Chapter 2

“To get there we will travel through a series of tunnels that will transport us back to the day that Dante took his first breath. I could sit here and tell you about it, but words are inadequate. Until you hear the story, and see Dante standing big and beautiful before you, you will not get the full impact of what this creation means to me. Come, now, and be impressed.”

“I will do as you bid, sire,” Dismas said as he followed Satan into a dimly lit area where several portals awaited. “but I assure you it is a waste of your valuable time.”

“Dismas, I’m perfectly capable of deciding how I want to waste my time. The portal on the left side is the only means of entrance to our destination, and the only cross-dimensional portal in this universe. You do not need to know to which reality and dimension we’re travelling. Just follow me and prepare to arrive instantaneously. Come, follow me.”

With a sigh of submission, Dismas did as Satan told him.

“We’re here,” Satan said softly, as if he was imparting a secret to a trusted friend. Before entering, they stepped onto a pedestal, and waited while a laser light scanned their bodies. Once that was done, each of them stepped into the laboratory.

Satan smiled as he looked around, and then turned toward Dismas, and said, “Come, my vigilant disciple…and prepare to be amazed.”

* * * *

Dismas looked around, totally unimpressed. He could feel a sinister stillness in the crude little room and noticed that the fissures in the rock made a shrill, menacing kind of music.

“The minute we stepped over the threshold we became mere holograms, but as you can see, the workers, aswell as my other self are here working over the creation,” Satan whispered. “They can’t see us, and we cannot touch anything here. If we do, we will be instantly swooped up into a vortex and thrown back toour place of departure.”

“I understand,” Dismas said softly as he continued to look around.

The semi-darkness hung in corners, in crevices, under rock, and even formed shadow creatures that climbed the rock walls, ornamenting the dark, swarthy face of Satan’s creation in both light and shadow. Dismas was standing beside Satan’s doppelganger, and saw him gaze down into the open chest of his creation as if he were considering his next move. Dismas could see that his attention was drawn to the ingredients that crowded his shelves and lifted his own eyes to gaze at each one. When the doppelganger had made up his mind, he pulled down snake venom, hair of the werewolf, blood taken from the knife of a slasher, the hungry bite of the vampire, growl of the rabid wolf, and the cry of torment from damned souls. As he opened each lid, forlorn voices rose from the vials, and when he mixed them all together, a wild, chilling call of evil echoed around the rock-hewn room. With these, he poured, mixed,solidified, formed, molded, and twisted, spending several minutes studying each facet very carefully until he was satisfied.

Just then Dismas leaned forward and looked closely at Dante’s face. It was a ruggedly handsome face that had the arrogant look of a high seas pirate. His lips were firm yet sensual beneath a faint beard, and his clear, penetrating gray eyes were ringed with dark feathery lashes that made his eyes look mysterious, almost as if they were lined with kohl.

He looked at Satan’s hologram. “This is Dante?”

“Yes,” he answered softly. “The Prince of Hell.”

Dismas then glanced back down at the doppelganger as he continued to work over the creature, and saw merciless lines carved across his horned brow, his eyes searching for anything inconsistent—any imperfection or flaw. When none was found, he gently touched Dante’s body. He stroked, pressed, and pushed the flesh unmercifully, and with every test, the results were positive.

Dismas’s excitement grew when upon close examination it showed that the flesh of the being had remained soft, almost dewy, and the lips were lush and full, even a little pouty. When he looked closelyat the eyes, he saw the shining insanity of a serial killer, the terrified scream of a dying woman, the cries of men, children, and women in war-torn countries, and sighed. As he beheld the creature, he began to feel something in his nether regions. It was a feeling of want, of desire, of need. He had to admit that this creation was so beautiful that he could tempt the angels in Heaven.

But the evil creator wasn’t through.

The knuckles of Dismas’s fisted hands blanched white when he saw Satan’s double add the dark shadows of terror, the last breath of the dying, and the gurgling cry of the moment of death. And then as a bonus, he gave him a remarkable endowment.