Hell's Pawn (6 page)

“Ladies first,” Dante said.

“What? You expect me just to jump?”

“I promise it won’t be fatal.”

J ohn scowled at him before considering the opening in the floor again. J acobi had said that P urgatory was once a series of levels, before all souls had been moved to the surface when the great change occurred. Descending through the old layers might take them somewhere, but John would feel a lot more comfortable knowing where exactly.

“You have to go first,” Dante pressed. “I f there’s some sort of trap, you’re more likely to escape it than I would.”

“I don’t suppose you can create a rope or something?”

“No, but I can make you a cigarette if you want one final smoke before you go.” J ohn wondered if this was the I rishman’s version of revenge for having avoided him the past three weeks.

“Or,” Dante said, “we go back up for Jacobi and toss the old geezer in first.” J ohn laughed, then braced himself. I f he thought about it any more he wouldn’t do it, so he silenced his fears and jumped. His stomach lurched, mostly out of habit, as he plummeted down. The wind whipped through his hair and his clothing flapped against him like a flag in a storm as he continued to drop. W hen the bo om failed to appear a few minutes later, J ohn began to wonder if this was how he was going to spend the rest of eternity.

He heard Dante scream above him, signaling that he had chosen to follow. The scream ran its course, was followed by a thoughtful pause, and then a groan. J ohn was about to shout something smart up to him when he hit the ground, his legs crumpling beneath him.

He felt no pain. He hadn’t experienced pain since entering P urgatory. J ohn’s legs, still remembering the basic rules of life, felt they should be broken and wouldn’t respond to his mind’s directives. After some coaxing they accepted that they were still on duty and allowed J ohn to stand. He made it one step away before Dante came crashing down on top of him. After a series of curses and accusations, they took stock of their surroundings.

They were surrounded by wild animals. S till on the floor and tangled up in Dante’s limbs, J ohn found himself face to face with a snarling boar, one of its long pointed tusks just inches from his eye. He froze instinctively. Oddly enough, so did the boar.

“A bear,” Dante whispered. “There’s a flipping bear over here!”

“Is it blue?” John asked.

“Yeah. Sort of.”

S o was the boar. I ts fur was still the russet color that it should be, but the animal itself was glowing with blue light.

“I think they’re stunned,” John said.

“Then don’t touch them,” Dante said as they got to their feet. “We don’t want your freaky voodoo waking them up.”

“Hey, are those elephants over there?”

“M ight be,” Dante said, awe creeping into his voice. “C ould be every animal in existence.”

For a moment, they were just as motionless and mute as the creatures around them, silenced by the sheer scale of what they saw. As far as they could see were every conceivable species of animal, all glowing blue, all unnaturally still. E ven with the afterlife’s strange ability to see great distances, J ohn couldn’t spot a wall in any direction. There was only fang and fur, as if Noah had traded his ark for a hangar the size of Texas.

“I ’ve seen something like this before,” Dante said. “This guy went off his nut a few years back, started throwing furniture around, hi ing people, trying to destroy everything in sight. S ome P rops went after him, and I don’t know what they did, but the next thing you know he’s as blue as a Smurf and dead as a stone.”

“I thought you said we couldn’t die.”

“Right, but this is pretty damn close.”

“Think people are kept down here, too? L ike the guy who freaked out. M aybe they brought him here.”

“Hope not,” Dante said. “I f this is where they put people on ice, then we’ve gone from bad to worse. Come on.”

They chose a random direction to walk in, hoping that if they followed a straight line they would eventually reach a wall. This proved difficult since they were forced to pick their way around animals of all shapes and sizes, although some of the taller species, such as giraffes, they were able to walk under.

“There aren’t any birds,” John said as they skirted an assortment of cougars.

“What about the huge group of penguins back there?”

“They don’t count. They can’t even fly.”

“They have wings.” Dante argued.

“No they don’t! Those are—” J ohn hesitated, and in the silence they heard the distinct sound of a dog barking.

J ohn looked at Dante, who shrugged. The barking came again, and they began to cautiously move toward it. The floor was made of the same soundless material as the corridors were, so their footsteps made no noise. They had been so busy watching where they were stepping that they hadn’t noticed the wall ahead until now. At least the chamber wasn’t infinite. Ducking and dodging between animals, they tried to keep hidden as they progressed. W hile using the massive bulk of a hippo as cover, the barking became frantic.

