Donny's Inferno (18 page)

CHAPTER 43

D
onny bent over, his forehead touching the ground, his hands clasped behind his head. He rocked back and forth.

Finally he lifted his head and stared out through the blur of his own tears. Someone was there. It was an imp he'd never seen before, broad and muscular, only a few strides away, ready to grab him.

Donny's hand closed on a brick-size chunk of marble. He got to his knees and hurled it at the imp with a hoarse but savage cry. It hit the imp in the chest, but that only caused the imp to stagger back for a moment before he advanced again. Donny turned to run, only to find another wicked-looking imp right behind him.

He darted to the left to dodge the second imp, but ­powerful hands seized him from behind and pulled him off
the ground. Donny kicked behind him with his heels, striking the imp in the legs over and over again, to no effect. A hand clapped over Donny's mouth, and then liquid splashed over his face. The world dimmed, and his vision darkened at the edges, shrinking to a tiny circle and winking out.

CHAPTER 44

D
onny woke slowly. He became aware of a rumbling sound, and a motion that rocked him from side to side.
I'm in a chariot,
he thought. He opened his eyes, but it was dark, and when he felt his own warm breath rebounding on his face, he knew he'd been wrapped inside a cloth, bundled tight.

He wriggled his hand near his face, pushed the rough fabric aside, and was able to look out. The stony ground went by in a blur. Ahead he saw the mound of rock Havoc called home, smoldering like a tiny volcano. When he twisted his neck around, he saw the imp driving the chariot. He recognized that brute. It was the thorn-faced imp who served as Havoc's bodyguard.

A face appeared above his, inches away. It was Butch, with his thick waxed mustache, murderous eyes, and grin of
a madman. “Look who's up!” the Jolly Butcher cried.

The chariot rolled to a stop. Butch hopped down while the thorn-faced imp lifted Donny, still wrapped in cloth but with his head partly out.

“Help!” Donny screamed.

“Yes, help! Somebody help!” Butch shouted. He put a finger across Donny's lips, but pulled it back when Donny tried to bite it. “Might as well hush!” Butch told him. “Nobody comes around here but us.”

He walked to the iron-banded door that guarded ­Havoc's lair and unlocked it, and then came back. The thorn-faced imp tossed Donny over Butch's shoulder. Donny shouted some more and looked for anyone who might help. The only other figures he glimpsed were two more nasty imps atop Havoc's volcanic mound, serving as guards and lookouts.

“I hope you like it in here,” Butch said as they went inside. “You may never leave.”

Donny went numb. He'd spent all the energy he had left on his cries for help. Butch pulled the door shut behind them and locked it again from the inside.

The place was a fortress, hacked from pockmarked volcanic rock. Butch carried him deep inside, past other rooms. One on the left looked like the dining hall of some Victorian mansion, with a long table, elegant chairs, and a candelabrum as a centerpiece. On the right there was something like a study, with old hand-lettered texts on a
broad desk. Other doors were closed. Donny was carried past them all and into a vast hollow space in the center of the cone. There Butch dropped him to the ground and tugged hard at the cloth so that Donny tumbled roughly out onto the floor. Butch grabbed him by the armpits and pulled him to his feet, where Donny wobbled unsteadily, still dizzy from whatever potion had knocked him out.

Donny rolled his head left and right and looked at the nightmare he'd been trapped inside. It was like the belly of a volcano past its prime, and it was filled with objects that made it feel like a cross between a laboratory and a torture chamber.

There were niches carved from the walls and covered with bars. Only the mummified remains of infernal creatures, and maybe a human being or two, remained inside. Weapons of all sorts were mounted on the stone walls. The machinery scattered everywhere looked familiar somehow, and Donny remembered where he'd seen the like before: at the refinery. There were thick pipes embedded in the ground, connected to thinner horizontal pipes that ended in spigots. Smoke leaked from the pipes and from cracks in the floor. In the center of the chamber, a spout of flame danced from a deep, glowing crevice, big enough for a car to disappear inside. High overhead, Donny saw an opening in the cone. That space had been secured with a grid of iron bars.

Butch whistled merrily and shoved him in the chest
with two hands. Donny stumbled into a chair that struck him in the back of his knees, causing him to fall into the seat. There were iron cuffs on the arms of the chair, and Butch clapped them down over Donny's wrists. Then Butch patted Donny on the head and stepped aside.

