Hellraisers

by Alexander Gordon Smith

  Chaos, bloodshed, rot, and ruin. It’s all the Circle cared about.

  “All you have to do is give us the location,” said Herc. “Last chance.”

  “She’s never going to do it,” said Pan. “It won’t even matter if she does. She could tell us exactly where it is, longitude and latitude, and we won’t find it. How many times do we have to do this dance? Tell us about Mammon. How can we find him, and how do we kill him?”

  “You don’t need to find him,” she said. “He’ll find you. I told you, he’s going to find your Engine, and when he does this will all be over. Please, does somebody have the time?”

  The fuse on Pan’s patience burned up and the fury detonated in her gut. She reached out and snatched Herc’s gun from his sweaty hand before he even saw it coming, stepping into the van and pressing the weapon against the girl’s temple. She hissed with pain but the look she gave Pan showed no sign of weakness.

  “Mammon,” Pan said. “Now.”

  “Pan!” Herc said, but she ignored him. Having one of the enemy right here, at their mercy, was a rarity. They had to make the most of it.

  “Go on,” said the girl. “Do it.”

  “You’re willing to die for him?” Pan asked.

  “I’d do anything for him,” Brianna said. “Anything to stop you—stop Ostheim—getting what he wants. Now, please, would somebody tell me what the time is.”

  It suddenly clicked, why she was so desperate to know.

  “Oh crap,” Pan said, lowering the gun and hopping out of the van. “She’s expiring.”

  “Now?” asked Herc, swearing. He started to back away. “Not in the van goddammit.”

  Pan stood by the door, refusing to believe it. There was no way the Circulus Inferni would let her expire, not like this. Mindreading was an easy contract to break, one of the easiest. The Circle’s Lawyers would have no trouble. Mammon was an evil bastard but surely even he wouldn’t give up one of his own without a fight. Brianna looked up, her eyes full of a sad, tired resignation.

  “You’re fighting for the wrong side,” she said. “Mammon would welcome you. He welcomes everyone.”

  “Yeah,” said Pan. “I can see how much he cares. He’s going to let you expire.”

  Brianna shrugged.

  “Happens to us all, eventually.”

  “Not like this, though,” said Pan, and she had to bite down on her lip to stop the lump in her throat from exploding out of her mouth. “Not like this.”

  There was a crack of static as loud as a pistol shot, powerful enough to dent the van and rock it hard on its suspension. Brianna let loose a scream, clamping her hand to her mouth. Everyone scattered but Pan held her ground, even as the ground beneath her trembled and cracked. It was like the earth was splitting in two.

  “He can’t do this,” she said. “It’s not right.”

  A bolt of brilliant blue light fizzed past her, a rip in reality that breathed out a blast of hot air. Pan gagged against the stench of sulfur, staggering away and wiping the tears from her eyes. There was another crunch, an invisible fist hammering a crater into the roof of the van. One of the tires exploded, the headlights shattered. Pan looked into the growing darkness, Brianna just a lump of shadow with two diamond-bright eyes. She stared back, full of fear, full of defiance.

  “Last chance,” Pan said. “You don’t have to die for nothing.”

  “I’m not,” she replied, her voice almost lost in a growl of thunder. “I’m dying for him. He saved me. He’ll save us all.”

  “He’s sending you to hell,” Pan said, then she had to throw her hand in front of her face against an explosion of light. A shock wave hit her in the chest like a tackle and she lost her footing, landing painfully on her back and rolling in the dirt. She felt hands under her armpits, dragging her away, and by the time she’d opened her eyes again it was over.

  At first it looked like the van was inside a compactor, the metal crumpling like tin foil, shrinking. Then something began to pull itself free of the wreck, a vaguely bestial shape with a head made up of the wheel arch and half a tire, the body formed of the back bumper. It unfolded with an ear-shredding metallic squeal, the whole rear of the vehicle tearing away. The demon shook itself like a dog, gas spurting from the ruptured fuel line and pooling on the asphalt.

