John Connolly - The Infernals aka Hell's Bells

Most of the flesh on the Great Malevolence’s face had long since decayed, leaving a thin layer of brown, leathery skin draped over his bones, broken at his cheeks, so that the muscles and bone beneath were clearly visible. His teeth were jagged and double-rowed, set in blackened, diseased gums, and a pale pink serpent’s tongue licked at his rotted lips.

But terrible though his face was, it was his eyes that truly chilled, for they were almost human in the depth of their feeling, filled with unbounded rage and a dreadful, poisonous sadness. From where he watched inside Nurd’s car, Samuel understood at last why this being hated men and women so much: he hated them because they were so like himself, because the worst of them was mirrored in him. He was the source of all that was bad in men and women, but he had none of the greatness, and none of the grace, of which human beings were capable, so that only by corrupting them was his own pain diminished, and thus his existence made more tolerable.

Now he stared out over the battlefield, the Watcher poised before him, and as he spoke all trembled in fear.

“WHO HAS DARED TO RAISE OPPOSING ARMIES IN MY REALM? WHO SETS DEMON AGAINST DEMON?”

As if by a prearranged signal the armies separated, putting as much space as possible between themselves and their commanders, so that Mrs. Abernathy and Duke Abigor stood isolated.

“My lord and master,” said Abigor, bowing his head. “It is good to see you restored to us. Without your hand to guide us we have been lost, and we have been betrayed by our own. I have been forced to act to protect this great kingdom against the treason of one who was once beloved of you, this”-he gestured at Mrs. Abernathy with disgust-“polluted personage, this patchwork woman.” He seemed about to say more, but the Great Malevolence raised a clawed finger and Duke Abigor was silent as his master turned his attention to Mrs. Abernathy.

“DOES ABIGOR LIE?”

“No, my master,” said Mrs. Abernathy. “For we have been lost, and we have been betrayed, but the treason was not mine. Look to the standards: I fight under your banner, but Abigor fights only under his own.”

“Permit me to explain-” Abigor began to say, but his words turned to fat black flies that buzzed against his cheeks and tongue, and Mrs. Abernathy allowed herself a sly grin as her opponent tried to spit out the insects, but with each one that he ejected two more came into being until Abigor’s mouth was filled with them.

“I set out to make amends to you for my failings, and I have done so,” continued Mrs. Abernathy, now that she had silenced Abigor for a time.

“YOUR FAILINGS WERE GREAT. SO TOO MUST BE THE RECOMPENSE.”

“And it is,” said Mrs. Abernathy. “For I have brought you the child who sabotaged all that we had worked for. I have brought you Samuel Johnson!”

She waved to the wagon driver, who urged on his horses, bringing the covered cage to the clearing on the battlefield. Beside her Abigor had found enough power to disperse the flies, and interrupted her.

“She lies, my master! I fight beneath my own banner only because she uses your standard to hide her treason. She has compounded betrayal with more betrayal. She stole the child from me. It was I who found a way to open the portal, but she took the boy from my castle that she might claim credit for his capture.”

The wagon drew nearer, its prize waiting to be revealed, lightning flashing to reveal the shape inside the cage.

“And where is the portal that you opened, Duke Abigor?” asked Mrs. Abernathy. “Show it to us, that we may marvel at it. Display it for our master, that we may harness its potential for another invasion.”

“It vanished,” spluttered Abigor. “I could not keep it open for long. I could only find time to snatch the boy before it closed again.”

Mrs. Abernathy raised her arms.

“Let me give you proof of his treason, my master,” she said. “For I know the location of the portal. I know, for it lies… within me!”

Her eyes shone a cold blue, and a blue glow filled her mouth. The air around her seemed to swirl, forming a column of dust and ash that caught the light coming from within her, so that she became the center of her own blue world. As she grew taller and taller she was both Mrs. Abernathy and her old, ancient self, the demon Ba’al, its tentacles writhing, its massive head visible beneath Mrs. Abernathy’s stretched skin, like one transparent image overlaid upon another. Her segmented jaws opened wider and wider-ten, twenty, thirty feet in width-revealing a tunnel of dark light with a blue heart.

“Behold, my master!” she cried. “Behold the portal! And behold-Samuel Johnson!”

The wagon master whipped away the black cloth, and the crowd gasped at the figure of Mr. Happy Whip, grinning his plastic grin at the assembled forces of Hell.

And at that moment a rock with four eyes shot from the ranks, followed closely by a cloth-covered wagon adorned with unimpressive horns. The disguises fell away, revealing Dan, Dan the Ice-Cream Man, hunched over the wheel of his beloved van, urged on by Sergeant Rowan, and Constable Peel, and four determined dwarfs; revealing Samuel Johnson in the Aston Martin once owned by his dad, Boswell held tightly in the crook of one arm, the other hand resting on the shoulder of a goggle-eyed Wormwood.

And revealing Nurd: Nurd, no longer Nurd the inept, Nurd the coward; no longer Nurd, the Scourge of Five Deities. No, this was a Nurd transformed. This was Nurd, the Vanquisher of Demons. This was Nurd, the Triumphant.

This was Nurd, the Frankly Terrified.

Before Mrs. Abernathy could react, Nurd had driven the car straight into her mouth, the ice-cream van barely inches behind him. As they disappeared through the portal, the faint strains of “(How Much Is) That Doggie in the Window?” floated from Mrs. Abernathy’s jaws over the great plain.

Even on a battlefield where two massive armies faced each other, and the Devil himself towered over them both seeking an explanation for what was going on, a pair of motorized vehicles driving straight down a demon’s throat, a throat recently transformed into a gateway between universes, still counted as something quite out of the ordinary. Nothing happened for a number of seconds, apart from the occupants of the two vehicles falling through a wormhole of sorts, with all that entailed, including being stretched to the point of agony and then compressed in a similarly painful manner, but all this was hidden from the denizens of Hell, who continued to stare at Mrs. Abernathy to see how she might respond to this recent turn of events.

Mrs. Abernathy might have hidden the seeds of the portal within herself, but she had not intended it to be used in the manner to which Samuel, Nurd, and company had just put it. She had planned on manifesting it at a point outside herself and then, with her master’s help, drawing all the power that she could from the Collider in one fell swoop and reversing the portal’s direction of travel, so that instead of moving objects from Earth to Hell, it would move them from Hell to Earth. It would not be enough to pass an army through, but it would be enough to transport the Great Malevolence and herself to the world of men, and there they would create a new Hell, just the two of them. Unfortunately that plan now looked like it would have to be put on the back burner, for Mrs. Abernathy had more pressing concerns.

Her body shuddered. She gagged and choked, like someone who has swallowed a piece of food that has gone down the wrong way, which, in a vehicular sense, was more or less what had happened. The blue light grew stronger and brighter, so bright that the assembled demons, even the Great Malevolence himself, were forced to look away from it, so bright that it turned from blue to white, and burned so strongly that Mrs. Abernathy screamed.