City Infernal

by Edward Lee

  Cassie had no time to think before—

  splash!

  —Radu was dropped head-first into the cauldron of Razor-Leeches. His screams wheeled away, his skinned arms and legs thrashing amid the leeches.

  No love lost there, but Radu’s mindless torture was hardly relevant. The bald bartender has been deliberately left here in Lissa’s place, and Cassie realized all too well what this actually meant:

  The whole thing was a set-up! We all just walked into a trap!

  (IV)

  From his field post at the intersection of Adam Street and Eve Avenue, Ezoriel’s grim stare never averted. Even Angels have bad days, and this was starting to feel like exactly that. He knew that something was wrong. He could sense it.

  The first part of the attack couldn’t have gone better; initially he’d deployed a dozen battalions to establish a defensive perimeter, and from there his search and destroy companies had attacked outward, into every corner of the district. Government buildings had been razed, weapons depots and armamentariums ransacked, Constabulary barracks destroyed as were any local command and control centers. Ezoriel’s troops had cut off all supply lines and communications posts before any defensive measures could be engaged.

  It was magnificent.

  Ezoriel knew that any immediate counter-attacks would be weak and disorganized, and of this he took full advantage. His own troops quickly surrounded all pockets of resistence and sealed them off. The result was sheer carnage. Thousands of Conscripts and other Constabulars had been butchered in place. It was a turkey-shoot but, here, demon loyalists served as the turkeys.

  Then, when his own defensive perimeters had been sufficiently secured, the real battle began.

  Ezoriel had opened more Nectoports to either side of his command post, and then rank after rank of his best knights stormed the Flesh Warrens.

  Behind him, now, much of the district was in flames, the smoke rising so densely that the Fallen Angel could barely even see the face of the spiring Mephisto Building just ahead. Instead he watched veined pink walls of the surrounding Flesh Warrens tremor.

  The Warrens appear healthier than ever, he thought. How can this be?

  He’d sent a thousand knights into each orifice of the Warrens....

  All he could hear from within were screams.

  At first it had been Ezoriel’s angelic sensibilities that had told him something was wrong.

  But now he saw it with his own eyes.

  I don’t like this at all, he thought. This reeks of a doublecross.

  “Lord, I don’t understand,” he said aside to General Barca, his second-in-command. “I guessed that Lucifer would have diverted so much sorcoriel power to the Commission that the Warrens would be drastically weakened.”

  “Instead, we’ve been drastically misled,” Barca commiserated. “The Flesh Warrens have never looked so strong. They should be at the brink of decay by now, yet instead, they seem to thrive.”

  “Our troops aren’t providing the blight we had hope for. Instead, the Warrens seem to be using them for food, digesting them with a gusto. That organic monstrosity appears to be primed and ready for an attack such as this.”

  “But at least we’ve destroyed the rest of the district.”

  “Satan will simply rebuild it,” Ezoriel said. “Anything less that total defeat he regards as a victory for himself. I just can’t conceive of what went wrong. How could we possibly have made an underestimation this grave?”

  “Lord!” a foot soldier rushed up. He handed Ezoriel a roll of vellum. “A terrible missive has arrived from our messengers!”

  The answer to Ezoriel’s questions were given to him right there in the burning street.

  He read the script ... and slumped.

  “Order a total withdrawal at once,” he told Barca. “We’ve lost the day.”

  “I’m afraid it’s too late for withdrawal, Lord,” Barca told him, pointing forth.

  The vast snakelike body of the Flesh Warrens was constricting, and each orifice began to expel the red slush of digested knights.

  It was abominating to watch.

  Ezoriel’s troops were indeed being digested, heartily. Enzymes poured forth from the inner channels of flesh, arteries gorging with more and more blood in order to take away more and more raw nutrients. The soldiers who had entered last fled screaming from the gaping orifi, their armor—and faces—half melted by the Warrens’ version of stomach acid; some crawled out on dissolving limbs, flesh falling off the bone like hot wax. Others merely collapsed upon their exit and sizzled down to liquid.

