The Devil's Dreamcatcher (4 page)

“We think we did something, something we shouldn't have done, and we've been trying to figure out what it was ever since we got back, M,” says Elinor. She looks up at me and blushes. “Oh, I'm sorry—do ye mind if I shorten yer name to M?” she asks. “Medusa in the Greek legend was nasty, and ye seem so nice.”

“Sure, if you want.”

I pinch myself again. My answer to her question came out sounding harsh, but thankfully Elinor just beams. She has the prettiest smile; it lights up her face. She would have made the loveliest angel.

“The point is,” continues Mitchell, “—and by the way, none of you are shortening my name to anything, so don't even think about it—the point is, the three of us don't know why we were in San Francisco that day. It was like we opened our eyes and we were there, on
that street, in that time. So don't you think it's more than just a coincidence, Medusa? You were there, you saw us, and then from all the billions of devils in Hell, it's
you
who Septimus told me he thinks is the most promising of all the applicants for this job? It's just strange, that's all.”

“If there is one thing I have learned, it is that nothing in this death is an accident,” says Alfarin solemnly.

“Fate,” adds Elinor, nodding.

Fate. Mitchell spoke about that earlier. My grandmother used to talk about it all the time. She used to say our destinies were already mapped out for us. It was just up to us to take the right road, and even if you took a wrong turn, there would always be another way.

I don't think Team DEVIL will laugh at me if I tell them that. Well, Mitchell and Alfarin might because they're guys, but Elinor wouldn't. There's an innocence about her that's childlike, but she doesn't seem to take any crap from Mitchell and Alfarin, either. She's the absolute truth. The kind of person I always wanted as a friend in life, but never gave myself the chance of finding because I was scared they would get hurt, too.

But I don't get the chance to say anything, because just as I'm about to lay myself bare, a red light in the accounting chamber starts to flash. A terrible wail, like a person screaming in fear and pain, fills the office. Mitchell jumps to his feet.

“That's The Devil's panic alarm!” he cries. “Something's happened, right here on level one! Something really bad. This will be the first place they come!”

“
Run!
” Alfarin roars.

Alfarin is already at the door, but Mitchell pulls him back.

“We can't run,” he says. “We have to stay here.”

“We cannot remain!” cries Elinor. “We're in Hell, Mitchell! Act first, think much, much later is the rule here, ye know that!”

“Mitchell's right,” I say. “We haven't done anything wrong, but if we're seen running away from level 1, it'll definitely look suspicious.”

“Then I will trust in your judgment, my friends,” replies Alfarin, backing down. His next words are drowned out by a sudden increase in the volume from the screaming siren. I can feel it piercing my eardrums, like needles. The pain of the person screaming is actually inside my skull. And then I recognize the voice. It's mine. It's the sound I made when I fell to my death.

Elinor has her fingers in her ears, and she's the first to collapse to the floor.

“Make it stop, make it stop!” she screams. “I can feel the flames again.”

Alfarin is moaning about fangs and knives. His axe slips to the floor as he's forced to block out the sound with his hands. The flashing red light is getting darker. Liquid is dripping from its base onto the stone floor below.

The liquid is blood.

I don't like blood, especially the blood of the dead, because it looks like lumpy gravy. I start to sway.

“It's programmed so . . . so that every devil hears his own . . . death again,” groans Mitchell. His pink eyes are rolling in their sockets.

I drop to my knees as the room starts to spin. My relentless scream is now accompanied by Septimus's deep, drawling voice, which seems to be coming out of every fissure in the stone walls.

“HELL IS NOW IN LOCKDOWN. YOU ARE STRONGLY ADVISED TO STAY EXACTLY WHERE YOU ARE. FAILURE TO COMPLY IS UNWISE. HELL IS NOW IN LOCKDOWN. . . .”

It's the last thing I hear before I pass out.

I wake to the sensation of something cold and wet being splashed on my face. Aside from the goose bumps I got when I heard The Devil screeching only a few hours ago, I haven't been cold for four decades, and the feeling is strange and unnerving. There's a bitter taste on my tongue. I can't quite open my eyes yet, but I sense someone crouching over me, watching me. Expecting the worst, I immediately lash out with my arms and legs, but it's only Mitchell's voice that responds.

