Hellbeast E-Book

Matthew W. Harrill

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Heroes don't always walk in the light.

The fate of the world is balanced on a knife's edge. Despite everything Madden and Eva have been through to prevent it, the ARC Council is in disarray and demons roam the Earth.

The Apocalypse is closer than ever, and the solution couldn't be further from her grasp. Eva has to throw off the yolk of personal tragedy and follow her destiny to the one place she doesn't want to go.

The one place she cannot hope to avoid.

Leseprobe

HELLBEAST

THE ARC CHRONICLES BOOK 3

MATTHEW W. HARRILL

CONTENTS

The Arc Chronicles

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Epilogue

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About the Author

Copyright (C) 2015 Matthew W. Harrill

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2022 by Next Chapter

Published 2022 by Next Chapter

Cover art by Yocla Designs

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

First Printing & Edition, 2015

For Chris and Ewa, for giving life to my characters.

THE ARC CHRONICLES

Hellbounce, Book 1

Hellborne, Book 2

Hellbeast, Book 3

PROLOGUE

“Ellis, come away from there! You know it’s dangerous. Anything dangerous…”

“…could hurt Jess,” the eleven-year-old Ellis finished the sentence, watching his younger sister as she crept toward the remains of what used to be a house.

All bushy-blond hair and fearless bravado, Ellis put on a face of mock-concern until he was sure his mother believed him and turned back around to watch her programs. She wasn’t really interested in his safety or Jessica’s, his nine-year-old sister. She wanted the neighbors to think she was. His mother was all about image.

The door clicked shut, and after counting to thirty, Ellis winked at Jess. The two of them resumed their exploration of the ruined structure. It was a sunny afternoon in June, and the birds chirped in the trees. It was perfect for exploration.

Ellis had watched, with his sister, transfixed by the scene only a week or so before, when the house, for no apparent reason, had collapsed in on itself. A group of people had been outside; cops had shown up and then left as if nothing was wrong. The house was ruined, but it had become a magnet for every daredevil kid from the nearby high school, all of them wanting to discover the treasure hidden beneath the mound of rubble. Ellis had waited, biding his time, as those bigger kids burrowed through what remained. There were tunnels under the wood and ‘the haunted house’ quickly became a local Worcester legend.

His Mom had told them expressly to stay back and then turned away, muttering something about poltergeists. They had gotten closer and closer every day, until they found the hidden den under the wood.

With one last glance for his mother, Ellis pulled a flashlight from under his shirt and beckoned for his sister. Jess needed no further invitation and skipped with good-natured innocence alongside him.

Shifting some of the ruined wood to one side, Ellis wormed his way down a tunnel in the rubble, being careful not to touch the precariously wedged supports. Jess followed him down, and soon enough, they were sitting on the cozy, if somewhat putrid, couch discovered in what must have been a basement before the collapse.

Ellis turned the flashlight on, Ellis shining it around. Jess following his every move with the excited devotion of a younger sibling. Dust trickled down from above, and he held his breath as part of the building settled. It was all right; their tunnel was still there.

“Where’s the light coming from?” Jess asked, pointing to their left.

Ellis followed her arm. A glowing red mist had begun to float across the floor, like lava in one of those volcano movies. Silent, creeping. Ellis watched in mute fascination as the red glow oozed toward them, spreading up the sides of their den.

“Ellis,” said Jess, uncertainty in her voice. “I don't like this. I want to go home.”

The red began to glow white in the center. Sparks began to fly out, what looked like lightning, touching the wood and setting it alight. There was a stink of rotten eggs, and Ellis covered his mouth. A growl from behind the light made the walls of the den shake. Suddenly, this adventure was no longer fun.

“Ellis,” Jess whined, pulling at his hand.

“Yes. Let's get out of here, Sis.”

Letting his now-terrified sister crawl ahead of him, Ellis pointed the flashlight forward, up the tunnel leading to distant daylight, keeping equal watch on their escape route and the growing glow behind them, now white and hot. More noises followed up the tunnel, and Ellis urged his sister on.

When he climbed out into daylight, Ellis made sure to replace the wood as best he could and then set to brushing the dust off his jeans and his sister’s red and white striped dress.

“Come on; let's go. Maybe Mom won't know where we were.”

Jess led him by the hand. They had only taken a few steps when there was an almighty crash behind them, followed by a blast of heat. The stink of rotten eggs was overpowering. The birdsong ceased and flocks of the small creatures took flight at the sound.

Ellis stopped walking and turned. The entire house had disappeared, leaving a red crater where the doctor and the sportsman had lived. The middle glowed white… something was moving down there. Jess stood mute beside him, right on the edge of the crater where the light was an angry red. A roar of recognition and movement toward them was enough for Ellis.

“Run!”

Across the yard they hurtled, round their mother’s brown Ford and into the safety of their own house. Inside, Ellis ran past his mother, who was engrossed in her favorite game show, bounding up on the couch and spreading the green and pink flower-patterned curtains wide. Jess joined him, her slight hand quivering on his arm.

In the distance, figures had begun to stumble out of the crater. Huge and distorted with engorged heads, glowing eyes, and elongated arms, they began to fall into ranks.

Jess twitched the curtain and one of the creatures caught sight, pointing, and roaring. Jess screamed.

“What is it?” their mother called from the other couch, feigning interest.

“It's the monsters,” Jess said in a timid voice.

Ellis couldn't move. The giant was looking straight at him.

“There's no such thing as monsters,” their mother said, finally clambering up. She wandered across the living room, peering over their shoulders.

Ellis finally broke eye contact with the advancing creature to watch his mother. Her mouth hung open, and her face was as pale as a ghost. The growing pack of monsters outside had begun to advance on their house.

“Kids, I want you to get down in the basement,” she said, her voice as quiet as his sister’s voice had been. “Now. Run!”

