Читать книгу Beautiful Revenge - J L Morris - Страница 14

Chapter Five: An indecent proposal

The Demon-Lords filed down the stone steps and into the bowels of Soul Reaper tower. The time for Perdition’s next move in the Game of Souls had arrived. The basement levels were normally off-limits to everyone but the Light Bearer and all manner of rumours had sprung up about their purpose. Some said Lucifer kept his wives there; others claimed it was where his enemies waited to be put out of their misery. Mastema had always imagined a cross between a harem, a bar and a games room; somewhere Lucifer could escape from the burden of leadership for a few hours and get a little “me time” with his concubines and a few cocktails.

As Mastema’s eyes adjusted to darkness the chamber began to come into focus. The more he saw, the more the mystery and intrigue of the place began to slip away. No scantily clad women, no billiards tables or bar; just mould-encrusted stone walls and empty space.

‘It’s just a basement,’ said Mastema, holding a scented handkerchief to his face. ‘A dark, dank, smelly basement.’

‘From here the Fallen will strike a crippling blow against the Hated One,’ said Asmodeus. The Demon of Wrath took a deep breath and surveyed the chamber. ‘This is the place where the fall of Paradise begins.’

‘No,’ replied Mastema. ‘This is the place you rent to people that are down hard on their luck and that you don’t like very much. Immigrant families with tiny children, vegans and poor people; that sort of thing.’

A bright light burst in front of the Demon-Lords, sweeping away the darkness. They held their hands in front of their faces as their eyes fought to accommodate for the sudden change. When Mastema had recovered he dropped his arm. Through the bright spots that still danced across his vision he saw Persephone, glowing and smiling.

Bitch.

‘Welcome,’ said Lucifer, in the half-shout, half-whisper he used when he was feeling theatrical. ‘Welcome to the beginning of the end.’

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse stood behind the Light Bearer and his daughter. Mastema cheered and applauded along with his fellow Lords. He had to admit that the Horsemen looked impressive.

War was a giant encased in rusted red plate metal. Spikes covered his armour and skulls had been skewered onto them. Pieces of rotting flesh were still clinging to some of the remains. Famine’s face was hidden in the recesses of his hood. A flowing grey robe covered all but his skeletal fingers and a pair of balances rested on his shoulders. Pestilence was a decaying, bloated corpse. His skin was taut from trying to contain the mass of lard underneath and it glistened from the puss that covered it. With his sickly green eyes, long filthy finger nails and lack of clothing he was by far the most disturbing to look at of the four. Death was pale, and white-haired. The skin of his lower right jaw was missing and his mouth had been sown shut with thick, black stitches. Despite the exposed teeth and tendons the Horseman was still handsome, impossibly so. Mastema was instantly jealous but took some small comfort in the fact that he was better dressed than the Horseman. Hugo Boss trumped heavy plate everywhere but the battlefields of medieval Europe and renaissance fairs.

‘This is your first and last chance to see the Horsemen,’ Lucifer continued once the clapping had subsided. ‘These brave…things and my daughter will carry the torch of Perdition into the Mortal realm. With any luck they’ll burn the place down and scatter the ashes to the wind.’

‘Luck is not a factor,’ said War. His sonorous voice caused the visor of his helm to rattle. ‘You will get what you paid for, Light Bearer.’

‘Love it,’ replied Lucifer, giving War the gun-finger and a wink. ‘Love you, love the confidence. I have a really good feeling about all of this.’

The Light Bearer put a massive arm around his daughter’s shoulder.

‘And here’s the final little piece of the puzzle,’ he said, dropping a necklace and pendant into Persephone’s hand. ‘Your key to Heaven.’

Persephone looked at the jewellery and grinned. Nergal had taken it from the trio’s penthouse after the twins had been kidnapped by her brother. The Lord’s Tear kept its wearer hidden from Demons and it would be essential to her story’s credibility.

‘I won’t let you down, Father,’ she said.

‘I know you won’t, sweetheart,’ replied Lucifer.

He smiled and patted Persephone gently on her head.

‘On the off-chance that you do though, I’ll rip you apart with my bare hands and burn what’s left. No pressure though, the main thing is to just go out there and have fun.’

