Hell's Pawn (15 page)

“I f it’s any consolation, the moments R immon shines through you make you all the more a ractive. W hen you aren’t breathing fire I mean. E ach time R immon talks through you, a lot of that incubus allure is there. I f I find it a ractive, then the ladies will too.”

Dante mulled this over. “Not bad for a silver lining,” he said, pulling the lever that sent the coach rolling. “M aybe R immon and I can reach some sort of agreement.

There’s bound to be some Celtic beauties where we’re headed.”

“I ’ll show you a good time!” the old woman cackled from the driver’s seat as the coach reached escape velocity.

“Then again,” Dante said, “maybe it’s best not to mix business with pleasure.”

* * * * *

L ight gli ered off the ocean below, white crests of waves breaking around lush, green islands. The coach veered sharply toward the smallest of these land masses, nose-diving at an alarming speed before righting itself in time for landing. W ith a thud the coach hit the ground, the driver toppling off the seat and onto the beach the second the straps released her.

“This is more like it!” she crooned.

B olo agreed with her, launching himself out of the coach the moment the door was open and racing happily across the sand.

J ohn smiled as he followed, enjoying the warm breeze on his face and the taste of salt in the air. Dante seemed to be enjoying it too, although his clothing made him appear out of place anywhere other than a city.

I nstinct led them down the beach to a long narrow boat. The decorative prow and stern of the vessel twisted gracefully into curls; the colorful sails a mixture of turquoise, violet, and green. These sails puffed out proudly in the wind, but despite the force gathered there the ship remained motionless, not even rocking. E ven the ramp that stretched from the ship to the beach was still and steady.

A god stood on deck, waiting near the ramp as if he were the captain and they the expected passengers. This was M anannan mac L ir, C eltic lord of the ocean and master over weather. The seas were his domain, as were the islands of paradise that lay beyond. Despite his status, the god’s demeanor was casual, a half-smile playing about his lips. He pulled a pipe from his pale blue robe and raised it to them in greeting as they neared.

The old woman reached him first, a mixture of reverence and fear on her face.

“M arga, you treacherous thing!” M anannan said, his brow furrowing and his white beard bristling. His manner was so intimidating that they all took a step backwards.

“What business do you have here?”

“Forgive me!” M arga pleaded. “All those stories about Hell spooked me good, so I figured converting wouldn’t do no harm. I ’ve suffered for what I done, but I don’t expect no mercy from you.”

A grin chased the ferociousness from M anannan’s face. “There’s nothing to forgive, you old fool! You could have come directly here if you hadn’t been waylaid by such nonsense. On the boat with you!”

The sea god jerked his thumb over his shoulder, and M arga scrambled eagerly up the ramp. B olo followed her, oblivious of the need for permission. Next M anannan turned to them, his penetrating eyes the subtle blue of the morning sky.

“W hat an interesting pair Hell has sent us this time,” he said. “I can see why they specialize in temptation, as I’m almost persuaded to bring you along.”

“We just want to talk,” John assured him. “We mean no harm.”

“And yet words can be the most harmful weapons.” M anannan lit his pipe and took a deep drag. “I wonder, are either of you aware of your conditions?”

“Take us with you and you’ll find out,” Dante bargained.

“Our conditions?” John asked.

“Well, well,” M anannan replied. “W ith the two of you along, this voyage might be interesting indeed, although it remains to be seen how much you will remember.” The second J ohn and Dante were on deck, the ramp disappeared. J ohn barely had time to look around before M arga took his arm and blinked her eyelashes in a way that he didn’t find at all becoming. He tried pulling away, but M arga’s grip was surprisingly firm.

“To think I could have come sooner,” she said. “A demon let slip that my chains were of me own making. How’s that for a thing?”

No mystery there, J ohn thought. After all, they had needed a driver to the C eltic lands. W hat J ohn didn’t understand was what M anannan meant by him and Dante having a condition. I f Dante’s was the demon inside him, what was J ohn’s? He had thought the great secret in Asmoday’s office had related to R immon possessing Dante, but now that he considered it, Dante had seemed just as surprised by that. Now J ohn was back to wondering what was being kept from him.

