CHAPTER THREE

“Excuse me?!” blurted out Clara. “What do you mean by that?”

Satan sighed. “Oh come on. Don't play around like that. We both know you're adopted. Pretty sure your 'parents' told you that, did they not?” Everyone was now looking at Clara. “If not, well, surprise!”

“Well, yeah, they told me.” she answered. “But they also told me that my real, no, my biological parents were dead. They never tried to hide the adoption from me.”

“Good for them.” responded Satan dismissively. “They were wrong though. He is in a land of the dead, but is not technically dead himself, same as you. So congratulations, I just saved you the trouble of the inevitable 'adopted kid tracks down real parents' story-line.”

Clara's mind was swimming. Her parents had done an exceptional job raising her and she had always loved them as her parents. If she was being honest, she had barely given her birth parents any thought since she'd been told her adopted status; they just didn't seem important to her since she already had two that loved her, even if they shared no blood. And yet, she felt herself hit by a rush of emotions at this. Admittedly, she was talking to the Devil himself and he could be lying, but her heart was pounding nevertheless and she couldn't quite figure out why. A part of her wondered if meeting her “real” father would feel like a betrayal to her parents. It took some effort, but she managed to push these thoughts down so that she could focus on the task at hand.

“What's her Dad got to do with this though? Was he brought here with us somehow?” It was obvious Miller was trying to get himself under control, to reign in his explosive temperament. To his credit, he was succeeding at least a bit.

“He was not.” answered Satan as they continued to stroll through a myriad of horrible hells. That vague “they” that people always seemed to talk about were right about one thing: they say that people can become desensitized to anything and that was already how they were beginning to feel about the horror around them. Well, except for Anita and Gabriel. Anita didn't seem to be paying attention to much else, though she was getting a handle on her endless crying. Gabriel still vainly tried to rescue someone on occasion, as though it were simply instinct. He was, however, getting more and more angry at his inability to actually do anything. Satan seemed to take no notice of any of this, continuing to trek forth. “He's actually been here quite a bit longer. About twenty years in fact.”

“What? So right before I was adopted? How did he end up here? Is my biological mother here too? Is she dead?” Clara was finding it hard to stop the questions from flowing out of her mouth, despite her best attempts otherwise.

Satan looked over his shoulder with clear annoyance. “You know, I'm not generally in the habit of answering questions. You lot have already gotten a historical level of information from me. But let me be clear.” For this, he stopped cold and turned to look at them all. “I am working with you simply because I have no other choice. I am not here to fill in the gaps of your life. And my patience is being tested as it is. I would strongly suggest that you refrain from any more extraneous questions. I will tell the relevant information that I know, and no more. Is that understood?!” His eyes gleamed with fire as he put intense emphasis on this. Clara didn't figurative fire either; his irises actually turned to flame. Clara was unsure why she was so surprised by this. After all, this was the actual Devil they were dealing with, but clearly that hadn't fully sunk in before. It certainly did now.

“Excellent,” he said, reverting to his more relaxed composure. “I don't know how he got here any more than I do how you did. But he is here and has been here for some time. I don't know if your mother is here and I really do not care even remotely. You will go find your father, Jacob as he will be henceforth known, and he will lead you to Hell's exit.”

There was a moment of silence. Clara guessed that most of the others had a dozen questions they wanted to ask but were now too afraid to. It was Gabriel who ultimately decided to risk it. “And her, uh, Clara's father is going to show us? How does he know where it is when even you don't?” Everyone sucked in a breath, waiting for any potential explosion from their temperamental host.

But Satan was calm now. “As I said, I am incapable of finding the exit. In turn, so too are all the souls here under my purview. Even should one of them escape their hell, an impossible feat by the way, they would not be able to escape Hell as a whole. However, those that don't belong, such as the six of you and Jacob, are capable. Luckily for us, Jacob has been here long enough to have a perfect map directly to your goal in that little blob he calls a brain. Therefore, you will find him and he will lead the way. Take him with you, while you're at it. I want the stink of you living out of my home.”

Now that Gabriel had taken the first, most dangerous step, the others felt emboldened to ask questions once again. This time, it was Marie's turn. “So wait. If this guy Jacob knows the exact path to make it out of Hell, why wouldn't he take it and leave? Did he just think this would be a fun vacation for a couple decades? I can see how he might think that.” Clara could not. This Marie was definitely a strange one.

“Maybe he thinks he deserves to be here,” answered Anita vacantly as she stared at her own hands. Something was most definitely not right with her; she was strange too, but in a much different way than Marie.