With a wave of the Light Bearer’s arms Persephone and the Horsemen faded from Perdition.

***

Persephone’s first feeling in the Mortal realm was searing pain. The runes under her skin pulsed with Demonic energy and she collapsed to her knees. With her first ragged breath she realised the Mortal realm stank. Wet dirt, vegetation and pesticides accounted for most of the stench but they were all unfamiliar to the Demonette’s senses. Underneath the immediate odour was the one Demons always complained about: Humanity. The Damned smelt bad enough but in the Mortals’ own realm the reek was pervasive. It hung in the air, even if no Humans were close by, like a thick cloud of filth, shame and sweat.

Persephone struggled to her feet, fighting past the blinding agony that ripped through her body. She wanted to scream but that was conduct unbecoming of the Princess of Perdition so she held it back.

One day Uphir and everyone else will pay tenfold for this, she thought. Father most of all.

The fantasy of that day of vengeance bolstered her resolve and Persephone finally managed to stand up straight. The blackness of the night sky was an impressive first sight. It almost made up for the smell. Had there not been stars to ruin the effect Persephone would have considered it perfect. Her father enjoyed fire; it was why he had chosen to light his realm with an entire sky of it. Persephone had always preferred the darkness that came after everything had burnt.

She had chosen a raven-haired, doe-eyed form for her work on Earth. Gorgeous enough to pull off either demure or wanton with equal ease, she had pieced the vessel together from images she had found on the Internet. It was her perfect answer to any number of situations that could occur in the Mortal realm. From everything she had gleaned on Kaarl he would prefer a shy beauty but the ability to raise pulses and diminish the capacity for higher thought in males was a necessary tool as well.

As the pain subsided a little and her vision cleared, the semi-blurred forms of the Horsemen began to take definition. A tall, buxom redhead in a tightly-clinging crimson dress was making her way towards Lucifer’s daughter.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ the woman said, adjusting her hemline as she approached. ‘But I wanted to try something a little different.’

Her face was striking with dark green eyes. The putrid tang that emanated from her mouth made it clear that Pestilence had decided to take up cross-dressing on his first ever foray into the Mortal realm. Compared to his breath the stench of Humanity was nothing.

‘Might be a bit of fun too,’ the Horseman added with a wink.

Persephone could tell that the seven-and-a-half-foot tall slab of muscle with the rakish blond hair and surly demeanour was War. The emaciated and lanky form of Famine looked ridiculous standing next to him. Death stood a little away from his brothers and was a cut above them all.

Gone were the pale complexion, black stitching and delicate features of his true form. Now tall, well-built and dark skinned, Death had taken his inherent and ethereal beauty and somehow grafted it directly onto a Mortal form that bore no resemblance to the creature Persephone had first met in her father’s dungeons. Even by her famously high standards the results of the transformation were breath-taking.

‘So why have you brought us here?’ asked Pestilence in his sultry, feminine voice. He glanced around at the seemingly endless rows of crops. ‘And where is “here” while we’re on the subject?’

Persephone took a few steps back from him to avoid concentrated blasts of his breath.

‘We are near a place called Storm Lake in the United States of America,’ she told the Horsemen. Persephone walked to one of the tall plants and ripped an ear off of it. She tossed it to Pestilence.

‘That is called maize, or corn or whatever. I don’t really care. Almost half of the world’s supply comes from this country. I want none of it to.’

The Horseman sniffed at the maize.

‘They have changed this,’ he said after a few moments.

‘They spray it to keep insects and pests away,’ replied Persephone.

‘No, not just that; the very essence of this plant has been changed. My usual methods will not work on this.’

Persephone scowled at Pestilence.

‘So, we are a few minutes into our mission and already you are of no use to me?’

Pestilence tilted his head, brushed a stray strand of his fiery-red hair out of the way and studied the plant.

‘It will just take a little time.’

War stepped forward. His voice had kept the same bone-shaking tenor as in his true form.

‘We should visit an alehouse while our brother solves this problem.’

‘No we shouldn’t,’ replied Lucifer’s daughter. ‘This is not a holiday. You will do the job my father paid you to do.’

