From Hell with Love (17 page)

"I'm sorry.  That...that wasn't me.  You're right, we need to be careful."

"Alright then," the reaper said cautiously, keeping Niccolo in his periphery as they continued along the path.  "Let's take a break from mining these memories; we can always come back to them.  Let's focus on what we know."

"And what's that?" Niccolo asked, spying a huddled shape ahead of them on the side of the road, the brown colors blending in with the massive jar behind it.

"Valefor liked to boast about his skills, so he liked to visit the taverns throughout Dis.  It's doubtful that he would have seen anything in the buildings themselves, but in all likelihood he literally stumbled into some sort of confrontation in the back alleys.  Hell, he could have been lying in some gutter and overheard some conversation.  We might want to ask some of the demons in the area where Valefor had been drinking."

"Oh, Cadmus, I love it when fortune smiles on us," Niccolo said, breaking into a sly smile.  His friend looked at him in confusion, but Niccolo just laughed and nodded toward the huddled shape, which looked to be a starving horse lying on the ground next to the ceramic structure.  "If Valefor was sleeping in a gutter, we can talk to the expert."

"What?" the reaper asked, but when he turned to look ahead, he immediately knew what Niccolo was getting at.  "Oh, I didn't even realize we were walking this way."

"Well, that's the thing about Hell," Niccolo said, increasing his pace until they were almost to the horse, which looked at them lazily, "somehow you always end up where you need to go."

***

It was only a few moments before they moved past the starving horse and arrived at the overturned jar, its wide rim the size of a doorway.  Once they were in front of the massive ceramic, they looked at the creature living inside.

"Diogenes, you scoundrel, how have you been?" Niccolo asked, grateful that they had found someone that might be able to give them another lead.  The creature lifted its dirty head, its skin almost the same shade of brown of his residence, but that was due to the man's lack of hygiene.  He was thin, emaciated by any standard, had a scraggly beard and shoulder-length, tangled hair.  What set the man apart from any other homeless demon were his eyes, they had black irises which blended in with his pupils, but one stare from Diogenes could make anybody think he had seen their soul, judged it and found it unworthy.

"Rather the same, Niccolo," the Greek philosopher said, looking back down to the dog lying by his feet.  He set out his hand to pet the creature's matted fur, but the mongrel did not seem to care about the contact; its tail lay still on the ground.

"Not unexpected," Cadmus added, trying to avoid smelling the layers of filth that covered everything inside the jar.  "Have you moved in the last few days?"

"I should think so," Diogenes responded, looking back up at the pair of Horsemen.  "Manes and I walk around the district when the thought strikes us."

"And what about Despair?" Niccolo asked, nodding toward the weak horse lying down outside the door.  The Horseman of Famine shrugged before yawning.

"She does what she wants."

"You're such a waste of a Horseman.  You just sit around all day," Niccolo said, which caused the dirty philosopher to laugh and raise an eyebrow.

"You Italians, you're always in such a rush to nowhere.  Do you know what a Horseman of Famine needs to do, Niccolo?"

"What?" the leper humored the man, waiting for his answer.

"
Nothing
.  That's the nature of famine.  Until the apocalypse, my job is to do nothing.  Sitting around all day is in the job description," Diogenes explained before settling his hand on the dog's head.  "Now, since you've bothered to interrupt my nap, tell me what you want.  I've been ridiculed by far better men than you."

"We need to find out more about a certain demon's activity," Cadmus interjected, tiring of their banter.  "Valefor.  We need to find out what he was up to for the last few days."

"Why would you think I know?" Diogenes inquired, lifting his hand and using it to pick his nose.

"You keep your ear to the ground.  Shit, you sleep on it," Niccolo said, shifting his weight to his right leg.  "And we both know that the mongrel goes and snoops on people constantly."  At the mention of his existence, the dog turned its head slightly and huffed.

"He
also
does what he wants.  He can do without me just as I can do without him," the philosopher said, trying to fit his back against the curve of the jar.  "If Manes snoops, he snoops for himself."

"Don't you bother to ask what he does when he's not with you?" Cadmus asked with a tone of desperation.