“Watch it! Jeez, you're seriously bony, Medusa. You could take an eye out with those elbows.”

I stop flailing and manage to open an eye. Mitchell, Alfarin and Elinor are already awake, although Elinor's pale skin has turned a jaundiced shade of yellow. Alfarin is the only one standing; Mitchell now has his long legs drawn up well away from me, and he's placed his head between his knees.

“HELL IS NOW IN LOCKDOWN. YOU ARE STRONGLY ADVISED TO STAY EXACTLY WHERE YOU ARE. FAILURE TO COMPLY IS UNWISE. HELL IS NOW IN LOCKDOWN. . . .”

The screaming siren has stopped, but Septimus's prerecorded warning still booms out of the rock at intermittent moments. I look up, both eyes open now, at the connecting door to the Oval Office, and see that the flashing light has also been extinguished. The only proof that it was ever in use is a thick puddle of blood, the circumference of a car tire, which is bubbling away below it.

“I see that not even the dead can rouse you easily, Miss Pallister.” Only then do I see Septimus, standing behind a desk with a crooked smile on his face. “Let me assure you that this is not a further aptitude test to see whether you can cope with working on level 1.”

He places a cup of water on the desk. I'm guessing he's the one who splashed me awake.

“That alarm is the sickest thing I have ever heard,” groans Mitchell. “I could hear my bones crunching.”

“As you know, it was designed that way to make devils listen, Mitchell,” says Septimus. “It was programmed for each of us to hear our deaths once more. I am sorry for the distress it caused you all, but as an alarm, it is extremely effective. Even I stop everything at the sound of a sword slicing through an intestinal wall and the resulting harmony of dying moans caused by infection.”

“How long do we have to stay in lockdown, Lord Septimus?” asks Alfarin. He's mopping at his face with the edge of his tunic.

“A while longer, I'm afraid, Prince Alfarin,” replies Septimus. “There has been a grievous breach in security in the master's private chambers. The HBI and Sir's own private security team are currently scouring the central business district for that which has been taken.”

“Someone stole something from The Devil?” I ask incredulously. “Only someone insane would try that.”

“This is Hell, Miss Pallister. So yes, I would say chances are likely that the person or persons involved are almost certainly insane.”

“HELL IS NOW IN LOCKDOWN. YOU ARE STRONGLY ADVISED TO STAY EXACTLY WHERE YOU ARE. FAILURE TO COMPLY IS UNWISE. HELL IS NOW IN LOCKDOWN. . . .”

“Is there any way we can turn that thing off, boss?” asks Mitchell. He looks as if he's going to hurl—and then he does.

“Actually, I find it quite comforting,” says Elinor. She is sipping from another glass of water. “Yer voice is very soothing, Mr. Septimus, sir.”

“Why, thank you, Miss Powell,” replies Septimus. “Now, can I trust Team DEVIL to not go . . . wandering? It is vitally important that the four of you remain here. There may be creatures roaming the corridors over the next few hours that no decent devil should meet.”

“My axe and I will guard the door, Lord Septimus,” announces Alfarin. He has more color in his face than the rest of us put together. “No one will go out, no one will get in.”

“Then I place my faith in you, Prince Alfarin, and my first intern, once he stops vomiting pizza,” says Septimus, grimacing at Mitchell. He then turns to Elinor and me. “Ladies, as it is in death as well as in life, you are both in charge, of course.”

“Will you come back?” I ask.

“You have my word, Miss Pallister.”

“HELL IS NOW IN LOCKDOWN. YOU ARE STRONGLY ADVISED TO STAY EXACTLY WHERE YOU ARE. FAILURE TO COMPLY IS UNWISE. HELL IS NOW IN LOCKDOWN. . . .”

“Have ye ever known Hell to be in lockdown before, Alfarin?” asks Elinor. Septimus has gone and she's on her knees, cleaning up the large pool of blood under the light by the door. I take a deep breath and go to help her.

“Only once in my time here,” replies Alfarin. “It was in 1348. The bubonic plague was eating away at the living in medieval England. Millions of devils arrived in Hell after Up There closed the gates. There were so many that the Black Death came with them.”

“But devils can't die again,” I say. “So what was the problem if the Black Death came to Hell?”

