by Tim Hawken
“Why should I need luck with The Devil’s name at my side?”
He continued to smirk, smug in his knowledge. “Phineus despises Satan.”
“Why should he hate Satan?” I fumed.
“Many in Hell do. Some are jealous of his power; some are resentful of being trapped here and blame him instead of God. However, Phineus has a real reason.” The toad visibly shook with silent laughter.
“Why?” I asked again.
“The Dark Lord took his eyes,” he croaked. “Satan thought they would give him the power to see the future, but stupidly The Devil left his inner eye, the only one that mattered. Phineus hasn’t let him close since.” The doorman stepped back, opening the doors to the streets of Hell.
“Since you know so much,” I said, as I stepped onto the street. “How do I get Phineus to help me?”
“Just pass his test.” He slammed the door in my face before I could ask any more questions.
I took a deep breath of scorching air, bringing my raging emotions under control. It would help no-one if I lost my cool. I had to be calculating if I was to help Charlotte. I needed to free her soul as quickly as I could. I couldn’t stand the thought that she was in pain, waiting in limbo without me.
Turning towards the street I saw Satan’s limousine waiting on the curb, door open. I slid inside. The divider window was already down. The shark-demon driver sat looking at me with black, emotionless eyes.
“I’ve been told to take you as far as the Prophet Casino,” he said in a rasping voice. “After that you’re on your own.”
He started the car and we lurched out into the traffic. I eased back into my seat, concentrating on my breathing. I didn’t want to think of Charlotte or Gideon lest I break down. I needed to be strong and focus on the present, taking each step towards my path of revenge. Right now I needed to find this Phineus.
I looked outside at the sky. It started to burst and bubble and flame. The cars around all swerved and jolted to a halt on the side of the road as the Fires of Guilt rolled over Hell. It was like a black and red inferno all around us. Somehow we kept driving. Looking out on the streets I could make out the shadowy figures of people writhing and contorting on the ground everywhere, consumed by their guilty visions. Black smoke swirled from out of the gutters. It looked like Hell was dying, if that were possible. I was panicking as we surged forward through the firestorm. How was our car still moving in a straight line? I hammered on the tinted glass of the divider-screen and it rolled down to expose the Shark’s calm, ugly face. He continued to speed through the bursting maelstrom of fire.
“What are you doing?” I yelled.
“Taking you to the Casino,” he answered blankly.
“But why don’t you stop because of the visions?” I asked hurriedly.
“Like you, I’m in Satan’s employ,” he explained as he looked back to the road. “The Devil protects all his employees from the Guilt of God. That’s why so many souls work for him. The pay isn’t great otherwise.”
I leaned back, stunned. I had thought I was the only one, that I was special. It seemed I was wrong. I was just another one of Satan’s minions now. It made me feel sick momentarily, but before long thoughts of revenge overwhelmed me again. I could picture Gideon’s eyes as he had left me to die. I would soon look into those eyes once more, but he would be the one in pain.
The limo swerved over the curb and I was jolted back to the present. The flames of guilt had subsided and Hell was returning to normal. We drove into the valet parking area in front of a dark purple, glass building. The entire structure was shaped into the form a hooded fortune-teller, hand outstretched onto the footpath holding a crystal ball. Inside the sphere, smoke swirled into various shapes -- mainly items of luxury like cars, boats or piles of gold. Occasionally, I could see myself in there, jumping up and down with fists full of cash, women groping me, pushing others away for a piece of the action. The door of the limo opened by itself, and I stepped back out into the dominating heat of Hell. I was barely out of the car when it squealed away.
I took another deep breath. This was the Prophet Casino, and Phineus was somewhere inside.
five
WALKING INTO THE CASINO, I ignored the other patrons. I had only one purpose here. Anything else was a waste of time.
