The Book of Doom - By Barry Hutchison Page 0,66

was a loud crack and pain tore across his back. He cried out with the shock and the heat of it. The old man puffed on his cigarette, unflinching.

“You do not address the Dark Lord,” Haures snarled. He stepped into view, coiling his tail in his hands like a bullwhip.

Zac hissed through his teeth, breathing out the worst of the pain. “Dark Lord?” he frowned. “You mean...?” He looked the grey-haired man up and down. “Nah.”

“Silence!” Haures roared. He flicked the tail and Zac felt a wasp sting across his cheek. “And bow your head before the Father of All Lies.”

Zac groaned. “Dark Lord? Father of All Lies? What is it with you people having so many names? You’re as bad as Odin.”

Veins bulged on Haures’s neck and forehead. “I said silence, you worthless little—”

“Haures.”

The Dark Lord’s voice was low and calm, but it stopped Haures immediately. The cigarette butt was dropped on the floor, then ground out beneath the heel of a well-worn leather shoe.

The Father of All Lies clapped his hands slowly three or four times. “Impressive,” he said. “You succeeded in getting on Haures’s bad side. That’s something you may come to regret.”

Zac said nothing. Despite the calm voice and the unassuming appearance, everything about the man screamed danger. Evil emanated from him with such force that Zac almost started to believe in auras. He could sense the Dark Lord’s, all black and twisted and rotten and wrong.

“Wh-where are we?” coughed Angelo, fully wakening. “Where are we? What’s happening? Who... who are you?”

“He’s Satan,” Zac said before Haures could start shouting again.

Angelo looked at the man in the suit. “Satan?” he said with a gasp. “You’re Satan?” He looked the man up and down. “I thought you’d be taller.”

The Dark Lord shrugged. “Not always,” he said. “My associate here is Haures. He is one of the Dukes of Hell.”

Angelo giggled sharply, then bit his lip. All eyes turned in his direction.

“Something funny?” asked Satan.

“Um, no,” Angelo said.

“Well, clearly something made you laugh. Would you care to share it with the rest of us?”

Angelo swallowed nervously. “It’s just... I thought you were going to say he was one of the Dukes of Hazzard.”

There was a pause. Behind his sunglasses, the Dark Lord blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“The Dukes of Hazzard,” repeated Angelo. From the expression on his face it was clear Satan was none the wiser. Angelo felt himself shrink beneath both demons’ gaze. “It’s an old TV show,” he said meekly, “about some people who drive fast.”

The Father of All Lies rubbed his teeth with his tongue. It made a rasping sound, like sandpaper. “The Dukes of Hazzard,” he said slowly. “The Dukes of Hazzard. Is that one of ours?”

“No, sir,” said Haures.

“Is it the one with the talking car?”

Haures cleared his throat gently. “You’re thinking of Knight Rider, sir.”

“Ah, yes, so I am. That was one of ours, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” confirmed Haures. “That was one of ours.”

Satan waved a hand dismissively. “Enough. You asked where you are. You are in the tenth circle of Hell. Try not to touch anything, some of the paint’s still wet.” His eyes moved behind the sunglasses, looking at them both in turn. “You’re here for the Book of Doom. Correct?”

“That’s right,” Zac nodded. “So if you’ll just hand it over, we’ll get out of your hair.”

“Haha, yes,” said Satan without mirth. “Very good. I’m sure you’ve already guessed that we had an ulterior motive for getting you down here. We’ve been watching you for a long time. Just between us, we never actually cared about the book. We just thought it might make good bait with which to draw you down.”

“Well, it worked,” said Zac. “But why? I don’t understand. What do you want with me?”

The Dark Lord’s head shifted just a fraction in his direction. “You?” he said. “Why would we want anything from you? I was talking to him.” He turned his head towards Angelo.

Angelo and Zac exchanged a puzzled glance.

“Me?”

“Him?”

“Why did you want me?”

“You are unique, Angelo,” Satan said. “One of a kind, almost certainly never to be repeated. And that makes you important. And it makes you fascinating.” He gestured around at the stark walls and spotless worktops. “All this is for you, Angelo. We built the tenth circle for you, so that we may... get to know you better. Because you are special, my boy. Half angel and – drumroll, please – half demon.”

“I know that,” Angelo said.

Satan missed a beat. “Oh,” he said. “Right. Do