkled like sunlight on a river. “Cubic zirconia?”

  Chad laughed out loud. “Close,” he said. “Each one is a solid diamond, fashioned into a stake many years ago.”

  “Solid diamond?” Mallory asked. A warm flush crept up the back of her neck, and the edges of her vision blurred a bit, so that all that remained in focus was the gleaming head of the spike. She lowered the spear and felt herself being helplessly drawn to its light. She reached out and brushed her fingertips against the smooth surface.

  It was cool to the touch.

  “I wonder if you know the monetary value of a diamond of that size, in today’s market,” Chad said. The hushed tone of his voice couldn’t quite conceal his mirth.

  The truth was, Mallory didn’t know the value of a diamond that was probably at least a foot in length. But she knew the value of the tiny diamonds in her ba
ckpack, and it wasn’t very hard to extrapolate the figures to such an incredible degree.

  A diamond like that would be worth hundreds of millions, she knew. Probably more. It was, quite possibly, a billion-dollar diamond.

  And there were four of them down here, just sticking out of the wall, collecting dust.

  Mallory realized she wasn’t breathing. She instructed her lungs to work, but they refused. So she just stood there, breathless.

  “I’ll tell you how the rules are written,” Chad said. He eased himself back against the wall, and his iron chains rattled, startling Mallory from her reverie. She found her breath again and drew herself back, once again out of reach…but her eyes remained focused on the diamond. “One diamond anchor is enough to hold even the most powerful demon. Some people might use two, just to be on the safe side, which I don’t really fault them for. A third anchor is redundant, though, to say the least. And a fourth…well, a fourth is just overkill, if you ask me.”

  Mallory snorted. “So in other words, who would miss one little diamond stake?”

  “Now that you mention it, I’m not sure anyone would know the difference,” he said with a grin. “Except for me, of course. And you.”

  “So, what—I pull a pin, become rich beyond my wildest dreams, and you remain here, locked up for all eternity?”

  “Eternity is a long time,” Chad pointed out. “All I need is three other would-be slayers who understand the value of an extremely precious gem. I estimate that in another six thousand years or so, I’ll be free.”

  “And I’ll be long gone.”

  “In every way imaginable.”

  Mallory considered his words. She glanced uneasily between the diamond, which gleamed, and the demon, who flickered. “You’re telling me that I could free one of your chains, and you’d still be trapped down here? I think you’re lying,” she said.