Aloha From Hell (20 page)

Traven’s bread is a disappointment. It looks like an ordinary round loaf of French or sourdough. I was hoping for something belching fire and spinning like lowrider rims.

Traven rips the bread apart, setting a piece down every few inches from Hunter’s throat to his crotch. He scoops up a handful of salt from the bag and drops a little mound of salt between each piece of bread. He sets the salt bag back in his duffel and moves it to the side of the room. He does it all in slow, practiced moves. A kind of moving meditation gearing up for the next step.

Traven points to Hunter’s head, where he wants me to stand. He stations Candy by the feet. Vidocq is in the middle across from the father.

Traven says, “I understand that you carry potions with you.”

Vidocq opens his coat like a flasher, showing Traven the dozens of pockets sewn into the lining.

Traven does his little smile.

“Do you have Spiritus Dei?”

“I didn’t know the Church knew about or approved of such alchemical tricks.”

Spiritus Dei is one of the best things in the universe. Like one of those all-in-one cleaners for your kitchen or hoodoo duct tape. It’ll fix anything. It’s a repellent for Hellions, demons, and pretty much any other nasty things with teeth. It’ll Scotch Guard your panties from hexes and even cure some poisons. It’s better than chicken-fried steak, but not by much.

“The church isn’t here. I am. I’d like you to have some Spiritus Dei ready to throw if Hunter should get through the wards I’ve placed around the platform.”

Vidocq nods.

“I’ll be ready.”

Traven looks at Candy and me.

“If he gets out, grab him and hold him, but try not to break him.”

“I don’t make rash promises. But he won’t get away,” I say.

Traven turns to the boy, holding his hands over him, palms down. His head is forward and eyes are closed. He’s praying. To whom? I wonder.

Traven opens his eyes, raises his hands, and starts a chant. Another prayer, blessing the bread and salt. But I’ve never heard anything like what’s coming out of his mouth, and I’ve heard drunk Hellions. Whatever language he’s speaking is full of blurps, hisses, and deep Tibetan-monk throat drones and glottal stops. It sounds like a man drowning.

Hunter’s eyes snap open. They’re yellow and bloodshot, but alert. His heart is beating a million miles an hour, but his breathing is ragged. I don’t know how both of those things can be going on inside him without him having a heart attack. His mouth slowly falls open. A vapor, as thin as fog but as bright as fire, drifts out. Guess Hunter’s mother was telling the truth when she said he spit fire when he burned the symbol into the ceiling.

It doesn’t surprise or impress Traven even a little. With one hand he pushes Hunter’s head down. With the other hand, he picks up salt and throws it into Hunter’s mouth. Then he shoves in a piece of bread to seal in whatever’s trying to get out. divto get Hunter goes completely batshit, thrashing and convulsing like he’s being electrocuted. He flails his arms at his face, trying to knock out the bread, but Traven’s magic has taken away a lot of his motor control. Traven keeps a hand over the kid’s mouth, holding the bread in place. I grab Hunter’s shoulders and Candy holds his feet to keep him from kicking.

Traven chants, and with one hand over Hunter’s mouth he sprinkles salt over the lumps of bread and wolfs them down. Each time he downs bread and salt, Hunter goes wilder and wilder. I’m holding him tight. Candy is leaning over him, resting her whole weight on Hunter’s legs.

All at once he stops moving. Goes completely limp. No one moves, in case he’s playing possum. But Hunter doesn’t twitch. Finally Traven nods to me and Candy and I let go. He takes some of the remaining salt and uses his finger to draw an elaborate sign on Hunter’s forehead. He still isn’t moving. I look at Candy and Vidocq and then back to the kid. I’m getting worried that the bread Traven shoved into Hunter’s mouth has choked him. Traven takes the bread out of Hunter’s mouth, cupping his hands around it. He holds it out with both hands.

Traven says, “The demon is in here. Use the Spiritus Dei.”

