by Eric Vall
“I was trying to explain,” he grumbled. “You seek to destroy Azazel, the King of the Fourth Circle, right?”
“That’s the plan,” I confirmed as we all nodded in unison.
“Well, if you truly want to pick a fight with the Father of Warfare, then let me ask you this,” he continued. “What armaments are you taking into battle?”
“Easy, Play-Doh,” Todd scoffed. “First, we got Jakey’s badass Unhallowed Sword. Then, we got all the girls’ weapons, like the kickass flaming axe and the morning star and the stripper-polearm. Not to mention, we’ve got just about every single Hellfire power under the sun. Except for silver. For some reason none of us have mastered that one yet.”
“Invidia has silver Hellfire,” Libidine interrupted.
Todd pointed to the succubus and nodded. “See? We even got that one covered,” he explained. “But, most important of all, we got these bad boys.”
Todd flexed his tiny muscles, put on his “war face,” and growled like a tiger.
Plato raised a curious eyebrow at the imp, but it only made him growl louder.
“Easy there, Tony,” I laughed and patted Todd on the back. “What are you suggesting, Plato?”
“Do you remember that quote from my old work?” he asked. “I believe it went something along the lines of ‘Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle.’ Well, Jacob Ralston, you are about to enter the hardest battle you’ve ever fought. Vermis and Leviathan were tough, and I believe you told me you’ve defeated Azazel before. But down here, in his own domain and in his own castle? He makes them look like child’s play.”
“Didn’t you also say ‘I know one thing, and that is that I know nothing?’” Todd chimed in. “Just sayin’.”
“That’s rhetorical!” Plato hissed at the imp and slammed his fist down on the table. “Anyways, this is going to be the hardest battle you’ll ever face, Jacob. You have plenty of interesting tricks up your sleeve, but I can assure you Azazel has seen them all before. However, I know someone who might be able to give you an edge over your foe.”
“Go on,” I said as my interest piqued.
“You might be familiar with him,” the philosopher continued. “He claims to have been a privateer on Earth. Black Bart, I believe, is what he calls himself.”
“A pirate?” I asked. “Like, a legitimate eye-patch-wearing, peg-legged pirate?”
“He doesn’t like to use that term, but yes,” Plato admitted. “He commandeered one of Charon’s ships, and he uses it to travel around the different Circles of Hell, stealing anything he thinks could be of value. The last time I encountered him, he had countless weapons and armaments I think would be very helpful to your cause. I think the five of you should pay him a visit and see what he has to offer.”
I stopped and thought about the situation at hand. Sure, we didn’t have much money, or really anything to barter with, for that matter. But Plato was right. Azazel has been watching our adventures this whole time with his stupid magic mirror, which meant he’d seen every single trick and scheme we’d pulled off before.
Using the same ‘ol tactics wasn’t going to work this time.
Besides, if Bart was really as well-stocked as our friend claimed he was, he probably had all sorts of modern weaponry that could come in handy. The quickest way to even the odds against a demon with a sword, after all, was with a machine gun.
“Alright,” I agreed as I stood to my feet. “Take us to Black Bart, Plato. I want to see what he has to offer.”
Chapter 12
“What’s so wrong about being a pirate?” Gula asked curiously as we walked through the bustling streets of the City of Limbo. “Sailing the high seas, answering to nobody but yourself and your crew, stealing stuff from ‘the man’ and all that? It sounds like a dream come true.”
“Weren’t you guys around for the Golden Age of Piracy?” I muttered and pushed my way through a throng of people. “They’re just a more glorified version of a militia that lived on a ship. They killed, raped, and pillaged all the time without rhyme or reason.”
“You must understand, Jacob,” Libidine explained. “The whole ‘occult’ thing wasn’t as popular back then. It was a time of reason and ‘enlightenment’ when Europeans didn’t put religion at the forefront of everything they did. Needless to say, we didn’t get summoned too often.”
“Although, there was that incident in Salem … ” Gula trailed off.