  Something else was rising from the ground like a corpse dragging itself out of its grave. It looked like a turtle, a shell of asphalt over a body of orange dirt. A metal pipe ran the length of its midsection like it had been speared. It wriggled, its legs thrashing, until the pipe snapped free, then it hauled itself out of the hole, opened a maw of concrete, and screamed.

  “Jesus Christ.” Pan heard Marlow’s voice by her side and glanced at him, seeing the terror etched into his face. He was chewing his knuckles like he hadn’t eaten in a month. She ignored him, turning back to the van.

  “They won’t hurt you,” Herc told the boy. “Not unless you get in between them and her. They only want what they’re owed.”

  Her soul.

  The metal demon sniffed the air, then darted forward like a scorpion, pushing its snout into the gaping hole at the back of the van. Brianna groaned, jumping out of the door and making a run for it. Both demons howled, like dogs catching scent of their prey—a noise like a thousand fingernails being dragged down a blackboard. Pan slammed her hands to her ears and gritted her teeth against it. Every fiber of her being was telling her to go, to get the hell out of here before the demons discovered she was there. But Herc was right: they wouldn’t come for her, not this time.

  “Can’t we do something?” Marlow said. “Help her!”

  Brianna skidded around the front of the van, almost tripping. The concrete demon reared up in front of her, twelve, thirteen feet tall, showering the parking lot with dirt. It swung a fist made of rock and Brianna only just managed to duck beneath it. It struck the remains of the van and sent it rolling across the ground, spraying glass and shrapnel. The girl scrabbled on her hands and knees but she only made it a dozen yards before the van demon caught up with her.

  “Please,” Marlow said.

  “There’s nothing we can do,” Pan replied, her voice made of ice. “She signed a contract.”

  The demon clamped a hand around Brianna’s chest, hoisting her into the air. The girl tried to scream, batting her hands pathetically against the metal fist. The dirt demon loped over, uttering another hellish screech. Already the ground was growing soft beneath them, the skeletal remains of the van starting to sink into the melting asphalt, the spilled gas bursting into flame.

  I’m sorry, Pan said, knowing that Brianna still had the ability to hear her. It should never be like this.

  Brianna stopped struggling and looked right at Pan with those red-rimmed eyes. She breathed in a long, desperate breath. Then she spoke, and even from where Pan stood, even over the deafening clatter of the demons and the roar of the fire, Pan could hear her.

  “I’ll see you in hell.”

  The metal demon’s jaws snapped shut around the girl like a bear trap, cutting her in two. The other demon attacked, its gaping maw engulfing her. All three of them were sinking into the earth, the air dancing around them, so hot that Brianna’s blood ignited, hissing and steaming. Pan wanted to turn away but she forced herself to watch as the demons fought over the girl, devouring her like wild dogs until all that remained were charred scraps of meat.

  Then, just like that, it was over. Brianna vanished beneath the scorched earth. The demons collapsed like marionettes whose strings had been cut, the metal one crashing to the ground, the other one dissolving in a hail of dirt. The parking lot fell quiet, the ground becoming solid once again, but Pan swore she could still hear Brianna, a distant, unending scream as the very essence of her was dragged into the depths.

  Only when that, too, had faded did Pan finally close her eyes, and start to cry.

  GOODBYES

  Marlow couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move.

  He had the absurd idea that h
e was in an open-air theater, watching some kind of sick show. If he spoke, then the illusion would be over, and the alternative was just too awful to think about. Even though he’d seen it twice now—the demons appearing out of nowhere, each time to murder a girl—he couldn’t believe it.

  He noticed that he was holding somebody’s hand, his fingers locked tight in a sweaty grip. He looked to see Charlie there, pale and drawn, his eyes as wide as moons. His teeth were chattering. Marlow felt awkward but he didn’t let go. He thought that if he did, then it would be like weighing anchor—he might just float away. The laws of physics had been well and truly obliterated, after all.

  He wasn’t sure how long they stood there, the six of them. Nobody spoke, nobody really made any noise at all apart from Pan’s soft, desperate sobs. They all just stared at the parking lot. The two mounds of metal and dirt lay still, just bits and pieces of a broken world, and it was almost impossible to believe that they had ever possessed life. The splashes of crimson—the brightest thing in sight—spattered across the ravaged concrete were the only evidence of what had happened, that and the ribbons of torn cloth that drifted across the lot, kicked along by the wind. They looked like they were trying to escape.