M anannan pulled on his pipe and with a nod the boat slid forward, turning away from the beach and slipping into the ocean. Waves broke in two and parted for the vessel, allowing it to sail forward as if it were gliding across a perfectly still lake. The ship’s wheel, turning of its own accord, steered them toward an empty horizon while B olo scampered up and down the deck in excitement. Dante leaned against the rail a few paces away, leaving John, Marga, and Manannan to talk alone.

“Where are we going?” John asked.

“To M ag M ell,” M anannan answered. “The land of promise where there is music, dancing, and storytelling in abundance. The souls there want for nothing, not food, company, happiness, or even youth.”

Marga released John with a gasp. “Oh, would you look at that!” J ohn turned unwillingly back toward M arga, who was examining her hand in awe.

The woman looked different now. S he had lost some weight, and her features were tighter. As he watched the gray hair was chased away by a rich auburn, making her appear middle-aged. He didn’t doubt that the process would continue until they reached their destination, leaving the woman in her prime. How easily he had become used to such wonders! J ohn only hoped that his own age would remain intact. He had no urge to revisit his teenage years.

J ohn returned his a ention to M anannan. “Are you taking us there to meet with the other gods?”

“I am bringing M arga home to be reunited with her friends and family,” M anannan said. “It remains to be seen how far I allow you and your companions to travel.”

“Well thank you for trusting us so far.” J ohn decided that now was his only chance to make his intentions known. “I don’t know how much the other ambassadors told you, but we’re actually here because we need your help. Are you familiar with Heaven?”

“Yes,” M anannan said, “and now that I have answered three of your questions, it is time for you to answer three of mine.”

“O h.” J ohn wasn’t sure if this was a custom or a challenge, but he saw no choice but to comply. “Okay.”

“Are you trying to deceive me?”

M anannan’s tones were casual. He didn’t sound angry or defensive, but his penetrating eyes were locked onto J ohn’s as he waited for an answer. Were they deceiving him? J ohn supposed they were intentionally hiding R immon, which did seem dishonest. B ut that wasn’t lying, per say. That was simply holding back the truth.

J ohn had fought with more than one boyfriend over the intricacies of this philosophy, and had been on both sides of the argument at least once. I n the current situation, he supposed they
were
being deceptive, but in the most harmless way possible.

“No, we’re not deceiving you.”

M anannan puffed on his pipe and exhaled, the dark smoke swiftly blown away by the increasing wind. J ohn glanced away from him to notice dark storm clouds on the horizon, still far away.

M arga, growing bored with the conversation, moved over to join Dante. S he looked as though she was in her early thirties now, and it was much easier to understand how she had been able to seduce so many men. S he wrapped an arm around Dante, who didn’t seem to mind.

“The help you seek from us,” Manannan continued. “Do you feel the cause is just?” The war against Heaven? J ohn couldn’t say it was, since he didn’t truly know if Heaven was to blame. Asmoday had implied that freeing P urgatory was part of his campaign against Heaven, but J ohn still had his doubts. R egardless, he wasn’t going to earn M anannan’s respect by saying they were here for an illicit purpose. J ohn would sort out his misgivings later, but for now he wanted to avoid his memory being erased.

“Our cause is just,” he answered confidently.

A sudden wind whipped J ohn from behind, ruffling his clothing and hair. W hen he looked up, the storm clouds were now directly above them, a churning black maelstrom that grumbled and flashed. The winds kept ravaging the ship, sending it rocking back and forth. This was no coincidence. I f M anannan’s realm was the sea and the weather, then surely their environment was a reflection of his mood. J ohn had lied twice, and only had one more chance to get it right.

M arga sidled up to them with Dante in tow. “We be er get some shelter above our head,” she said. S he held up a hand to ward away the rain that had begun pelting down. “I’d be mighty thankful to go below deck.”

“O f course. O ff you go,” M anannan said. “Not you,” he added, when Dante moved to follow. “You stay here.”

“What did I do wrong?” Dante asked defensively.

“You haven’t answered my third question.”

“Fine. Ask away.”

Manannan’s face was grim. “Is there a stowaway aboard my ship?” Rimmon! Of course there was and they had to answer honestly, or else—

“Nope,” Dante said, heading to where M arga had disappeared. “No stowaways here.”

