Butcher Bird

  Lulu laughed.

  “What?” asked Spyder.

  “I’m just rememberin’ something. After I came out to my folks, all the times they told me this is where I’d end up. And here I am.”

  The air grew hotter and more fragile, brittle almost. Not like the desert. It felt artificial, as if someone had left on a giant dehumidifier and it was sucking the moisture from everything. The rising air from below was full of an itchy grit that settled on everyone’s skin and instantly itched. Hell already sucked and we’re barely through the door, Spyder thought.

  Spyder felt Shrike’s hand close around his. “When we get down there you stick close to me, pony boy.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that being blind was such a drag?”

  “You get used to it.

  “This probably wasn’t the time to start.”

  “Damn. We’re here. The bottom,” said Lulu. “Be careful stepping down.”

  “Where do we go now?” Spyder asked.

  “I was going to ask you, Mr. Wizard. What is this?”

  “Describe it. I’m Stevie Wonder over here.”

  “Right. Sorry,” she said. “Okay. We’re in a big cavern at the bottom of the stairs. There’s light, but hell if I can tell where it’s coming from. In front, there’s three really big doors. There’s no signs or nothing, but all of the doors have the pug ugliest demon faces carved on them. Looks like we’re marching down some monster’s gullet, whatever we do. But which one do we open?”

  “This wasn’t in any of the books,” Spyder said. “What do the demons look like?”

  “Like demons. Big scary teeth and huge goddam claws.”

  “Do the demons have snouts? Like dogs or wolves?”

  “Yeah. Kind of. What are they?”

  “I think I got it,” said Spyder. “It’s not ‘they.’ It’s ‘it.’ This is Cerberus. The three-headed hellhound. Some stories say Cerberus guards the entrance to Hell. Some say he is the entrance. To get inside, Cerberus swallows you. Only you have to pick the right mouth, otherwise, he shits you out into chaos. Not Heaven or Hell, just stone-cold nothing.”

  “So, which head gets the bone?”

  Spyder hesitated. He heard someone moving around by the doors. Shrike. She was muttering a spell that wasn’t working. The situation was so frustrating. Spyder wanted to rip the idiot blindfold off his eyes and not have to stand around like a crippled child.

  “The one on the right feels light on its hinges. It’s been used the most. Maybe it’s the way,” said Shrike.

  “Or it’s a trick to get us down the beast’s belly,” said Lulu.

  “We go in through the center,” Spyder said.

  “How do you know?” asked Shrike.

  “Count Non knew things about Hell. He told me to be like the Buddha. Buddha always took the Middle Way.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Open it.”

  He listened to Lulu going to the door. Hesitation. A footfall. Silence. The sound of dry hinges grinding and a door scraping over a dirty floor.

  “Lulu?” asked Shrike.

  “There’s a tunnel. Something’s moving at the end. People. And like a river, I think.” She pushed the door open wider. “Hey man, thanks for not dooming us right off.”

  Spyder smiled. “All part of the service. I guess we’re supposed to go in there now.”

  Someone fell. The sound was dry and hollow in the warm, thick air of Hell. Spyder moved toward the sound.

  “Shrike, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. Let me catch my breath.”

  “Lulu?”

  “I’ve got her. Follow my voice over here.”

  Spyder found them sitting on the floor. Shrike was leaning on the cavern wall. Her hands were wet and cold.

  “Something in my chest,” she said. “I think it’s the key Madame Cinders put inside me. I can feel it moving. It must know we’re getting near the book.”

  “When you’re ready, we’ll go,” said Spyder.

  “I’m ready,” she said, and got up slowly.

  The middle tunnel through Cerberus’ gullet was warm and wet. When Spyder touched the wall, the stone was fleshy and yielding. They all hurried through as quickly as they could.

  FORTY-FOUR

  DADDY LONGLEGS

  “Hello?” Lulu called. “Anyone back there?”

  “What’s wrong?” asked Spyder.

  “I thought I heard something behind us in the tunnel. Who’d a thought there’d be weird sounds in Hell?”