Peering over the hippo’s body, they saw a P rop dragging a dog along by a glowing blue rope tied around its neck. The dog, a black and white E nglish S hepherd, was resisting, hind legs skidding along the floor in a desperate attempt to brake.

Despite the Prop’s merciless yanking and pulling, the dog was putting up a fair fight, causing the P rop to tumble over. The dog dragged it a few feet, growling and whipping its head back and forth. B ut then the P rop recovered itself, placing the blue rope in the slit that passed for its mouth before changing shape. The P rop’s arms and legs split into halves, the body rising off the ground on eight limbs instead of two. Then it slowly began to swallow the rope, looking very much like a spider devouring its web. Fur bristling, the dog was powerless against this new strategy, losing ground until it was dragged within reach. Two of the P rop’s arms scooped the animal up as its head descended, fangs now protruding from its maw.

J ohn stood to help, but Dante dragged him down, fixing him with a scowl that threatened death—or whatever the equivalent was here—should J ohn act on this impulse. The dog yelped. B oth men looked in time to see the P rop’s mouth enclosed over the dog’s neck like a bizarre vampire. E lectricity flickered and se led around the S hepherd’s form until it was just as blue and motionless as the other animals in the room.

Skin tingling with fear, Dante and John ducked the rest of the way behind the hippo, not moving until the room went silent. E ven then they refused to move, wanting to be absolutely sure the coast was clear.

O nce they dared to come out of hiding, they found the dog added to the foremost line of paralyzed animals, between a raccoon and a zebra. J ohn knelt down beside it, reaching out to touch, but Dante caught his wrist. John pulled it away irritably.

“I think I know this dog,” John whispered, examining it but still not touching it.

“Family pet?” Dante asked with disinterest.

“No. I saw it my first day here. I saw it on the bridge.” Dante had walked away toward the wall and was now inspecting the large number of doors. There were at least ten, all spaced out equally.

“Did you know they could do that?” J ohn asked, rushing to catch up. “The P rops, I mean.”

Dante shook his head. “Never seen it before, but like I said, they did something similar to that one guy. There were a lot of P rops in the way. M aybe they were intentionally blocking the view. I doubt they’d want everyone to know that P urgatory is run by bunch of creepy vampire spiders.”

J ohn swallowed. At times in the last month he had come close to flipping out. Had he done so, the P rops would have made short work of him. He never would have seen it coming, either. They looked so ineffectual and useless. Now he knew the truth.

C ountless P rops were in P urgatory, intermingling among the souls and playing their silly games when really they were an invisible police force. S hould rebellion or riot break out, it wouldn’t last long, but J ohn still didn’t believe they were the masters of P urgatory. J acobi was right. The P rops were nothing more than mindless tools, but whose?

“W hich door?” Dante mu ered. “I wish I had seen which one the spider left through. That’s the last one I want to open.”

J ohn took advantage of his companion’s distraction and returned to the dog.

Unhindered, he reached out and touched it, expecting his special abilities to instantly break the spell. Nothing happened. He glanced back at Dante, who was systematically opening each door a crack and peeking at what was beyond.

“Come on,” John whispered. “Wake up.”

He tried shaking the dog, but its body was stiff. Next he wrapped his arms around it, hoping that more body contact would make a difference. The animal didn’t stir. J ohn closed his eyes and began breathing, hoping to encourage the dog to do the same. He didn’t believe in New Age mumbo jumbo. He’d had no room in his life for crystals, tarot cards, or spirit guides, but he did believe in visualization. Athletes who pictured successfully shooting hoops would perform much be er the next day. This was an idea J ohn could believe in. M ore than once he would imagine a meeting going well before having to face difficult clients. Maybe something like that could help here.

I n his mind, he pictured the blue light draining away from the dog, puddling on the ground and soaking into the floor. Nothing. The animal was still as stiff as stone in his arms. M aybe he needed to give as well as take away. J ohn had something in him that made him more resistant to P urgatory’s tricks. He pictured this as white light inside himself and, keeping his eyes closed, he breathed out and tried to send as much of that light to the dog as he could.

