by Hunter Blain
“How many times?” I asked, crossing my arms and lifting my chin while narrowing my eyes even more.
“Eight,” she enunciated emphatically while bouncing her eyebrows.
“Well, I saw it thirty-seven times, noob,” I said victoriously.
“I honestly don’t know if that’s something to be proud of...and what’s a noob?”
I face-palmed at my own ignorance.
“Come on, man, you lived through the eighties. Speak her language,” I whispered.
Punkie McMohawk lifted one brow while the other scooted closer to her eye.
“Um, hey, dudette. Totally, like, gnarly to, like, meet you, and junk,” I said in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Keanu.
“Did you just try to imitate Ted from Bill & Ted?”
“Okay, that was 1989. What year did you freaking die?!”
“I don’t remember,” she admitted, placing a finger on her lips in thought. “When...did...the second Batman come out?”
“Batman Returns with Sir Danny DeVito and Mikey K?”
“Yeah, that one.”
“Ninety-two.”
“Yeah, sometime around then,” she said, putting her finger in her mouth and then pulling it out sideways to make a loud pop.
My head rocked back slightly in confusion at the gesture.
“What?” she asked in an awkward half chuckle.
“Nothing...I guess?”
She stared at me before making an aggressive gesture with her hands and head that said, “Then why are you staring at me, creep?”
“So, ah,” I began, pretending to observe the horizon, “Where are we?”
“Hell.”
I put my hands on my hips and let my face drop toward the ground as I smiled in annoyance and exhaled, “You don’t say.”
“Don’t want a stupid answer? Don’t ask a stupid question.”
With my face still pointed down, my eyes shot up to the mouthy teenager, and I stared at her from just under my not-too-thick, not-too-thin eyebrows. My smile faded as my patience evaporated.
People who knew me were aware that this particular stance meant John was getting pissed. This teenager, however, steeled against my postural warning and instead popped her finger out of her mouth again.
“Okay, why do you keep doing that?”
“I fucking miss bubblegum, man!” the teenager whined while her face shifted to the sky. She made a pouty sad face before kicking her feet out and lightly slamming her fists on the ground in a mock tantrum.
I lifted my own face as my expression softened, unable to read the person before me.
Another wind kicked up and I actually had to take a step in the direction of the breeze to keep from losing my balance.
“Whoa!” I barked as I pressed my beanie against my head until the wind passed. My coat flaps wavered back into place as if saying goodbye to the tickling breeze. “Whore,” I whispered to my trench.
“What was that?”
“Hmm? Oh, not you. My...my, um, coat...” I breathed out a long sigh after the last word, realizing how weird I must look.
Wait a sec. I wasn’t the weird one! Not with little Miss I-only-clasp-one-strap-on-my-overall-shorts over here.
She was staring at me with her head tilted waaaay to the side, confusion evident on her face.
Once again looking at the horizon, I asked, “So, ah, what can you tell me about this place? And please, before you think to say something oh so funny, don’t. I’m funny enough for the both of us.”
“O...kay...You’re in Hell, dude. The Underworld, Hades, the opposite of Heaven.”
“Right. I kinda sorta gathered that,” I admitted, kicking a stray rock with my toe. I watched as it skittered and bounced away, sending up little bits of dust with each rotation.
“What more is there to know?” she asked with a sigh, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her face on her knees.
“Where is everyone? Why are you out here alone? And what is your freaking name?”
“Stef.”
“Stef?”
She lifted her face to glare at me. “Yeah, Stef. What did you think it was? George?”
“Um, I don’t know. Maybe Death Princess, the Mistress of Pain?”
“Actually, I like that,” she said absently as she stared off into the distance.
“Sweet! DP it is.” I thought for a moment, “DP...DP...where have I heard that before?” I thought, tapping my lip with my index finger. Then it hit me. “Oh Lilith...never mind.”
“Why? What’s wrong with DP? I kinda like it.”