Donny heard footsteps behind him. Havoc appeared in his human form, dressed like someone out of a Shakespearean play, wearing buckled shoes, black leggings, and a ruffled white shirt with billowing sleeves. He carried a stool that he then set down in front of Donny.

Havoc reached for Donny's hand and turned it palm up. With the hint of a smirk, he traced Angela's mark with a warm fingernail. “Property of Angela Obscura. Do you miss her already? Were you very fond of her?”

Donny didn't want to give him the satisfaction of answering the question. “What do you even want with me?” he asked quietly.

“Not much,” Havoc said. “Just a chat before we say good-bye.”

“You killed Angela,” Donny said quietly. “And Echo. And that other imp—he helped you, and you killed him, too.”

“Yes. That other imp—what was his name, Butch?”

“Marbo,” said the Jolly Butcher. “What a fine job he did!”

Havoc nodded. “A worthy imp who believed in our cause. Marbo thought his job was to bring Angela to the
pit and show her that evidence. He was not smart enough to lie, so it was better that he did not know what was going to happen.”

Donny squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to picture that moment. “You're horrible.”

“Sacred duty sometimes requires sacrifice,” Havoc said. He crossed one leg over the other and clasped his hands on top of his knee. “Throughout all history, mortal and infernal, horrible things have been done in the pursuit of noble goals. What nation are you from, boy? Surely, your country has waged its share of battles and dropped its share of bombs. And why? For your
beliefs
.

“You call this act horrible because you were Angela's possession. You were under her spell, and so you embraced her point of view. But others who see more clearly disagree. To those who think like me, Hell must be returned to its righteous state, at any price.”

“Not that. You shouldn't have done that,” Donny said.

“Thousands died in the war between the Merciless and these reformers, on both sides. I lost my parents to that senseless conflict. The home where my ancestors dwelled for millennia was destroyed, along with too many other magnificent buildings. Compared to that, Angela's death is insignificant.”

“No, it isn't,” Donny whispered.

“Poor boy,” Havoc said. He patted Donny's knee. “Don't think me a monster. I understand your feelings.
Angela was a charming and clever creature—I can't deny that. But she had to go. For the good of Sulfur. The ­trouble with Angela was that she was so obscenely persuasive. She could talk the council into anything. Putting out the Pit of Fire—such an abomination. We discarded thousands of years of tradition in the name of what? Some misguided mercy? Well, soon the council will meet again, without Angela's interference. And there will be a motion to return to the old ways. We will make peace with the Merciless, beyond the barricade. And then I know, in my heart, Lucifer will come back to us.”

Donny tried to talk, but could barely move his lips. The words came out soft and jumbled.

“What was that?” Havoc said. He turned an ear to Donny's mouth. “What did you say?”

Donny took a breath, gathered his strength, and spoke louder. “You won't win. There are still more on Angela's side. In the council.”

Havoc leaned back and grinned. “You really don't understand how these things work, do you? Politics and alliances? Angela held that coalition together with the force of her personality. I can name two council members who will change their minds about the pit tomorrow without Angela there to keep them convinced. I can assure you, it won't be long until the dead are back in flames. As it was always meant to be, forever and ever.”

Donny raised his face and finally looked Havoc in the
eyes. “When they learn that Angela's gone, they'll know it was you.”

Havoc leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. “Will they? They might suspect, but there won't be any proof. It's important to cover one's tracks in these situations. To leave no one behind to tell their tales. You understand that, don't you?”

Donny knew exactly what Havoc meant, and it sent a chill up his spine. Havoc's smile flattened into a straight tight line. “I'm very upset with you, testifying before the council the way you did.”

“It was true, though. You destroyed the dome.”

Havoc put a hand beside his mouth and whispered like a stage actor. “Do you know what the trouble with secret plots is? You don't get to talk about them, even when they work, because nobody is supposed to know. But you and I can talk now, can't we? Because you're not going to tell anyone else. Will he Butch?”

“I don't see how!” Butch said, from somewhere behind Donny.