  “Is there a river ahead?” asked Shrike. “We have to cross it to get to Pandemonium.”

  “Yeah, there’s a river, and no problem crossing it.”

  “Lay it out for us, Lulu,” said Spyder. He had his back to a stone outcropping just beyond the tunnel. Around them were dozens of voices, people screaming and talking, people on crying jags. From above came a metallic humming punctuated by momentary squeals, the wail of rusted wheels and rotten gears. Spyder didn’t like the idea of machines that he couldn’t see hanging over his head.

  “I don’t know where to start. We’re in a what’s his name? Bosch. We’re in a Bosch painting,” Lulu said. “Hear all those people? They’re standing around waiting to get across the river. I bet you don’t smell roses anymore, do you? There’s pipes all around dumping what looks a lot like shit, blood, carcasses and lord knows what other puke into the river. Jesus fuck!”

  “What is it?” Shrike asked, her sword half-raised.

  “Something, like a big, white worm just popped out of the water, latched on to one of those people and dragged ’em under.”

  “They aren’t people, Lulu. They’re souls. Don’t worry, they can’t drown,” said Spyder

  “No, but I bet that thing can chew on ’em for a good long time.”

  “What else do you see? Can you tell how we get to the other side?” asked Shrike.

  “Yeah. There’s these metal cars, like the sky cars at an old amusement park, slung on wires over the water. Shit. I don’t know if I want to ride on one of those with those hungry worms waiting for us to drop.”

  “We have to,” said Spyder. “Listen, the thing that grabbed that guy, it wasn’t random. Souls are sorted all over Hell, starting right here. This is the Bone Sea. The ones who end up in it are so foul that even Hell doesn’t want them. The ones wandering around this shore and on the other side, they’re maybe worse off. Completely lost. They can’t get into Heaven and they won’t go into Hell. They’ll spend eternity right here by this river of shit. We don’t have that option. If we don’t move, Shrike’s going to die.”

  The voices of the wandering souls grew quiet, then came back louder than ever. Lulu said, “Remember how I used say it was all ironic with you named Spyder, that you’re so afraid of spiders?”

  “We worked that over once or twice.”

  “Be glad you’re blind right now. I shit you not, there’s a twelve-foot-tall spider strolling down the shoreline kicking people out of his way like he’s Donald fucking Trump.”

  Spyder reflexively pressed his back into the outcropping and went very cold inside. He wanted desperately to find the tunnel and go back up the way they had come, but Shrike grabbed him and held on.

  “We have to go on,” said Shrike. “Trust me. I’ll take care of you.”

  “Weird,” said Lulu. “That spider looks sort of mechanical. Like someone took about ten junked cars, some old TVs and prosthetic limbs, wired them together and taught them to walk. And it gets better. The thing’s got a human head.”

  Feedback knifed through Spyder’s head, bringing back memories of a hundred sweaty clubs on a thousand drunken nights. A voice crackled and boomed, broken, imperious and mad.

  “Move along, you desperate scum, you noxious void of the earth’s bowels, move along! Your fate lies across the Bone Sea, not on my shore! Across the river is the eternity you courted your whole corrupt and sorrowful lives. No one remains on my shore. Move along, you lost lambs, you food for
the wolf. Lollygag and your suffering will begin all the sooner!”

  “Shrike, get your sword up,” said Lulu. “Daddy longlegs is headed this way, twelve o’clock high.”

  A rhythmic clanking filled the air, along with the smell of burning oil, decaying flesh and overheated circuit boards. Spyder sensed some enormous presence looming over them.

  “My god. You’re alive,” came the voice. It was low and human. The madness was gone. “Forgive me for that scene a moment ago. They make me say and do those terrible things. The beasts that run the machines. I’m attached, you see.”

  “Who are you?” asked Shrike.

  “Cornelius…something, I think,” said the spider machine. “I was once one of these poor souls. Lost and terrified. I don’t belong here. I don’t deserve Hell. I refused to cross the Bone Sea. Demons came with nets and rounded us up like wild animals. When I awoke I was the foul thing you see before you.”