“Pffft!” I spit out. “Please don’t say you like DP again,” I requested, running my hand down my face and slowly shaking my head.
Returning to looking all around, I asked, “So Stef—can I call ya Stef?—So Stef, where is everyone else?”
“Tartarus,” Stef the Death Princess said flatly.
“Alrighty. What’s that?”
“The only city in Hell.”
“Alrighty. Where’s that?”
“All roads lead to Tartarus, man.”
“Yeah. About that. I don’t see any roads,” I admitted, looking around searching for a path that I might have missed before.
Stef pointed a finger toward a small space between two mountains. I hadn’t noticed before, but all the ranges overlapped one another except for the one that had the small passage that apparently lead to the city of Hell.
“Okay then,” I said as I took a step toward the passage before stopping and turning to my guide. “Welp...bye.”
“See ya,” she responded with a lax wave of her hand, already writing me off.
There was a rumble from somewhere behind and I pivoted to see a growing smoke trail as something big headed our way.
Squinting, I brought a hand up in a fruitless effort to see better with my nonpreternatural eyes.
“Get down!” Stef barked as she curled up under the boulder. I hadn’t noticed but there was a tiny space where a section of the rock stuck out over the ground. It was only maybe ten inches high, barely allowing for the much smaller Stef to scoot under.
Taking her as someone who knew more about what was coming than I did, I dropped down and tried to squeeze under with her. My head barely fit sideways before my muscular back, shoulders, and chest prevented me from going any further. Damn my sexy bulk! Then again, old fluffy me probably wouldn’t have fared much better.
Seeing my lack of progress and hearing the rumble growing closer, Stef strained to push my head back the way it had come while barking between gritted teeth, “Go...away! You’ll lead them to me!”
There was a high-pitched rasp of “Whoa!” as the rumble slowed and then stopped. The snakelike voice continued, “What do we have here? A lost mortal?”
Stef curled even further under the boulder with wide eyes that begged me not to let her get caught.
Baring my teeth, I pulled myself free and regarded the demon who was sitting atop a wooden wagon with at least twenty human souls leading it. Each were restrained with harnesses you might see on a horse, but with the added accessory of spiked collars. Following the connecting leather straps, I saw that the collars were secured to the reins that ended in the snake demon’s hands.
The driver was covered in worn leather, and a part of my mind immediately questioned where he had gotten the materials for his clothing and the reins.
The snake demon turned his torso toward me while lifting a boot to rest on the front of the wagon, resting an elbow on his knee. As he turned, I could see a face stretched with a frozen expression of horror on his vest.
I noticed, then, a cage at the back of the wagon that had two other souls in it. They looked beaten and defeated, crumpled in separate corners.
I placed a hand on the boulder and felt something that caught my attention.
The demon stood from his bench seat and hopped down, sending a small cloud of dust up. He was only about seven feet tall, but had his head leaning forward like a mindless dro
ne in an office typing at his keyboard with horrible posture.
His limbs were sinewy, and I could see sharp claws at the end of his fingers.
Without telling my mouth to do so, it asked, “So, do you have to get a pedicure on your feetsies so you don’t poke holes in your boots?”
The snake managed to smile with malice in his eyes as he aggressively stepped forward, heavy boots sending out little clouds of dust with each step.
I didn’t have my vampiric gifts, nor did I have my celestial abilities, and a part of me wanted to run screaming.
The demon pulled a matte obsidian knife from a sheath at his back and said, “I was getting a bit hungry.”
“If it’s suffering you crave, then I’m a four-course meal, cutie-pie,” I said in challenge.
The demon stopped with a puzzled look on his face, leaning forward even more and tilting his head.
“How do you know about that, mortal?”
“Because,” I whispered, “I’m no fucking mortal.”
I yanked the stone I had been holding off the top of the boulder and slammed it right on top of the snake’s skull which he had oh so conveniently positioned for me.
The stone exploded into dust as it struck, and my fingers bloomed with white-hot pain before instantly going numb.
