Devil Ash Days (Devil Ash Saga) (10 page)

While they walked down a different street than the one they walked earlier, Ash was too tired and it was becoming too dark to really soak up the sights. Once the sun started going out in Hell, most of the people headed indoors. A couple of Royal Guards were
going around lighting up streetlights with their flames. In a tired daze, Ash couldn’t even be certain of how long they were walking. After several minutes, they arrived at a small block of connected buildings, much like a motel. They walked down the row of doors, until they arrived at the unit with the letter D carved onto its door. Shiva entered without even using a key.

“What, no lock?” Ash asked.

“What good would locking a door do? If a devil wants in, they’re getting in, lock or no lock.” Shiva told him. “If you want a good solid door with a lock on it, you’ll have to upgrade to the
expensive
flats.” Ash was a bit worried about relying on the ‘honor system’ in Hell, but if it was the standard that they used, it would have to be good enough. Besides, he didn’t really have anything to steal anyway.

From the outside, it wasn’t apparent how large the units were. Upon entering the room, Ash discovered it to be tiny. It was just a one-room flat, no larger than a hotel room, complete with a bed and mini kitchen. He moved inside, and Shiva lit a couple of the candles hanging from the walls with flame she made from her hands. There were two doors, one of which led to a tiny closet. Inside the closet sat a small trunk. When Ash opened it, he saw it was filled with folded shirts, pants, and various other articles of clothing from Gio. Ash poked his head inside the other door and was amazed at the sight of his bathroom.

“There’s a toilet!” Ash announced, surprised. Shiva didn’t bother with a reply. “I…didn’t know you guys had toilets.”

“So this is where you’ll be staying.”
she said, ignoring him.

“Kind of small,” Ash said, tossing his dusty suit coat on his bed.

“Big enough for you. Anyway, tomorrow you’ll need to meet Goddard back at the castle. You can stop in the cafeteria and eat breakfast first. If he doesn’t find you before that, you’re to head to his room. Remember, the one where we first met?”

“Yep,” Ash lied. He had no idea how to find that room again, but was too tired to remember directions and too scared to ask her to explain.

“Okay then, this is goodbye,” she said.

“Alright, thanks for everything-” Ash began to say, but Shiva was already out the door. “You have a good night now,”
he mumbled to himself.

With not much else to do, he used the bathroom and then lay down on the bed for the night. He took out his copy of ‘Hell in My Pocket’ and looked for a section on devil anatomy, specifically what would happen in the case of dismemberment of a devil’s wing. He wasn’t thrilled to discover that a dismembered wing would not grow back properly, and there were some pretty graphic, disgusting drawings of what the regrown crippled wings looked like.

Deciding he’d had enough reading for the night, he attempted again to create a flame in his hand. Like every time he tried before, the best he could muster was a small stream of sparks that didn’t ignite. His hand was like a lighter that refused to spit out a flame.

Ash
lay in bed that night, shooting sparks from his hand until fatigue got the best of him.  Without ever successfully sustaining a flame, he passed out for the night.

Chapter Eight: Meet the Satans

Ash awoke the next morning when light
started to fill his room. He hopped out of bed and went to the window to see what was going on. Outside he could see a bright ball of fire burning in the sky. After staring at it long enough, he realized it was growing. From the streets of the kingdom, thousands of fireballs rose into the sky. They flew upwards until they joined together to form the artificial sun. More and more flames flew towards it, until it was large enough to emit light everywhere in the kingdom of Hell. Ash could even see his own neighbors outside lighting small balls of flame in their hands and releasing them upwards, towards the sky. Once again, he felt left out not being able to help.

It was a marvelous sight, and the kingdom of Hell became enveloped in artificial sunlight within minutes. This was the creation of the sun that happened every day in Hell, and Ash was excited to think he’d get to see it again. When his mind turned to thoughts of exactly
how many
times he’d see it again, he decided it’d be best to get dressed and move on for the day.

It was time he took a good look at the clothing Gio had supplied him with. He opened the trunk of clothes that sat inside the closet. In the light of day, he could see they were all pretty plain articles of clothing: solid, dull colors with no designs or anything creative about them. Ash was somewhat disappointed. After seeing Gio’s funky wardrobe, he expected something a little flashier. He settled on a black pair of trousers and a plain white shirt.

He stepped outside the room and focused on finding his way back to the castle. From where he currently stood, buildings blocked his view of the castle. After walking down a few alleys, he came to a street where he could see the castle looming ominously in the distance. Street vendors were setting up their shops for the day, and some of them were still adding flames to the sun. Ash would have liked to stop and shop, but he had no money or even an idea of the currency in Hell.