"He's a dog," the Greek said as he turned to glare at the Horsemen.  "I
assume
he does dog things."

"Why are you so difficult?" Niccolo asked, almost shouting at the man's behavior.

"Me?  I was sitting here minding my own business and you interrupted my nap.  Don't speak to me about difficulties."  There was silence for a moment as the Horsemen tried to figure out how to deal with their brother, but eventually Cadmus sighed heavily.

"Do you know anything about Valefor?"

"Other than his habits of drinking too much and telling people about his glory days?" Diogenes said before scratching his beard, which would likely have been filled with fleas if they were still on Earth.  "Not particularly.  You remind me of the lion, you know.  He would yell loud enough to wake me."

"It's important that you tell us what you can spare, Diogenes.  Call it a favor for your…colleagues," Cadmus pleaded, trying to ignore the philosopher's insults.  After a moment of consideration, Diogenes grunted and looked back to the reaper.

"The last I heard," he started, lowering his hand to the dog's head and scratching behind its ear, "Valefor was angry about the demons turning feral.  He did not care for this apocalypse for which we are going to be responsible.  He would yell about how Hell was heading straight for oblivion and blamed the feral demons for it all.  Funny, how he ended up being part of that problem," he concluded, raising his hand so that he could cross his arms again.  Manes looked up at him after the philosopher stopped scratching its ear, seeming to care about the man's existence after all.

"Do you know
where
he would complain about all of these things?" Niccolo asked, which drew the gaze of his fellow Horsemen.

"He was a brute, Niccolo.  He loved the War Quarter and those games of theirs.  The lion would just come here to drink," he said before lowering his head.  "Now leave, that's all I could hear from my jar.  Time for you to chase these shadows and leave me out of yours."

"Thank you, Diogenes.  We'll stop bothering you," Cadmus said as he placed his hand on Niccolo's shoulder.  The leper was about to argue, but Cadmus just shook his head.

"Have fun doing nothing and letting the world burn around you," Niccolo said with disgust, which only brought a chuckle from the dirty Horseman.

"That's my job, Niccolo, and yours too.  Enjoy your hunt, whatever the prey," Diogenes said before yawning and sinking against the side of his jar.  The Horsemen did not waste any more time and started to walk down the avenue toward the War Quarter.

"How did
he
get to be a Horseman?" Niccolo asked with annoyance, summoning Plague from his mind.

"The Famine Quarter operates by different rules, Nico," Cadmus explained as gathering dust pushed him off his feet.  He grunted as Mercy solidified into existence, joined shortly by his dark brother.  "Each quarter prizes qualities that would lead to the personification of their ideals."

"Like how you're so damn serious all the time?" the leper added as he leapt onto the back of his equine friend.  Cadmus rolled his eyes and ran his hand through Mercy's hair.

"And how you're so damn stubborn and bothersome," he teased with a dark smile.

"So what does he do to personify famine, then?" Niccolo asked as their mounts sauntered down the avenue, the buildings lining the streets starting to move past them.  The reaper laughed before turning to his friend and shrugging.

"Diogenes doesn't care about
almost
anything.  Apathy will take you far in political office," he said, which drew a smile from the leper.  He was about to respond when a high-pitched, foreign voice broke into their conversation.

"Horsemen!  I've heard you've been asking questions," the source said, the very sound feeling oily and greasy to their minds.  They turned from looking at each other and found the source of the noise looking up at them with dark, massive pupils in the middle of round eyes.  The creature had an owl's face, but the rest of the human-like body was covered in gaudy purple and yellow robes.  Only scrawny wings covered in soft feathers could be seen out of the sleeves, but the brightly-colored robes ended at the creature's knees and exposed his birdlike feet.

"Andras.  How did I not think you were going to show up?" Niccolo uttered with disapproval.  The demon let out a hoot and shook its head.

"You're only human, my fortunate Horseman."

"Fortunate?" Cadmus asked, which caused Andras to snap his gaze over to him.

"Why yes!  You have questions and I, Andras, your faithful friend, am always willing to provide answers!" he shouted with joy, but Niccolo only sighed in disgust.

