Chapter 1
What The Devil!?
It was not strange at all to find a man in an old tweed jacket walking down the street early on a Saturday morning. It wasn't strange either for that man to be carrying a briefcase or for him to have a handkerchief hanging out of his front pocket, but there was something different about the man who came today. He wasn't like the others. There was something wild about him; something unusual in the way he carried himself. It was like he had some irresistible charm that made it impossible to look away.
Everyone watched him as he made his way towards the old brick building at the end of the street. He walked with a casual gait, his arms swinging steadily at his side, but his face betrayed signs of impatience and anxiousness. What he was anxious for, well that they could only guess. It was likely that he was about to make an important deal or bargain with the museum, or just to read up on some facts needed for a recent study. Or at least, that's what all the other men did.
In any case, the man in question, who was walking down the street towards the museum, did a very strange thing once he reached the building. (Now by this point everybody and their dog had stopped to watch the show and people were craning their necks forward just to get a better look) Instead of walking up to the front doors he turned down the alley running parallel to the building and walked in the side door.
Afterwards the people on the street felt a sort of relief and it seemed to them that they had been watching him against their own will. But they insisted that it wasn’t their fault, they apparently figured that he had placed a kind of hoax or curse upon them. Well, this could have been true were this some twisted world in which magic and sorcery existed; but as magic and sorcery are only myths made to satisfy our longing for something more in life, this picture of curses and hoaxes should all just be forgotten. Anyways it wasn’t the people of the streets which were important at the moment (Actually they weren’t important at all), but the man inside the building, the one with the tweed jacket and inhumane ability to place curses on unsuspecting civilians, although that last part may or may not be true.
The man was walking confidently up the stairs toward the second floor, his shoes making no sound upon the carpeted steps. The only thing that betrayed his presence was the large security cameras placed in every corner and fixed upon this new comer. It wasn’t often that a non staff member was permitted access to the second level, but he had permission to climb these stairs, permission in the form of a large black and gold name badge reading Visitor in bold letters across the top and, underneath, the words Hi my name is Andy. Of course most regular people would find it funny to have to wear the badge of honour, as they call it, but for those who frequented the lonely place it was a treasure. To the man Andy though, it was merely a trinket, an insignificant morsel of plastic needed to simplify his mission, not that the lack of said trinket would be of much difference to him, he loved a challenge.
From the entrance of the stairwell there was only a short walk down a badly wallpapered hall to reach the destination Andy desired.. It was a door, bright red mahogany with a golden plaque beneath a window with the words Matthew Dotz, Head of artefact retrieval engraved into its surface.
Andy knocked twice and then, without waiting for an answer, entered the room. The first thing to be said about Mr. Dotz’s office was that it smelt, not in a bad way like these places so often do, but in a way that showed lots of character on his part. There was a faint musky scent mixed in with that of old books and unused cigars. It wasn’t what one would typically expect for a place like this, but Mr. Dotz, like Andy, wasn’t like your every other average day Joe working in a museum. He too was perceived as different by the inhabitant of the neighbourhood, but not in the head turning way Andy so recently demonstrated. He wasn’t tall or charming like the other man, or even nice to look at, he was just plain old Matthew Dotz, yet there was a spark of adventure in him still.
Matthew looked up startled when Andy entered the room, but relaxed once he saw who it was. He was lounging in his chair with a book propped open on his chest and a pair of humorous spectacles hanging off his nose. And although he had many other important things to do, Mr. Dotz never could seem to put his books down.
“Ah, Mr. Demos how nice of you to drop by,” Matthew reluctantly set his book down on his desk.
“Yes well, I thought I’d come by and check how the transaction was coming along.” Andy shifted his gaze across the room. Along the far wall a series of portraits hung neatly along the wall; Andy examined these portraits with feigned interest before turning back to Matthew.
“It is... coming along. The shipping crew I hired to transport the artefact were delayed by a storm and therefore unable to make the destination on time, but by my calculations they should arrive no later than Tuesday.” He stood and walked over to the window and stared out at the clouds overhead.
"Good. Where will we be making the transfer?" Andy asked.
"Oh yes, I almost forgot about that. Meet me at the pub down on 25th at around six. Boris will let you in the back door. But don’t forget what I told you earlier, no one must learn of what we are doing. It is of the utmost importance that this all remain a secret. If the wrong people were to hear that the artefact had been found, the consequences would be dire indeed.” The sky was darkening and Matthew could feel that a storm was soon to appear.
“Why’s that?” Andy shuffled his fingers over one of the many bookshelves in the room and randomly grabbed a book from it.
