Hellboy, Vol. 2: The All-Seeing Eye (34 page)

Liz and Abe were crumpled heaps on the ground now, both battered into unconsciousness with savage, rapid efficiency. Hellboy was made of sterner stuff, but with no means of defense even he felt himself gradually succumbing to the tumultuous attack. He tottered back and forth like a boxer on the ropes, his hooves stamping the ground. He bellowed in fury, as if that alone would be enough to overcome the pain, or even drive it away.

Little by little, however, he felt consciousness seeping away, his defensive resources breaking down. His thoughts began to fragment, his muscles to weaken. He howled like an animal as his legs gave way and he crashed to the ground. With nothing to fight against, he simply began to hit out at whatever was closest to hand. A footstool was smashed to firewood; a door was ripped from the sideboard in the corner; the expensive music system was destroyed with a single devastating punch.

But none of it made any difference. The physical and mental bombardment continued as remorselessly as ever. Hellboy felt himself dwindling, becoming detached from his beleaguered body. He felt reality narrowing, darkness bleeding in from all sides. He fought to the bitter end, clinging tenaciously to the ever-crumbling cliff of consciousness.

But eventually, inevitably, the cliff gave way, and Hellboy tumbled into darkness ...

———

He was chained. That was the first thing he realized when consciousness returned. Even before he opened his eyes he was flexing his aching muscles, trying to break free, but the chains were too plentiful and too heavy duty even for him.

He had been chained before. He had been chained on many occasions, in fact. However, he couldn’t honestly say he had ever gotten used to it — on the contrary, it never failed to royally piss him off. It was undignified was what it was. In the movies it was always the giant apes and the dinosaurs which got chained. But Hellboy wasn’t an ape. He wasn’t a savage, mindless beast.

Grouchy as all hell and spoiling for a fight, he opened his eyes. He was in some sort of cavern or chamber, a vast amphitheater, composed entirely of rock. It was hard to tell whether the chamber had been naturally formed or whether it was a man-made structure, hewn from the earth. Not that it mattered. The only important thing was whether he could get away, whether he could stop the world from turning to crap, and whether his friends were okay.

The last of these questions was answered almost immediately. From somewhere over his left shoulder he heard Abe say, “Hellboy.”

He twisted his head. To his surprise, Abe was standing, apparently untethered, on a circular platform of rock, etched with what appeared to be runic symbols. Liz was standing on a similar rock platform beside him — but curiously she appeared to be asleep on her feet, her arms hanging limply, her head drooping forward so that her hair formed a curtain over her face.

“Hey, buddy,” Hellboy said, his voice echoing across the cavern, bouncing back from the rock walls, “what’s happening?”

Abe glanced down at the platform he was standing on. “We seem to have been restrained by psychic bonds of some sort.”

Hellboy looked down at his hands and feet, and was surprised to discover that he wasn’t chained, after all. Like Abe, he was simply standing on a flat, raised stone into which a complex pattern of symbols had been carved.

In some ways this was even
worse
than being chained. This was as if someone was trying to make him look stupid. Grunting with effort, he tried to lift a leg, and found that it was impossible. He clenched his stone fist, flexed his muscles, and once again attempted to move his arm. But although he could see the bicep bulging and feel the ache of his straining sinews, he couldn’t shift the limb even a fraction of an inch.

“
Dammit
!” he roared, his voice once again echoing around the cavern.

“Don’t waste your energy,” Abe said. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Hellboy took a deep breath and had a good look around. The cavern was dominated by a jagged spar of rock, which jutted up from the center of the stone floor. The spar was maybe ten feet wide and thirty feet high and surrounded by an intricate pattern of occult symbols. The now-familiar eye symbol had been carved into the base of the spar itself.

Beyond the spar, set into the circular wall at regular intervals, were a number of arched openings, through which only darkness could be seen. The cavern itself was lit by myriad candles, each one as long and thick as a child’s arm. Some of the candles were set into sconces attached to the wall, whereas others were arranged at various points around the chamber, jutting from copper-colored candlesticks, each the height of a tall man. A thin breeze ran through the cavern, causing the flames to flicker, shadows to loom and dwindle in the hollows of the uneven wall.

“I guess that must be the center of operations,” Hellboy said, nodding at the spar.

“The lodestone,” said Abe.

“Was there anything in Kate’s notes about it?”

“Only in a roundabout way. Remember the theory of London being a kind of occult grid, with certain buildings positioned where the grid lines cross?”

Hellboy nodded.

“Well, Kate found various references to a lodestone — a kind of central axis point, which the energy released via the campaign of occult placement would be fed into. She didn’t find any hard evidence to support the theory that the lodestone existed, but all the references to it said more or less the same thing — one, that the main mass of the lodestone was beneath the surface of the earth, and two, that it acted as a ... a storage battery for the energy, which would then be used to fully open the Eye after the final sacrifice.”

“Final sacrifice,” Hellboy muttered. “I don’t like the sound of that.” He was thoughtful for a moment, then he said, “So that thing there is pretty much just a gigantic squirt gun, sucking up all the bad juju and then spraying it out.” He was silent for a moment. “So what do you reckon would happen if we broke the squirt gun?”

Abe shrugged as best he could. “My guess is the energy would still erupt outwards and cause just as much devastation. The only difference would be that the All-Seeing Eye wouldn’t be able to use it and direct it. It would be out of their control.”

“But a mad dog is still a mad dog, whether it’s on a leash or not,” said Hellboy.

Abe nodded.

“In that case I guess we have to cut off the supply at its source?” Hellboy said.

“I guess,” said Abe.

“And how do you reckon we do that?”

“I don’t have a clue,” Abe admitted.