The furry body squirmed in J ohn’s arms. W hen he opened his eyes, the dog’s head was turned toward him, looking confused and somewhat groggy.

“Hey there!” John said. “Feeling better?”

The dog panted happily in response.

“W onderful,” Dante said from behind. “Plan on waking up the rest of the zoo while we’re here?”

“M aybe,” J ohn answered, although truth be told, the effort had taken a lot out of him. For the first time since dying, he felt tired. He started to yawn but was interrupted by a number of wet licks to his face. J ohn laughed as he fell backward, the dog relentless in its effort to make sure he was drenched.

“J acobi didn’t send us down here to open up a pet store,” Dante grumbled. “We need to find a way out of here.”

“Maybe Bolo can help us,” John said as he got to his feet.

“Bolo?” Dante was incredulous. “You named her?”

“Him,” John corrected after a cursory inspection.

“Well, you’ve had your fun. Put it back and let’s get out of here.” J ohn ignored him, addressing the dog instead. “B olo! Wanna go po y?” he said with an overdose of enthusiasm. “Huh? Wanna go potty? Let’s go!” I t worked. B olo took off toward the doors and began sniffing each entrance. S ix doors down he started barking, his tail waving so fast that J ohn worried it might fall off.

“Yeah, all right,” Dante conceded. “Having a dog could be good.” J ohn opened the door and B olo bolted through, ignoring J ohn’s calls for him to return.

“S eems like he knows where he’s going,” Dante said, surprising J ohn by taking off after the dog. J ohn raced after them both, gray corridors whizzing by to either side.

B olo took turns at random, leading them deeper into the labyrinth. J ohn was terrified that their carelessness would land them in an entire nest of P rops, but they couldn’t stop, not if they wanted to keep sight on their four-legged guide.

The halls gave way to a large open space where fog oozed across the ground, obscuring it from view. The sound of machinery rumbled like thunder in the distance, even though nothing mechanical was visible. They raced across this open space, J ohn catching sight of more spidery P rops in the distance, slinking through the low fog, but by some miracle he and his friends went unseen. O n the other side of the room, a short hallway ended with a door, and here B olo waited for them, tail wagging and eyes eager.

J ohn hurried to open the door before the dog could bark. Daylight, or at least P urgatory’s poor equivalent, lay beyond. B ut that wasn’t all. The G olden G ate Bridge stretched out in front of them. B olo quickly disappeared in the obscuring fog, barking happily.

“Deserter,” Dante mu ered before breaking out into a smile. “This is it! The mu led us right to it!”

“Across the bridge and we’re free?” John asked, excitement overtaking him.

“B ridge? O h, yeah, I get it.” Dante scratched at his stubble. “E veryone sees something different, just like the rest of P urgatory. I ’ve heard people talk about the B erlin Wall, or a river, that sort of stuff. W hatever you see, it’s always a barrier and a border to be crossed.”

“What do you see then?”

“The Dublin Ferry. Come on.”

What about Jacobi?
J ohn thought, but the question went unspoken. He thought of the creatures lurking in the room just behind them and knew they were lucky to have made it across without being seen. They would never find their way back through the maze of hallways, either. J ohn’s fear heavily outweighed the guilt he felt for abandoning J acobi, so he shoved thoughts of the old man away and turned his attention toward the unknown.

The fog swallowed them as they reached the bridge, blinding their vision. Dante had only been a few feet ahead, but already he was lost to sight. Their footsteps echoed eerily, reflecting back at them from all directions and giving the impression they were being chased. J ohn tried to ignore his rising trepidation, but he had lost all sense of direction and didn’t know if he was still following the others. B olo’s barks echoed all around him, but they no longer sounded joyous, and each was preceded by a gu ural growl.

Through the white cloud that dominated J ohn’s field of vision, a shadow rose up before him. At first J ohn thought he had finally caught up to Dante, but then the clouds broke, revealing the minimalistic face of a P rop just inches away from J ohn’s own. The scream stuck in his throat as J ohn stared at the protruding fangs dripping with blue poison. From around this gruesome visage, eight spidery limbs shot through the fog and wrapped around John.