“Why? Well it is said that the item in question is some sort of powerful weapon that could be used to take control of the underworld. It was forged in the deepest pits of hell by a demon named Aranymus. Now, Aranymus was one of the Devil’s closest advisers at that time and had long been planning an uprising against the lord of the underworld himself, Death. But what they had overlooked was the fact that Death could not be destroyed. He was the vessel for which all the power of the underworld flowed and without him both the realms of darkness and light would be destroyed. Aranymus was not one to be thwarted, though, so he sent for the demon Prakis, who was the keeper of knowledge in the dark lands. Prakis told Aranymus that if he could harness all his power within a single blade and use that blade to cut out Death’s heart then all the power of the underworld would be his to control.” Matthew turned to look over at Andy and saw him flipping through one of his books.
“Put that down! It’s an antique; worth more than your life I’d say,” he yelled. Andy closed the book and placed it on the shelf again.
“Now, where was I? Ah, I remember. Aranymus forged the sword in the dead of the night and along with a few followers set off towards the borders of the underworld. But unknown to Aranymus the Devil himself had sent spies out to watch his adviser, for he had been acting exceedingly strange lately. On hearing of his plan to overthrow Death, the Devil sent his guards out to stop them before they reached the border but they were to late. Knowing tha-”
“Why would the Devil be against the death of Death?” Andy interrupted.
“Good question. In the beginning, when the underworld was first created, a pact was formed between the first ruler of the underworld, the first Death, and the Devil. Well the pact stated that should the division between the two halves of the underworld be broken then a cataclysmic war would ensue that would destroy the underworld forever and with that the Devil himself. So, to continue with the story, the Devil immediately contacted Death with the information of what was to come. Death, knowing he had no other choice bound his powers into a medallion of great worth and sent it into the land of the living to hide it from Aranymus and his demon followers. After that Aranymus had no choice but to quit his mission, for without the powers of the underworld he would have no hope of succeeding. But there are some who say to this day he continues to plot his way towards ruling the underworld. Or at least, that’s how the story goes.”
“Where did you hear all of this?” asked Andy from where he now stood in the center of the room. Matthew stared out the window a few seconds longer, at the growing darkness above, before turning to face Andy.
“I’m not quite sure I remember,” answered Matthew a little to enthusiastically. Andy pretended not to notice the suspicious look in his eyes.
“And the Talisman, Death’s Talisman. Where is it?”
“I have not the slightest clue. I have been searching for years, but nothing ever comes up.” Matthew went over to his desk and grabbed a cigar from the top drawer then continued to fumble along searching for matches.
“Are you sure?” asked Andy, the malice in his voice hard to miss. “Because I think you’re lying to me and I do not like it when people lie to me.”
“Yes of course I’m sure.” Matthew looked around nervously and then touched the front pocket of his coat in reassurance.
“No you are not,” Andy sighed. “It would be a pitiful waste for you to try and deny it. The talisman is here, I can feel it...I can smell it.” He shuffled his feet and moved nearer to the desk where Matthew stood.
“You were right you know,” he whispered. “About Aranymus and how he is still plotting to overthrow the underworld. But he has a different name now a different identity. Would you like to hear it? Or better yet, would you like to meet him?” Matthew trembled slightly behind his desk. He pulled a match out of it’s case and tried to light it.
“No, well I guess that wouldn’t be a good idea. The man, or should I say demon, isn’t too fond of visitors.” He smiled knowingly at Matthew.
“I'm sure I have no idea what you are talking about. After all it was only a story,” Matthew said, his voice shaking with effort as he tried to control his nerves. Outside the sky had turned completely black and rain had started to pour down onto the street.
“Right, only a story,” he said, watching Matthew attempt to light another match. “Why don't you let me help you with that?”
Andy walked up closer to Matthew and held his hand up a few inches before him. A small spark leapt off his palm and onto the tip of Matthew's cigar.
“What the Devil?” he cried in alarm. He dropped the burning cigar on the ground and jumped backwards to get away from Andy.
“It's demon actually.” Andy smiled.
“B...b...but how? Demons in the land of the living it’s impossible,” Matthew said backing slowly towards the office door.
“Oh, it’s possible alright. When you have all the knowledge of the dark lands at your disposal nothing can stop you from achieving your goals. It just takes a little collaboration.” Matthew’s eyes grew wide as realization dawned on him.
“Prakis?” he whispered.
“Yes,’ he grinned widely. “I was wondering how long it would take you to figure that one out. Now, give me the Talisman.” Matthew trembled and lost his footing. He tripped over a chair and fell to the ground.
