From Hell with Love (2 page)

“I…don’t think you’re wrong,” he said as he looked at the left side of the room, the scene causing his face to twist in confusion.  “Seriously?  He set the wall on fire?”

“He might have, yeah.”

“And…you didn’t think to stop him?” Lucifer asked in dismay, but Azazel merely shrugged.

“Thought it livened up the place.”

***

Niccolo shouted as he threw a haymaker at the horrific statue in front of him.  Not surprisingly, his mutated arm shattered the gargoyle’s granite head and pieces of the statue scattered around the fountain, which was situated in the courtyard opening up to the War Quarter.  The Horseman of Pestilence breathed heavily for a moment as he looked at his twisted, pain-ridden hand, remembering Fafnir’s happy roar.  The oversized lizard has been a bright spot in Niccolo’s life, one destined never to shine again.  Mammon would have to pay for the insult.

“What did that fountain ever do to you?  I mean, the statue’s only been there for a couple hundred years, Nico,” a nasal voice echoed through the courtyard.  Almost instantly Niccolo’s mind flooded with anger and he looked around the empty space, determined to find his tormentor.

“Up here, kiddo,” the voice projected again, which allowed Niccolo to find the source.  He looked up to the awning of the palace wall thirty feet in the air and noticed the small, mustard-yellow demon responsible for his hatred.  Niccolo’s good eye was reduced to a slit as he furrowed his brow and gritted his teeth, his fury almost palpable.

“
Mammon
.”

“Why is it that you’re
always
angry, Nico?  I swear, you need to learn how to have some fun,” the demon said as he sat on the edge of the roof and let his stubby legs swing in the empty air.  The monster’s skin glistened with some fluid and the tissue covering his massive eyes seemed to emit light on its own.  His bat nose was dripping a liquid Niccolo had always assumed was snot, which was repulsive in its own right.  None of that held a candle to the demon’s actions.

“Fun, Mammon?  Eating my dragon was fun?”

“Hell yeah, it was!” Mammon said with a high-pitched laugh.  “I used his scales to dip into his organs and had my fill.  Once you start, you really can’t stop.”

“You didn’t have the right,” Niccolo said with an undercurrent of rage, but that only brought a scoff from the childish demon.

“The
right
?  I didn’t have the right?  Nico, I’m the
Hellborn
.  I’m Lucifer’s
son
!” he shouted as he lifted himself up and pranced about the roof.  He turned over his shoulder and laughed.  “You’re the one who doesn’t have any rights.”

“He hates you, Mammon.  He hates you for what you did and what you are.  I don’t see why you get to eat my dragon,” Niccolo said, determined to make the demon angry.  Instead, it only drew a twisted, open-mouthed smile showing fangs.

“He might hate me, Horseman, but he still won’t do a damned thing.  I’m all he has left of her.  And I get to eat your dragon because there’s nothing you can do about it.  I’m not scared of a little human soul clinging to some meaningless hope that he might belong somewhere.  Trust me, just run along and enjoy the rest of your day,” he said before laughing and lying down, propping himself up with his elbows.

Niccolo wanted to tear Mammon apart with his bare hands, but he remembered what Lucifer had said. Some other day, some other lucky moment, that would be the time he would take his revenge; he would not destroy the palace to do it.  Niccolo breathed in deeply as he gathered his nerves and denied every thought of vengeance.  After a moment of fantasy, Niccolo turned and started to walk toward the stairs leading away from the palace.

“Ooh, I almost forgot!  Hey, Horseman!” the nasal voice pierced into his mind once more.  Niccolo turned around and looked at his nemesis, but what he saw destroyed any thoughts of keeping the peace.  Mammon was still perched on the awning, but he had shoved his hand through the throat of Fafnir’s disembodied head, operating it like a puppet.  “I wuv you diiiiiis much!”

Mammon was laughing, his arm still buried in Fafnir’s neck, when the arrow burst through the scales of the dragon’s head and forced it to slip off the demon’s hand, flying to the other edge of the roof.

The son of the Devil looked down to find Niccolo holding a twisted, black bow in his diseased hand.  And, after looking at the wrist that had recently been inside Fafnir’s throat, Mammon finally realized what Niccolo had done and heat flared out from his demonic eyes.

