Serpent's Storm

by Amber Benson

  twenty-five

  Jarvis sat on the ground, his back resting against one of the metal columns. He looked like a beaten man, his already pale face so drawn and pinched, one might think he was ill. Maybe he was. The body he now possessed was probably going through heroin withdrawal, but I doubted that was what was making him look so wan. I’d just laid my dad’s shortcomings bare before his mortal enemy and Jarvis could be nothing but terribly conflicted by the turn of events.

  Who deserved his loyalty more: my father—his former master—or me, his possible new one?

  I couldn’t answer that question for him, but I could shed a different-colored light on it.

  “Jarvis,” I said, squatting down beside him, “listen to me.”

  He opened his eyes, but he didn’t really see me. He was still lost in his own thoughts, wrestling the demons that lived there.

  “Jarvis,” I said again. “You understand that my dad did what he did out of love. His humanity was what made him good at being Death, but it was his flaw, too.”

  Slowly, Jarvis began to nod.

  “It’s why God chose him, Jarvis—because he was human, because he could be both perfect and imperfect at the same time.”

  “He was my friend,” Jarvis whispered, returning my gaze.

  “And as his friend, wouldn’t he want you to protect the people he loved so dearly?” I asked.

  Jarvis nodded again, finally understanding what I was driving at. I fluffed his hair.

  “Will you help me?”

  I reached out my hand and he took it, letting me help him to his feet. I guess all of this strangeness was par for the course down in the subway.

  “It’s what your father would want,” he said softly.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “So we’re off to Hell, then?” Jarvis asked.

  “I think now is as good a time as any,” I said, placing one hand on my belly, where I could feel the stomach juices simmering away in my gut, and taking hold of Jarvis’s arm with the other hand.

  I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and said:

  “I wanna go to Hell.”

  When I opened them again, we were there.

  i make no bones about the fact that I dislike Hell. It’s hot and miserable and I always lose like two pounds in water weight while I’m there. The desert part is all sandy and gross; the forested area is spooky and filled with odd creatures like the Bugbears. I get attacked, peed and slobbered on, or thrown down into a bottomless pit at least once every time I visit—and frankly, I’m getting pretty tired of the whole rigmarole.

  Luckily, on this trip, the wish-fulfillment jewel was kind enough to avoid the desert and the spooky forest, setting us down, instead, right in front of the entrance to the North Gate of Hell.

  “Callie!” a voice called from behind me, and I whirled around just in time to see my hellhound puppy, Runt, take a flying leap in my direction. We hit the ground hard, but I didn’t mind because I was just so damn happy to see that she was okay.

  Jarvis, who was smart enough to get out of the way, snickered at the sight of me being molested by a sixty-pound hellhound pup.

  “What are you doing here?” she said, licking my face—something she’d never done before—her tail thumping rhythmically against my leg in happiness. “I’m so glad to see you!”

  As I gave her a good scratching behind the ears, I noticed she’d gained about ten pounds since I’d last seen her, and her dark coat had gotten so shiny that it glowed. She was still wearing the pink rhinestone collar I’d magicked up for her when we’d originally met—it was the first, and pretty much only, spell I’d ever really done on purpose—but I could see it was starting to get too tight for her, something we’d have to remedy soon so she didn’t choke herself on it.

  “Okay now, enough slobber,” I said, sitting up on my elbows and pushing the big black puppy off my lap.

  “We’ve been hearing all kinds of rumors about what’s happening in Purgatory,” Runt said as she sat back on her haunches thoughtfully. “They say your dad and Jarvis got killed and that Clio and your mom are missing, but I know that can’t really be true, because Jarvis is right here.”

  Leave it to a puppy to use her nose to root out the truth.

  “I was dead,” Jarvis said, “but Callie did such a bad job of it I was able to escape and secrete myself into this new body.”

  Runt nodded. “Yeah, Callie has a hard time focusing,” she said sagely.

  “Thanks, guys,” I said, climbing to my feet and brushing off the dog slobber. “Where’s your dad, Runt? I need to talk to him.”