With the castle in his sights, he knew walking there would not be a problem. But he wanted to get his wings working properly, so he decided he’d give flight a try again. Like the day before, it wasn’t at all difficult to make the wings pop out. As usual, they started as small lumps of flesh on his back. As they grew, they found their way through the designated holes in the back of his shirt. Once freed, they continued to grow at a slow pace. Ash could feel them expanding, and as they doubled in size he felt a slight
tingling sensation on his back.

Finally the wings were full size and ready for flying. Ash flapped them once, making sure he could still use them. They responded as loyally as any other limb. He started flapping them again, more furiously this time. His feet lifted off the ground, and then he was suspended in the air several feet off the ground. He found that his wings did not tire as easily as his arms would have after all that movement. He stayed airborne for several minutes, flying in the general direction of the castle. His speed was slow at best, and his altitude was never above the lowest rooftop, but he was making progress. When his wings finally grew tired, he dropped to the ground and continued the rest of the way on foot.

With the more experienced flyers swooping above him, Ash strolled onward. After a while, he made his way to the first gate of the castle. The guards stood at attention, unwavering. Ash approached.

“Excuse me,” he said politely, “I’m supposed to be meeting with Goddard.”

“What is your name?” o
ne of the guards said in a booming voice, more like a statement than a question. Ash told them, which apparently was enough to satisfy the guards. They parted and opened the gate.

Once inside the castle, his next task was remembering how to get to the cafeteria, which as luck would have it was the easiest room to find. He just walked down the hall and entered through the first door he found. 

Inside, he treated himself to breakfast, which was not entirely unlike the lunch he’d eaten earlier. Though all the food was reminiscent of various foods on Earth, it didn’t seem like the breakfast he knew. Of course there were eggs and toast and various kinds of meats, but it wasn’t anything like on Earth. Instead of complaining, he appreciated being fed for free. At least he
hoped
it was free. After two trays of food and a strange drink that made him feel woozy, he felt a sturdy pat on his back. He turned around to see Goddard standing behind him.

“It’s a little early fo
r the booze, wouldn’t you say?”

“
This is
booze?”
Ash smiled and felt very stupid at once.

“Are you
quite
finished now?”

“Yes sir.” Ash got up and abandoned his tray, following Goddard outside of the cafeteria. The quiet
man led him through more hallways, upstairs, and back to the room they’d first met up in. They entered and Goddard took his usual seat behind a mountain of paperwork.

“Sit,” he
said, grabbing some of the papers and pushing his slipping glasses back up on his face. “Today you’re scheduled to go before the Royal Family.”

Ash did the mental version of a double-take.

“Royal family? As in…
Satan?
”

“Correct,” Goddard
said. “I will report to King Satan my evaluations of you, and he will decide what to do with you from there.”

“You made evaluations of me? How? I haven’t even seen you!”

“Lady Shiva has reported your progress to me.”

“Oh. Right.” In Ash’s mind, Shiva’s report consisted of only one word:
Pathetic
. He now went from ‘a little worried’ to ‘pants-wettingly worried’.

“Let’s talk about your manners in front of his Royal Highness.”

“I’ll make sure to be super polite.”

“No you won’t. You are to keep your mouth shut.”

“Will do!” Ash said.

“Just stand there and look useful. Absolutely no talking.”

“Got it!”

“What are you going to do if he asks you a question?”

“I won’t say a word.”

“Of course you will! If the King of Hell asks you a question, you had damn-well better answer him.”

“But you just told me not to say anything!”

“Don’t say anything,
unless
he asks you to.”

“Okay, fine!”
The boy started to raise his voice, growing more and more nervous. 

“You must realize that speaking out of turn in the presence of his Royal Highness can result in a swift death.”

“What’s with you devils and jumping straight to the death penalty? It’s like there’s no middle ground with you people.”

“Trust me, the middle ground would make you
wish
for death.”

Outside the room, Goddard led Ash through some more hallways and down a flight of stairs, through a different part of the castle that Ash hadn’t yet seen. The multicolored, cracked bricks that comprised the walls in this section looked a lot older, like it was built before the rest of the castle.

As they journeyed down the halls, the amount of guards increased until they were finally at a large set of iron double doors with four guards standing outside. The doors looked large enough to be barn doors, but built to swing inward. The guards saw Goddard coming and immediately stood at attention. The two guards closest to the doors turned around and began pushing them open.

Ash tried not to look directly through the crack of the door opening, so as not to make any accidental eye contact with whomever was on the other side. He continued to stare at the ground till the doors came to stop, wide open. Ash saw Goddard’s feet moving forward, so he took a deep breath, looked up, and continued inside to meet Satan.