“You… YOU’RE DEAD!” Mammon screamed as he jumped down from the roof and landed with force into the dirt of the courtyard, his right hand slamming through the tiles.  He snarled as his hand found purchase and then lifted an object out of the ground, which was a bright-red cylinder that Mammon had crafted from the rock.  The end of the weapon started to ebb flame and magma before taking the shape of a shifting blade.

Niccolo whipped his gnarled, black bow around his back and set it back in its mooring before grabbing at the air with his demonic hand.  From the scars and boils of his palm a rigid handle started to form, but he did not wait for it to finish before he ran toward his enemy, who was already scrabbling along the floor and waving his burning sword.  Niccolo swung his monstrous arm with a flourish, which caused a wicked, green blade to bubble forth from the newly-made handle.  Longer than Mammon’s brand, it was about the length of a bastard sword, but Niccolo would not underestimate the Hellborn.

As the Horseman advanced toward his ravenous enemy, he thought about his chances.  He had plenty of training, both in his life and after that, but Mammon had been around for ten thousand years.  Niccolo readied his blade for a powerful, two-handed diagonal strike, but before they were within four yards of each other, a strange weapon crashed into the ground between them.  Niccolo was almost not able to react as he recognized the weapon of his fellow Horseman, an ornate scythe with a razor-sharp edge and a skull etched into the crest of the blade.  Both combatants skidded to a halt once they recognized another Horseman had arrived, each of them looking toward the soft footsteps approaching from the road.  There was a tense silence as Niccolo held his blade brimming with death, as Mammon’s fiery brand crackled in the hellish air.

“Why, exactly, do I have to interrupt this feud yet again?” the cloaked figure asked as he walked up to his weapon buried halfway in the stonework, extending a lightly-armored hand to loose it from its mooring.  After reclaiming his scythe, the Horseman stood up and his cloak settled back to show the light leather armor covering the man’s body.  Niccolo was still trying to claim the words at the tip of his tongue as the grey specter raised his hand to his hood and drew it back, exposing the very human face beneath.  The thin, pale face looking right at him was accented by a short crop of light-brown hair, and, as usual, his expression was one of disappointment.

“Cadmus…”

“I’m waiting for an explanation, Nico.  You know better.  Actually,” Cadmus said as he used his scythe to point at his friend, “never mind.  Whatever excuses you have don’t matter.  And you,” he said before turning to the yellow demon still heaving behind him, “what would your father say?”

“He wouldn’t say a damn thing!” Mammon shouted, but Cadmus merely gave a wry smile at that.

“And doesn’t that just hurt the most?  The two of you,” he said before pointing at each of them with his blade, “are acting like children.  This is Hell, not a playground.”

“He killed Fafnir, Cadmus,” Niccolo said, gripping his handle tighter.  The reaper turned to his friend and sighed.

“I know,” Cadmus said with a touch of sympathy.  “I assume you’ve already talked to Lucifer,” he said, which forced a nod from Niccolo.

“He said that if he punished demons for killing animals that he might as well prepare for another insurrection,” Niccolo admitted, lowering his blade as the fight emptied out of him.

“That’s the truth of it, Nico.  This is just something you’ll have to get past,” he said before turning to the demon on his other side.  “There’s no point to this, Mammon.  I’d know if someone was going to die, and today’s not that day.  You have better things to do, I’m sure.”

“Plenty, but I’m more than willing to wait,” the demon said with a chuckle before tossing his brand up in the air and catching it.

“Is there any ounce of you that might feel sorry for eating our friend’s dragon?” Cadmus asked, which brought a sneer from the yellow demon.  “Figures.  Well, just know that by killing his dragon, you’ve already caused Nico a lot of pain.  Any chance you could be content with that?”  The question made the Hellborn stand up straight in thought, but eventually he shrugged.

“Bah, this is just getting boring.  No one’s dying today?” Mammon asked, which brought a shrug from the cloaked Horseman.

“Not here.  Not either of you.” 

Mammon looked at the Pale Rider for a moment, but then brought the brand to his mouth and blew out the flame before tossing the handle away, where it was reclaimed by the dirt.

“Screw it, I’m going to Pits.  At least I can satisfy my bloodlust there.  Later, kiddies,” Mammon said as he walked past the two Horsemen.  As he reached the gateway toward the city he raised his left hand and extended his middle finger.  “Oh, and fuck you,” he said before walking down the steps and out of their sight.

“
No one was going to die
, Cadmus?” Niccolo asked as he absorbed his blade back into his monstrous arm, moving out of his ready position.  The shrouded Horseman scratched the back of his head before turning to his old friend.