  Then the orifi widened, expelling the rest.

  The thousands that had entered, hoping of victory, were now being vomited out, in defeat.

  “I’ve failed utterly.” Ezoriel’s voice now fluttered like a dimming light. “I’ve let myself be outwitted by Lucifer. I can only pray to the God I abandoned that the Holy One will not be captured for my recklessness. Open the Nectoports at once. I will personally lead the counter-attack on the Commission.”

  After the latest field orders had been dispersed, the troops preparing for full retreat, Barca seemed hesitant. “You realize, Lord, that the Power Relic has more than likely already been defeated.”

  Yes, Ezoriel thought. And I will be to blame for the enslavement of the First Saint of Hell.

  Chapter Sixteen

  (I)

  The screams and sounds of battle never abated within the labyrinthine walls of the Commission of Judicial Torture, but they were certainly beginning to fade. Via took this observation to be a great sign, an indication that they were winning.

  Cassie’s tearing the crap out of this dump, she felt assured, and Ezoriel’s soldiers are cleaning up shop. By the time they’re done, this whole place’ll be a big stone box full of demon meat.

  And, hopefully, Lissa would be rescued.

  Hush seemed antsy, though, disconcerted when several more troopers hustled into the expansive room. It was the Homing Griffin that had brought the blackest news. The ugly vanged thing sat petched on a knight’s arm, and it was with some serious trepidation that another knight informed Via of what had really happened back in the Mephisto District ... and at Ezoriel’s dungeon.

  “A Hex-Clone!” Via yelled. “That can’t be true!”

  “I regret that it is,” the knight sullenly replied. “It’s been officially confirmed; there can be no doubt.”

  “Then that means the real Btackwell—”

  “—is probably already in the compound,” the knight feared.

  “Shit!”

  A moment ago, Via had been convinced that the assaults here and near the Mephisto Building were succeeding, but in one second she learned not only that she was totally wrong but also that the entire plan had somehow been sabotaged in advance.

  Xeke, was the only word she could think.

  Cassie’s physical body remained standing upright next to them, the blank eyes of her trance staring outward.

  And Cassie’s spirit, Via thought further, is still out there, wandering around in the Power Relic.

  Only four knights were here for protection. That wouldn’t be enough, she knew.

  “We have to get Cassie’s body to a safe place,” she insisted to the knight. “All Blackwell’s got to do is touch her, and the Power Relic dies.”

  Hush was peeking out the front entrance of the Commission. Then she agitatingly began to point.

  Via glanced out too—and saw what thundered down the street.

  It was Grand Duke Blackwell, tall and horned, his wedgelike face set in a hideous grin.

  “He’s already here!” she shrieked. Apart from the entrance, there was only one other doorway, which led into the facility. “Grab Cassie!” she ordered the knights. “We’ll go this way.”

  One knight threw Cassie over his shoulder, and they all rushed for the inner door until—

  SLAM!

  —an iron portcullis slammed down over the doorway. The first knight who’d stepped ahead
of them was crushed immediately.

  There’s no way out, Via realized. We’re trapped.

  Cassie’s skeleton legs took her swiftly back through the Commission’s stone-walled maze of corpse-clogged corridors. She knew she had to get back to Via and Hush, and to her inert physical body as well.

  Something was all messed up.

  She could even feel it: she could feel herself weakening, going sluggish. The pace of her steps forward began to drag as though she were trudging through hip-deep mud. But she knew one thing at least, that this “surprise” attack had been no surprise at all.

  Lissa had been taken away in advance, and Radu had been left for them to find in her place. It seemed as if Lucifer had staged the entire scenario, allowing thousands of his defenders to be slaughtered just to make the ploy seem authentic.

  And she didn’t even want to think about what might be going on at the Flesh Warrens....

  That dragging sensation against her empowered bones persisted, heightening. Even as a skeleton animated by the darkest magic, Cassie felt fatigued; she felt like someone obese trying to mount a high flight of stairs. Even though her heart was not within the skeletal chest, she could feel it racing against the accelerating waves of exertion. Her vision began to dim.