Inside, the room was like no other that he had seen in Hell yet. Whereas the parts of the castle that he saw before were constructed out of bricks, stone, and wood, this room was constructed out of iron. The dull metal reinforced the walls, the floor, and even the ceiling. The crimson carpet that covered the halls continued forward some thirty feet, stopping at the base of several stairs that climbed up a dais. Resting on top of the platform was a throne.

As they approached the dais and the three devils that sat atop it, Ash took a brief moment to glance back at the doors, his only route of escape. If he were to continue forward past the thrones, three doors awaited him: two on both sides, and one in the middle directly behind the platform. The two side doors were smaller, regular-looking doors. The middle one, however, was another larger iron-reinforced door.

Behind Ash, standing guard near the entrance, was the man in the black spiky armor that
was casting cold glances in Ash’s direction the previous day. Ash grew concerned as the man moved in behind him, expecting some kind of sneak-attack. Instead, the man gave the signal to his guards outside to close the doors, sealing them all inside. There was no escape now.

His concentration focused on what lied ahead for him. With the three people he saw sitting at the top of the platform came three shocking surprises for him. The first, and most important surprise was so astounding that it led Ash to question whether or not he was being pranked.

Ash was baffled by the appearance of the man sitting in the largest throne chair in the middle, the one he knew must be King Satan.  His image of a red, scary-looking, goat-legged, horn-headed Satan holding a pitchfork was destroyed.

A chubby, small man wearing elegant clothing was the best way to describe his ‘royal highness’. The plump man known as King Satan, Ruler of Hell, couldn’t have been more than five feet tall if he stood up. It was sort of hard to tell because he was slouched in his large, padded throne chair. What little hair he had atop his head was slowly deserting him, as if it had somehow gained sentience and decided it had better things to do with its time. Beady eyes and a thin mustache completed the picture of the most unintimidating guy ever.

His wardrobe was a mess. A too-small crimson shirt (with ruffles all over it) barely managed to conceal his ever-expanding belly. Satan’s legs were covered by what appeared to be a blanket. His pale, revealed ankles seemed to imply that under the blanket, he must have been wearing shorts. That or he wasn’t wearing pants at all.  Around his neck hung one of the most over-the-top accessories Ash had ever seen: a giant red jewel, beset in a golden base and hung on a golden chain.

On the outside, there was no visible change to Ash. But on the inside, he was shuddering at the mere thought of this disgusting, potentially half-naked man being the feared Satan. It would have been easier to believe the man sitting to Satan’s right was the real King. This man was by far more intimidating for he was the man that Ash saw executing the invading demon the day before!

The Prince looked only a few years older than Ash, maybe in his late twenties. His auburn hair was kept extremely short, even shorter than Ash’s. The Prince’s armor was silvery and covered his entire body. Large, piercing spikes stuck out of it, threatening to poke someone’s eye out. Leaned against his throne chair was the awesome broadsword Infernos, looking threatening as ever.

The armor, as awesome and fearful a sight as it was, strangely enough was not the scariest part about The Prince. If one thing in particular about him really struck fear into Ash’s heart, it was his eyes. Thin, soulless, piercing eyes that focused on Ash and never let him out of their sight. Ash made eye contact with him for less than a second and immediately regretted it. He could swear he felt a shiver actually run down his spine from just The Prince’s glance alone.

To Satan’s left sat Lady Shiva. It took several seconds to even register to Ash why she was sitting there. Finally, it dawned on him: she must be Satan’s daughter! That’s why she lived in the castle, and that’s why all those she encountered treated her with an air of respect. Suddenly it made sense to Ash why Goddard had remarked ‘her father would be disappointed’ in her for not obeying a command.

She sat in her throne chair, legs crossed, looking down on Ash. The expression on her face read pure joy. He couldn’t tell if her joyous mood was brought on by joining her family at the throne, or by finally having a chance to pass judgment on him. He guessed that it was most likely the joy of being able to cause him more trouble.

“Before you,” Goddard spoke loudly and clearly, “sits Our Lord, King Alfred Satan.”

Al Satan?!
Ash thought.

“Our Prince, Lord Darko Satan…”

Darko! What is he, a Canadian hockey player?!

“And you’ve already met Lady Shiva Satan.”

Yeah, we’ve met.

“This is the boy, Goddard?” The Prince spoke first, sounding displeased.

“Yes, your highness. This is the human called Ash Kaplan,” Goddard replied, a new tone of inferiority to his voice that Ash had not yet heard.

“Is this a joke?” The Prince asked, unimpressed.

“I said the same thing!” Shiva said.

Satan raised his fat hand, letting everyone know that it was his time to speak. All talking in the room ceased. “Speak, Goddard. Tell me about the boy,” he commanded, his voice nasally and displeasing to the ear.