Vidocq pops the top off the small vial with his thumb and upends the Spiritus on the bread. Traven squeezes the bread like a wet sponge so that some of the liquid dribbles into Hunter’s mouth. Then Traven shoves the bread into his own mouth, chews, and swallows it quick. When it’s down, he gets a funny look on his face.

I say, “What?”

“It doesn’t taste right.”

“What does that mean?”

“I should taste the remains of the demon. It’s something, but it’s not—” That’s the last thing he gets out before Hunter’s hand snaps up and grabs him by the throat.

The kid gets a good grip and lifts Traven from the floor. Traven flails at Hunter’s arms, but he might as well be hitting tree trunks with a powder puff. I punch Hunter on the side of the head, digging a knuckle into his temple hard, but not hard enough to crack bone. He doesn’t even react, just keeps squeezing Traven. Candy leaps from the end of the platform onto Hunter’s chest. As she pushes him down, I give him one more shot in the head. I can’t hit him any harder without scrambling his brains, so I aim low, hitting his floating ribs hard enough that I can feel a couple crack. That gets the message through. Hunter gasps and drops Traven, suddenly not able to breathe. Candy gives him a decent shot to the jaw before I pull her off. That knocks Hunter back onto his back. But not for long.

As we drag Traven away from the platform, Hunter starts up his Wild Man of Borneo routine. He tries to jump off the platform and follow us, but Traven’s binding hex holds. Hunter punches, claws, and throws his whole body at the invisible barrier, but it knocks him back every time.

Vidocq rushes over, pulling another vial from under his coat. He pours the whole thing down Traven’s throat. Traven coughs. His color goes from asphyxia blue to something human. He sits up and draws in a couple of wheezing breaths. He is alive, but he doesn’t look all that happy about it.

“What’s in there?” he says to no one in particular. “I’ve never seen a demon like this before. If the salt and bread didn’t work, the Spiritus Dei should have paralyzed it.”

Hunter is on his knees prowling back and forth along the platform like a pissed-off hyena waiting for its pack to arrive and kick our asses. The invisible barrier doesn’t bother him anymore. He isn’t even trying to get out. He’s having fun. Licking it with his black tongue, spitting blood on it, and finger-painting with the clotted mess. At first it looks like he’s just doodling, but a shape begins to emerge. In a minute he stops drawing, leans close to the bloody barrier, and opens his mouth. The fire fog that drifted from his mouth earlier flows out again. Flattening against the binding barrier, it spreads out like dozens of burning snakes. When it’s done, he puffs out his chest and inhales the fire back down his throat. Then he collapses on the platform. This time I don’t sense anything coming from him. I can usually feel life, a beating heart, even the shallowest breath, but this kid doesn’t even feel dead. More like a black hole of life. Candy gets up and starts toward him, but I grab her arm. The hex barrier is still intact, but Hunter has burned a symbol into it. Sister Ludi’s, the same symbol he burned over his bed.

And then I feel Hunter alive again. Still on his back, he turns his head and looks at me.

“Do you get it now? Please say yes. Don’t make me embarrass you in front of your friends.”

It takes me a minute to get past the face to the voice.

Hunter sits up. He stands, still a mess, but looking alert and calm.

“So, do you get it?”

I nod.

He’s talking in Mason’s voice.

“You’re coming through loud and clear.”

I reach into the barrier and run my hand through the burning symbol he drew until it drifts apart. Storm clouds and miniature fireworks.

“It’s Sister Ludi’s sigil. A fake goddess for a fake possession.”

Hunter raises his hands and rolls his eyes heavenward in mock relief. He’s a riot. Bob Hope with horns and a tail. But I deserve every bit of shit he serves up. Wells and Aelita foxed me like this once before, covering up a Drifter attack with a fake demon. Would I have fallen for the gag the first time if I was still on my game Downtown? No way. This stupid world is making me weak. Or mayighweak. Obe it’s just reminding me of how weak I’ve always been. No more. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, you’re dead.

Hunter—Hunter’s body at least—shakes his head.

“I thought I was going to have to put on that medicine show forever. I mean Julia talked this idiot into exorcising me and it didn’t work. Now you drag him back and it goes tits up again. I thought that would have set off a few alarm bells.”