There was a groan from Liz. Slowly she raised her head, her hair falling back from her face. She rotated her jaw, as if to check it was still in place, and murmured, “Must have been a hell of a party.” Then she opened her eyes and looked blearily around. “Oh shit.”

They quickly filled her in on what little they knew, and on what they had guessed from their surroundings.

As if a door had opened somewhere, the candle flames suddenly flapped like tiny luminous flags, causing shadows to balloon and shrink in the erratic light. Instinctively all three looked towards the arched openings beyond the lodestone. Sure enough, after a few moments, people began to file silently into the cavern, and to take up what appeared to be appointed positions around the stone itself. Apart from one very obvious characteristic, there appeared to be no common link between them. They were of different races, of both sexes, and looking around, Hellboy calculated the age range to be from around twenty to maybe eighty. Perhaps most incongruous was the fact that the people were dressed in their everyday clothes — some were in suits and ties, while others wore jeans or skirts,T-shirts or dresses, sandals, shoes, or sneakers.

The only characteristic which
did
link the people was that, irrespective of sex, age, or ethnicity, they had each shaved their head, and by doing so had revealed that they all possessed a tattoo on their crown, which depicted the now-familiar symbol of the All-Seeing Eye.

Hellboy watched the people, maybe forty or fifty of them, file into the chamber and gather around the lodestone. Not a single one spoke; not a single one caught his eye, or even so much as glanced in his direction.

He cleared his throat, and said loudly, “So the floor show’s about to start? About time. I hope there’s a comedian. I always like a good comedian.”

He was studiously ignored. He breathed a deep, theatrical sigh.

“I gotta tell you, guys,” he continued, “that bald head/tattoo combination is
not
a good look. There are so many of you that just don’t carry it off. Especially you, madam, in the blue dress.”

Hellboy didn’t expect to achieve much with his banter. He was simply testing the ground, searching for a chink, a possible opening. But if he couldn’t find one, he’d simply settle for making a few of these misguided idiots feel stupid or uncomfortable — or even annoyed at the fact that he was undermining their vile and pompous ceremony.

He had to admit, though, that they were a well-trained bunch. No one batted an eyelid. He had expected the odd glare, or at least a frown or two, but they behaved as if he, Abe, and Liz were not even there. He gave another experimental tug on his invisible bonds, but they were immovable. He racked his brains, trying to work out how he could put a stop to what was about to happen. There must be
something
he could do.

The acolytes had taken their places around the lodestone now, and were peering up at it, silent, motionless, expectant.

“What’re you expecting it to do, tell you the meaning of life?” he growled. “ ‘Cause if you are, then I gotta tell ya, that
so
ain’t gonna happen. I’ve met hundreds of deluded freaks in my time. Thousands, even. And you know what? You people have all got one thing in common. You go away disappointed in the end.”

He looked up, sensing further movement around one of the arches — a shifting in the darkness, the impression of someone or something approaching. Next moment he hissed in a breath, his skin tightening with anxiety. Two guys, each sporting the characteristic shaven head and tattoo, had appeared, and between them they were carrying a wooden chair, to which was tied the helpless body of Cassie.

Cassie was gagged, blindfolded, and clearly terrified. Her head was jerking from side to side, as if she anticipated an attack at any moment. Tears had leaked from beneath her blindfold and formed clean tracks down her grimy cheeks. Her muffled whimpers echoed around the cavern walls.

Although he couldn’t rescue her, Hellboy knew that at least he could reassure her. “Cassie,” he called, “it’s me, Hellboy. I’ve got Abe and Liz with me, so you’re not on your own. Thing is, we’re prisoners too, so there’s not a whole lot we can do just now. But I promise you, first chance I get I’m gonna get you out of here. Understand?”

As soon as Hellboy had started talking, Cassie had become very still. Now she nodded eagerly, and Hellboy was pleased to see the tension go out of her body a little. He only hoped he could follow up on his promise. It was fine to
tell
someone you were going to help them, but it was another to actually do it.

He opened his mouth to speak to her again, but at that moment a man in a gray suit entered the chamber. Like the other acolytes, he had a smoothly shaven head and an eye symbol tattooed on his crown. But it wasn’t this which shocked Hellboy into silence, and which caused Liz to gasp as if she had been punched in the stomach.

The new arrival walked over to Hellboy, looked up at him, and smiled. Then he looked over at Liz and Abe and smiled at them, too.

“Surprised to see me?” he asked.

“Nah,” said Hellboy dismissively, “always thought you were a creep.”

The man in the gray suit was Richard Varley.

Chapter 15

Varley laughed. With his shaven head, gray suit, and self-possessed manner, he seemed a different person from the friendly young academic who had befriended them on their arrival in England.

“Is that right?” he said. “Still managed to wind the lot of you round my little finger, though, didn’t I? And you know what? It was so easy.”

Hellboy glanced over his shoulder at Liz. Sounding bored, he said, “Oh, this is the part where he gloats for a while. Just in case I nod off, give me a shout when he’s finished, willya?”

“Sure thing,” said Liz. She was seething inside, furious that she had spent so much time with Richard without once suspecting that he was responsible for the terror and mayhem they had come here to try to prevent. However, she was damned if she was going to give him the satisfaction of seeing how upset she was. And so she looked him in the eye and snorted, as if she could barely contain her laughter. “You know, Richard, you look like a real dick with that tattoo on your head. If you were gonna become the deranged leader of a crazy cult, couldn’t you at least have chosen one that was less dorky?”

Varley looked at her pityingly. “Is that the best you can do, Liz? Make stupid jokes while your world ends?”

Liz shrugged as well as she was able. “Okay then, let’s get serious. Tell me about the tattoos. Why the top of the head? Why not somewhere less conspicuous? On the ankle, maybe? Or the left butt cheek?”