The demon staggered slightly as I cupped my throbbing fingers that had also struck the hard bone.
“Ow, ow, ow!” I cried out, for some reason blowing on my hand. The pain seemed to laugh at my pathetic attempt and instead continued to throb.
The snake shook his head once, then snarled at me as he lashed out with the knife.
My training in Faerie took over and I did a half jump backward while bending my stomach out of the way of the attack. My left forearm slashed the air in a clockwise angle, aiming for the demon’s wrist. With his momentum and my counterattack, the bone of my arm struck the tendons of his wrist, hard, and his fingers went forcibly lax, dropping the knife.
I caught it with my right hand, as I had been expecting the outcome, and yelped when I caught the Lilith-damned blade instead of the hilt.
I gasped in shock as I reflexively dropped the knife to the ground, blood trickling from the small gash in my palm. The owner of said knife apparently took excellent care of it because that bastard was sharp enough to star in one of those 3 a.m. infomercials.
The demon and I locked gazes for a nanosecond, then he dove down for the blade.
Instead of going for it as well, I instead grabbed the back of his descending skull and interlaced my fingers while yanking down. At the same time, I brought my right knee up and slammed it into the chin of the snake demon. There was an audible crack as his jawbone snapped against the inertia he had created by diving and I had enhanced by yanking downward.
The snake rebounded off my knee and fell backward while his legs buckled under him, skewing off to the side as he landed on his back, unconscious.
Picking up the knife with my left hand and squeezing my right into a fist to try and staunch the blood flow, I dropped to one knee and stabbed the demon under his chin. The blade went to the hilt as black blood oozed out around the handle.
With a wet slosh, I yanked the knife free, confident I had hit the brain. I’d never understood why heroes in movies and books walked away from the tough bad guy after just knocking him out. They always got back up again and the reader/viewer saw it coming every freaking time! Not ol’ John. He stabbed motherfuckers in the brain, he did, he did.
Standing up, I began walking to the wagon, calling over my shoulder to Stef, “It’s safe to come out now, Death Princess.” It wasn’t nice to mock her, but then again, no one had ever accused me of being a stand-up fella.
Stepping to the twin lines of trembling souls who stared at me with nervous eyes, I reached for the reins. I noticed that there were two lines connected to each soul, with the main thick lines connected to harnesses around the chest and shoulders. From there, the leather straps each attached to a system of human bones that made up a frame. I wasn’t sure how they were able to utilize bones in such a way that it formed a solid system in which to pull the cart, but correctly assumed it involved some sort of hell magic. I rolled my eyes at how theatrical this plane was.
Behind each person down the line, attached by a thick leather strap to the soul’s harness, looked to be a femur bone that linked to a series of connected spinal columns that ran the length of the twenty souls who stood two to a row. Looking down the length, it reminded me of several capital T letters, all positioned one on top of the other.
I knew only the basic mechanics of harness systems from working on the farm, but we hadn’t ever used more than one ox at a time attached by a simple log, smaller wood pieces, rope, and a modest plow. We actually had to share an ox with up to three other farmers, taking turns plowing the fields, but I digress.
I reached for the soul closest to the cart and undid his harness before gesturing for him to do the same to the person in front.
As he worked, I saw a smaller line that was used for the spike collars, presumably to steer—or maybe for when the demon was bored. Using the jagged edge of the blade, I cut the choke line completely away.
I repeated the process on the other side, and the souls continued freeing themselves, one at a time.
Noise caught my ears, and I looked up to see Stef struggling to free herself from under her claustrophobic hiding place. As she stood up, she kicked the dead demon across its snakelike snout before spitting on the corpse.
With a smile cause by DP’s actions, I stepped over the bone frame that was affixed to the wagon, and began inspecting the cart to see if there was any loot worth snagging.