  Instead of an answer, the puppy gave three short yips in rapid succession and, a moment later, received an answering howl in return. The howl was so chilling that it would make a normal person’s blood run cold, but I was used to it, so I just grinned, happy to see Cerberus as he lumbered out of the forest, carrying a dead stag in his mouth.

  “Dad was just showing me how to hunt,” she said as she padded over to where her father, the three-headed Guardian of the North Gate of Hell, had dropped the dead animal in the dirt. He was about three times bigger than Runt, but I’d learned not to be scared of him, because he was just a big old softie at heart.

  Hellhounds were like sea horses; the women bore the babies while the men raised them, teaching the little tykes how to hunt and look after themselves. That left the women free to go out and bring home the bacon or, in their case, the giant stag. I’d never asked Cerberus about his mate, but I got the impression that he was a single dad because, as I’d just witnessed, he could do both jobs, and admirably.

  Runt, being the baby, was the last of the kids to go out and seek her fortune, and I knew Cerberus was enjoying having her around, especially because she’d spent her formative months hanging out up at Sea Verge with Clio and my parents. I’d “borrowed” Runt to help save my dad when he was kidnapped by my sister and her nasty demon husband, Vritra, but I’d fallen in love with the pup and then had had a hard time returning her to her dad.

  Like all male hellhounds, Cerberus possessed three heads—one smart head (his bore a giant, all-seeing Cyclops eye) and then two normal but not very smart heads. I’d nicknamed the dominant head “Snarly”—not that I ever called Cerberus that to his face—while I referred to the other two as the “Dumb” heads.

  Not very clever, but it did the trick.

  “I would like to offer our sincerest apologies on your loss,” Snarly head boomed, lowering all three heads in a low bow.

  “Thank you,” I said, touched. “It means a lot to me that you respected my father.”

  “Would that he’d had dominion over our domain, too,” Snarly head said. “And not just Purgatory.”

  I couldn’t have agreed more. I looked over at Jarvis and saw that the compliments Cerberus had paid my dad pleased him, too.

  “What can the hellhounds do for you in your time of loss, Death’s Daughter?” Snarly head asked.

  “I spoke to God,” I said, looking to Jarvis to offer confirmation. He nodded his head in the affirmative. “And now I need your help to get rid of the Devil and my sister before they take over Purgatory.”

  “What do you need from us?” Runt said, wagging her tail with the enthusiasm of a little kid.

  I swallowed hard, knowing that what I was about to ask Cerberus to do went against everything that was sacred in Hell, but it was the only plan I could conceive that had a chance of shifting the Devil’s attention away from Purgatory and back to Hell.

  “I want you to open the North Gate of Hell and let all the souls out.”

  I don’t think I could’ve shocked Cerberus—and Jarvis—more if I’d taken all my clothes off and done the hokeypokey right there in front of them. It was Runt, the hyperintuitive one, who came to my rescue.

  “It’s a brilliant idea, Callie,” she said. “Overrun Hell with all the demons and damned souls trapped inside of the Gates, and the Devil will be forced to come back here and deal with us.”

  Sh
e turned to her dad.

  “It’s the revolution you’ve always wanted, Daddy!”

  “I need to separate Thalia from the Devil,” I continued, now that Runt had my back. “If we cause a riot down here, one of them—the Devil, I hope—will have to come and try to squelch the uprising. They’ve left Hell unguarded because they believe they’ve got you by the balls, that no one here would ever stand up to them.”

  “Putting it that way,” Snarly head said, his unblinking yellow eye staring thoughtfully at me, “I think you may be on to something.”

  The other two heads drooled their agreement.

  “What do you think, Jarvis?” I asked, turning back to look at my friend.

  “I think if anything has a chance to work, this is it.”

  I smiled. Getting the seal of approval from Jarvis gave me the confidence to believe my plan might actually work.

  “So be it,” I said, my mischievous grin wide enough to include Jarvis, Runt, and Cerberus. “Open the gates.”

  the dead arrived in a flood.