War marched over and stood in front of Persephone. She stared back undaunted, even though the Horseman towered above her.

‘We will do the job because we have promised as much, girl. You will not, however, tell us how to approach every minute detail. We know what you want and how you want to achieve it. This we shall deliver. We will not stand in the middle of a field waiting though when the thing you want can be accomplished somewhere with ale.’

Persephone held her ground and kept her eyes locked with War’s. After a few minutes it was obvious the Horseman would not relent. The only way forward seemed to be compromise. Persephone hated that word with a passion.

‘Fine,’ she replied, her voice dripping with contempt. ‘I don’t even know where the nearest bar is so we are in for a hunt and probably a long walk. If that’s what you want then so be it.’

‘It will not be a problem,’ replied War.

He nodded to his brothers and the Horsemen crowded around Death, Pestilence still clutching the maize. Persephone followed suit and smoke-like tendrils began to seep from Death as a shroud enveloped the group. Everything outside of it took on a greyish hue.

With nothing more than a quick lurch in Persephone’s stomach the scenery changed. The fields had been replaced with a parking lot and a wooden building with neon signage stood in front of the group. Death waited until a patron had staggered into the bar before dropping the shroud.

‘Where is this?’ asked Persephone.

‘An alehouse on the outskirts of the town,’ replied War.

‘They are called “bars” or “clubs”. This is the former. And don’t ask for ale in there, you’ll look like an idiot. It’s beer.’ Persephone looked back at Death. ‘How did he do that?’

‘Death finds everyone sooner or later,’ replied Famine. His voice was a sickly as his physique. ‘Hence Death knows all places.’

She studied the Horseman with a new appreciation for his powers.

‘That little trick will come in handy.’

Death tapped War on the shoulder. He made a quick series of hand gestures when he had his brother’s attention.

‘He said he feels “less”.’ said War in translation. ‘We are not supposed to be in this realm at this time. Our power comes from the souls your father sacrificed and it seems using them has a price.’

‘Great,’ replied Persephone. ‘Now you guys have a battery life as well.’

She wrote off War’s look of puzzlement with a wave.

‘Never mind, let’s just get this over with.’

Every eye in the bar was immediately drawn to the Horsemen as they entered. Not only were Persephone and Pestilence the most attractive women in the place but they were accompanied by a ridiculously mismatched trio of men. Though not exactly busy the bar was doing a brisk trade. Being closer to the farming community than the town, it had a distinctly rustic feel. Lucifer’s daughter took a seat at the bar with Pestilence as War waited to be served. While the Horseman was busy examining the plant, one of the locals sidled up beside the “women”. In his best chequered shirt and least greasy John Deere cap, Clint McGregor was on the hunt for love.

‘Is that your boyfriend?’ he said, grinning and nodding down at the maize. ‘Name’s Clint by the way. Can I get you ladies a drink?’

Persephone ignored the man while Pestilence looked up and studied Clint with an air of indifference.

‘Go away,’ he said, before turning his attention back to the maize.

Clint suppressed a gag.

‘Damn, you could kill a bull with that breath. Ah well, can’t have it all I guess. Looking as pretty as that you can probably get away with not brushing your teeth. It’s just one drink, miss, no harm.’

Persephone snapped her finger’s to get Death’s attention. She pointed at him, then at Clint. War would have been the better choice to shoo away the Mortal but he was waiting for the drinks to be poured. Persephone hoped an angry glare from the mute would suffice; Pestilence had work to do.

Clint looked up as Death approached.

‘Go away, Denzel.’ he said ‘Unless she’s your wife this doesn’t concern you, pretty boy.’

At almost the same time a commotion erupted further down the bar. The barmaid was screaming at War about paying for the beers.

Damn, I forgot about that, thought Persephone. Mortals use money.

While War was drinking his beer and ignoring the torrent of abuse, Death walked up to Clint. The Mortal stood his ground and smiled at him, drawing his thumb across his throat. When Death returned the gesture Clint’s lifeless body crashed to the floor. A few people who had been watching the exchange gasped while Persephone shook her head and sighed.

