Chapter 2

Xoatyl stepped back and allowed them passage.

Larger creatures from above swooped down to pick at the flesh, their lightly furred bodies soon becoming dark with blood.

A fitting end to a pompous fool, thought Xoatyl.

For several minutes he watched, almost mesmerised, as the grey bones were slowly picked clean by a swarming congregation of fur, skin, and scale. His reverie was shattered by an agonised roar that tore through the slurping, snarling, chewing sounds of feasting. Several of the creatures looked up from their meal, only temporarily distracted before continuing their feeding frenzy.

Xoatyl knew it was only a matter of time before Baaleel’s remains were discovered. It was also certain he had no choice but to flee. He was no match for Satan’s wrath. To stay would be foolish. There would not be death. Nothing as pleasant as that. Instead the Dark Prince would invent new tortures to punish him with, unceasing torments that would last the rest of eternity.

A second roar reverberated through the tunnel, sending everything that could move speeding into the nearest cracks and shadowy corners. Xoatyl, determined not to be held accountable for his sin, turned on his heels and headed for the upper levels.

Running along one corridor after another, Xoatyl wound his way upwards, towards the world of humans and animals. Passing through the outer circles of hell he encountered demons of many kinds terrorising freshly gathered souls. He passed other demons preparing for the journey to the world above, trance-like as they pinpointed those whose faith and devotion to their religion was so all-consuming they were like beacons, attracting the denizens of Hell like moths to a flame. Xoatyl laughed to himself when he thought of the faithful millions, on their knees in prayer to an absent God, unknowingly drawing havoc towards themselves.

Soon the stench of the world above grew strong in his nostrils. He was close to the border. Once he was free and clear of Hell he’d be out of Satan’s reach. Naturally, there’d be soldiers, demons from the Fallen One’s own personal guard, but they were no match for him. He knew their strengths, their powers, but better still he knew their weaknesses, and he’d dispatch them as easily as he had Baaleel.

Later, when things had settled down, he’d return. He’d find a quiet corner of Hell to shelter in and he’d wait. He’d bide his time until an opportunity arose. And then he’d take it. 2

Nathan Crosby was headed for trouble.

His small three-roomed flat was an uninspiring place at the best of times, let alone a Saturday night. His one comfort, an old colour television, had been sold to fund a poker game. It had gone the way of most of his possessions, and now all he had to his name was a double bed, a small refrigerator, an assortment of kitchenware, his clothing, and a large collection of porn. The car had gone. His father’s gold signet ring. Even his fifty-dollar watch.

So certain was he that the next game would be the one to change his fortunes, he hadn’t minded parting with his things. They were, after all, just things. When the big one came in he’d be able to buy whatever he wanted. He could have the life he so often dreamed about.

It was with these thoughts winding through his mind that he pulled his front door shut and headed out into the night. Fortunately, it wasn’t raining as it had been earlier in the day. He didn’t relish the thought of standing at a bus stop getting drenched and since he’d sold his car, and any money he’d been lucky enough to come by was for gambling, not for taxis, it was either catch a bus or walk.

Northbridge was buzzing. The al fresco restaurants and cafes were alive with patrons fuelling up for a big night out. Some people had started early; already working their way towards a Sunday morning hangover. Policemen on horses kept an eye on the crowds, but anything that was going to happen would happen much later. To Nathan it was just business as usual. A typical night in Northbridge.

“Hey, Nat. How’s things?”

Mike, a dark-haired man with sideburns and a salesman’s smile, slapped Nathan on the shoulder with one hand and shook his hand with the other.

“Pretty good, thanks.”

“Gonna try ya luck?”

Nathan scratched the back of his head and glanced down at the pavement, and then in through the open doorway of Ruby’s Bar.

“Yeah, Mike. Never give up, hey?”

Mike patted him on the shoulder.

“That’s the spirit,” he said, lifting a packet of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket. “Break a leg.”

Knowing my luck, I’ll have them broken for me,Nathan thought as he entered the bar.