  It was Herc who broke the tableau. He coughed gently, a noise that seemed to make everybody flinch. Then he walked to Pan’s side and wrapped her in his big arms, pulling her head onto his chest.

  “Nothing you could have done,” he said. “Not your fault.”

  She pulled loose and gave him an angry shove, wiping away tears with the back of her arm.

  “It’s his fault,” she said, spitting. “Mammon just let her die.”

  “And you’re surprised?” rumbled Truck. “You know he’d kill off every one of his Engineers, every one of his Lawyers, if it kept him safe.” He smacked a giant fist into a palm and sent a clap of thunder out across the parking lot. It echoed back off the warehouses. “Coward.”

  “You think Ostheim would have done any different?” asked Night, kicking at a loose stone. “You think he’d risk it?”

  “No way Ostheim would let us die like that,” Pan said, but even Marlow noticed the hesitation there, the uncertainty.

  “You’re forgetting that this is a war,” said Herc. “We’re soldiers, nothing more. Soldiers die.”

  “Gee, thanks for the pep talk,” muttered Truck, turning away and walking to the river. Night followed him, treading in his shadow.

  “Marlow,” said Charlie, a voice that was broken into a thousand pieces.

  “Yeah?”

  “This is a dream, right? I’m … I mean, this can’t actually be happening.”

  “Kid, believe me,” said Herc. “This is about as real as it gets.”

  Herc turned to them, running a hand through his graying buzz cut.

  “So, looks like we’re right back here again,” he said. “Choices.”

  “Choices,” said Marlow. “Yeah, okay. You mean choose that, choose the same thing that happened to her? No thanks.”

  “Did Pan tell you why we do what we do?” he asked after a moment.

  “No,” said Marlow. “Just about the Engine, about the—”

  “We do what we do because if we didn’t, the whole world would look like that.”

  He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. Marlow looked at the van, at the pools of blood that were evaporating in the heat. A pocket of dust crumbled free from the dead demon and he jumped like he’d had an electric shock, a wave of nausea rushing over him and leaving him coated in cold sweat.

  “What do you mean?” asked Charlie. Herc sighed.

  “I don’t have time for the whole story. We gotta move, chopper should be inbound.” He chewed his lip, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Our Engine, it’s not the only one in existence. There are two that we know of for sure. They have one, Mammon and the Circulus Inferni.”

  “Yeah,” said Marlow. “I got that much.”

  “The Engines, they were designed by the same person, the same force, whatever you want to call it. They both have the same powers, the ability to grant you any wish. They both ask for the same price in return. But we use them for very, very different purposes.”

  Marlow could make out a very soft rumble in the distance, the throb of a helicopter. Herc heard it too, and when he spoke again it was faster, full of impatience.

  “Cut a long story short, Mammon recruits his Engineers to cause havoc, to destroy lives, to kill innocents. His goal…” Herc shook his head, his expression full of disgust. “He wants an end to everything, he wants the demons to spill out of the pit and consume the entire world. He wants hell on Earth, literally.”

  “And the Engine can do that?” asked Marlow. “How?”

  The chopper was getting closer, a pulse of noise that seemed to fill the whole sky. Herc glanced at his watch, then over at Truck.

  “Prepare for exfil. Pop a smoke.” He turned back to Marlow. “Yeah, the Engines can do that. Fortunately for us he hasn’t worked out how yet. It’s our job to make sure that never happens.”

  “So, you’re basically trying to save the world?” Marlow asked, feeling his eyebrow creep up in disbelief. Herc shrugged.

  “Yep, that’s us. Goddamned heroes.”

  Herc walked to what was left of the van, rummaging around inside the wreck. Truck had set off a canister of red smoke, which curled lazily up into the summer sky. Marlow stared at it, mesmerized for a moment, then turned his attention to Pan.

  “Is it true?” he asked. “You do what you do to save the world?”

