Hellraisers (25 page)

“A second, less really,” said Seth. “You went under and came up instantly. There is no time inside the Engine. My guess is it felt quite a bit longer to you.”

“A second?” said Marlow. But he'd been down there for minutes. “It can't be.”

“How did you do, doggy?” Hanson said. “What did you wish for?”

“Go on, tell us you brought the dead back,” said Bullwinkle. “Time travel, something unbreakable. Make our day. We love seeing the demons eat rookies for breakfast.”

“You guys make me sick,” said Pan.

“Poor little princess,” said Hanson, pouting.

Marlow stepped forward, feeling like a new person, feeling like somebody had injected him with adrenaline, stripped out everything that made him weak.

“Why don't you do as she says and piss off,” he said, his heart drumming like he had an engine of his own. He felt like a machine, like he could do just about anything.

Hanson raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Don't worry, I'm going. This bores me. I'll leave you two together, let the puppy have his bitch.”

Last. Straw.

Marlow threw himself at Hanson, feeling the world suddenly slow, like it had run out of momentum. It was as if everybody else had frozen. Only he was moving, sprinting across the stone, his fist balling up. He unleashed a punch, aimed right at Hanson's nose. Only then did time suddenly catch up with itself, snapping back with a sudden lurch.

Marlow's fist connected with Hanson like two cars colliding, the impact so powerful that a shock wave blasted out across the chamber, kicking the surface of the pool into a frenzy. Hanson collapsed onto one knee with the force of it, his glasses splintering into shrapnel and exploding out across the stone.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Pan said, running to Marlow and grabbing his arm. “Christ, that's enough!”

Marlow looked down at his fist, suddenly afraid of what he was capable of. Hanson shook his head, picking glass from his face, then slowly stood. What Marlow saw there made him stagger back.

He had no eyes. They were completely gone, leaving two red, ragged holes in his face. Somehow, though, they still seemed to burn into Marlow like blowtorches. Hanson straightened his collar and then smiled, the skin around his nose already starting to bruise.

“Hanson, he's new, he didn't know what he was doing,” Pan said, maneuvering herself in front of Marlow like a shield. There was a tremor in her voice that was even more unsettling than Hanson's eyeless death stare. “You were being an ass—just call it even, okay?”

“Like I said,” Hanson replied, running a long, pink tongue around his lips, then spitting blood. He blinked, his eyelids flapping wetly, uselessly over the gaping pits in his face. “You two deserve each other. But try that again, dog, and I'll skin you alive.”

He studied Marlow a moment more, a fly scuttling out of one of his eye sockets, buzzing up into the dark. Then he turned and walked up the stairs, his two lieutenants sloping after him. Pan waited until they had disappeared through the door before she turned to Marlow, letting out a long, ragged breath.

“Oh god, I thought he was going to kill you,” she said.

“I could have—”

“No, you couldn't,” she said. “Not him. Not even if he wasn't under contract. Jesus, Marlow, if you'd hit a normal person like that you would have sent their head spinning out into the middle of the Engine.”

He looked at his hands, swallowing uncomfortably.

“You're not you anymore,” Pan said, fanning her face with her hand like she'd just run a marathon. “You've got to remember that. Hug someone too hard and they'll burst. High-five somebody and you'll snap their wrist.” She swore. “Man, maybe we should have thought this through.”

“But I don't feel any different.”

“You are,” said Pan, staring out into the mechanical ocean. It had once again fallen silent and still, its work done. “You've got
that
inside you.”

The thought made him feel sick, made him itch like he no longer had veins but pipes, not bones but levers and springs. He closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths—the air sliding into his lungs, crystal clear. When he opened them again he was surprised to see Pan standing right in front of him, squirming like she was uncomfortable, so close that he could feel her breath on his face. His heart flipped in his chest, so carried away that it took it a few seconds to settle back into a rhythm.