  In Hell, every religion or philosophy had its special area of punishment. Because we were at the North Gate of Hell, the province of the tormented Atheists, Pagans, and Satanists of the world, it was this marginalized group of dead who were the first ones to appear at the Gates. It didn’t take long for the word to spread throughout Hell, and soon we were inundated with the damned souls of the more traditional religions: Christians, Muslims, Hindus, Jews . . . and from there the list went on and on and on.

  The Devil had taken the Bugbear Guard with him in order to secure Purgatory, leaving a handful of loyal demons to oversee Hell. Needless to say, there were so few of them—versus so many of the aggrieved—that they didn’t stand a chance. Besides, once the damned souls realized we’d provided them with an escape route, they took matters into their own hands, felling the other Gates and snaking out into the surrounding forest, free to do as they pleased.

  “They’re not going to want to go back in,” I said as Jarvis, Runt, and I watched Cerberus rip the gate from its hinges, widening the gap for the escaping souls. He threw the splintered gate behind a boulder before loping over to where we were waiting.

  “It will be Death’s job to help re-collect them all,” Jarvis said knowingly.

  “Well, that’s a bummer,” I said, though I’d already expected that to be the case.

  “I will mobilize all of the hellhounds,” Snarly head said, “and have them alert the Bugbear families as to what is happening and tell them to stay in their houses. They live mostly in the deep woods, so I think the souls will leave them be, but the escaping demons could become a problem.”

  The great three-headed hellhound had agreed to become my commander-at-arms. He would mobilize all the creatures sympathetic to our cause and prepare the able-bodied to defend Hell upon the Devil’s return.

  “I know that the angels and Gods and Goddesses are in Purgatory fighting as we speak,” Jarvis said. “But Callie, you have the power to command the Harvesters and Transporters. They work for Death, Inc., and will do your bidding if you ask them. They could be very helpful down here in Hell.”

  “What do I do?” I asked. “Just call them?”

  “That’s what your father would do,” Jarvis said.

  I took a step away from the others and placed my fingers at my temples.

  I need you. Come help me! Long Live the New Reign of Death!

  No sooner had I thought the words than the skies were filled with a sea of Victorian-garbed men and women, each holding an unfurled black parasol to guide their trajectory to Earth. There were thousands of them, every color and race and nationality that the world possessed. A veritable army of Death’s finest, and they had all heeded my cry for help. It was awe-inspiring.

  I knew the Devil would be major league pissed to see the North Gate of Hell overrun with my people, and if I’d had my phone, I’d have taken a picture and e-mailed it to him. That’d show him that while he’d been playing patty-cake up in Purgatory, Death had seized the opportunity and taken Hell by storm. I could only hope that once the rumors of our coup reached his malevolent ears, he’d take the bait and come down to restake his claim.

  I waited until the last of the Harvesters and Transporters had arrived, sailing down from the sky to add to the already swelling crowd, and then I began:

  “Thank you for coming!” I said, trying my best to project over the din. The Harvesters and Transporters, curious as to why they’d been called out, were talking quietly among themselves. There were so many of them, though, that “quietly” was a relative word.

  “Try this,” Jarvis said, twisting his hand to reveal a bullhorn he’d magicked out of the air for me. I placed the contraption to my lips and my voice exploded into the air.

  “Thank you for coming!” I said again. “As you probably know, the Devil and my sister Thalia have taken over Death, Inc.”

  There was a chorus of boos from the assemblage—obviously they weren’t too keen on the new management—but I waved them down.

  “This means that they’ve left Hell vulnerable to us,” I continued. “Which is why I’ve called you here. When the Devil realizes his mistake, he’ll come back to Hell to protect his dominion, and that’s when we’ll strike. Let’s show the Devil he can’t mess with Purgatory!”

  I wiped a bead of sweat from my forehead; the heat and the burning in my gut were making me woozy.

  “So, are you guys down to do a little ass-kicking?” I screamed at the crowd, ignoring my own discomfort.

  The roar of agreement nearly bowled me over.