  What’s WRONG with me!

  Then she stopped.

  The cessation of her movement was not of her own volition. Suddenly, the bones of her body seemed frozen, not budging an inch in spite of her efforts; it was like trying to walk through a brick wall.

  Worse was the sickening sensation that followed....

  She felt ... hands.

  Someone’s ... touching me....

  Hands, large hands that she couldn’t see, were vigorously molesting her. She could feel them quite intensely, slithering up the cage of her ribs, pressing against the area of space where her breasts would be, pawing up between her legs and squeezing her there.

  After that, she simply collapsed.

  The bones of Blackwell’s skeleton disassembled and all at once fell to a pile on the floor.

  Cassie’s consciousness hovered bodiless now, in thin air; it was as though her spirit were encased in a transparent balloon, and the balloon wobbled upward. Without eyes, she was looking down at the toppled bones.

  Then—

  Jesus Christ!

  —her spirit seemed to turn to smoke, and the smoke was being sucked away down the corridor at hundreds of miles per hour. She could feel the mad velocity, could feel herself being drawn out to a thin nonsolid string, like a stream of cigarette smoke being drawn away by a hard fan.

  She was drawn through piles of corpses, drawn through stone walls and closed doors. She was a roller-coaster flying off its tracks....

  And next—

  zzzzap!

  She was in her physical body again, back in the Commission’s entrance hall.

  The dizziness made her senses swirl; everything she saw at first was little more than a spiraling blur. But then the sensation of being touched trebled.

  It was no longer a sensation.

  She was being touched—

  Oh my God.

  She was being touched by something absolutely monstrous.

  Hook-nailed hands the size of baseball gloves held her physical body aloft, cupping up under her armpits.

  Now she knew she was back in her own body; when she feebly held up her hands, she saw them, not bone hands but her real hands of flesh. And that’s not all she saw.

  She saw the face of the thing that was holding her up.

  The face seemed composed of wedges and angles, with skin the color and tone of sanded granite. Trapezoidal eyes burned blood-red, and the angular mouth grinned at her, showing teeth like long white nails, behind which a stout black tongue shined. The breath that gusted from the thin, saliva-glossed lips smelled like something that had been dead in the sun for days, and dark, awl-sharp horns, each over a foot long, sprouted from the flattened forehead.

  The voice sounded like a pack of snakes sloshing in a swamp....

  “Hello, Cassie. I’m Grand Duke Fenton Blackwell, and I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance,” the thing said.

  Cassie’s consciousness winked out.

  When the monstrous thing had bulled into the room, its huge booted footfalls left cracks in the stone floor. Then it bellowed, and the cacophonous sound hit Via and Hush with the impact of dynamite.

  They were blown across the room, slammed to the wall.

  Via looked ahead, dipping in and out of consciousness. The small squad of black knights fearlessly charged the Grand Duke, swords high, but ...

  Oh, no....

  The Grand Duke chuckled throughout the entire skirmish, pulling the knights apart like straw dolls. Their pieces were strewn aside with glee.

  Via knew what would come next.

  Us....

  Grand Duke Blackwell turned, its red eyes glaring at Cassie’s physical body which remained where it stood, still immobile in the trance. Based on what she’d read in the Witchcraft tomes, Via knew that all it would take to break the transposition spell was the slightest touch, and Cassie’s spirit would be pulled instantly back into her body, leaving the Power Relic useless.

  Via also knew that once that happened, the after-effect of the severed spell would leave the Etheress unconscious for hours....

  The only way to kill a Grand Duke was to cut out its heart and quarter its head, but right now neither Via nor Hush were in any shape to even move.

  When Cassie had fully returned to her body, she passed out after one glance into her abductor’s primeval face.