“What?” was all he had time to say before Pan leaned in and planted her lips on his, kissing him. She opened her mouth and he felt her tongue dart into his, exploring. He stood there, no idea how to respond, his brain screaming
ohmygodkissherbackyouidiot
, and he did, his hands gently resting on her elbows, the lightest of touches, like she was a bird he didn't want to startle.

He wasn't sure how long it went on for. There was no time here either, the moment so unexpected, so incredible, that it seemed to have lifted them out of the world into their own ageless, private universe. Eventually Pan broke free, stepping back, her mouth still open, her tongue running across her own lips. She stared at Marlow like he was the most desirable thing in the world, her pupils so dilated that she didn't look real.

Then her face crumpled into a look of fury. She swung her fist and punched Marlow in the mouth, hard enough to rock his head back. He staggered away, yelping.

“You bastard!” she said. “You wished for it, didn't you? You wished for
me.
”

“No!” he said, retreating as she advanced. “I didn't … I … It wasn't my fault, it was Hanson, he planted the idea in my head, please, I would never—”

She threw herself at him and he did his best to shield his face, only to feel her lips on his again, her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He couldn't resist, his brain struggling to make sense of what was going on. He kissed her back, then it felt as if an atomic bomb had been detonated in his stomach. He dropped, nursing his groin where Pan had kneed him. It felt like he was on fire down there and he groaned, everything turning into a blur through his watering eyes.

“Enjoy your gifts while you can,” said Pan. “But that's one wish that even the Engine can't grant. Seth, cancel that contract
right now.
And you.” She loomed over him, a finger jabbing repeatedly into his forehead. “You better not tell a goddamned soul about this.”

Then she was gone, leaving him with the powers of a superman but crying like a baby.

 

NOT MUCH OF A GAMER

Marlow sat in the company rec room, a pint of ice cream resting on his aching crotch. The room was large, packed with sofas, kitchen stuff, and an air hockey table, but it felt even bigger because he and Seth were the only people there. The old man sat by Marlow's side, fastening a watch onto his arm. It had a huge circular face and the only things on it were big, bright, icy blue numerals. They currently read,
665:44:23:59

Six hundred sixty-five hours and change until they come for me, until they drag me down to hell.

He was so tired that he couldn't take it seriously. The exhaustion kept creeping up on him, ambushing him, making him slide out of reality into the opening scenes of a dream. There were monsters down there in his nightmares, demons and Mammon and worse—the creature he'd seen when he was inside the engine. Every time he dozed off and they appeared he was startled back into wakefulness. He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold it off.

“So,” said Seth, tightening the strap. “How does it feel to be a Hellraiser? To join the ranks of the Engineers?”

Marlow just shook his head. What he was feeling right now couldn't be summed up in any combination of words. The expectant silence was awkward, though, so he filled it with a question.

“Why Hellraisers?”

Seth stared into space, frowning. “I cannot tell you, for sure. The history is long lost and Ostheim is the one you need to talk to. He is a scholar, an expert on the Engine. But I do know that it was many centuries ago that the first Engineers came here. Back then the organization was known as Militibus de Inferno Pugno, which can be loosely translated as the Knights of Hell's Fist. The Knights who strike at hell. We do not know much about that time, other than the names of the martyrs in the
Book of Dead Engineers.
They had a motto, those soldiers.
Facilis descensus Averni.
”

He laughed to himself.

“Yeah, we didn't make it to Greek in school,” Marlow said when no translation followed.

“Latin,” Seth said with a gentle tut. “‘The descent into hell is easy.' It was, for them,
too
easy, because they had no way of breaking their contract. They had twenty-seven days in which to make their powers count, and then they slipped down into hell like a stone falling into a pond.” He mimicked the action with his hand, contemplating it for a moment. “It must have been terrible, sacrificing yourself like that, knowing that there was no hope of salvation, that even your god was powerless to help you. But these were men who believed in what they did. They knew that their actions could save the world from a terrible fate. Hence the motto, the descent into hell is easy if you believe it is for a just cause.”