Agent Marcus White, the pride of Anges de la Résurrection des Chevaliers, or ARC, prowled the tunnels of the facility known to the operatives as ‘Tartarus’. The base beneath Mount Gehenna, the scene of the demon horde’s last major attempted incursion just over nine months ago, was as secure as any facility on the planet. Only a skeleton crew remained; a mere hundred or so of the legion of whom had once fought and died for Eva Scott, or Eva Ross depending on who one listened to. Marcus did a lot of listening to himself; there was usually nobody else on patrol with him for obvious reasons. Marcus knew as well as anybody of his affliction. He had embraced it. Despite his excellent record as a soldier, Marcus was quite crazy.

“My name is Legion, for I am many,” he uttered the words for the thousandth time, shouldering his Tavor TAR-21 bullpup rifle. Not standard issue. A gift from an Israeli friend, it was a weapon he would not be parted with.

Marcus glowered out of the cave entrance to the mountain’s exterior, the scene of the grisly battle with the Behemoth.

“Come out to the coast, we’ll get together, have a few laughs,” he said, quoting one of his favorite movies. Marcus adjusted his parka against the wind blowing through the entrance and settled onto a grey metal bench bolted to the cavern floor.

“Well yes, you would say that,” he replied to voices in his head, voices telling him he was a babysitter, nothing more. “This might look like a bum deal to you, but it is a great honor, a privilege even, to guard this entrance. Important things happened here. Earth nearly became Hell. We drove them back. We stopped it. Yes, you might say we did nothing of note, but you weren’t the ones out there fighting, none of you. I elected to stay here. I was chosen to protect this facility.”

The voices laughed at this proclamation of self-importance. He wished he could send them away, but he was lucky to hear himself think. Only when Marcus dreamed did the silence truly descend upon him.

“You can say what you want; I’m alert and ready. If they try it again, you can bet they won’t get through us.”

Marcus closed his eyes, attempting to force out all the faces looking at him. Before long, they disappeared, along with any sense of the passing time.

With the denial of sight, he imagined flickers of light and shuffling feet approaching from his right. Opening his eyes, Marcus examined his watch. Twenty minutes had passed. The wind had died down and the crisp breeze mingled with the fresh tang of the ice inside the entrance. Invigorated, Marcus stood and stretched.

“Babysitter,” he guffawed to the voices. “I babysit you more than this place. It wouldn’t exist but for me. I… shut up! Quiet!”

For once, the voices died down. In the distance, back down the tunnel where ice and natural rock formations were replaced by concrete, there was a flickering of red, a pulsing glimmer. Marcus picked up his rifle, checking it was loaded and ready. He crept back down the tunnel to find the source of the glow.

Resisting the urge to call ahead, Marcus edged along the concrete corridor, leaning out ever so slightly into the junction from where the radiance came. It was a white corridor, square in construction and only recently hollowed out. The lights ended midway down. The far end of the hallway was in complete darkness. Except for the red glow beneath one door. There were strange bumps and growls coming from inside the room.

“Time for us to be heroes once again,” he muttered under his breath. The voices remained strangely quiet.

“My chance for glory,” Marcus continued, trying to fill himself with courage. Edging into the darkness, he refused the use of his night-scope, relying instead on the sullen glow.

As Marcus reached the door, the light winked out.

“Hey, hey you!” he called, tapping the door with the butt of his rifle. “What are you doing in there? Open up!”

The noises ceased, and the door was pulled slightly ajar.

Taking this as an invitation to enter, Marcus pushed the door wider and moved forward. He could see nothing. Instinct told him there were forms in front of him, maybe two or three.

“What are you… hey!”

Quick as lightning, hands belonging to someone much, much stronger grabbed him.

“Help!” Marcus screamed. The voices just laughed at him. He grabbed the door frame with one hand, trying to kick out at his shadowed nemesis. With his free hand, he reached around and pressed the emergency button, setting off the base alarm.

Emergency lights glowed red, the bulbs cycling round in their plastic casing. Marcus screamed at what he saw.

The door slammed shut and the ARC soldier’s screams were abruptly cut off, the noise of sinew and cartilage crunching and pulling apart the only remaining sounds.

Ten minutes later, a squad of three ARC operatives entered the corridor clad in black, each wielding a standard-issue M16. Flicking the lights on, the leader observed the scene with disinterest.

“Who was up here?”

“White. He was serving extended guard duty for his assault on the Afghan locals outside the main entrance. This was the safest, most isolated place we could find.”

The leader nodded. “Makes sense. What have we here?”

A red trail led off down the corridor into the warren of hallways honeycombing Gehenna beneath the mountains’ surface. The leader pushed the door open with his rifle, shining a torch into the room.

The stink of offal and the heavy iron tang of blood assaulted him. Any lesser man would have puked, but the leader had seen worse in his time in Special Forces. “At least he’s out of his misery. Get the rest of the squad up here and secure all entrances.”

The leader pulled a sat-phone out of his pocket and hit a button. A pre-dialed series of numbers flashed up on the screen.

“Get me Director Guyomard.”

Two camels sat side-by-side, evidently content to wait for their owner to invite them to stand. One chewed feed, its jaw moving laterally. The animals did not need feeding but the treat helped cement the bond. Their owner had been with them for a while. He knew their temperament.

It was the middle of the afternoon; the temperature approached forty-five degrees Celsius. The sun blazed in the cerulean desert sky, roasting the crusted hardpan. There was little, if any, moisture in the Gobi Desert. Camels were the only creatures able cross the great expanses and not perish. They were also much more anonymous than off-roaders.

He had been crisscrossing the desert for six months now, seeking any sign of clues relating to a Holy City in the sky. The Convocation of the Sacred Fire had been convinced of the city’s existence long before its media debut only weeks ago. His job was to find the answers.