The storm above them exploded, an instant hurricane that sent the ship lurching.

Torrents of rain washed across the deck as the winds howled. Dante was knocked on his backside and J ohn stumbled, trying to find his footing on the now slippery deck.

He grabbed hold of the rail and searched the deck for B olo. M anannan was standing still as if the weather was calm, and Dante was smart enough to stay down, but J ohn couldn’t find the dog through the sheets of rain.

W hat he did see was the giant wave rushing toward the opposite side of the ship.

The wave’s height was tremendous, M anannan’s ship a miniscule toy boat in comparison. J ohn could only gape in horror before it came crashing down, clinging for dear life to the rail as his body was flung to and fro. Then he found himself slamming into the side of the boat, his feet no longer touching the deck. He was overboard, his tenuous grip on the rail his only lifeline.

J ohn clung desperately to the rail, coughing up water as he readjusted his grip. He glanced down to see vicious waves lapping at his feet. He may be dead, but his fingers hurt like only the living could as he tried to gain enough purchase to pull himself up.

C old and numb, he could feel his fingers slipping as the boat kept lurching. I n seconds he would be shaken free and lost to Manannan’s angry sea.

Hands grabbed J ohn’s wrists, strong and red. They hoisted him upward, one hand releasing him so an arm could be thrown around his waist. J ohn was pulled into Rimmon’s comforting warm embrace.

“I am Hell’s true ambassador,” R immon yelled over the din as he held J ohn protectively. “I will answer your three questions. O ur only deception is borne out of prejudice, a cause is only as just as each man’s heart decrees, and the only stowaway aboard this ship is me.”

The rain, wind, waves, and thunder all ceased. The clouds dispersed within seconds, blue sky breaking through as sunlight reflected off the wet deck.

“Your honesty is appreciated,” M anannan said with a twinkle in his eye. His pipe was still lit and his clothes bone dry.

R immon released J ohn. As soon as J ohn spo ed B olo and Dante, both soaking wet but still on deck, he groaned with relief and slid down the sideboard to sit on the deck.

R immon moved away to speak with M anannan properly, while J ohn tried to decide if he wanted to curl up into a ball or laugh. He allowed himself a few selfish moments, basking in the sunlight and enjoying the now smooth motion of the ship, before he stood again. He hadn’t been honest with M anannan, and felt he needed to make amends by coming clean. The sea god was right. Their cause wasn’t just, and J ohn was no longer okay with that.

“L ook at what tolerance toward the new religion has resulted in,” R immon was saying. “Ireland has forgo en the C eltic gods completely and has been split in two. I f you had fought against them from the beginning—”

“S ome of us did fight,” M anannan interrupted, his tone as steady as the boat’s course, “but the wisest among us recognized that change is the one reliable constant in the physical world. We were once the new religion as well, replacing gods that truly have been lost to history. No, we old gods took our turn, basking in the light of believers until it was our time to move on, although many still discover us to this day.”

“C omparing modern Paganism to that of old is comparing bread and water to a king’s feast,” R immon pressed. “You were once in the minds of an entire race! How can you truly be satisfied now?”

“And yet we are,” M anannan replied. “Those who loved us in life are now with us here. That we are still remembered, our stories still told in the physical world, is the greatest of honors.”

“I t’s your new followers who you should be worried about,” J ohn interjected, seeing his opportunity. He told M anannan of the situation in P urgatory, of how people were trapped there for all eternity. “J acobi, a friend of ours, has been there since the changes began and when souls from other pantheons began arriving. I saw some of them myself. Have you noticed anyone missing? Anyone that you expected to show but who didn’t?”

M anannan glanced meaningfully around the near-empty boat. “And how will warring with Heaven solve this problem?”

“I t won’t,” J ohn said. “The truth is, we don’t know if Heaven is behind the changes in Purgatory.”

R immon was clearly taken aback by this statement, but J ohn had his own axe to grind. He no longer wanted to encourage a war against what might be an innocent realm. All he could be sure of was that the situation in P urgatory was wrong. I f he played his cards right, he might be able to do something about it.

“Purgatory has always been under Heaven’s jurisdiction,” Rimmon said.