‘That does it.’ she said to the Horsemen, slapping a hand down on the counter. She made a broad, sweeping gesture with the other. ‘You might as well just kill them all now they’ve seen that.’

While Pestilence studied the problem at hand his brothers began ripping into the patrons and staff. War started with the barmaid. Using his fist like a hammer, all complaints about non-payment for drinks were brought to a fast and fatal conclusion. He turned his attention to the surrounding Mortals, bludgeoning anyone unlucky enough to be within range. With Death, a mere nod in the direction of his intended target was enough to get the job done. After the first few he got bored, opting instead to kill them by pointing in time to the music. Famine was stick-thin but still capable of hitting with tremendous force. Persephone was pleasantly surprised at how quickly the scrappy little Horseman could turn a human head into a messy unrecognisable pulp.

Even through the terrified screams of Mortals in their final moments the jukebox was still audible. Although she had never heard the song before, the irony of watching Famine rip into a man’s ribcage during the chorus of “Achy Breaky Heart” was not lost on Persephone. She smiled and tapped her foot in time to the song as the Horsemen finished their work.

In less than two minutes the half-full bar had been turned into a slaughterhouse. Death’s victims were easy enough to recognise amidst the carnage; they were the intact ones whose faces didn’t resemble a thick, flesh-coloured paste.

‘Empty their pockets,’ said Persephone. She walked to the nearest corpse, pulled out its wallet and held up a twenty dollar bill. ‘We want these pieces of paper.’

She ordered War to wait outside and watch for other Mortals while the remaining Horsemen collected up the spoils of victory. Once Death had relieved all the bodies in his area of their valuables he made his way to the cash registers behind the bar. His resourcefulness and foresight had begun to impress Persephone, which was not an easy thing to do. The fact that he was also incredibly easy on the eyes and a mute almost made him the perfect man.

‘Is this what that tavern wench was screaming about?’ asked Famine as he handed over his takings. ‘Bet she feels silly now.’

‘Yes,’ said Persephone. ‘It is quite stupid but this realm runs on these scraps of paper.’

Pestilence was about to join the conversation when Persephone held up her hand.

‘Cover your mouth before you speak.’

‘I was going to say I have figured it out; the maize problem.’

The hand made little difference. His foul breath escaped out from either side of it and headed straight for Persephone’s nostrils.

‘Good,’ replied Persephone, her eyes watering. ‘Let’s finish up here and get started with the real work.’

She led the Horsemen back out into the night to join their brother.

‘No one came,’ said War.

‘Pretty obvious from lack of screaming and battered corpses,’ Persephone replied. ‘Let’s go back to that field.’

‘No need,’ said Pestilence. He held his hand under his lips as if blowing a kiss and a thick green cloud spewed forth and raced off into the darkness.

‘It’s a fungus,’ he said with a self-satisfied smirk. ‘Their crops are designed to resist most of them it seems but not one like this. They are as good as gone.’

‘We need it to spread across a very large area,’ replied Persephone, ‘and fast. We’re on a timetable. I want to wipe everything out in this part of the country and move on as quickly as possible.’

She looked at Death but he was busy making hand signals at War. It went on for a full minute before he pointed at a car, down the road outside the parking lot and then stopped. Persephone waited but no translation was forthcoming.

‘And that means…’

‘It means he wants to save his energy,’ replied War. ‘You will need us to jump continents soon and that will be an intensive drain on his reserves. He is not willing to compromise his strength when it might be needed later on.’

‘It took him all that time and hand waving to say that?’

‘No, he said other things but they do not concern you, girl.’

Persephone fought down the urge to slap the Horseman.

‘Well, what about the pointing?’ she asked instead.

‘Ah, that concerns all of us. Apparently our best bet for covering such a large area, whilst still allowing Pestilence to spread his spores, would be to use one of the Mortals’ vehicles. He said if you can drive we can take one of these things. If not, the nearest bus terminal is seventeen miles that way and we’d better start walking.’

Persephone kicked the side of the car, caving its door in and shunting it across the gravel.

‘I guess that means we’re walking,’ said Famine. ‘And what’s a bus?’