As I began lifting up the driver’s bench, Stef gasped behind me and I turned in a defensive stance, brandishing the obsidian knife to see snake-face holding her up by the neck. He held his prize up and to the side, giving me a full view of his body. Black blood flowed from the wound under his chin, trickling down his chest, and it all of a sudden occurred to me that I might have missed the brain.
Letting my body flow on autopilot again, I stepped forward and threw the knife toward the snake’s heart. With a surprising speed that I felt I should have anticipated, he swiped his hand across the air and let the blade pierce his palm with a wet thump.
The snake demon showed a tight, blood-laced smile that could be construed as a mixture of pain dulled by impending victory.
Without comment, the snake turned to overhead slam Stef against the boulder she had been hiding under as easily as someone striking their bed with a big pillow.
I sprinted forward, wishing I had my preter-abilities, and prepared to tackle the tall demon to the ground where I could implement some jujitsu.
The snake took a side step toward me and lashed out with his right leg to slam into my upper chest, sending me tumbling backward several feet.
The air rocketed from my lungs as I struck the ground, stunning me. Before I could even begin to recover, the demon had made his way to where I lay, helpless, and grabbed my ankle.
In much the same way he had hurt Stef, the demon smashed me into the protruding section of the boulder, breaking the ribs that the kick had missed, as well as a chunk of flat rock. White-hot pain bloomed, electrocuting my senses and stealing the cognition from my brain.
I didn’t know where I was or what was happening. I only knew that my chest throbbed like I had been stuck with hundreds of syringes with needle tips the length and thickness of brand-new pencils, dull point and all.
I could feel my veins bulging in my neck and face as I struggled to lift my head which seemed to weigh a hundred pounds. Drool mixed with blood leaked from my mouth as I tried desperately to recover.
Heavy footfalls sounded and I let my head drop as I tried to glance over my shoulder with one eye. The demon was grinning from ear to ear as he yanked the knife from his palm with a grunt.
The snake demon placed a knee on my lower back, making me yell out in fresh pain, as he grabbed my
head with massive fingers that encompassed my entire skull. He pulled back, exposing my neck, and I knew he was going to slit my throat.
The blade touched my neck and I braced myself for the pain, when a female voice grunted in exertion, followed by the sound of something heavy cracking.
I felt the demon’s body tense from the impact as large stones rained down on top of me.
The demon fell to the side, and I looked up with my recovering mind to see Stef had slammed his skull with the flat portion of the boulder I had broken. It reminded me of when TV wrestlers used the metal folding chairs in the ring.
Snake demon lay on his side, stunned, as I reached with a quivering hand for the knife that had fallen between us.
He came to in an instant, making me jealous of his demonic abilities while simultaneously missing my own preter/celestial ones.
The demon snatched the knife off the ground and turned to kick Stef in her abdomen. A sickening “Oomph” shot out of her lips, and she went flying for several yards.
On instinct, I picked up a handful of dirt and threw it in an arc toward the demon’s eyes. He screamed in indignant rage as he climbed to his knees and began swiping the air with his blade, barely missing me with the first blind attack.
I rolled over and over as he continued to strike, aggressively moving forward on his knees with each swipe. His other hand feverishly rubbed at his eyes.
A rock the size of a watermelon halted my rotation, and I inhaled sharply as I prepared for the knife to taste my flesh.
I brought my head closer to my chest in an effort to protect my vulnerable throat, when the blade slashed into my scalp. There was a dull thud of impact that I knew was preceding the sharp pain of the cut, but no pain followed.
I opened one of the eyes I had slammed shut, and saw the demon clearing his vision to look with bewilderment at both the knife and the beanie atop my head that had been made in Heaven.
“My beanie!” I cried out as my mind flashed with my smiling mother.
The demon regained his composure and went to strike at my torso, prompting me to yank off my headwear made of celestial materials and punch at the blade. From the awkward urgency I had used to yank off my beanie, only most of my fist was encased in the protective goodness. So as I struck the blade with my fist, two of my fingers were sliced off—but the desired result was still achieved.