“You’ve heard the stories, you know what I can do. If you don’t give me the talisman now then I will make sure you suffer for all eternity.” He took a step closer to Matthew, who was slowly shuffling towards the door.
“Don’t be difficult with me Dotz,” he said, the irritation clear in his voice. “I’m giving you a chance to come out of this alive. You could forget you ever had a part in this, you could pretend it never happened. But if you even think of making a run for it, you will be punished.” He glared at Matthew with a look of compassionless hatred.
“Give it to me!” he yelled.
“No!” Matthew cried. He jumped up from the ground and ran the last few feet to the door, to safety. But before he could turn the knob and escape, it burst into flames before his very eyes.
“Silly human, you think you would learn that you have no power over me. There is nothing you can do to stop me from retrieving the Talisman. But I decided to give you a choice. Either you could walk away with your life, or you could die.” He watched as Matthew backed away from the burning door. “You made the wrong decision, I can assure you of that.”
Andy walked over to where he now stood and grabbed him by his throat. Matthew immediately started struggling and clawing at Andy’s hand.
“It would be useless to try and struggle. You are going to die, there is nothing you can do about it.” Matthew opened his mouth to scream, but Andy just squeezed tighter. “Hush now, the consequences would be dire indeed, if the wrong people were to hear.”
The room started to grow increasingly hot in the next instant and outside the storm grew to it’s peak. Thunder cracked through the growing silence and lighting ripped it’s way through the sky. The books on their shelves slowly started to burn and crumble into nothing and the hand on Matthew’s throat started to burn.
“Give my regards to Death,” Andy chuckled. “I’m sure she’ll be glad to hear from me.” Matthew could feel the smoke clogging up his airways as the fire that was Andy’s hand grew in intensity. He gagged soundlessly as the smoke and fire started to consume and tear at his flesh. He could smell his own skin burning, could hear the fire sizzling in his hair and he could see all around him, his precious books all burning to nothing. After a while the fire around him started to go down leaving only himself burning away to nothing but ashes. The pain seared through him and he started gasping for air. Once again he tried to scream for help, but Andy’s hand continued to surround his throat.
It seemed that ages had passed once the fire had finally burnt down to nothing, but in reality only a few minutes had went by. All around the room tiny bits of burnt paper floated about carelessly and rained down upon the charred remains of the man to whom they had once belonged. Andy bent down and dug within Matthew’s ashes as if it were nothing to be shuffling along in the remains of a dead man. But then again, he himself had been dead for god knows how long before he came back to this world.
Andy found what he was looking for almost instantly. He pulled a small golden chain out of the pile. On it was a piece of curved gold, shaped almost like a horse shoe but with one side longer than the other and pointed ends on each. A smile of contempt spread across his face, but it instantly disappeared as he realized that something was wrong. He looked closer and saw that at the center of the Talisman, there was nothing. The stone, the Blackheart stone, the one in which all the power was stored, was gone. Andy dug through the ashes again and again, searching for the missing piece but there was nothing there. He did not like this one bit. He didn’t want to have to explain to Blake why he only had a half of the Talisman. No, that wouldn’t turn out to well.
He had to admit, though, that the humans were a lot tougher than he had given them credit for. Not like when he was alive; back then no one would have
tried to oppose him. Andy sighed in defeat. No matter how much he was dreading it he had to return to Blake and explain what had happened, although he would be angry at him for not making sure he saw the Talisman before he killed the man.
Andy walked over to Matthew’s desk and grabbed a set of keys off of it. He then bent down and picked up the half burnt cigar from the ground and placed it in his mouth. Stepping on Matthew’s ashes as he walked towards the door, Andy grinded them under his heel and swore at his rotten luck. “Hopefully,” he thought. “The man has a nice car.”
Andy left the room and walked casually down the stairs. He pulled the visitor’s badge off of his coat and threw it disdainfully on the ground. Once again he used the side door as he exited the building. He rounded the corner and walked towards the staff parking lot to the spot marked with Matthew’s name. In the small square allotted to him sat a bright gleaming black Porsche. Andy smiled, thinking that at least he got something out of the deal.
Before he could go back to where Blake and the other’s were staying though, Andy had one more task to perform. In three days time he would make his way over to the pub as specified by Matthew. No one would find it strange for him to be there when Matthew was not, he often sent others to do business for him. And as for the fire, he was sure they would come up with some plausible reason for that. Not that it would matter if they found out it was him. Three thousand years was a long time to be waiting. There was no way he would fail this time.