"Only if we pay you," he said, which caused the owl to hoot in delight.

"Well, of course!  Did you expect to save the Devil for free?"

_____________________________________________________________

Chapter 6: Past - Day of Revelation

"Nico!  Nico, you open up this door right now!"

The merchant's son gasped awake, the deep booms of his father's assault on the door reverberating throughout the architecture.  He looked around the room, finding that sunlight was shining through the dust hanging in the air, and cursed his fortune.  It had been a few weeks since his failed attempt at curing his rotting arm, a few weeks of even more ludicrous ideas Marco had convinced him would work.  There had been more pain and misery in those weeks than in Niccolo’s entire life, but there had been one consolation.

His father did not know what was going on.

"Niccolo Vespucci!  If you do not open this door right now, I will break it down!"

Niccolo jumped off the bed and ran to the pile of loose bandages in the corner of the room.  His leprosy had gotten worse over the last few weeks, spreading along the length of his left arm, and it had been necessary to develop a system of replacing and washing his bandages without the knowledge of his father or his servants.  He would depart early in the morning and dispose the pus-colored rags into the streets.  After that he would buy a few bolts of cloth from a merchant, usually a different vendor each time.  Niccolo did not want anyone to recognize his behavior.

"One more warning, Nico, or I truly
will
break down this door.  I can always pay for a new one!"  The merchant's son cursed under his breath as he realized that the bandages on his arm were already stained.  When he looked through the pile of rags, he realized they all were contaminated.  He would just have to pick the cloth soiled the least.

"One moment, father" he said, trying to sound groggy and like he had just opened his eyes.  "I may have drank," he said, ripping off the bandages on his arm and wincing as some of the scabs tore away, "a little too much wine."  Niccolo did not bother to look at the exposed sores and instead started to wrap a stained bandage tightly around the length of his arm.

"Nico, I'm losing patience.  My wrath will only be contained so long, even if you are my son," Carlo Vespucci warned on the other side of the door, his voice a little softer now that Niccolo had responded.  Pain resonated throughout Niccolo's arm, but he ignored it as he tied a knot into the bandage.  The merchant's son grimaced as he walked over to his wardrobe and threw a white tunic over his head, doing his best to cover the blight on his arm.  After a moment, he looked around the room, inspecting it for his father's scrutiny, only just realizing that a pile of diseased rags would be suspicious.  He quickly kicked the pile underneath the wardrobe and threw his sheets around them, trying to make his room look like it had an inebriated occupant.

"I fear you more and more each day, father," Niccolo said as he rushed over to the doorway, threw his fingers into his hair in order to make it look even messier and then opened the door for his father, who immediately rushed into the bedroom.

"As you should, Nico," Carlo Vespucci said as he impatiently walked over to the window, turning so that his back was to the open air.  "Where the
hell
have you been?"

"I'm sorry?" Niccolo feigned ignorance, hoping that his father would drop the subject soon and Niccolo could get back to his desperate attempts to cure his arm.

"Nico, it has been weeks since I have seen you for more than a moment at a time.  This is not becoming of a merchant's son.  There is training to be done.  There are skills that must be learned," his father said, crossing his arms before letting his expression soften.  "Not to mention that I enjoy your
company
."

"I...I'm sorry.  I have been busy with more...youthful pursuits," he said, bringing his right hand behind the nape of his neck, pretending to be embarrassed.  "There are some things a father should not know about his son."

"If this is about the indiscretions of youth, I don't need much in the way of education.  Your father's blood runs through you, and I'm quite aware of the feelings that go through a man's mind just before his marriage," Carlo said before shaking his head and pacing around the room.  "But, Nico, being a foolish, young man does not excuse you from familial obligations."

"I know..." Niccolo started, but his father interrupted him with a quick glare.

"Your brother was
born
, Niccolo.  You weren't here to see it, to be with your family.  Allegra is well, if you bothered to care," Carlo interrupted, turning to face his first son.  "Your brother will likely grow to be healthy and strong, to the point where I'm considering giving him a name already.  He is a bouncing bundle of joy, even if he will soon make a mess of things," he said with a smile, recalling with fondness his first experience as a father.