Inside, it was just like any cliché casino in Vegas: room after room of game tables and poker machines, blinding lights and disorienting carpets. I looked briefly at an old lady slipping coins into a slot machine close to me. It reminded me of my own times of weakness, when I languished in the Riviera Casino rotting my life away. I felt sorry for her. If this was her only pleasure in the world, then she really was in hell. After five minutes of walking along the game floor I was hopelessly lost. I stopped to get my bearings and spotted a bar. Maybe the waitress would know who Phineus was. I sat down on the bar stool, next to a tall African. He wore all black, and his head was shaved to the same length as the stubble on his face. He looked down into his empty drink and swished the ice around, but said nothing.
I motioned to the waitress and she shuffled over to me. She was gorgeous, dressed as a gypsy. Her red blouse was cut in frills around her cleavage, gold necklaces hanging between her breasts, matching the shining metal on her fingers.
“You want a drink,” she said, as if declaring the future.
“A vodka and cranberry with lime,” I requested.
“Five dollars,” she said as she poured the drink. It struck me that I had no money. I hadn’t even thought I might have to pay for anything down in Hell, although why not? Money is supposed to be the root of all evil. I went to turn my pockets inside out, as if crying poor, but my hand hit a wallet inside. I pulled it from my pants and looked at it. It was stuffed full of hundred dollar bills and credit cards. I had died with it in my pocket.
“Apparently, you can take it with you,” I said handing over a crisp green note, but she didn’t get the joke. “My friend here will have another as well.” I nodded my head toward the African next to me and he looked up.
“Thank you,” he said, smiling genuinely, his white teeth splitting the darkness of his face. “You’re new to Hell?” he asked.
“I am. Is it that obvious?” I replied, taking a sip of my vodka as he picked up his bubbling concoction from the bar.
“Most people here wouldn’t dare to talk to a stranger. Everyone is scared of becoming the prey of demons.”
“I’ve been told that this is a place of rehabilitation,” I replied.
The African grunted into his drink. “It is for some. I have seen many souls pass over to Heaven, many who realize the errors of their ways. It’s funny, though, the strong are the ones who survive best down here. They do what they please, and make full use of the opportunity to actually enjoy Damnation. However, it’s those strong predators that eventually turn to demons and get stuck down here for all of eternity, in the heat and the stink of Hell. It’s the weak who really succeed. The ones who suffer are the ones who learn the most about themselves and why they are here. The preyed upon are the ones who eventually move on. The losers win and the winners lose. Hell is a strange place.”
He paused and took a sip of his drink. I nodded along, pretending I knew what the stranger was talking about.
“Say, do you know a guy called Phineus?” I asked, going for the direct approach.
“No,” he said. “Should I?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I guess not. I’m Michael.” I held out my hand and he took it in a strong grip.
“Marlowe,” he said shaking my hand. “Welcome to Hell, Michael. You’ll like it here. You look like one of the strong ones.”
“I don’t plan on staying too long,” I said in answer. He almost choked on his drink, but recovered quickly.
“Well, you’re in the right place to start purging those sins, Michael. You’ll just need a lot of money to do it.”
As Marlowe finished his sentence, an old man crashed into the roulette table closest to
the bar. Two muscle-laden bouncers lunged in and dragged him to his feet, pummeling him with punches to the face and stomach. I jumped to my feet and Marlowe grabbed my arm.
“This isn’t your fight, Michael,” he said, but I wasn’t listening.
“He’s blind!” was all I replied in explanation. I shook free of his grip and followed the bouncers as they dragged the blind man through the casino by his heels, making sure his head whacked every table leg on the way past. As they got close to the door, they picked up his now limp body and tossed him out onto the sidewalk. He rolled head first into the tire of a parked car and stopped.
“Don’t come back, cheater,” one of the apes spat and they walked back inside, leaving the elderly man unconscious on the ground.
I ran to his side and rolled him over. He had a blindfold wrapped over his face, which had two circular patches of blood where his eyes would have been. I slapped him lightly on the cheek, trying to rouse him.