Now, an unprecedented event overshadowed his urgent mission. In mid-air, maybe three or four hundred feet above ground level, perhaps two miles in the distance, a cloud had formed, moisture spinning from nowhere to coalesce directly above the waves of heat radiating from the ground.

The cloud, which should have been forced up by the thermals, remained stationary, ever growing, black and threatening. Sparks of lightning began to appear around the outer rim of the cloud, dancing about its surface. Then something the watcher had never witnessed began to occur. Bolts of lightning launched up from the ground, touching the base of the cloud and working their way up until a continual chain of lightning fed the center. The bright white core of the cloud began to expand; the noise generated by so much concentrated heat from the combustion was almost too much for him.

And then, as quickly as the pyrotechnics had started, the show stopped. The lightning winked out and the cloud was finally forced into the sky. The only indication it was ever there was the tangy stink of concentrated ozone.

The observer reached under his robes, bringing out a sat- phone. He pressed one button, a prepared number.

“This is Baxter,” he said in a posh English accent. “Sir, it has begun.”

CHAPTERONE

Images flashed by as Eva stared into the distance, watching everything, seeing nothing. The sun blazed over Lake Geneva, the calm waters reflecting the sunshine back as if seeing it once was not enough for mere mortals. Majestic mountains grew out of the top of the treeline, some still dusted with snow despite the season. Boats bobbed carefree on the surface of the lake. Eva wished she could appreciate the stunning beauty of the Swiss backdrop, but she was empty; she had lost everything. Nina was gone.

Again, Eva replayed the events in her mind and came to the same conclusion.

“There was nothing I could do. It was executed without fault: Rick's death, Elaine's escape. They had it planned to perfection.”

Gila Ciranoush, all dark-haired Egyptian gorgeousness and Eva's closest friend, ceased the conversation she had been having by phone. “They did and we have to find out how.”

“We know how,” she argued.

“Yes, we do. However, we are in a sorry state. We have to take stock of what we have and where we go from here. Precipitous action now could have the direst consequences.”

“But they have Nina. They have my daughter.”

Gila reached across and placed a sympathetic hand on her arm. “Yes, they do. They have your daughter, but we all know they are not going to harm her. If they had just intended blood and sacrifice, Elaine would not have been cradling her so. They want more. They want you.”

“Then why are we sitting here in a car driving as fast as we can away from the scene?”

“Because the most obvious answer is not necessarily the correct one. They want us to go. We will find a way, but we will go there on our terms, not theirs.”

Eva turned away, watching the ambulance in front of their car. Inside, Madden and Swanson were both unconscious following the events at the Orpheus portal. The hidden sensor at CERN had been presumed a failed project, but—to their detriment—was really a portal to Hell.

“At least we got Asmodeus,” Eva said with slight satisfaction, referring to the demon Lord who had perished in the collapsing portal, the energy slicing him in half. “You are right. Perhaps we do need to rest, but I can’t. Nina is only days old. I barely had time enough to get to know her.”

“Yet she knew you and from what you explained, knew you well. Eva, your daughter is courageous, small as she may be. She knows you will never abandon her.”

“It feels like I have.”

Gila’s phone sounded, and Eva turned to contemplate the scenery as her friend attempted to do the job of reassembling the ARC council and whoever else would listen. Whoever was left. A sign flashed past. ‘Évian-les-Bains’; they were halfway around Lake Geneva, heading Eva knew not where.

“Oh, that is bad news indeed,” Gila said to her mystery caller. “Have you contacted headquarters? No? Well, protocol may still be in place. Swanson is out of action for the foreseeable future, and if you can’t get hold of the Council then I guess it falls to me. I will do what I can. See to it the facility is secure.”

Not looking up from the phone, Gila dialed another number. “This is Director Ciranoush. Tartarus has been breached. Assemble Legion reserves.”

The title caused Eva to turn from her contemplation of the endless expanse of water. “Director?”

Gila smiled. “They accepted it. Nothing else matters. Sometimes people just need someone to tell them to do what they had already decided. The base below the portal has been compromised. Demons made an incursion and slaughtered some of the forces stationed there. You understand the consequences of their actions, yes?”

Eva nodded, wishing there were some way this could be otherwise. “The Well of Souls is being used to open portals to Earth. So soon?”

“It sounded like the knife was all they needed to complete whatever ritual they intended to undertake. No longer are hellbounces the only way back from Hell. Still, it could have been worse. No trace of the demons was found. But one hallway in the mountain was encrusted in ice.”

Memories came flooding back to Eva, countless apparitions of ice-white portals with tentacles, dark and slimy, writhing and probing. “The others are hunting the demons.”

“Just as they hunt us. It seems our planet is safe for nobody. We are in a mess, Eva. If we stand any chance of doing what we need to do, we need to know we have a solid foundation at our backs. Somebody has to take charge. If we lose the keystone, the bridge will collapse.”

Gila made a lot of sense. Given only a year before she had been a researcher, a custodian of Coptic history in Cairo, she had come far.

Eva's training in psychotherapy left her always analyzing, always seeking the reasons behind why people were the way they were. Gila had always had the confidence to back her decisions. Unconsciously, Gila was asking Eva to have confidence in her. Desperation, and perhaps a touch of guilt, was forcing her to take the necessary steps. Gila was, after all, the one responsible for destroying the Orpheus portal. She was ultimately responsible for stranding Nina in a place only the dead were meant to be.

Eva closed her eyes, reaching out to her daughter for the first time since CERN. The psychic connection had existed since conception, before there was anything Eva could call a child growing within her. It had saved them both on several occasions, but now there was nothing. There was less than nothing. There was an absence, and it left Eva numb.

She opened her eyes, and the guilt lay heavy on Gila's face. “It was not your fault, Gila.” The words were nigh on impossible to speak, but they had to be said. There could not be this wall between them.

“I had no choice,” she responded, unshed tears brimming in her eyes.