  “You must’ve gotten on someone’s bad side, then super-sized it,” said Lulu.

  “I can’t remember,” Cornelius said. “Kind souls, will you kill me and free me from this endless torment?”

  “I don’t think we can kill you, Cornelius,” said Shrike. “You’re already dead.”

  “Am I? It’s been such a long time. I don’t remember.”

  “Cornelius, we need to get to Pandemonium. Can you help us?”

  “I would if I could, dear lady. I’ve never been there or even seen the place, but I hear it’s glorious. I’ve never been anywhere but this shore.” Madness was edging back into his voice.

  “That’s not true. You were a man,” said Spyder. “Don’t ever forget that.”

  “A man. Was I? How nice. Yes, I remember. I was a boy and we lived by the sea. In Brighton. There were trains and gulls. It was lovely…” Circuits fried. The spider machine lurched and Spyder felt the ground shake.

  The demented, amplified voice was back. “Move along, you wandering excrement, God’s pitiful blunders. Move along and despair!” Cornelius moved back in the direction of the shore, hunting wandering souls. His voice faded as he went, but its echo filled whatever space enclosed them.

  “I think it’s time to go,” said Lulu. She led Spyder and Shrike to the edge of the stinking, clotted water and helped them into one of the elevated cars. Souls fell back as they went. Spyder felt their hands caress him, as if looking for warmth. The car lurched into the air and carried them over the Bone Sea.

  “I seriously wonder if we’re gonna make it out of here,” said Lulu. No one replied.

  FORTY-FIVE

  PINK BOY

  It seemed to Spyder that it was taking a long damned time for the little cart to clatter and squeal its way over the Bone Sea.

  “Talk to me, Lulu,” said Spyder. “Where are we?”

  “’Bout halfway across,” she said.

  “How’s that possible? We’ve been crossing for hours.”

  “Daddy, are we there yet? Daddy, are we there yet?”

  “We’re not in the world anymore,” said Shrike. “We can’t expect time to run here the way it does at home.”

  “This is an E-ticket freak show, I wanna tell you,” said Lulu. “You sight-impaired types are missing some severe shit, which you don’t need to know about. Not if you ever want to eat again.”

  “Tell us,” said Spyder.

  “I’m just babbling ’cause I’m a little scared. You don’t need this stuff in your heads. My guess is there’ll be plenty of monsters before this is over.”

  Spyder shifted in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position. The sheath for Apollyon’s knife kept jabbing him in the leg. When he tried to stand, Lulu pulled him back down.

  “There’s things on the wires. Like baboons with porcupine quills all down their backs. The quills are matted together, like knives. They’re eating this green fungus growing on the wires. The bored ones are grabbing souls from the other carts and dropping ’em into the sea. Oh Christ!”

  Spyder nudged Lulu with his boot. “Hey, forget the stuff. Sing something.”

  “Like what?”

  Very quietly and not entirely in key, Spyder started to sing, “We’re caught in a trap, I can’t walk out, because I love you too much, baby.” In a moment, Lulu picked it up, “We can’t go on together with suspicious minds…”

  Lulu said, “Praise Elvis. We made it.” A moment later, the bottom of the cart dragged across a beach that crunched underfoot, like crushed shells. They jumped out and landed safely on the ground, as the cart continued its endless roundabout journey.

  Lulu grabbed Spyder and pulled him and Shrike to their feet. “Let’s move. We’re attracting a crowd. More of those hangin’ around dead folks.”

  Spyder didn’t need her to tell him. He could hear them coming, crunching lightly across the beach toward them. Their voices were like whispers drifting through a long ventilation duct—flat, distant and insistent. Spyder stumbled and went down on one knee, cutting his hands on the sharp shells. Lulu and Shrike started to help him up, but other hands were there, pulling him away, purring and cooing and desperate.

  “Blood. He’s alive!”

  “Please wizard, do me a service in Hell and I’ll tell you where to find a great treasure back on earth…”

  “Take my place in the Inferno and your heirs will rule a vast and wealthy kingdom!”

