S hinto or for a Hindu deva to fly too close Olympus would result in war. The M inisters have us all by our nuts and they won’t stop yanking.” Asmoday flipped the remainder of his cigar into his mouth, swallowed it whole, and sighed. “W ould you want to live in a world painted in one color? Hear only one song for the rest of your life? I miss fucking angels, ge ing wasted with V ikings, hunting elementals, and losing myself in the raw astral lights.”
“I love it when you wax poetic,” Delilah breathed, walking over to rub the Archduke’s shoulders.
P oor Dante looked positively dejected, but J ohn was too distracted to comfort him.
I nstead he was weighing the risks against his own desires. He didn’t fully understand either, but he knew he didn’t want to spend eternity loitering in Hell’s decadent establishments or trapped in Purgatory’s prison.
“I’m in,” he said.
Asmoday smiled, this time keeping his teeth hidden behind his fat lips. “I knew we had the right man. Men, I should say,” he added, looking to Dante.
“Me?” the Irishman protested. “Oh, no! Nice try. I already know where I belong!”
“S uit yourself,” Asmoday replied. “You are free to go, assuming of course you can pay your debts.”
“Debts?”
“The money you’ve been spending all night on drugs, drinks, clubs, and Delilah.
The money I kept magicking into your pockets for your greedy li le hands to find.” Asmoday leaned forward and treated Dante to a wide, meaningful grin. “O f course, there are other ways you can pay me back. Tasks so miserable that you’ll be begging to be let back into P urgatory. O r maybe I ’ll do them a favor and ship your scrawny ass back there.”
A number of expressions played across Dante’s face, the last of which was resignation. He shot an annoyed look at John as if this were all his fault.
“G ood, good,” Asmoday nodded, pleased with himself. “That just leaves one small matter to attend to.”
A ringing in J ohn’s ear grew louder and louder until it was all he could hear.
Asmoday’s lips were flapping, but every single word was lost to J ohn. Not that it ma ered since the Archduke was addressing Dante. J ohn placed a finger in each ear, ineffectively trying to relieve the pressure. S uddenly it was over. He looked up.
Asmoday had a calculating gleam in his eye, and Dante appeared surprised. E veryone in the room was looking at J ohn. The ringing had been no coincidence. S omething had been deliberately kept from him, but now wasn’t the time to ask what. He would grill Dante later.
“Your transportation awaits you outside.” Asmoday gestured meaningfully to the door before turning in his chair to give his full a ention to the succubus. “As for you,” he growled seductively.
Dante looked as though he wouldn’t mind staying, even if he wouldn’t be the center of a ention, but R immon was hustling them toward the door. They stumbled out into the narrow alley that was now almost completely filled by a vehicle. At first glance it appeared to be an old fashioned, horse-drawn coach, one with a number of curious alterations. B rass tubes sprouted from the back of the elongated coach, as if the vehicle had been rear-ended by a church organ. A hint of large iron gears gleamed from the undercarriage. J ust above the rear wheels, partially hidden by black-painted wooden panels, was a massive set of bellows.
“What’s that supposed to be?” Dante asked.
“A Gurney steam coach,” Rimmon said. “Your transportation.” The demon checked various points of the carriage with an air of efficiency before turning to the driver. The poor man had seen be er days. His long blonde hair was matted, his beard missing tufts of hair, and his clothing full of holes.
“L isten to me, Norseman,” R immon snarled, grabbing him by the beard with unexpected aggression. “We’ve decided you’ve suffered enough for your sins.”
“You… You have?” the ragged man
“I love it when you wax poetic,” Delilah breathed, walking over to rub the Archduke’s shoulders.
P oor Dante looked positively dejected, but J ohn was too distracted to comfort him.
I nstead he was weighing the risks against his own desires. He didn’t fully understand either, but he knew he didn’t want to spend eternity loitering in Hell’s decadent establishments or trapped in Purgatory’s prison.
“I’m in,” he said.
Asmoday smiled, this time keeping his teeth hidden behind his fat lips. “I knew we had the right man. Men, I should say,” he added, looking to Dante.
“Me?” the Irishman protested. “Oh, no! Nice try. I already know where I belong!”
“S uit yourself,” Asmoday replied. “You are free to go, assuming of course you can pay your debts.”
“Debts?”
“The money you’ve been spending all night on drugs, drinks, clubs, and Delilah.
The money I kept magicking into your pockets for your greedy li le hands to find.” Asmoday leaned forward and treated Dante to a wide, meaningful grin. “O f course, there are other ways you can pay me back. Tasks so miserable that you’ll be begging to be let back into P urgatory. O r maybe I ’ll do them a favor and ship your scrawny ass back there.”
A number of expressions played across Dante’s face, the last of which was resignation. He shot an annoyed look at John as if this were all his fault.
“G ood, good,” Asmoday nodded, pleased with himself. “That just leaves one small matter to attend to.”
A ringing in J ohn’s ear grew louder and louder until it was all he could hear.
Asmoday’s lips were flapping, but every single word was lost to J ohn. Not that it ma ered since the Archduke was addressing Dante. J ohn placed a finger in each ear, ineffectively trying to relieve the pressure. S uddenly it was over. He looked up.
Asmoday had a calculating gleam in his eye, and Dante appeared surprised. E veryone in the room was looking at J ohn. The ringing had been no coincidence. S omething had been deliberately kept from him, but now wasn’t the time to ask what. He would grill Dante later.
“Your transportation awaits you outside.” Asmoday gestured meaningfully to the door before turning in his chair to give his full a ention to the succubus. “As for you,” he growled seductively.
Dante looked as though he wouldn’t mind staying, even if he wouldn’t be the center of a ention, but R immon was hustling them toward the door. They stumbled out into the narrow alley that was now almost completely filled by a vehicle. At first glance it appeared to be an old fashioned, horse-drawn coach, one with a number of curious alterations. B rass tubes sprouted from the back of the elongated coach, as if the vehicle had been rear-ended by a church organ. A hint of large iron gears gleamed from the undercarriage. J ust above the rear wheels, partially hidden by black-painted wooden panels, was a massive set of bellows.
“What’s that supposed to be?” Dante asked.
“A Gurney steam coach,” Rimmon said. “Your transportation.” The demon checked various points of the carriage with an air of efficiency before turning to the driver. The poor man had seen be er days. His long blonde hair was matted, his beard missing tufts of hair, and his clothing full of holes.
“L isten to me, Norseman,” R immon snarled, grabbing him by the beard with unexpected aggression. “We’ve decided you’ve suffered enough for your sins.”
“You… You have?” the ragged man
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