“I had helpers, obviously,” Havoc said. “The shreeks who carried the fire to the ceiling. My spies in the refinery. Others who believe in the cause. The destruction of the dome was a fine plan. It was a grand gesture, a sign of destiny. If most of the council members were slain, there was a good chance that those who took their places would be of a better mind. When that failed, removing Angela
from the picture seemed like the next best thing.”

While Havoc was talking, Butch had begun pacing around the chamber, mumbling to himself. Now he appeared over Havoc's shoulder.

“Can I have him now?” Butch said.

“In a moment,” Havoc replied over his shoulder. Then he turned to peer at Donny again. “I promised Butch he could have you. After all he's done for me recently, he deserves a reward.” Donny shut his eyes and ground his teeth together. He heard Butch clap his hands and give a swinish squeal of glee.

Donny's head jerked as Havoc gripped him around the jaw and stared into his eyes. “Tell me something. Are you frightened, little mortal?” He waited for a response, but Donny gave him nothing.

“Hmm,” Havoc said. He tugged up his leggings on one side, and Donny saw a battered band of gold around his ankle. It looked like Angela's bracelet, with the same sort of marking.

There was a clasp on the band. Havoc undid the clasp and set the band aside. Donny knew what would happen, but he still barely kept himself from screaming. Starting from the ankle, Havoc's skin transformed. Flesh became scales, layered like shingles. Havoc stood tall, holding his arms out. His shape altered beneath his clothes, and fabric ripped at the seams. Donny saw the transformation reach his hands, beyond the sleeves, deepening in color
and turning to snakeskin. A sound like bones crunching came from his face and his jaw. A pair of horns sprouted on his temples, pointed back, and a second pair grew forth from his jaw.

“How about now?” he said to Donny. A three-pointed tongue stuck from his mouth and rattled in the air an inch from Donny's face. “Are you frightened now?”

CHAPTER 45

H
avoc looked over his shoulder at the Jolly Butcher. “Butch, bring me the jar, will you? You know the jar I mean.”

Butch giggled and skipped away on his errand.

Havoc waved a hand at the room around him. “This was once a refinery, until the flames thinned out,” he said. “But I kept a small operation here, and produced special varieties for my own entertainment.”

Butch returned with a jar made of black glass, stopped with cork and wax, and handed it to Havoc. Donny saw flames trapped inside the jar. They slithered and writhed like octopus tentacles. “Have you ever felt the truest fire, Donny? The Flames of Torment? Did Angela include that in your education?”

Donny stared at the jar and shook his head. He felt
prickly beads of sweat spring up along his hairline.

Havoc propped the jar on one hand and used the other to peel the wax away from the edge of the cork. “It's a miracle, this stuff. Able to produce the most exquisite agony without the slightest damage. The dead could bathe in it forever, and the pain would never lessen.” He pulled the cork from the jar. Havoc put his fingers near the edge, and the flames seemed to sense the movement. They struck like cobras and curled around his hand. “Of course, it has little effect on infernal folk. To me it's as pleasant as a warm bath. No, it's the mortals who suffer from the Flames of Torment. The dead ones . . . and also the living.”

Donny pressed his lips together to keep them from trembling.

“Before Butch puts an end to you, I think you should experience the flames,” Havoc said. “You can't appreciate them until you do! Are you ready?”

Donny shook his head. “No.”

Havoc brought the jar down to where Donny's hand was clamped on the arm of the chair. Donny made a fist, but Havoc uncurled it easily, and held the fingers out. He brought the jar toward Donny's fingers, and when they were mere inches away the flames snapped forward and latched on.

Donny's head rocked back. His legs jolted and kicked madly. It felt like a bolt of lightning had struck him in the hand, surged through his nervous system, and lit up his
brain. He clamped his teeth together, trapping a scream inside his mouth, and rolled his head from side to side. Pain was the only thing that existed, the purest agony he'd ever known.

Havoc pulled the jar back, and the pain vanished instantly. Donny trembled, all his muscles turned to jelly, and moaned softly.

“Open your eyes and look at your hand,” Havoc said. Donny shook his head. With his thumb and a finger, Havoc pried open one of Donny's eyelids. “Come on, mortal. Take a look. I know what you're thinking: You are sure the flesh has been burnt away. But behold! You are unscarred!”