“Not quite,” Satan chimed in. He walked right up to Clara and stared into her eyes. They were a black that was darker than black and it made her skin feel ready to peel itself off just to get away from him. “He never left because he didn't have this.” He snapped his fingers and there was sulfurous puff of smoke. He then held up a small key that once may have been gold, but was now a deep, rusted red. “This is the Hell Key. The only way to actually open the door.” Marie snickered at this. He turned to her, annoyed. “What's so funny?”

“That's just such a dumb, boring name,” she said. Clara wouldn't have been surprised if he'd struck her down right then.

“It's not really a name, it's just what it is,” he answered with surprising calm. Clara hoped Marie's strangeness wouldn't get them killed eventually.

“So you have the key to a door you can't even find?” questioned Miller skeptically.

Satan made a sour face. “For all the talk your people have about his benevolence, the man upstairs can have a cruel sense of humor.” And that was all the explanation they got. He reached forward and opened Clara's hand with his. Immediately, she hated it. His skin felt less like flesh than it did some kind of tightly packed mass of maggots all trying to squirm free. He very gently placed the key in her palm and folded her hand back up. The key itself felt odd as well. It wasn't particularly heavy but it did feel...weighty, was probably the best way to describe it. It instantly disappeared. “Don't worry, you can summon it anytime and it'll appear,” said Satan, answering the question she hadn't asked. “And there you have it!” he yelled with yet another grandiose sweeping of the hands. “You six will venture forth, find Jacob, follow him to the door, and head back home so that all may be happy! Enjoy your righteous quest!” Clara wished that, if nothing else, he'd stop being so unnecessarily dramatic.

“No, wait,” interjected Glenn. “You keep saying things like 'find Jacob.' That suggests that you don't know where he is. What exactly do you mean by that?”

“And why didn't you give Jacob the key so that he could leave? You don't want him here because he weakens you, yeah?” asked Gabriel. “Stands to reason, you would've gotten him out of here twenty years ago then.”

Satan sighed. “I can't decide if you six are too stupid or not quite stupid enough. But I suppose you're right and those are somewhat valid questions. Normally, if I wanted to get to someone here in Hell, or send others, such as yourselves, I would simply teleport there. But, beyond the burst of energy that you give off when you rip your way into Hell, I am completely unable to sense those that haven't been sentenced to eternity here. That goes for you all, as well as Jacob, and he has long since wandered off. In fact, he all but refused to talk to me. He ran off almost immediately and I could never quite find him again. Luckily, I can partially track your kind in that wherever any of you are feels like one giant dead zone to me. It allows me to approximate an area. As such, I will send you into that dead area, and you will have to find him yourself from there.”

“Fantastic,” groaned Miller.

“Isn't it?!” added Marie with truly bizarre enthusiasm.

“You think wandering aimlessly through, quite literally, Hell itself, sounds like fun?!” asked Gabriel incredulously.

Marie smiled at him. “Hey, we're already here and we ain't stuck here like these other sad sacks. How many chances does someone get to chart a place like this?!”

“One too many chances, apparently,” muttered Miller.

“And how exactly are we supposed to find him when even the ruler of Hell can't?” asked Glenn. The man was very stoic and all-business, almost to a fault, but Clara had to give him credit: he was the only one thinking level-headed enough to ask these questions.

“That's where you got lucky,” said Satan. “Whatever sent you here sent two people that are directly related. Family members share bits of their souls, just like they do blood and, down here, we're all about the souls. Your new best friend Clara will be able to feel out a general direction that will guide you to him. Understand?”

Clara nodded. “Okay, that makes as much sense as anything else we've heard today. But what about the key? Why didn't you give it to him?”

Satan looked less pleased about this question, but answered instantly nonetheless. “Ah, yes.” He let out a slightly uncomfortable laugh. “At the time, I had, ah, misplaced it. By the time I'd found it, he had wandered off and, as I said, it can be quite difficult to pin the man down.”

“Seriously? You're basically the all-powerful god of your own torture dimension and you managed to lose the key to the only door?!” asked Gabriel, probably far too boldly.

Surprisingly, Satan did not snap at this. “It's not as though I can even locate the only door it works on, so keeping it handy was never much of a priority to me.” Clara could have been mistaken, but she detected a hint of defensiveness to the answer.

“I guess that's as good an answer as any,” said Clara.