“I know. It can't get any worse for me at the moment.” Eva paused and then laughed, the sound cynical. “Of course, it can always get worse. Nina's last words to me were 'Find me'. That is all I have of her inside. It is the only force driving me. What you did rid the world of a dreadful curse. Asmodeus was a parasite, sucking the human race dry for his own needs, his own pleasures. Giving all God's creatures more time to prepare might make the difference. It certainly saved Madden and Swanson. While there's life, there is hope.”

The words made Eva feel better, if only for a moment or two. She glanced out the window again to see a small lake ferry racing them for a moment, smoke billowing from its black-tipped red stack. The Swiss flag fluttered in the breeze and passengers waved with enthusiasm. Eva forced a smile, only the corners of her mouth tipping up and then they were past. The boat chugged on in the distance, the moment gone. If only they knew.

“It just makes me wonder. If I had never thought to question; if I had accepted my place with Brian, given him no cause for jealousy, worked at the hospital, could all this have been avoided?”

“From what we have seen, you have had your path arranged far earlier than you could possibly have imagined. Asmodeus played this game long before you were born.”

“You think I would have met Madden anyway? The demons would have had us sleep together and end up on Mount Gehenna? The cult? Bodom? CERN?”

“I think the route may have been a little different but yes. The alternative is you would have ended up on a slab in Iuvart's office, which doesn’t bear thinking about.”

The phone rang once more. Gila's face paled, and she answered it without speaking.

“I understand,” she said in due course and put the phone down. “We have to stop. I need to speak to Swanson.” Gila leaned forward, tapping on the glass dividing them from the driver.

“Oui, Director?” The French chauffeur inquired without turning.

“Please signal the ambulance to pull over.”

The driver pulled their car out half a lane and Eva saw the reflection of headlights on the back of the ambulance. Hazard lights flashed in response. At the next available break in the road, the two vehicles pulled over, traversing the oncoming traffic to pull to a halt in a dust-filled layby thirty feet from the waters' edge.

Climbing out of vehicles with ease served as another reminder. To Eva there was one very important thing missing. For so long she had been on the move with Nina inside her. Eva focused on the ambulance. The very same vehicle had taken her to hospital. The paramedic, Nina, was seeing to her husband and Swanson Guyomard, member of the ruling council of Anges de la Résurrection des Chevaliers, known simply as ARC. The rest of the staff that had taken them to the hospital had disappeared and were presumed subordinates of either the demons Asmodeus and Belphegor, or of Benedict Garias, the ARC director whose guilt had been proven, but the extent of his responsibility in the recent events had yet to be determined. Either way, they had vanished; Eva presumed by design.

She scuffed at the rough chunks of limestone gravel and watched eddies of the white dust cloud in the onshore breeze. While still a lake, Geneva was enormous and had size enough to cause waves tugged along by the wind to lap against the shore. The daytime heat was mollified somewhat. Part of Eva wished she could dive into the water, maybe to sink into oblivion where she could find her baby daughter.

The edge of depression, Eva knew it well. She had seen it in many patients over the years. Consciously trying to avoid such thoughts, Eva looked about. Near the road was a sign proclaiming the land border between Switzerland and France. Eva laughed.

“What is it?” Gila asked, turning from the ambulance.

“It just dawned on me; I'm perpetually confused as to which country I'm in.”

Gila glanced at the road sign. “Yes, I can see how you could get a bit lost. But the people on one side of the sign are no different to those on the other, much how it is with any land boundary. In fact, if you track the language variations across Europe, you can see how everything changes from one side to the other. Some say if one listens carefully enough, dialect changes from street to street in some cities.”

“I thought you just studied ancient languages and texts?”

“I do, but while mankind has evolved, the tricks of language remain much the same. Even in ancient history, the dialects changed from town to town. Some hypothesize the aberrations are what gave rise to the variations in ancient religious practices.”

“Different dialect gives rise to different interpretation,” Eva concluded.

“Exactly! We will make an ancient historian of you yet.”

The ambulance door opened from the inside, swinging on silent hinges, and Eva's heart jumped. She missed Madden whenever she was apart from him; he was the rock she depended upon.

Inside the pristine white of the ambulance was a space crammed with two beds. Into each was secured a body with blankets and strapping. Swanson Guyomard, descendant of the ARC founder, Jerome, was a man who once had looked so smug, so carefree. In the year Eva had known him, his hair had thinned, and his face had become worn. Worry lines had developed as they jumped from drama to crisis.

Next to him was her husband. Eva leaned in; Madden was out cold, sedated. It had taken far more than the normal dosage to keep him under because of his unique nature. Madden was a Hellbounce, a man who had died and gone to hell and returned in his human form, one harboring a deadly peril. Inside him a demon lay dormant, just waiting for him to lose control enough to let it erupt from within, ultimately destroying all vestiges of the man remaining.

His long brown hair was loose about his shoulders; Eva's fingers itched to arrange it. Whatever he was, whatever he had been or might become, he was her husband, the father of their abducted daughter, and she loved him.

Both men had been incapacitated in the collapse of the Orpheus portal at CERN, home of the particle accelerator known as the Large Hadron Collider. They were on their way to the ARC retreat to heal and recuperate. Nina, the blonde paramedic who had been so steadfast during Eva's labor and for whom Eva had named her own daughter, checked his vitals.

“Give him a few minutes to come round,” Nina advised Gila.

Eva waited, watching her husband sleep. In the end, she stepped away from the door.

“He should have healed,” she wondered aloud.

“Like the bullet wound?”

“Exactly. He has the demon inside of him again.”

“Maybe it was more. The cold touch he received from Belphegor? Who knows what happened to him when he received the touch of Asmodeus.”