  Pan just scoffed. “This world is already screwed, with or without the Engine. But yeah, it’s our job to stop Mammon opening the gates of hell and filling the streets with freaks.”

  A shudder ripped through Marlow’s body at the thought of it, hundreds of demons, maybe thousands, tens of thousands, tearing their way into the world. We wouldn’t stand a chance. Herc must have found what he was looking for because he walked back over, a small black pouch in his hands.

  “You in or out?” he asked.

  “You mean, come fight with you?” said Charlie. “Like her? Like these guys?”

  Herc nodded. Charlie turned to Marlow, shrugging.

  “Gotta be better than school, right?” he said.

  “No,” Marlow replied. “No way, Charlie. You got your life on track, you’re doing good, you can’t give it up.”

  It was the truth. Charlie had turned his life around in Victor G.—good grades, the promise of a scholarship. He’d put the bad times behind him, had something positive to look forward to if he didn’t screw it up.

  “Man, you think I can go back after this?” he said. “After what we’ve seen?”

  “You really want to die like her?” Marlow said. “Torn to pieces, dragged to wherever she went. Come on, man, it’s my fault we’re here, I shouldn’t have brought you with me. You can’t ruin the rest of your life because of me.”

  “So what?” he said, squaring up. “You think you deserve this and I don’t?”

  “Deserve it?” Marlow said, not backing down. “Charlie, I got nothing. Kicked out of school, got the police after me. What do I have left? Go live with my mom for the rest of my days, work at the plant slinging cement? You don’t understand, man, this is my one shot at doing something good.”

  “Don’t you dare,” said Charlie, pointing a finger at Marlow. “Every time, dude, every single time, you just dump me, run off without me. Not again. We do this, we do it together.”

  Herc was fiddling with the bag, unzipping it and peering inside. He pulled out something long and thin that glinted in the sun. Marlow recognized it straightaway, the sight making him feel sick to his stomach. A hypodermic, probably filled with concentrated alcohol. Charlie was too focused on Marlow to notice.

  “Not again, man,” he said. “Not this time.”

  “Got to have an answer,” Herc said. The chopper sound was palpable now, a second heartbeat inside Marlow’s skin. He looked up to see a black speck aga
inst the blue. “Yes or no.”

  “Yes,” Charlie said at the same time that Marlow said, “No, not him, just me.”

  “Marlow,” said Charlie. “Please. You’re my best friend, my only friend. I need you, I need this.”

  Marlow’s stomach was doing somersaults, something fat crawling up and sitting in his throat. The thought of saying goodbye just about snapped his heart in two but he knew there was no other way. He pictured Charlie being chewed into bloody pieces. No way, he couldn’t do it.

  “Please, dude,” Charlie said. “Let’s do this together.”

  “No,” said Marlow. He looked at Herc and nodded. “Just me,” he repeated.

  Herc stepped up behind Charlie and jabbed the needle into his neck. Charlie yelped, grabbing the wound and staggering back. His expression twisted, his eyes full of disbelief.

  “What have you done?” he said to Marlow.

  “It’s okay, man, it’s just alcohol. Just relax, it will be okay.”

  He walked to Charlie but the other boy staggered away, looking at Marlow like he’d stabbed him in the back.

  “You bastard,” he said, his words starting to slur. “How could you? You were my friend, Marlow, you were my friend. You think they’re gonna want you when they find out the truth? Find out you’re a coward?”

  Charlie stumbled, dropping onto his ass, his eyes losing focus. Marlow ran to him, cradling him in his arms, wondering if it was too late to change his mind. The chopper was almost at them, flying low over the river and blasting out a mind-numbing pulse. It hovered over the parking lot, kicking up a tsunami of dust as it spun around and slowly touched down. Pan looked at it, then at Marlow.

  “You really gonna take him?” Marlow heard her say.

  “Why not?” Herc replied.

  “He’ll be a nightmare. You won’t be able to control him.”

  “Funny, Pan,” said Herc, replacing the needle in the pouch, “that’s what everyone said about you.”

  “He’s a hothead. He’ll get somebody killed.”

  “Yep, they said that about you too.”