“So…” Marlow said. “Why Hellraisers?”

“Oh, yes, sorry, my mind is old and weary.” Seth cleared his throat. “Everything changed in the last century. The Engines, both of them, had long lain forgotten. We do not understand why, only that perhaps both sides simply ran out of soldiers. They almost consumed themselves into oblivion. It was in the fifties that we started to understand there was a way to trick the Engine, to break the contracts. Back when I was a young man—if you believe such a thing was ever true—we saw that it was possible to save people, to stop them from going to hell. Of course it was another few decades before we made that a reality. These people, this new breed of Engineer—we did not quite raise them from the underworld, but the principle was the same. Hellraisers. Somebody suggested it and it stuck.
Facilis descensus Averni, nisi vos a bonus causidicus.
”

Marlow gave a shrug and Seth's smile grew.

“The descent into hell is easy, unless you have a good lawyer. There,” he said, patting Marlow's arm. “Good to go. Wear this at all times, never take it off. It is very easy to lose track.”

“But you're not going to let that happen, right?” said Marlow. “I mean, you're going to cancel my contract.”

“Yes yes,” Seth said, struggling to his feet. “Of course, but you must have some fun first, get to learn your new powers.”

Marlow laughed in disbelief, shaking his head.

“Powers,” he said. “You make it sound like … like I'm a superhero or something.”

“You are,” Seth said. “For the next twenty-seven days, until we cancel your contract, you are in possession of superhuman abilities. Not just that, but the contract will do a fair job of looking after you. It's inbuilt into every deal the Engine makes. Wounds will heal more quickly, illnesses will pass you by. Better than an apple a day, if you ask me!”

He lifted a cup from the table and passed it to Marlow. Marlow took it and it exploded between his fingers, spraying water everywhere.

“Oh, man, sorry,” he said, brushing flecks of china from his shirt. That was the sixth cup he'd broken since they'd ridden the elevator up here. “Maybe I'll just drink out of the faucet.”

“A good idea, I think,” said Seth, smiling. “How do you feel?”

“Okay, I think,” he said. “I mean, no different. Just normal. Tired.”

“The tiredness will not go away, I am afraid. Everything in that body of yours is now working to accommodate the Engine. It will make you feel exhausted from the moment you wake to the moment you sleep.”

Marlow nodded. It didn't really matter how tired he felt, not when he could breathe like this, when he had the powers he did.

“But how does it work?” he asked.

Seth sighed, easing himself down onto a chair and perching there like an owl. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“You really want to hear this now?” he said. “At … at half past four in the morning?”

“I'm still on East Coast time,” Marlow said, shrugging, seeing how tired the old man looked. “But it can wait, sorry.”

Seth sighed. “Actually it can't. Pan will not be happy if she wakes up in the morning and finds she is still infatuated with you.”

“Maybe she just likes me,” Marlow said.

Seth laughed.

“What? It could happen.”

The old man struggled to his feet, shaking his head.

“Yes, I suppose anything is possible. Come with me.” He walked to the door, Marlow following him. They were on a level just above the Lawyers' bullpen, a dozen or more doors leading off from the corridor into dorms and restrooms. Seth stopped at one and opened it, revealing a gym full of cardio machines and free weights. “Go, see how strong you are.”

Marlow stifled a yawn with the back of his hand. Working out was the last thing he felt in the mood for but he couldn't deny he was curious. He walked to the weight bench.

“What I said before is true,” Seth said behind him. “We don't know how the Engine works, we don't know who built it. But we understand the principle behind it. It reprograms the universe.”

“What?” Marlow asked, frowning. “How?”

“Rather, it reprograms your particular section of the universe. Everything can be reprogrammed, Marlow. If you are a religious person, then you believe that God programmed the universe. If you are not religious, then look at science. We are now capable of changing somebody's genetic code, turning them into a different person altogether. We can reprogram our own species.”

“But that's different,” said Marlow.