“Yes, it is,” responded Satan. “Now, as you could probably guess, I am busy demon. Whole dimension to rule and all that. You know how it is.” Clara most certainly did not. “So I believe it's time to speed this up and send you on your merry way. Besides, I've had more than enough of you at this point.” Satan then took a moment to sigh. “But unfortunately, if I sent you off as you are, you would undoubtedly die horrible deaths within minutes and that's no good for anyone. To help prevent this, before you go, I have a gift for each of you.” Glenn's eyebrow raised.

“Without me around, the various hells you will be traveling through will become much more...real, I suppose. They will be able to affect you...hurt you. If you were to die in one of the hells, it will be just as if you died on Earth, only you will be trapped here, unable to reach Heaven even if you deserve it and, more importantly, you still won't belong here and will continue to drain me of my power. Normally, you wouldn't have to worry about dying in a hell. Since hells are designed to hurt souls and not bodies, none of the hells you travel through will actually be able to kill you, no matter how much you drown or how crispily you are burnt. It will hurt, make no mistake, but you will not die. Still, you should avoid it. If you were to burn up, even I'm not entirely sure what would happen, I just know you wouldn't die. I don't know if that means you would heal over time or if you'd just be stuck as a still living, charcoaled body.” Gabriel recoiled a bit at this.

“The more pressing concern is that, with my power waning thanks to your presence, some of my more...ambitious servants will likely be acting up and actual, living flesh is a non-existent treat for them. More than likely, at least some of them will attempt to voraciously eat you up and, since they are essentially distant extensions of me, they can actually kill you.”
“So you run a tight ship here is what you're saying?” said Gabriel smarmily. Satan shot him a death glare that instantly shut him up.

He continued on as though Gabriel has not interrupted. “As such, I thought it best if I equip you with some method of self-defense. He walked back to Clara. “For you, Clara, a sword.” In his hand, a long sword with a blood-red blade appeared. For some reason, when it appeared, Clara felt a tightness in her chest, as though something inside her had been grabbed and ripped out of her. The sword's gilded hilt had three smaller versions of the first face they had seen Satan with and the handle itself, on closer inspection, was actually a multitude of coiled snakes. As soon as she took the handle, it disappeared in a puff of smoke. “Don't fret. They are designed to only be corporeal when you mentally summon them. Wouldn't want you nicking yourself, eh?”

He turned his attention next to Miller. “For you, my good brute, a pair of brass knuckles, made out of a much tougher brass than you'd ever find topside.” Miller made a strange face as the knuckles appeared; Clara wondered if he'd felt the same tugging as her. The knuckles also appeared to be made of intertwined snakes, with each knuckle groove being an open-mouthed snake whose fangs stuck straight forward to inflict even more damage. They also disappeared once Miller equipped them. “I think you'll like another effect they have as well. As long as these are wrapped around your fingers, your strength will also be increased. It should come in handy.” Miller instantly made them reappear and examined every inch of the brass knuckles, staring in awe. Satan moved on.

He got to Marie next. “You strike me as the adventurous type and I anticipate you will often be at the front of the pack. As such, you get armor.” A full breast plate like one might expect to see on a medieval knight appeared and wrapped itself around Marie's torso. She seemed excited. “This is no ordinary armor though. Within ten feet of your body, it can project a nearly impenetrable force field. Use it to defend yourself and the others.”

“How do I..?” was as far as Marie got before a yellowish field of...something burst from the armor and knocked Glenn and Gabriel away from her.

“Uff!” grunted Glenn. He was knocked off balance, but quickly and gracefully spun and regained his footing and, apparently instinctively, ended up on one knee, reached a hand behind him and then brought it forward, held out toward Marie. He glanced at his empty hand disappointingly and made a tsk sound.

“Ah, perfect position!” exclaimed the Devil. He snapped his fingers and Glenn's face immediately became more concerned.

“Why can't I move?” he asked. His voice was concerned, but cool. Not much seemed to rattle him.

“Simply because you look too good to allow the chance to go to waste.” Glenn was at least able to move enough to arch an eyebrow. “I had to go a little outside my normal comfort zone with your weapon, Glenn. Knowing your...history, I thought you might appreciate a less close-quarters weapon.” In his hand, a blood-red handgun appeared. It was hard to tell from a distance, but Clara was fairly certain that both the hammer and trigger had Satan's face on it, much as her sword did. He walked over to the frozen Glenn, pried his hands open, and placed the gun in it, unaware or uncaring that it now pointed at Marie. “I personally prefer things with stabby bits whenever I feel the need to inflict grievous bodily harm, but even I must admit you cut quite the figure with that in hand.” It was now obvious that a gun was certainly what Glenn had reached for reflexively after only getting lightly bumped by Marie. She was going to have to keep a close eye on him; there was definitely something dangerous about him.