  “So pretty. The red. Life.”

  “Save me, my lord. I am a virtuous woman…”

  There were so many lost souls on this side of the Bone Sea, and they were much more aggressive than the souls who’d refused to make the crossing. None had much individual strength, but their combined desperation had Spyder pinned within their massed presence. It was like being slowly crushed under a ton of feathers. Spyder felt his leather jacket rip and his shirt come apart. The souls gasped and fell back.

  “His skin marks…”

  “L’homme peint…”

  “A warrior…”

  Their hands were on Spyder’s back, and running over his arms and face. So many of them, he couldn’t breathe. They pulled his hair and clawed at his cheeks. He tried to push them away, but it was like pushing at air. Fingers slipped under his blindfold and into his eyes. The souls’ fingertips glowed inside his eyeballs like eerie deep-sea creatures.

  “Get back!” Spyder yelled.

  The weight of the souls instantly left his body—but a second later a hand swept across his face. Among the faint gasps and wails, Spyder heard the distinct sound of laughter. He turned toward it and was shoved down hard onto his back. The fall knocked the wind out of him and Spyder slowly opened his eyes. It took his mind a few seconds to register that the streaks of gray and white he saw weren’t ghostly fingers in his eyes but the bone beach. When his eyes focused, the first thing he saw was the dim, colorless souls crowded around him, then Hell’s rough, black cavern walls. They seemed to go up forever.

  “Back off!” Spyder screamed as he scrambled to his feet. He heard the sound of laughter again and spun toward the sound, pulling Apollyon’s blade from his belt. When the sound came again, Spyder swung the blade at the nearest specter, a big man dressed in the leather and iron of an ancient Roman soldier. The knife passed through the soul as if through smoke, but the knife tore him as it went. The soul clutched at the bloodless wound, trying to hold himself together. Too late. He split apart completely, like fraying cloth, and vanished with a breathy sigh. The remaining souls scattered down the beach.

  Off to his left, Spyder saw Lulu, laid out on her back, her mouth open in a kind of silent scream. A crowd of souls had her pinned to the ground and seemed to be examining her wounded body. Dead fingers probed her eye sockets and surgical scars. Spyder slashed through the crowd, scattering terrified souls, and pulled Lulu up. She buried her face in his chest, but didn’t make a sound. She just clung to him and shook.

  Further down the beach, Shrike was holding another group of souls at bay with her sword. She’d used her magic to cover the blade in fire, but th
e gesture wasn’t really stopping the souls, just distracting them. Spyder got Lulu to her feet and pulled her over to Shrike. Some of the group must have seen him dispatch the other souls, because they ran away as he got close.

  “Shrike, it’s me,” Spyder called, and she lowered her blade.

  “Lulu?” she asked.

  “She’s here with me. She’s pretty shaken up.”

  “How did you find me?” Shrike’s hands were up searching for him. “You can see me?”

  “Yeah.”

  Shrike found Spyder’s face with her hands and felt for where the blindfold should be. When she didn’t find it, Shrike sagged against Spyder and kissed him lightly on the lips.

  “Damn,” she said.

  “That pretty much covers it.”

  “Ooo, a little group action. I like that,” came a hissing voice. “Or is this some platonic expression of relief? What a bore. Lust is all that’s amusing about talking meat. The faces you make and the all squishing sounds.”

  Spyder lunged with the Hell blade, jamming it under the chin of the demon staring at them from atop a black obsidian boulder.

  “Don’t hurt me with that thing!” it cried.

  The creature was small, pink, bloated and naked. It had an oversized semi-human head with tiny eyes and a slit that seemed to serve for both a nose and mouth. Its hands and feet were so tiny that they appeared useless, yet its nails were black, twisted and razor-sharp. The thing’s cock was thicker than its arm and dragged along the ground like a third leg. Into holes in its skull were set thirteen white candles, which never seemed to blow out. Wax flowed down the thing’s head and face like slow-motion tears.