“Remember, the dead in Hell can still feel pain and suffering, Medusa,” Alfarin says. “That was one of the edicts of the Highers. When the Black Death came here, devils erupted in pustulating boils. Hell went into lockdown while the affected devils were being treated. But many devils disappeared around that time, taken away, it is said, to be experimented on.”

“That's awful!” exclaims Elinor.

“Operation H,” mutters Mitchell. “Oh, no . . .”

“What?” I ask.

Mitchell shakes his head. “Nothing, ignore me.”

But I know when someone is hiding something. I remember hearing The Devil talking about an Operation H when I was waiting for my interview.

“Do ye think the same thing is happening now?”

“No,” I reply. “Septimus said something has been taken from The Devil's private chambers. I wonder what it is.”

“HELL IS NOW IN LOCKDOWN. YOU ARE STRONGLY ADVISED TO STAY EXACTLY WHERE YOU ARE. FAILURE TO COMPLY IS UNWISE. HELL IS NOW IN LOCKDOWN. . . .”

This time, the sound of something vibrating on a hard surface follows Septimus's message. A red glow lights up the office, and for a moment I think the warning light is going to start raining blood again. But Mitchell staggers to his feet and starts digging around among the empty pizza boxes. He emerges with a cell phone in his hand.

“Why does your cell phone do that?” I ask.

“It only glows red when the person on the other end is the devil who happens to be my boss,” replies Mitchell. “Yours will probably do the same thing from now on.”

I don't tell Mitchell that I don't have a cell phone in Hell. I did once, but the messages I received weren't the kind I wanted to read.

Mitchell puts the phone to his ear and falls into a big leather chair that has been wheeled into a corner.

“Hey, boss. . . . All fine. . . . Yeah, I've stopped puking my guts up. . . . No, Medusa hasn't fainted again. . . . No problem. . . . Okay. . . . What? . . . Are you kidding me? . . . But you know we had nothing to do with it! . . . But Medusa was here. . . .” At this, Mitchell looks over at me in alarm. “. . . Then we're coming, too. . . . I'm not panicking. . . . Easy for you to say. . . . I said I'm not panicking. . . . But she was here the whole time. . . . My voice is
not
high enough to shatter glass. . . . Okay. . . . We'll wait for you. . . . Bye.”

Elinor puts her arm around me. At first I think she's trembling, but when I look down at the glass of water in my hands, I see that it's me.

“Septimus is coming to get you, Medusa,” says Mitchell. “Apparently the security team wants to interview you.”

“But she was here!” cries Elinor. “M didn't steal anything. She's been eating pizza with us.”

“Actually, I ate most of the strawberry cheesecake.” My voice is breaking as I attempt to diffuse everyone's obvious panic with humor. “Maybe the head chef knows I took it from his private storeroom.”

Mitchell's voice sounded shrill on the call with Septimus, but mine could summon dogs. I haven't even started working on level 1 yet, and already there's a lockdown for the first time in nearly seven hundred years, and somehow they think I'm involved. That must be a record for screw-ups.

“You've been with me since the interview, and that was hours and hours ago,” says Mitchell. “You've got nothing to worry about.”

Elinor is holding my hand when Septimus and four suited men arrive to take me in for questioning. I don't want to, but I pull out of her grasp and wrap my arms around myself. I want the ground to open up and swallow me whole. I feel so humiliated that I've already dragged three devils into a situation that had nothing to do with them.

In single file, we are led along the level 1 corridor past the elevators and straight toward a blanket of darkness where the light from the flaming torches doesn't reach. A caustic smell starts to wrap its disgusting tendrils around me. It's like fish left to rot in a warm pantry.

“Oh, no!” cries Elinor as the smell reaches her. “Not here, not for this.”

I don't know what the big deal is. “Try holding your nose, Elinor,” I suggest.

“It's not the smell my princess is worried about, Medusa,”
says Alfarin, far behind me. “Mitchell, are you thinking the same thing as I?”

“You got your axe, Alfarin?” Mitchell responds.

“Naturally.”

“Then we stand on either side of them when we get there, okay?”

“I am with you as always, my friend.”

Mitchell and Alfarin have their own language, an understanding. Like true friends. But at their words, the HBI agent who is leading the way suddenly stops and turns around. His stubby fingers flick back his jacket to reveal a handgun nestled in a black leather holster.