Donny looked. It was true. His hand was almost a blur because it shook so hard, and he saw it through tears, but the flesh was undamaged. He stared, horrified, at the jar in Havoc's hands. The flames still groped for his fingers, hungry for flesh.

“See?” Havoc said. “I could do that to you for a year, and nothing would burn. Shall we try again?”

Donny turned his head away, unable to bear the thought of another second of that agony. How right Angela was, to put a stop to it. He rocked from side to side in the chair, trying to break away, but the clamps on his arms held firm.

A voice called from above. “GRGRBRGRRR!” Donny looked up. Arglbrgl was there, peering through the grate that covered the opening of the cone. His bristles were up. He spat with fury and tugged at the grate.

Havoc sniffed. “Isn't that Angela's imp? Butch, go tell the guards to dispose of him. And remind them to keep their eyes open!”

As Butch trotted away, his eerie high-pitched giggle rolled off the walls of the corridor.

“Hello there!” Havoc called up to Arglbrgl. “Would you like to come in? Wait right there—I'll send my friends to fetch you!”

“GRRBRRGRR!”

“Arglbrgl, don't!” Donny shouted. “Run!”

Odd sounds came from the hall where Butch had disappeared. First the groan of ancient hinges as Butch opened the door. And then a shout, abruptly silenced. Next came a series of thumps as an irregular object rolled out of the dark corridor and into the red light of the central chamber. It tumbled across the stone floor until it thumped against Donny's legs and rocked to a stop.

Donny sucked in a sharp breath when he saw what it was. The head of the Jolly Butcher stared up. Mist flooded from his neck. With a strenuous effort of his jaw, Butch managed to rotate his head enough to look Havoc in the eye.

“Er, Havoc?” said Butch.

Havoc didn't answer—he just glared down the hall from which the head had just been bowled.

“You'll never believe who I just saw,” Butch's head said.

“What are you babbling about?” Havoc spoke to Butch, but his gaze was locked on that dim corridor.

Butch cackled so hard, his eyes squeezed shut. He sounded more unhinged than ever. “Oh! Of course! I should have thought of it sooner!”

Havoc didn't respond. He backed toward the wall behind him, still watching the corridor.

“Angela's guard, Echo—that imp with the giant mouth,” Butch said through his laughter. “I just remembered what his old job was, in the pit!”

Havoc's lips pulled back and bared sharp teeth. Against the wall stood a long trident with three barbed points. He wrapped his free hand around it, and kept the jar of flames in the other.

“Echo used to swallow the dead whole then spit them out. So now I'm thinking, just before the fire hit Angela—”

“Shut up, you idiot,” Havoc snarled.

Donny heard steps from that passageway, scraping across the stone. His heart thumped so fast, he thought it might burst. A shape appeared from the shadows and stepped awkwardly into the hall.

It was the rest of Butch, a body without the head, dressed in the bloody butcher's apron and striped shirt. The arms reached out and groped blindly at the air. Mist wafted from the top of the neck, just above his red bow tie. It gave him the look of a snuffed candle.

“Over here!” Butch called out, and the body dropped to its hands and knees and crawled toward the head.

Donny glared down at Butch's face. “
You
dropped the
fire on Angela,” Donny said. “And you killed Sooth, too, didn't you?”

Butch snorted, suppressing another laugh, and winked at Donny. The body was almost there, reaching for its head. Donny clamped his teeth together, drew his leg back, and, with a furious grunt, kicked the head as hard as he could. The sound of Butch's laughter rose and fell as the head tumbled across the floor.

Donny hadn't aimed it, but the head rolled all the way to the deep, flame-spouting crevice in the center of the chamber. With its last revolution, it teetered on the edge, like a golf ball over the hole. Butch felt himself tipping over, and his eyes bulged, but he went on laughing as he dropped over the edge and into the flames. The laughter faded into nothing as he plummeted to depths unknown. The rest of his body crawled on hands and knees all the way to the crevice and followed the head down. The last Donny saw of Butch was his legs kicking as they slipped from sight.

A second figure stepped out of the corridor. Havoc gasped and dropped the jar. It shattered on the floor, and the fire spilled out.

“Hello, Cricket,” Angela said. She was in her serpent form, terrifying and beautiful, dressed in leather armor with a silver breastplate. There was a sword in a scabbard by her side.