“Salem, Massachusets?” I said as I shook my head in disbelief. “You guys were there for the Salem Witch Trials?”
“We weren’t, but some of Asmodeus’ succubi were,” the redhead explained. “That mortal really liked Tituba, in particular. So much so he made up this whole elaborate story claiming she was his slave.”
“He wasn’t wrong,” Libidine suggested. “He just failed to specify she was a demon sex slave.”
“You’re literally blowing my mind right now,” I chuckled and made an explosion motion against my temple.
“Ah yes, the time of enlightenment,” Plato mumbled from ahead. “John Locke is down here somewhere. Brilliant young man. Somewhat of an ass, though.”
“What the fuck are we going to trade this guy, though?” Todd questioned. “Hell works on a barter system, right? Well, we ain’t got much to barter.”
“Sure we do,” I corrected the imp. “We’ve got all of our weapons.”
“Bro, I like where your head’s at,” he admitted, “but there is no way in Hell Black Bart is gonna have anything that’s better than what we have.”
“I know that,” I explained. “That’s why we’re going to trick him.”
“How are we gonna do that?” Todd said as he began to bounce with excitement. “Are we gonna give him the weapons and say they’ll curse him with ironic immortality? Or are we going to act like we’re giving our weapons away and then one of us slides down the sail with a dagger and snatches them all back?”
“No, we’re--”
“Orrrrr, what if we planted the seeds of mutiny in his crew, and then take over as Captain when he’s in Davy Jones’ locker?” the imp continued.
“Those are all great ideas, Todd,” I chuckled. “But I’ve got something a little less dramatic. You know how Tris, Ira, and Gula can summon their weapons from thin air?”
“It’s because they are ingrained in their very DNA,” Liby took over. “Even if they were to be broken or lost, my Sisters could just summon them all over again.”
“I get it,” Todd said as the realization clicked in his head. “We’re going to give him the weapons, and then once we’re good and gone, we’ll take ‘em back.”
“Exactly,” I confirmed.
“Why don’t you just have this one use her mind control powers?” Plato questioned and pointed to Liby. “Surely that would make things much easier.”
“Because Shades cannot be influenced by a demon’s mind-control magic,” Eligor explained. “It’s a little failsafe Lucifer himself put in place. If they could be influenced, Hell would always be in a constant state of turmoil, with demons using each other’s Shades to try and overthrow their enemies.”
“I guess that makes sense,” I admitted. “It would be even more chaotic down here than it already is.”
Although I continued with my cheery demeanor, something didn’t seem right. How did Plato know Libidine had mind-control powers? He’d never seen any of the succubi in action, and Todd hadn’t specifically mentioned the ability in his earlier boast. Maybe it was just common sense a succubus had mind control powers, but the way he specifically called out Libidine made me suspicious.
I moved in closer to Libidine so our conversation couldn’t be heard. “Did you happen to mention your abilities to Plato when I was out?” I whispered.
“Not that I recall,” she said as she shook her head.
“Then how did he know you could control minds?” I asked.
Libidine’s eyes grew wide. “I-I don’t know,” she admitted. “I thought one of you
might have brought it up.”
“Not that I’m aware of,” I said as my eyes narrowed on the back of the philosopher’s head.
What was the deal? Was he leading us into a trap? There’s no way a sweet old man like Plato would do us dirty. Then again, we’d been fooled before.
Either way, I was going to keep a closer watch on him from now on.
We walked through the city of Limbo for another hour, past all of the slightly off-kilter skyscrapers and the various historical figures lounging around in the parks. At one point Todd swore he saw Bob Ross painting the scenery, but we didn’t have time to stop for an art lesson. Finally, we arrived at the far edge of the city, where it transformed from a sprawling modern metropolis into a small fisherman’s village.
The ocean roared against the trash-covered beaches, and there were several small boats out on the water. However, the one that piqued our interest the most was a large vessel that towered nearly two stories above the waves and stretched almost a hundred feet long. It had three incredible masts, two of which held double sails made out of pure purple Hellfire. On the final mast stood a large, black flag that featured the image of a sailor and a skeleton raising a joint glass in a toast.