  Her body hung limp as a wet rag in the Grand Duke’s grasp. “Oh, what luxuries I could have with thee,” it croaked. Its black tongue emerged from the demonic lips, and slowly licked up the side of Cassie’s neck. Then it slithered across her eyes and roved inside her hanging mouth. “I could suck the delicate organs right out of this pretty mouth, swallow them whole like sweet meats. But first I would plunder your living womb, use it for—say—a hundred years or so until I tired of it....” The Grand Duke sighed. “But, lo, it shall not be. You are Hell’s greatest prize, and my Master covets you. When his Bio-Wizards are finished leeching your Ethereal energy, Lucifer will walk upon the earth again. And for this he will surely reward me.”

  Sssssssssssssssss-ONK!

  A Nectoport opened in the room, its glowing-green maw widening. Blackwell threw Cassie over its wide shoulder and began to step toward the port.

  But then he stopped.

  He turned, grinning, and looked to Via and Hush who still lay collapsed in the comer.

  Via dragged herself up. It’s useless, she realized, but I’ve got to try....

  She grabbed a fallen ax, struggled toward Blackwell. Hush was straggling up behind her.

  “Such amusements,” came Blackwell’s spiccato chuckle. “But how could I forget such lovely vessels for my need?” A thin kaleidoscope of light sparkled across the room when Blackwell’s immense hand opened. “A Paresis Spell for you two—”

  Via and Hush collapsed, totally paralyzed.

  “We’ll have such pleasures together,” and then the monster grabbed Via and Hush by the hair and hauled them into the Nectoport.

  Again, Via was sucked into the wormlike churning of the Nectoport, the sorcerous passage folding space and distance in a dark glowing whirlwind. It was like a manic plume of smoke bending in the air. But as the mad motion and twisting seemed to increase to the point that her body would fly apart—

  It stopped.

  Sssssssssssssssss-ONK!

  A few dreadful moments ticked by; Via was being dragged again by the hair, and so was Hush, like someone carrying two plastic bags of groceries one-handed. The pain barked at her scalp but, still, every attempt she made to move her own muscles faltered.

  “Welcome to my abode,” Via heard. The Nectoport emptied into a vast room of Victorian decor, though it didn’t take Via long to realize what the place actually was: a beautifu
lly-appointed torture den. Her eyes moved around in their sockets, but that was all the movement she could muster. The Paresis Spell left Via and Hush as dormant as if their necks had been broken.

  The beast that was Fenton Blackwell dropped them both on the floor. Careful not to damage the treasure, he placed Cassie down on a long cushioned récamier couch. The red hellborn eyes lingered on the delicate body. A taloned finger stroked Cassie’s cheek.

  “Lucifer’s servants will come for you shortly, with a worthy reward, no doubt. I’m sure my Master will be pleased with me, and with this gesture of ultimate faith. After all, most Grand Dukes, with their greed, would surely keep you secreted away for themselves, to play with you for eons. But not I. You’re a very special toy—the first living human in Hell—and it will be with eternal devotion that I will give you up to the Lord of the Air.” The monster bowed, to lick her face again with the stinking black tongue. “The taste of life,” it guttered. “Like fine wine. It’s such a shame I can’t empty the entire bottle....”

  The place they’d been abducted to smelled of a nauseating meld of rich perfumes and human filth. Via’s eyes darted to the end of the room, where she noticed the most harrowing sight. Amid the vast room’s plush tapestries, carpets, and marquetry, amid its fine statues and grandly framed portraits, the classic furnishings and adornments, her eyes fell in horror upon a row of naked females—some demonic, some human—hang—ing from the wall by ornate hooks.

  Not the corpses of a madman’s gallery—no, they were all alive, squirming in place as they hung by fettered wrists. The ligaments and shoulder sockets of several had long-since failed, stretching feeble muscles and skin between the detached joints. And the skin of several others had turned to great masses of wet festering.

  But despite each individual condition, these women had all clearly been hanging here for decades, like a collection of oddities, the gimcracks of Blackwell’s obscene pastime.

  All of the women were possessed of a single commonality, and by now it came as no surprise to Via at all. Their bellies all stretched grossly forward.