“Phineus, Phineus,” I said in a loud voice.
“How do you know my name, Michael?” he groaned as he sat up rubbing his temples.
six
“HOW DO YOU KNOW my name is a more appropriate question at this stage,” I said, exasperated at how in hell Phineus could know who I was.
“I know many things,” he answered cryptically as he leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees for support. “I know your name is Michael, and I know why you are here to find me. What I don’t know is who sent you and how you know my name, but that is because I cannot seem to see the answer.”
“The Devil sent me,” I replied, believing honesty was the best policy here. “He told me your name. Another told me I was looking for a man with no eyes. I have come seeking answers.”
“You think you have come seeking answers,” he said. “But if Satan sent you, then what you think you are here for and why you are indeed here is not the same thing. However, let’s assume you know why you seek me.”
I could already tell that getting answers out of this riddler wouldn’t be easy. I could barely grasp what he was saying, and we hadn’t even talked for a few minutes.
“Let’s at least go somewhere private,” I said, helping him to his feet. “We can talk about what it is I think I want to know from you.”
“At least you’re a quick learner,” he laughed. “Very smart for someone who usually uses his fists instead of his brain. Follow me and we’ll talk some more.”
Phineus seemed to shake off his beating with little more than a shrug. He grabbed my arm, pulling me towards the road. I was being led across a busy highway by a blind man. Cars were swerving and honking their horns at us. Phineus hobbled unwavering through the traffic, directly across the road to a small shack of a building which was wedged between two phallic brothels. The building, made completely of rotting wood, looked like it would collapse at any second. The broken windows were caked with mud and cobwebs, so you couldn’t see through them. Phineus pulled out a key and unlocked the front door, beckoning me to enter. Within was a complete contrast to what I saw on the outside of the building. It was clean, luxurious and cool.
Phineus led me inside. The interior was painted all white, almost like this was a glowing replica of Heaven. A white rug covered white tile floors. He motioned for me to sit on a white leather couch which had tall black hourglasses sitting at each end like two symbolic bookends.
I looked around the apartment. There were all the creature comforts of a modern home. A sunken lounge room to the right had a ridiculously large plasma TV hanging on the wall. Surround-sound speakers were placed everywhere. Up three steps on the other side of the room was another entertaining area with a pool table, dartboard and a fully stocked bar. Leading on from the bar was a long hallway which went through to where the master bedroom should be. However, this portion of the house wasn’t lit so I could see no further.
“This is not what I expected from the outside!” I blurted.
“Appearances can be deceiving; you would do well to remember that,” Phineus said. “Leaving the outside as it is works much better than any security system against would-be thieves. Why bother breaking in somewhere that has nothing to offer?” Phineus slowly lowered himself onto the ground. His knees cracked as he pulled his legs into a cross-legged position on a rug in front of the couch. He rested his hands on his thighs in the meditation position. I sat and waited in silence for him to speak again. He seemed deep in thought, as if staring into space with his blood-patch eyes.
“You are here for love,” he spoke finally. “You are here for yourself, not that Devil. For this I am glad, otherwise I would not help you, for he is the origin of all lies.”
I sat still and silent not willing to interrupt his concentration.
“I know the path you must take to fulfill your true destiny; it is a path full of deceit. I can guide you. Tell you the most efficient way to succeed in your revenge. Without me, your quest would take years. Instead it will take only weeks. But…” he stopped and stood, turning his back on me.
“But, what?” I asked after him. “I will do whatever you want of me.”
“You would,” he said. “I can see this. The question is can you? I do not require you to pass a test of the physical realm, but of the mental. Logic must be combined with your strength of body and determination of spirit if you are to succeed in your task. You must demonstrate to me your capacity for thought and logic under pressure, regardless of how illogical or impossible the challenge may seem.”
I sat, ready for anything, ready to hurl myself into any life-threatening situation Phineus might thrust upon me. I would do anything to help Charlotte.