I knew next to nothing about pirates, but this certainly had to be Black Bart’s ship.
“Here we are,” Plato said as he clapped his hands together gleefully. “I wish you well, my friends. Black Bart can be a real haggler sometimes, but he’s as harmless as a kitten.”
“You’re not coming with us?” I blurted out with probably too much suspicion in my voice.
The philosopher walked over, placed his hand on my shoulder, and motioned to the sea.
“My boy,” he started, “once you enter that small inn down there, I cannot be of much assistance. I’m a writer and a philosopher, not a businessman. Besides, I’d much rather stay out here and enjoy this beautiful view. Good luck, Jacob Ralston.”
“Thank you, Plato.” I nodded and then turned to leave.
But something held me back. I had to know once and for all where this guy’s allegiances lied.
“Is something the matter?” the philosopher asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Actually, yeah,” I admitted as I turned back to him with a frown. “We never once mentioned Libidine had mind control powers. How did you know?”
Plato took in my words for a second, and then he smiled and shook his head with amusement.
“Is that what was troubling you?” he chuckled. “Jacob, I have been in Hell for thousands of years, and people from your world consider me to be one of the greatest minds of all time. Did you really think I wouldn’t have done extensive research on each of the Demon Kings and their minions? I have books full of notes on each of them, their generals, their pimps, and yes, even their succubi. I could also tell you the powers Beelzebub or Baphomets’ succubi possess. Shall I go through them for you?”
“No, no,” I pleaded as embarrassment filled my core. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you, Plato. It’s just that there’s been a lot of backstabbing going on in our lives recently”
“Ah yes, the Archangel.” Plato nodded. “News of Uriel’s death spread like wildfire, even down here. I don’t blame you for being cautious.”
The two of us shook hands one last time, and then we parted company.
“What was that all about?” Gula asked as I returned to my group of friends.
“Just saying my goodbyes,” I lied. “If things go well, we may never see him again. And if things go badly? We definitely are never going to see him again.”
“Way to stay positive, Jakey,” Todd said as he shot me two thumbs up.
“That is staying positive,” I reassured the imp and turned to Libidine. “Are you ready to head back? We need Tris for this one.”
Libidine nodded, and I sent her back to Earth Realm with a flash of white magic. Then I tapped on the tattoo of the blunt on my arm, and the tall, slender form of Tristitia appeared before us.
“Finally,” she mumbled. “I was honestly starting to wonder if I was gonna be used any more on this adventure.”
“Luckily for you, Tris,” I explained. “We need you and your weapons for this one. In particular, your enchanted guns.”
“You need my guns?” Tris asked as her eyes narrowed. “You’re not thinking of bartering away my babies, are you?”
“It’d only be temporary,” I explained. “They’re magic, right? You can summon them back to you any time you want.”
Tris thought about it for a minute as she tapped her foot against the ground. Finally, her body loosened up, and she let out a deep sigh.
“Fine,” she conceded. “But if anything happens to my babies … I’ll probably just go out and find some new ones to enchant. But I’ll be really pissed about it.”
“Don’t worry, Sister,” Gula promised. “Jacob would never volunteer our weapons if he thought we wouldn’t get them back.”
I turned toward the beach and pointed at the small inn directly next to the docks.
“That’s where our pirate is hanging out,” I reminded everyone. “Now, who’s ready to go down there and trade for some cool shit?”
“You had me at ‘pirate,’ bro,” Todd snickered, and then the tiny imp began to run toward the inn at full speed.
The rest of us tried to keep up with the imp, but he was moving way too fast. Todd reached the building first, threw open the door boorishly, and then zipped inside.
When the women and I arrived at the entrance of the inn, we could already hear shocked murmurs from the other side of the door. Even though we had been on many demonic adventures together, Todd often forgot he was now a three-foot-tall, red-skinned imp with horns, a pointed tail, and hooves for feet. Even the most senior of the Shades here in Hell were probably taken aback by his appearance.