“It might have if I’d had time to think, but I was kind of busy with not letting your meat puppet kill him.”

Hunter smiles. Black gums and yellow teeth. I flash back on the Drifters and feel the urge to rip out his spine.

“What’s one Holy Roller more or less?”

“I like this one. He unfriended God on Facebook.”

Hunter looks skeptical.

“You sure it wasn’t the other way around? We have a lot of that type down here and I’m betting he’s on the party list. I’m getting a definite whiff of sulfur off him.”

He looks at Traven.

“You know all those suicides your Church condemns to Hell? There’s nothing they like better than having one of God’s defrocked toadies to play with. I’ll tell them to break out the party hats and get something special ready for you.”

Traven is turning white. He’s been through plenty of exorcisms, but having a rational, well-spoken demon threaten him personally is a whole new kind of fun for him.

“Don’t listen to him, Father. That’s no demon. It’s the asshole I was telling you about in the car. My friend Mason, the one who thinks he’s the new holy trinity—God, the devil, and GG Allin.”

“That’s the difference between us, Father. Ambition. He had none, so I had to have enough for both of us.”

Traven is frozen on the floor. Candy’s body vibrates, a low growl building in her throat. I put my hand on her back and shake my head. The last thing we need is for her to go full Jade.

“Don’t be too impressed, Father. He’s done this trick before. Talking through people on earth, but you don’t have any real power here, do you, sunshine?”

Mason raises an eyebrow.

“What makes you think I can’t pull this building down on you right now?”

“Because 9;s01C;Becif you had any real power, you’d have made it through that binding hex by now.”

Mason raps his knuckles on the invisible barrier.

“Good point,” he says. “You’ve got me there. I suppose I’m helpless as a kitten.”

He smooths down his filthy rags like he’s getting ready for a date with Miss America.

“And here I thought you’d be occupied with your fantasy about attacking heaven. But you must have time on your hands to be pulling stupid tricks like this.”

He shakes his head.

“I’m working twenty-four/seven on the big plan. Aelita, too. She came Downtown and brought some tchotchkes. She’s a hell of a girl.”

So it’s true. That’s not a combination I like thinking about. What do they have in common? One wants to kill God and one wants to be him, and I can’t see Aelita approving of Mason taking the old man’s place. Hell. Maybe they both want to be God and are going to do a set-up Pearly Gates time-share.

“You’re bluffing,” I say. “Aelita is a bitch on wings, but she’s not stupid. She wouldn’t have anything to do with a second-rate show pony like yours.”

“Sure she would. We have the same hobbies.”

“Like what?”

His face splits into a big grin. Those teeth again.

“Hating you.”

“I’m flattered.”

Traven grabs my arm and pulls me back a few feet.

“Stop talking to him. The demon is trying to confuse you.”

“There is no demon. There’s nothing in there but a little rich boy who wants to murder the world because some bad men took away his Etch A Sketch.”

Mason clasps his hand over his heart like he’s wounded. He spits some of Hunter’s blood on the sacrifice platform and clears his throat.

“Answer me this, Jimbo. And I mean this sincerely. What you need to focus on right now is the key question of the night: Why is this happening?”

For all I’m bullshitting him, I know he’s consumed with his plans to attack Heaven, so, yeah, I’m kind of wondering what’s really going on.

“Because" w201C;Be you’re trapped,” I say. “Because you got yourself in way over your head. Because you’re not Lucifer and not really in charge down there. You bribed a few generals into coming to your place for catered lunches and cigars. Big deal. Without General Semyazah, you’re never getting close to Heaven. And you haven’t been able to build a key to escape from Hell. You can’t admit you’re stuck down there. That’s why this is happening. Hiding in other people’s skin is as close as you’ll ever come to getting home.”

He stares at me, leaning his forehead on the barrier like a bored kid.

“You’re embarrassing yourself again by thinking small. What’s happening here is a formal invitation, but not from me. Listen.”