“You must answer my riddle,” he said.
I almost burst out laughing.
“Is that all?” I scoffed. “What is this riddle? I will figure it out with time.”
“Will you?” he sounded doubtful. “You realize that only a handful of souls have ever passed my test. Some of the greatest minds in history have not cracked my puzzle, and if you don’t succeed you will leave here and I will never, ever help you.” He paused, waiting for what he’d just said to sink in, then continued.
“This is my riddle:
The person who makes me does not need me
The person who buys me does not want me or use me and
The person who uses me does not know that they are using me.”
I closed my eyes and began to think; this might take weeks to figure out, but I had all the time in hell.
“You have one hour to give me an answer,” Phineus said, turning one of the sand-filled hourglasses near the couch on its hinges.
seven
I ROSE FROM PHINEUS’ COUCH IN ANGER.
“What?” I snapped. “You never said anything about a time limit.”
“I just did,” Phineus replied in annoyance. “This is a test, not a homework assignment that you can take home and look up the answers on Google. What do you think this is? Play time, maybe?” His eyebrows arched with his question. As they came back down, the bandage covering his eyes fell around his neck. It was a ghastly sight, still bleeding sockets dripping congealed blood. They were empty, red voids with veins and nerve endings still writhing around inside, like little black and blue worms searching for light. I gasped and fell back onto the couch.
“How long ago did Satan take your eyes?” I whispered in horror.
“Over two thousand years ago,” Phineus replied as he pulled the blindfold back up over his deformity.
“Surely they would have healed by now?” I asked.
“Nothing dies in Hell, Michael, since we are already dead,” he said. “My eyes are still alive somewhere in that Devil’s castle, waiting to be returned to their rightful owner. If I ever get them back, they will knit and mend and I will be whole again. But I gave up hope of this long ago. I dare not go near Satan lest he take what he really wanted in the first place, my inner eye, which is much more important to me than static sight.”
“Does it still hurt?” I v
entured.
“As much today as the morning he ripped them from my face with his pointed claws. This is Hell, Michael. You would be a fool to think that it is not a place of suffering. Enough chitchat now, man. You’ve already wasted valuable time. You now have fifty minutes. Be back before then with an answer, or I will not help you.”
He motioned toward the hourglass with his hand as if to emphasize his point. The black grains tumbled through the narrow middle and into the bulbous lower end, forming a neat pyramid of sand in the glass cage. The physical effect of watching my time drain away had more impact than any ticking clock. My mind went blank.
Phineus ushered me from his pristine lounge and pushed me out of the door, closing it quietly behind me. I stumbled onto the street of Smoking Gun, my head a jumbled mess of questions. I felt like I had cotton balls stuffed in my ears. Noise from the world around me was muffled by the sound of my own thoughts. Sweat began pouring down my face. The hellish heat clamped around me, making it even harder to think clearly. I needed to concentrate. Why would you buy something if you don’t want it? Why would you make something you don’t need? These were ridiculous questions. Phineus was resting my hope of revenge on a child’s game, but he was serious so I had to be as well.
I was no novice at solving puzzles. When I was younger, the nuns at my orphanage would test us with riddles to keep us occupied and keep our minds sharp. I would walk around the school grounds for hours at a time, forever turning these problems over in my head until I came up with the correct answer. Somehow walking always helped me think, so that’s what I did. I began to walk down the footpath, past garish casinos and rundown watering holes, through the suburb of Smoking Gun. The streets were busy. Demons and humans walked by, paying no attention to me as I muttered possible answers to myself. No matter how much I thought, no answer came. A condom maybe? The contraceptive pill? Possibly poison? One thing about riddles is that when you get the answer, you know it’s correct without doubt before you confirm it with the riddler. I was running out of time, and fast. I’d already been walking aimlessly around in the stifling heat for half an hour. I could never get a riddle this fast as a kid, and that wasn’t changing now.