Donny tried to speak, but with his breath hitching, all he managed was “Hi.”

“Havoc. You look surprised,” Angela said.

Havoc took the trident in both hands. “I am.”

“I finally got to see your place,” Angela said, glancing around. “It's cozy.” She put a hand on the hilt of her sword.

Donny saw something bright move near his feet, and his joy evaporated for a moment. The flames that spilled from the shattered jar had composed themselves into a liquid spidery shape. They crawled toward him and reached out hungrily. He lifted his feet off the ground and put his heels on the seat.

Angela drew her sword out of its scabbard. It was enveloped in white-hot flame, and it filled the room with flickering light.

Havoc sneered. “Didn't know you had one of those.”

“Family heirloom,” she said. “For special occasions.”

Havoc tightened his grip on the trident. “Shall we?”

“Maybe we should,” Angela said. She stepped closer. “Echo is dead because of you. You plotted to destroy the council. And you tried to kill me.”

“I haven't finished trying,” Havoc said.

Angela swept the sword through the air. It left a trail of flame in its wake. “You're such a card,” she said. “You almost had the council convinced, you know. But here's the truth. There were no omens. There were no signs of Lucifer's return. There was just a murderous, misguided fanatic.” She took a step forward and leveled the sword at Havoc.

His mouth bent into a sneer. “I did what had to be done.” He thrust the trident forward, meaning to swat the sword aside, but Angela swirled the sword, evading the points, and leveled it once more.

“You did it, all right,” she replied. “And that's why nobody would blame me for letting the fire out of you.” She lowered the sword, stepped back, and relaxed. “But I'd rather see what the council wants with you, once they find out what you've done.”

Havoc bent at the knees, ready to spring. “Perhaps they never will find out.”

“You're going to hate the next part,” Angela said. She called over her shoulder. “Come in, everyone.”

Red-robed figures filed into the room and gathered behind Angela, staring furiously at Havoc. They were the surviving members of the council.

“Havoc Arcanus,” rumbled Formido, looming above them all. “You and I believe in the same cause. But your methods cannot be abided.”

“See, Havoc? Even your allies are disgusted,” Angela said. “Now put your silly weapon down. You know I'm stronger. You can't hurt me.”

Havoc's eyes bugged, and his mouth curled in a sneer. “I know how to hurt you,” he said. He brought the trident over one shoulder and threw it like a spear, straight at Donny.

Donny threw himself back, but moved only inches as he struck the back of the chair. There was no way to avoid
the three-pointed weapon as it flew toward his chest. A white-hot light flashed before his eyes as he heard a harsh clang of metal on metal and felt a sharp pain.

Angela's flaming sword had swept down, catching the trident between two of its prongs. The longest point had pierced Donny's skin, but not terribly deep. The trident clattered to the ground.

Havoc turned and headed for the wall, where other weapons were mounted. But with shocking speed, the red-robed figures swarmed past Donny. They pounced on Havoc and lifted him off the ground. He was carried out of the chamber, held by his arms and legs as he thrashed and shouted terrible threats. Lucifer would return. The Merciless would seize control. The pit would be reignited. They would all be annihilated. Finally Havoc saw Angela and twisted himself around to shout at her. “And you, Obscura! You and your friends! You will suffer most of all!”

Angela gave him a mock salute. “Go smite yourself.”

Once they were gone, Havoc's threats echoing into silence, Angela and Donny were left alone. She walked to where he sat. The flames were still crawling up the leg of the chair, reaching for Donny's foot. She peeled them off and tossed them into the crevice.

“You're hurt,” she said. She looked at the red stain that surrounded the torn fabric on Donny's shirt.

“I don't think it's too bad.”

“We'll take you to the doctor though.” She put a warm hand on his cheek.

Donny trembled, this time from relief instead of terror. “Echo really saved you?”

She nodded. “My darling Echo. I barely knew what was happening. He just stuffed me into his mouth when the flames hit.”

“I'm glad you're alive,” Donny said.

“You should be. I'm your best friend, aren't I? Say that I am, or I'll leave you here to rot. Say it right now.”

“You're my best friend.”

“Swell. Now let's get these manacles off and go see Doctor Stupid.”