Glenn suddenly stumbled forward a bit as his freedom of movement was restored. He stood up and examined his new weapon. “It's too light,” was all he said.

“So make it heavier, I don't care,” said Satan dismissively, seemingly annoyed at the lack of gratitude. “It reacts to what you need. It generates its own bullets, which is probably why you think it's so light, but it can change shape or weight if you want.”

Glenn stared at it for a moment. The gun suddenly began to shift and change. The barrel stretched until was almost touching Marie, who didn't so much as flinch. In fact, she seemed fascinated. Within seconds, the front of the handgun had become what Clara recognized from movies and television as a silencer. For the first time, Glenn cracked a smile and let out an unsettling and short laugh. The gun quickly shrank back to its original shape and he quickly and confidently tucked it into the back waist of his pants.

“Glad you're happy now,” muttered Satan, before moving on. He went to Gabriel next. Gabriel stiffened instinctively, as though he were ready to fight if necessary. “Now, for your turn, Gabriel. I do so hope you're excited.”

“Gabe,” was his response. Clara got the impression he was trying to sound cool, though she was unsure who exactly he was trying to impress. “Only my mom calls me Gabriel, and only when I'm in trouble.”

“Well let me assure you, Gabe,” he said the name so deliberately or, more accurately, defiantly, “You have never been in more trouble than you are as of today.” A bead of sweat crawled down Gabe's face, but he didn't flinch. “But whatever, I don't care. Here is your tool.” Satan made a motion with his hands as though he were shaking a blanket over a balcony and, sure enough, a piece of fabric appeared in his hands. He walked over to Gabe and reached his hands around Gabe's back. Three more beads of sweat ran down his face just in time for the first to drip off his chin, sizzling slightly as it hit the ground. Satan proceeded to tie the red cloth around Gabe's neck, then stepped back.

Clara realized then that it wasn't just a cloth but, in fact, a cape. She'd always thought capes to be one of those things that could only look good on imaginary superheroes, but somehow it looked rather impressive and striking on Gabe. “A...cape?” asked Gabe, slightly shakily.

“Exactly!” exclaimed their guide. “Just like all your beloved heroes!” As soon as he said that, Gabe launched ten feet into the air, briefly passing through a man who was slowly melting over and over again for eternity. “Careful there! It reacts to thought. Wouldn't want you flying away just yet.” He waved his hand and the cape seemed to melt into Gabe's back.

Gabe plummeted back to the ground with a thud and an, “Ow.” He stood himself back up and looked at Satan. “So the others get swords and guns and I get Super Mario World's flying cape? Seems a bit unfair.”

Satan turned to Clara with fake exasperation. “Kids these days. Never appreciate magic flying capes anymore.” Clara might have hated this terrible attempt at a joke more than anything else he had said today. He turned his attention back to Gabe. “Relax, Mr. Entitled. That's not all it can do.” Gabe's eyes brightened a bit at this. “To be specific, you weren't technically flying, you were warping gravity around you. Alter it the right way, and you become light enough to float. Alter which direction you want gravity to make you fall and you 'fly' in that direction, get it?”

Gabe got really excited at this. “Whoa. So I was a little off base. This is less Super Mario World and more Gravity Rush. Nice!”

Satan looked genuinely confused by this. “Uh, yeah, I guess. Whatever. So long as you understand. More importantly, you can alter gravity for those other than yourself. Someone comes at you and you don't want them to, ratchet up their gravity and squash 'em flat.”

Gabe nodded his understanding. He looked excited for just a moment but then it shifted to disappointment. “I get it. It's cool but, uh, I can't take it.” Everyone stared at him quizzically. Clara thought she was learning his personality enough to understand though. Satan simply raised an eyebrow. “It's bad enough I'm here, talking to you, working with you. But I can't take your damned, and I mean literally damned, gifts too. A good guy can't seek aid from the Devil.” Clara had been right. Gabe had obviously been reared on a lot of comic books and cartoons. He wanted to be virtuous and heroic, like the superheroes he'd grown up on. It was probably why he kept vainly trying to save the people trapped in their hells. She thought it was a bit naive, but it was also kind of sweet and she couldn't really make fun of him for it. She also didn't want it to cause undue trouble down the line.

“Dude, it's a flying cape!” shouted Miller. “Why would you say no to that?!”

“Look, I just can't, okay?” responded Gabe, though there was certainly a bit of disappointment in his voice. “It's not right.”

“And it doesn't matter,” said Satan. “Because it's already around your neck.”