Eva felt real worry for him. It was a feeling she had not experienced in a long while; she was not used to Madden looking vulnerable. More than his frailty was the constant worry he would be a target for the denizens of the netherworld lying beyond Hell. Whenever a hellbounce had been injured, portals had sprung into life. Tentacles straight out of nightmare had reached through, pulling the injured demon into their domain. Somebody beyond the limits of imagination and reality had a game plan and a reason for hunting demons.

“Swanson? Can you hear me?” Gila’s searching voice came from within the ambulance and Eva peered back inside.

Gila leaned over Swanson, whose unfocussed eyes were open. His eyes twitched, trying to peer at the light outside.

“Swanson, we need to talk. This is an emergency.”

Swanson turned his head, mumbling a few words in Gila’s direction and closed his eyes once more.

The frown on Gila’s face betrayed her frustration. Instead of pressing the injured man for comment, she climbed out of the ambulance.

“It was worth trying. Nina, let us get to the retreat with as much haste as we can manage. The sooner they are settled, the sooner they will mend.”

The paramedic climbed back into the ambulance to secure the passengers and Gila led Eva back to the armored Mercedes.

“Anything I can help with?” Eva enquired.

“Not unless you know a way to permanently seal Hell away from earth.” Gila shook her head at some inner turmoil. “If they had only concentrated on the greater good rather than becoming the politicians ARC was never supposed to have. Maybe we would have some direction.”

“The Council?”

“Yes. They are hidden away, not speaking to anybody. We have reports around the globe of lightning in clear skies. Pressure building where there is no reason and the ground giving way and pits full of fire opening up. The other side has always been ready for this, and we don’t have long to react. The longer we leave it, the more like Hell earth becomes.

In quick order, they were back on the road and into France. The road took them away from Lake Geneva for a while, passing Bouveret, Rennaz, and Villeneuve.

Eva wanted to continue talking, but there was nothing for her to say. The men in her life were both strapped to a bed, and until they recovered, her daughter was alone with a psycho of a wet nurse. ‘If you can hear me, Nina, I will come for you,’ Eva thought.

As they passed through an industrial estate, the lake came back into view on Eva’s left. Dense forest crowded the flanks of the mountains to their right. Through it, the highway cut like an arrow.

Ahead, appearing to emerge from the water on a shallow base of rock, was a castle with red-tiled towers atop pale yellow walls.

Gila breathed a sigh of relief. “At last.”

“Our destination is the castle?”

“It is indeed. If ever we needed a place to feel safe, a castle on a lake is it. The ARC Council refers to the building as the refuge. To the public it is ‘Château de Chillon’. I only have one name for it though: Fort Guyomard.

CHAPTERTWO

A week passed, during which Eva grew increasingly bored and frustrated at the lack of anything resembling information pertaining to either her husband or Swanson. Gila had remained at her side for a couple of days and together they had explored the ancient castle, sometimes joining the frequent tourist parties filling the stunning structure with life.

The castle itself appeared to Eva to be divided into three sections: the area the public saw, the private ARC residences, and an area she could not gain access to despite her most thorough efforts. Thus, when Gila was called off on council business and Eva was left completely to her own devices, she attempted to find a way into the hidden section of the castle by any means possible.

By the fifth day, Eva had determined there had to be access via the roof. Currently, she was leaning out from under a narrow overhang buttressed with aged wood reeking of decay. Having no other recourse, Eva checked the courtyard below and seeing nobody about, hooked one leg over the guardrail.

“It would be unwise to take such a drastic course of action, young miss,” said an elderly yet still strong voice, rich with culture and accented just the way Eva imagined a stereotypical English aristocrat would sound.

Eva's heart missed a beat. “Steadman,” she admonished the elderly gentleman who was officially curator for the castle. Eva believed, as with everything else inside the fortress, he too had hidden facets.

Eva pulled herself back onto the walkway. “How long have you been watching me?”

Steadman gave her a look seeming to say 'I can see right to the heart of your schemes'. He wore morning dress of a dark jacket with tails, black and grey pinstripe trousers, and matching grey waistcoat and pocketed handkerchief on his left breast. With neatly trimmed if thinning hair and his perceptive gaze, he was a man in complete control of his domain.

“Long enough, young miss, that I can see what it is you are attempting to accomplish. Yet, not too long I could not prevent you from your foolhardy undertaking. Come now.”

Steadman held out his right hand, signifying Eva should walk ahead of him down the slender pathway.

“You know why I was doing it?”

“I do. And such a course of action would be considered folly; this castle is over a thousand years old. There are a hundred different buildings merged together. Trust me when I say there is no way into the restricted rooms across the roof. ARC is not a brotherhood of cat burglars after all.”

“I just want Madden back.”

“You will have to trust and be patient, young miss.”

“Why? What's the problem?”

Steadman gave her a knowing smile. “I did not say there was a problem. As to the reason for your separation, I couldn't possibly comment.”

Steadman left her at the bottom of the stairs, specifying with a pointed finger that she should return to her rooms. Eva had been given quarters in a cottage lining the inside of the courtyard. She shared half of it with the public; the building was one of those on the tour. She was the only person with access to her private rooms.

Collapsing in a yellow-cushioned chair, Eva watched the dust settle about her, the motes catching the rays of sunlight as they shone through the grilled window panels. The room was full of the scent of burning coal, as the fires were kept burning all year round to ward off the chill of so much rock. Eva’s attention focused on the specks of soot glowing in the back of the fireplace, sending little radiant lines of ‘soldiers’ up the surface. She imagined the armies of Hell, impatient, eager for the chance to advance in much the same way, while she sat here doing nothing.

“I haven’t lost my daughter for this,” she said aloud to no one. “Demons, a year of living dangerously, my own blood spilled on several occasions, and all I have to show for it is a fancy prison cell in this damned castle in the middle of nowhere.”