  “Jarvis here will be overseeing the battle in Hell.” I looked over at my friend and winked. He looked surprised, then his cheeks flared pink with pleasure. “So, do what he says and let’s show these pricks who’s boss!”

  Satisfied that I’d gotten the crowd riled up enough to ensure their help, I handed the bullhorn back to Jarvis. My gut was churning, but I kept my agony to myself. I wanted to get out of there before anyone else noticed how badly off I was. I needed to put the next step of my plan in motion, and I didn’t want to have to explain myself in the process.

  As Jarvis began to outline the plan of attack to the Harvesters and Transporters, I knelt down beside Runt. I wanted at least someone to know where I was going, in case I didn’t make it back.

  “Runt,” I said, scratching the back of her ears the way I knew she liked. “I’m leaving now, but I want you to know where I’m going. It’s not a secret, but give me a few minutes to get going before you tell your father or Jarvis.”

  “I don’t want you to go, Callie,” the hellhound puppy said, her big pink eyes pleading with me. “You might never come back if you do.”

  “Then you understand why I have to go,” I said. “Clio and my mom need me, and someone has to put a stop to Thalia before she knocks the whole universe out of whack.”

  Runt seemed to understand my predicament. She licked my hand, her way of letting me know she would do as I asked.

  “I won’t tell anyone until you’re gone.”

  I leaned down and kissed the top of her furry head.

  “Jarvis is gonna need all the help he can get,” I said, standing up.

  “Pop and I will keep him safe,” she promised. “You do the same for Clio and your mom.”

  “Will do, Captain.”

  I gave Runt one final hug, then I took off for the tree line, following the same trajectory into the forest the damned souls had taken. A scalding wave of agony burned through my gut as I ran, and I just hoped that once we’d succeeded in dealing with the Devil and Thalia, I’d be able to find someone to remove the evil wish-fulfillment jewel from my belly.

  As I got farther into the forest, I took a sharp right turn, veering away from the path the dead had taken and trudging deeper into the forest—away from prying eyes. The canopy of low-hung branches blocked out most of the sunlight, and soon I found myself walking through semidarkness, dodging exposed roots while I fended off a
small swarm of gnatlike creatures that’d decided I was dinner.

  After a few minutes of hard slogging, I came to a clearing in the woods where a stand of red maple trees—five large specimens grouped together in a circle—stood sentinel. I imagined this would be as good a place as any to make my play.

  “Frank,” I called, “you can come on out now!”

  A light breeze filtered through the trees as the rustle of leaves filled the air like a ghostly whistle, and then a man stepped out of the forest, cowboy hat in hand.

  “Hello there, Miss Death,” Frank said, scratching an itchy spot in his right muttonchop. He was wearing the same clothes I’d last “experienced” him in, and there was still a trickle of dried blood on his upper lip.

  “You weren’t playing very fair the last time we met,” I said, keeping my distance from him. He seemed to understand that I didn’t want him any closer to me than he was, so he stopped and sat down on a tree root.

  I guess this was supposed to make him seem less aggressive, but I didn’t trust the snake as far as I could throw him.

  “Yeah, that wasn’t right of me,” he said, looking down at his hat. “I know that now. I just found you to be a very attractive young lady and, well, you know how it goes.”

  “No, not really,” I said, my throat burning. I tried to swallow back the pain, but a coughing jag hit me hard, forcing me to bend at the waist and cover my mouth with my hand to hide my red-flecked phlegm.

  When I was done, I stood up straight and glared at Frank. He was as much at fault for my distress as Sumi and Hyacinth, but as I stared down at him here in the copse of maple trees, he looked so pathetic that I found my heart wasn’t really into hating him anymore.

  “The wish-fulfillment jewel, it’s my weakness, isn’t it?” I said.

  Frank shook his head.

  “Nah, the jewel’s the real deal. It’s what’s inside the jewel that’s making you feel so rough.”

  “So, I have to ask. Why not just kill me outright?”

  “We wanted you to help us,” he said, threading his hat through his hands. “You were supposed to challenge your friend, Daniel, and kill him. When you didn’t, Sumi released the promethium that was inside the jewel.”