I pushed open the oaken door of the inn and was instantly greeted by the sight of dark wood. The entrance led directly to the “tavern” section of the establishment, where dozens of Shades sat around drinking alcohol, playing cards, and chatting loudly. The decor of this place was literally wood from head to toe, each of the tables and their corresponding chairs was made of dark, sturdy oak. Meanwhile, the walls were covered with long, thin strips of wood that gave it an old-timey rustic feel.
There were televisions above the bar area, but they all seemed to be playing the same thing. On the screen there was a strange-looking man sitting on the beach in front of a chess board. Across from him was another man who was wearing a dark, hooded cloak, and was made up to look like a demon or a ghost. The two would play chess, but then the image would loop and start back over before either of them could claim victory.
Even the TV shows in Hell were torture.
I scanned the crowd for anyone who could possibly be Black Bart. Typically, people who lived in the city of Limbo wore clothes that were modern or timeless. However, if the pirate was really Circle-hopping, he could be in just about anything.
“You gotta be kidding me,” Gula said in disbelief. “Jacob, I think I found our guy.”
The succubus pointed toward the back of the tavern, directly at a man in what could possibly be the most flamboyant outfit I’d ever seen. He had on a bright yellow frock coat covered with vibrant purple detailing. Atop his head he wore a typical three-cornered pirate hat with a massive yellow plume sticking out the back, and he was wearing an obvious white wig underneath. His nose was nearly as gargantuan as the plume on his hat, and just underneath it on his upper lip sat a tiny pencil-thin mustache. To top it all off, the guy had a goatee nearly as thin as the hair on his lip.
If this wasn’t Black Bart, I didn’t know who the fuck could be.
“Oh yeah,” Todd whistled. “I knew we were looking for a pirate, but yeesh. I bet I know which port he’s been dockin’ in, if you get my drift.”
“I don’t think Black Bart was--”
“It gets awful lonely on that poop deck, if you know what I mean,” the imp snickered at his own joke.
“Okay, I get—”
“They are polishing peg legs in Davey Jones’ locker… room.” Todd couldn’t contain his giggles anymore, so I simply rolled my eyes and approached the pirate in the bar.
“Excuse me,” I said as I grabbed his attention. “Would you happen to be Black Bart? A friend of ours told us you’d be willing to sell us some goods.”
“Who’s askin’?” the pirate growled in a thick British accent and placed his pistol on the table.
“My name is Jacob Ralston,” I explained. “Plato mentioned you might be able to help us.”
Black Bart cocked his head slightly, and then a disgusting, toothy grin spread up his face.
“How is tha old philosopher doin’ anyway?” his voice boomed loudly as he stood up and adjusted his belt.
“He’s great, bro,” Todd interjected. “He just got to eat tacos for the first time in his life, and he totally loved it.”
“Aye.” The pirate nodded. “Sounds like a wonderfu’ time.”
“If you don’t mind, Mr. Bart, we’d like to get down to business,” Eligor suggested as she stepped forward and put her hands on her hips. “We didn’t come all the way out here just to reminisce about our mutual friends.”
Black Bart eyed the knight up and down and let out a long wolf whistle. “I like this one, Jacob,” he chuckled. “What kinda goods be ye looking for?”
“We’re heading into battle,” I explained. “So, anything you’ve got that goes ‘boom.’ would be nice.”
“Ahhhhh,” the pirate mused. “Ye be wantin’ the big guns. Sit yerself down right here, order yeselfs a beer on me, and I’ll be right back with the goods.”
Black Bart sauntered away toward the door. As he walked, the chains and jewelry on his body jingled like oversized keys, and his boots clonked heavily against the wooden floor. He shot us a wink, and then he pushed open the door and headed out to his ship.
“Of course,” I chuckled. “Of all the pirates in the world, we had to get the one that was the most stereotypical.”
“If his wares are good enough, none of that matters,” Eligor reminded me.