Eva continued to stare into the flames. Images came to her, short-lived, appearing in her mind as impressions. In the flames, somewhere on the other side, there was a woman carrying a baby. Her baby. The child screamed and the bearer paid it no mind, her only purpose to nourish it long enough to bring about the end. There were others with them, grossly distorted figures in robes. This was a procession. Next to the woman, a large silhouette crouched, and Eva felt the hunger, the wanton and unabashed gluttony of the creature as it watched over the woman and her prize. The woman turned her head, looking straight through the flames at her and smiled. It was a reflection of her face! The eyes were red, glowing like coals; the smile was full of wickedness. This procession led to an altar, crusted black with ancient blood rites. The other Eva lay the baby down on the altar and pulled out a knife with a glassy blade. Sweeping her arm up in a grand gesture, she plunged the knife down.

Eva screamed, looking around the room. The fire had died somewhat, the coals now not much more than embers, glowing with sullen obstinacy.

Had the fire hypnotized her? Had the vision been accurate? Eva focused on herself, seeking inward. Whatever had happened, she came to only one conclusion: if she had to wait any more, her daughter would be gone forever. The thought lay heavy on her mind and on her heart. As much as she knew the loss, coupled with so much dormancy, was leading her down a spiraling path on the way to depression, she began to hatch a new plan.

Checking she was alone, Eva peered out of her cottage. There was nobody in the forecourt; it was pitch black but for the occasional spotlight focused on the walls, lighting the castle for those who passed in the night along the highway nearby.

Slipping into one of the great halls used for banquets when not open to the tourists, Eva looked about. The leftovers of one such event still remained; messy tables, no doubt left for the morning staff, were covered in an abundance of cutlery. Amidst this was exactly the tool Eva desired: a carving knife. About a foot long, this had obviously been used for something bloody judging by the stains. Eva ran her finger along the blade, leaving a narrow line of red where the skin separated. It would suffice.

Stalking out of the hall, Eva went in search of the next part of her plan. In truth, she had no idea what she was doing, but Nina’s cry filled her mind. This overrode anything resembling sanity.

“Madame, may I help you?” A French accented voice asked from an open doorway Eva had just passed.

Eva stopped, turning on the spot, and appraised the blonde girl in the grey dress and pinafore, standard uniform for the castle staff, as she stepped forward.

“I think you can,” she answered, a numbness overcoming her better judgment. “I need to find a place. You are going to help me get there. You see: I lost my daughter.”

“Oh no, how dreadful. How did this happen?” The concern on the young woman’s face was absolutely sincere; despite this, Eva began to stalk her.

“She was taken from me, only days after she was born. She is an innocent, the innocent. Thrust into a world she can’t possibly know or understand. Sin took her there and only sin can save her.”

“Oh no, Madame. There is no way sin can offset sin.”

Eva shook her head. “No, you are wrong. Sin is not just an act of wrongdoing. Sin is a gateway. Sin is a portal to another place. Sin is a means to an end.”

Pulling the knife from behind her back, Eva continued hunting the girl, who began retreating into the room. She ignored the girl’s gasp of fear. The subsequent screams for help just washed over her, convincing her she was doing the right thing.

“You will help me find her,” Eva droned, grabbing a fistful of blonde hair and raising the knife, preparing to plunge it down exactly the way the dark version of her had done in the dream.

The maid screamed; her eyes focused on the blade.

Eva saw her own reflection in the polished metal of the knife and hesitated. This mask of rage was not her. This was not who she had spent all her life striving to become. She was a doctor. She preserved life, in her own way.

Releasing the hair of the maid, Eva just stood there, numb, watching herself in the blade, so close to committing the worst of sins. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and she doubled over, vomiting on the floor. The pain filled her middle now, radiating out anguish and loss. She began to sob, hoarse noises never seeming to contain enough air. Her vision faded. Her face in the knife was the last thing Eva saw before she blacked out. Eyes glowing red, teeth filed to points, grinning in satisfaction.

Eva stirred. She was comfortable and felt a lot better. Moving her pinkie against her ring finger and finding no ring there, Eva realized she had returned to the harshness of reality. Without opening her eyes, she concluded she was back in her quarters, her wedding band missing, lost in the collapsed cave housing the Orpheus sensor. But she was not alone. There was breathing in the room and a scent so familiar it made her feel whole.

“Hey you,” said Madden’s deep voice from across the room. Eva’s eyes sprang open.

“Madden!”

He smiled at her, all warmth and confidence, the feeling suffusing her with joy but never quite undoing the knot of pain at her core. Madden rose gingerly from his seat and came to sit on the edge of the bed beside her.

Eva grabbed his head, clutching him to her as she planted a kiss on his warm lips. Madden reciprocated but then groaned as she attempted to pull him closer.

“What is it?”

“Careful,” he said, wincing. “They only let me up this morning.”

“Why? What happened? Where have you been?”

“They have had me shielded. I was very badly injured at Orpheus. Worse than you knew. That blow from Asmodeus crushed everything in me. I was in pieces. As I understand it, I was safeguarded from those beyond by the residual energy from the collapsing portal. Once we were away, they used the same technology Ivor Sarch had been developing to keep a portal open, except they reversed it and used it to keep them shut. They did it in the ambulance, but more so here. Eva, the other side can’t know about this castle. The technology is in its infancy. Powerful, but it is not strong enough to stop the inevitable. Portals will open, and I need to be healed.”

“But you are hellbounce. You can heal quickly.”

Madden held up his hand. The cold had spread crystalline veins up his arm to the elbow. “Not as quickly as I once could. They only let me out this morning. They had you sedated after your little stunt. Now, you are going to have to do some answering of your own.”

On the tail of his words, Gila, Swanson, and Steadman entered the room, along with a couple of the castle staff, a man and a woman. Mercifully, Eva suspected for sake of both their wits, the poor girl who Eva had assaulted was not among them.