“Huh?”

“Now that I've tied it around your neck, you can't get rid of it unless I allow you to. It's up to you if you want to use it, but I'm not taking it back. You won't be able to just throw it away until you're out of Hell and out of the range of my power. In fact, it won't even exist anymore if you manage to make it back to Earth.” Gabe willed the cape back into existence and untied the knot, ripped it off himself and threw it to the ground. A second later, it disappeared, before reappearing, tied around his neck once more. “See? I suggest you take advantage of my hospitality, especially given how rare it is for me to have any, but it's your call.” And then he moved on. “And that only leaves you,” he said as he approached Anita.

She backed away. “No! I don't want anything from you! Punish me if you need to, but don't make me a part of whatever this is!”

Satan casually continued toward her. “Oh honey, unfortunately you're not dead yet, so I can't truly punish you. If you were dead, none of this would be necessary. But if it helps, consider this pre-punishment. The journey is part of what you deserve.”

What in the world are they talking about? Clara wondered. Something was very off about Anita. She was also going to have to watch her closely if the six of them were going to have to travel together; Anita was clearly unstable and they wouldn't be able to rely on her if she was going to crack like this all time. She sighed slightly as she realized that she had decided she needed to carefully watch half of their group due to one concern or another and that did not bode well for their trip.

Anita shivered a little and a couple tears rolled down her face, but she nodded slightly. “Good girl,” said Satan with smug satisfaction. “Then here you go.” And, somewhat anticlimactically, he handed her a small sewing needle. Anita was understandably confused.

“A needle? Is there something special about it?”

“About the needle? No. Nothing whatsoever. It's just like any needle you could find on Earth. What is special is the material it weaves.” He pointed to her waist and they all noticed a spool of golden thread that hadn't been there before. A small strand of it reached out of the spool and was attached to the needle. “That thread is the Thread of Life,” said Satan. “It has the power to give life. It can heal, quite literally, any wound, so long as you sew it shut before someone is actually dead.” Anita pulled some extra thread out and stared at it with wonder. “Use it to save them, if necessary. Maybe it'll earn you bonus points with the top floor. Who knows?” Clara could no longer tell exactly what Anita was feeling. What did he mean by bonus points? Had Anita done something or was he simply talking out of his ass?

“Well anyway,” continued the Devil, “You're all equipped and I'm tired of talking to you, so you'd better get going.”

“And how exactly do we do that? You gonna teleport us to Clara's dad?” asked Miller. This still sounded exceedingly weird to Clara.

“Would that I could, but sadly, I cannot even transport you into his null zone. You living creatures are truly troublesome down here. No, you'll be taken to the outer edge of where he blocks off my senses.” He opened yet another door, but there did not appear to be a particular hell on the other side. Instead there was a river with a small boat, just big enough for all of them to fit, floating on what looked like a river of blood. At the back of the boat was a skeleton holding two oars. Their captain for the journey, she guessed. “From there, you'll be on your own.”

“A boat? You're kidding right?” asked Miller incredulously.

“I like boats,” said Marie offhandedly.

“They're one of the best ways to get around Hell as a whole. At least if you can't fly. We're old-fashioned down here. Don't complain. Just get in and go.”

Marie hopped in immediately, sending the boat rocking violently from side-to-side. The skeleton seemed unperturbed. As she climbed in the boat that would help them reach the entrance of the underworld, Clara idly wondered if it was perhaps the River Styx, but decided not to ask. She hoped they didn't need a gold coin to pay a toll though, because she'd neglected to grab one from her coffers when she had left the house that morning. She chuckled to herself, earning her a confused looked from Miller as he stepped onto the boat. He did so surprisingly gently for a man of his size, but he also seemed to have quite a bit of trepidation. In short order, they were all on and seated, with Anita tepidly joining them last.

“One last thing,” said Satan, grabbing the edge of the boat so it didn't float away. “It's important that all of you stick together. You arrived as one, so you must leave as one. It's possible that the gate wouldn't allow any of you to leave if you don't all go. So I suggest not allowing anyone to die, or leaving anyone behind. Got it?” He looked at them with a smile and, before anyone could respond to this, added, “Well, it's been fun.” He gave the boat a kick that pushed it out of its mooring. “I hope you have a good time. But more importantly, I hope to Me that I never have to see any of you again.” He looked at Glenn and licked his lips before adding, “At least not while you're still alive.” Satan gave them a gentle wave and, within minutes, they drifted far enough away that they could no longer see him. And yet, Clara just knew that he was still watching them.

Next Chapter: Chapter Four