“No clue,” he said as he walked toward his compatriot.  “My abilities are grossly exaggerated, as you know, but it doesn’t hurt to spread the myths and lies from time to time.”

“So no hunches?” Niccolo asked as he readjusted the weapon on his back.  He had slipped the black bow into its mooring, but he wanted to make sure he had easy access.  Cadmus shrugged as he propped himself up with his scythe.

“Not here, that much was true.  Something’s about to happen in the War Quarter, I think, but we can take our time.  Most likely a feral outbreak.”

“Those are happening a lot more often, aren’t they?” Niccolo said as he shoved his thumbs beneath the belt of his armor.  Cadmus looked at him with sorrow permeating through his grey eyes.

“Yeah.  Yeah, they are.  Want to keep me company?” he asked, already knowing the answer.  The two of them started walking to the gateway as they continued their conversation.

“It’ll be something to do.  Something to get my mind off of…” Niccolo started, but memories of his pet resurfaced with the words.

“I’m sorry, Nico.  Animals are a little beyond my,” Cadmus tried to explain, but Niccolo waved it away with an absent movement of his hand.

“Don’t worry about it.  You, of all people, have nothing to be sorry for.”

***

“God, I hate the War Quarter,” Niccolo said as he kicked a loose cobblestone down the street.  Cadmus looked at him with a raised eyebrow, using his weapon as a walking stick as they made their way.

“Makes sense.  It’s a little different from the Pestilence Quarter,” Cadmus contributed, watching his young friend as he put his hands behind his head.  Niccolo was the most recent addition to the Horsemen, it had been only a little over two hundred years since his fall, but Cadmus found him to be the most agreeable.  The reaper had started to get desperate for new company.

“Oh, it’s not that, Cadmus, and you know it.  I’m fine in the Famine Quarter and your place is tolerable.  It’s just… I don’t know, maybe it’s the people.”

“Really?  This is probably the most exciting place in Dis and you’re constantly complaining about being bored,” Cadmus said as looked skeptically at Niccolo.  As much as Cadmus liked his fellow Horseman, Niccolo did have his faults.

“Yeah, there’s a lot of fighting and everything.  It’s just…  The people are all so…
dumb
,” he whined, but he was interrupting by a deep laugh.

“You’re one to talk, leper,” followed after the laugh, the voice so familiar that the Horsemen knew exactly who had joined them.  They turned to find an armored giant mounted on a massive red horse lazily approaching them.  The brute’s armor was red and black, fearsome carvings and etchings throughout the hell-forged pieces, but most impressive was the massive blade mounted on his back.  It was more a slab of iron than a weapon, but their fellow Horseman knew how to wield it masterfully.

“You know, Ajax, I think I know exactly where they get it,” Niccolo said as he adopted a hostile stance toward the new arrival.  “After all, since you fly off the handle when anybody points out the obvious, they have to pretend for your sake.  Or, you know, get a sword crushing their ribcage.”  Niccolo crossed his arms as the legendary warrior swayed in his saddle, a handled jug in his left hand.

“I don’t mind if people are smarter than me, Nico,” Ajax said as his horse loomed over his rotting counterpart.  He dismounted from his horse, which seemed to implode into a bundle of muscle tissue and blood before disappearing completely, and stood near the other Horsemen, his breath reeking of strong wine.  “That’s never been what I respect from a man.  That’s why you’ll always be
little
Nico to me.”

“And here I thought that I held a special place in your heart,” Niccolo said as he adopted a sullen expression and kicked at the street, the sole of his boot scraping against cobblestones.  “Whatever will I do without the respect of an alcoholic swordsman?” Niccolo accented the question with a wink, which brought a laugh from the warrior.  Ajax set his arm on the smaller man’s shoulder and then engulfed Niccolo in a fog of alcoholic breath.

“That you have to ask shows just how little you know.  A man must be able to kill his enemies and fill his belly with fire, little Nico, and I should know.  I’ve been killing men for thousands of years and have discovered the truth of the universe,” Ajax claimed, tapping Niccolo’s chest plate with an armored finger.  The leper cocked his head to the side and looked at his elder with incredulity.

“You?  The truth of the universe?  Forgive me for thinking you’re too simple to know more than which boot goes on which foot,” Niccolo tried to antagonize the giant warrior, but Ajax just laughed before bringing his face closer and bathing his fellow Horseman in the stink of wine.