“While you were recovering,” began Steadman, “Doctor Scott attempted several times without success to breach the restricted area. She became quite adept at eluding me.” With this comment, the elderly curator arched an eyebrow at her.

“At least we know the defenses are secure,” Swanson commented, receiving a glare from the unnamed pair across the room.

“The charge leveled is very straightforward,” Steadman continued. “Eva Scott assaulted a member of the castle staff with the intention of grievous bodily harm.”

The couple glaring at Swanson now settled their gaze on her. There was undisguised hostility there. Eva suspected had she been alone with them, more than hostile looks would have been traded. Thank God for Madden.

There was no point being coy here. “It wasn't bodily harm. I intended murder. For a moment, I was going to kill her. I would have killed anybody crossing my path.”

The woman gasped and the man took a step forward.

“You would have killed my Shelly?” His accent betrayed his English roots. His face was beetroot with indignation at this disclosure.

“May you go straight to Hell for even considering such an act,” his French companion, a short woman of middling years spat.

Swanson nodded in the background, understanding on his face.

“Are you her parents?” Eva asked.

“We are,” replied the Englishman, tall and rangy, with short grey hair. “What you did was unforgiveable. What you could have done was worse. If you had a daughter, could you imagine what life would be like if you lost her?”

The comment hit Eva like a well-aimed punch to the stomach. “I… I… I'm so sorry. I wasn't myself. I would never…”

Shelly's mother began to retort but Swanson stepped in. “Look. There was no harm done beyond a bit of a scare. This was all clearly a misunderstanding. You and your daughter have served well in the castle. I understand if you feel you need to press charges; it’s your right and you are entitled to move forward, but for now, we need some time with Doctor Scott alone.”

The tone in Swanson's voice when he said 'alone' brooked no argument and with one final glower from Shelly's mother, the couple left.

“The depression. Is it bad?” Swanson asked after Steadman had locked the door.

“It is my fault,” the ageing curator said, his voice heavy with sympathy. “I should have seen the signs. I thought her desperation to reach you was borne out of loneliness.”

“No, Steadman, my actions were my own,” Eva said, smoothing out the sheets of her bed. “I miss my daughter. She has been gone a week, and I yearn for her more than ever. She is in great peril. I saw an image in the fire. A vision. A dream. I could not tell. Nina and Elaine were there, as well as great shadowy monsters, contorted and evil. They all wanted to consume Nina, but something worse prevented them. I knew I had to get there by any means necessary. The quickest way to Hell was murder, then suicide.

“I guessed as much when I heard what was happening.” Madden took her hand. “I do a lot of hand holding it seems. You are a nightmare.”

“I wish I could make it up to the family. The poor girl must have gone through hell. What will happen now?”

Swanson looked over at Gila, who nodded back.

“They are castle staff, not ARC,” Gila said. “They will be offered compensation. If they choose to pursue the matter, well, let’s just say the case will never reach the authorities. We do not have carte blanche to do as we will in this world, but these are exceptional circumstances. You and your daughter are far too crucial to get caught up in so trivial a matter.”

“Attempted murder is not trivial,” Eva argued, amazing herself with the words coming out of her mouth, even though she was the culprit.

“Yet we will take these steps for you. It may be what you saw was, in fact, your daughter reaching out to you. It is acknowledged you have a preternatural link. We have seen evidence of this far too many times to deny it.”

“Also,” added Swanson, “the boundaries are thinning. As Hell and Earth come closer, it may be Nina can reach you. The enemy has a plan, and the time has come for you to see the final part of the castle. Eva, if you feel up to it, we have something to show you.”

CHAPTERTHREE

Eva stepped with care over a pile of bricks as the five of them made their way through the crypt underneath the castle. High brick-vaulted arches rose above them, festooned with thick black electricity cables that fed the lighting this far underground. Dampness permeated the air and left a musty taste clinging to the back of Eva’s throat.

“We always end up in cellars or crypts, it seems,” she observed, placing her hand on the wall only for the stone beneath to crumble. It was clear why there was wreckage everywhere. These foundations were not solid.

“We deal in death,” Swanson said from in front of her, tripping as he turned to look back. “ARC might not be on the surface an organization of such limited vision, but look at our ultimate objective. Demons are the reason Jerome Guyomard founded this organization. We plan against the day we have to fight creatures most people don’t believe in. Those who do believe in them fear them. We guard across the globe against the threat of incursions from a place that should not exist. Our singular goal, as things stand, is to rescue a newborn from the very place we never want to see on our doorstep.”

“ARC: We will keep the demon from your door,” Madden quoted in the sort of voiceover one heard in commercials. “Catchy, no?”

“I’ll alert the media wing of the organization,” Swanson answered wryly. “You can be the poster boy when demons start invading.”

“It doesn’t seem very stable down here,” Eva announced, wiping dust-covered hands on her jeans. She started to tie her hair back, and then thought better of it.

“Looks can be deceiving, young miss,” Steadman said as he hopped over the rubble she had just passed.

Eva grinned at the old man. “Yes, so it would seem. You are very light on your feet all of a sudden.”

“Steadman was a procurer of antiquities in his younger days,” Gila interjected. “It is a skill set that one cannot easily put aside.”

“Rick was much the same,” Eva said in somber tones, remembering the great brute of a man who had remained at their side and protected the two of them after Elaine revealed her true nature. “He paid the ultimate price despite those skills.”

“He did,” Swanson agreed, “and we shall miss him. He was one hell of a man, Eva. But don’t get too down about it. Rick Larrion understood the risks and, despite his quiet demeanor, he was vociferous in retaining his place with you. He almost came to blows with other agents to assist in his capacity. On the front line, there was no better man to serve. Honor his memory by never forgetting the man.”

“Amen,” Madden said; the irony of his demonic half not lost on anybody.

Gila turned a corner in the crypt, where the end of the brickwork met a roughly chiselled rock face. Winking at Eva, she pushed an inconspicuous section of the stone, watching it slide back into place. There was a heavy ‘clunk’ from behind the rock, and the section dropped back, sliding out of sight.

The gap revealed a metal frame on which the stone face had pivoted. Beyond, the walls were dark, the stone of the underworks covered with what appeared to be carbon panelling.

“It’s not sanctified, is it?” Madden asked.

“Not at the moment,” answered Gila. “If demons find their way into this area of the castle, they would never get this far. Trust me, when I say the defenses have been disabled for you, and you do not want to ever see them in action.”

Madden looked about them, his face tentative.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Steadman announced, “if you would be so kind as to proceed in, I will seal the entrance behind you.”

“One way in, one way out,” Swanson said to Eva with a wink.

Eva led the way, tugging on Madden's arm to encourage him along. The black hallway had the distinct ARC reek of sterile cleanliness, with the promise of something ancient at the end.

The rock slid into place behind them and from this side, Eva could see the complexity of the mechanism holding it in place.

“That must weigh…”

“Upwards of twenty-five tonnes,” Swanson provided. “Welcome to the ARC retreat, where the secrets with secrets of their own are kept secure.”

The hallway opened out into a room about thirty feet square, with several smaller rooms accessed through archways. Judging by its shape, the ceiling was evidently buttressed in the same fashion as the rest of the crypt but more of the dusky material hid any brickwork. Lighting came from many small bulbs hanging on nearly invisible wires about two feet from the ceiling.

“This is hidden?” Eva looked about the room. Servers and computers crowded one side. The rest of the retreat was dedicated to shelves of documentation.

“Hidden, bombproof, infra-red proof,” said a familiar voice. Jeanette Gibson, member of the Council and head of ARC’s media wing entered the room. “Satellites can see nothing but the castle. If nuclear war erupted, we would be protected from both radiation and the electromagnetic spike. There is one way in and one way out; we could control most of the world's media from this one room. If the castle crumbled, this would remain the only standing structure within the walls.”

Eva crossed the room and clasped her blonde-haired ally in a brief hug. “It's good to see you, Jeanette.”

The woman Eva had once only believed to be the ABC World News anchor held her at arms’ length, examining her with a look of approval. “You have done well. You have come such a long way in such a short time. You're definitely not the innocent I met in Alabama. I'm so incredibly sorry about your daughter.”

“She's not lost yet,” Madden protested.

“Indeed, Madden Scott. It seems you are proof anything is possible. Human, demon, human, demon. Hellbounce doesn't apply to you.”

Madden laughed. “When you put it in such a way, it's more like 'Hell-yo-yo'. The beast within is always ready to explode. I have more control this time.”

“It’s for the best,” Jeanette concurred, “for control is needed now more than ever. With events transpiring as they have at CERN, it has begun; as much is clear to anybody able to interpret the signs.”

Eva glanced at Gila, who nodded.

“Eva was party to the information as I received it.”

“What neither of you know is the extent of how personal this has become.”

There was an edge to Jeanette’s comment, and it hooked Eva. “What exactly do you mean? What’s happened?”

Jeanette opened a black leather folder on the table nearby, placing several photographs where Eva could see them.

“Look familiar?”

The images awoke several latent memories in Eva's mind. “The mountain… my street… Swanson… your house in Sweden… I don't recognize this last one. But they all look damaged.”

“It has begun in earnest: the demon attack on Earth. The very event we were charged to guard against.”

Eva turned to Gila. “This is what they were telling you? No wonder you didn't want to pass the information on.”

“Some of it,” Gila admitted. “I did not know all of the locations and the extent of the damage until now.”

Eva studied the photographs again. “A fiery pit where my house used to stand. It’s a fitting end for a truly despicable hellhole.”

“Unfortunately, the demons that emerged from the portal did a lot of damage before they were stopped. Two children and their mother were killed in a nearby house.”

Eva put her hand to her mouth. “What were their names?” she asked, afraid for the answer she knew was coming.

Jeanette flicked through the dispatches. “Ellis and Jessica. Their mother was…”

“Roxanna,” Eva finished. “They lived next door. Oh, dear God, we have to do something about this.”

“All in good time. In Sweden, Eyvind and Rikke Moeltje perished when the house collapsed. On Gehenna, a number of ARC operatives were killed.”

“And this last photo? It looks deserted.”

“You couldn't be more right. That's the Gobi Desert, in Mongolia. A lightning storm of immense proportions erupted in a clear sky and disappeared just as quickly.”

“The Gobi Desert,” Madden pondered. “The same place where the Convocation of the Sacred Fire intended to send you to protect Nina.”

“Indeed,” Jeanette said in agreement. “All incursions were ended after a brief interval. Portals from this frozen dimension opened and the demons were taken. They are being picked off before they can do too much damage. In this, the enemy of our enemy…”

“Is a worse enemy,” Eva finished. “They are taking demons for the exact same reason Hell’s minions are coming here. They’re strengthening their forces. The stronger they become, the easier it is to cross. Asmodeus said as much.”

“Undeniably. These places all have one thing in common. You two.”

“You think they are tracking us?” Madden spun to Eva. “Could such a feat even be possible? Did Asmodeus have that kind of power?”

“I don't think it was necessarily him.”

“What do you mean?” Swanson asked.

“Ivor Sarch. He is a demon.”

“Impossible,” Swanson declared. From the tone of his voice, it sounded as though Swanson wasn't certain.

“There was writing on the wall in the sepulchre Iuvart safeguarded. You were there. It read Rosier and Garias. Iuvart was clearly a different entity entirely. Who else was closer to Benedict Garias than Ivor Sarch?”

“We have safeguards,” said Jeanette.

“Designed by whom?”

“The technology wing of ARC.”

Eva threw up her hands in exasperation. They could not see it or were still bound by some kind of influence.

“And who runs the department and what are their key interests?”