Succubus Lord 7 Page 24

  Off in the distance, a brilliant glow of purple cut through the water and headed directly toward us. As the light got closer, it grew larger and its colors grew more vibrant. Once the violet flames were about one-hundred feet away from the shore, I recognized the small, dinghy-like vessel that had brought us to the River of Souls.

  On its mast stood Charon, with his dark purple robe and lengthy black beard. The ferryman’s sunken eyes were laser-focused on the shore as he held his staff out in front of him, and the silvery ectoplasmic magic on its tip guided his vessel. Behind the dinghy was a trail of the same silvery ectoplasm that slithered and twisted like a snake.

  Then the calm morning became eerily loud.

  Suddenly, the air around us became filled with thousands of moans of terror and agony. The worst part? They originated from underneath the water of the ocean, and that made their screams wet and gurgly. It almost sounded like the Shades were choking on their own blood, and I shuddered at the horrific images my imagination put before me.

  Finally, the Ferryman’s vessel came to a stop against the sandy beach. Charon stepped off his ship, waded over to the back of his boat, and held the enchanted staff at the ready. Then he jabbed the hook of the staff into the water, almost as if he were spearfishing, and came out with a terrified Shade attached to the end.

  “W-Where the fuck am I?” the Shade demanded. “I was just minding my own business, walking down the sidewalk, and now I’m here?”

  Charon simply shook his head and pointed toward Limbo. “Welcome to your new home, Jeremiah Neil,” he said ominously. “All will be explained by the mayor of Limbo. But now, you must go.”

  The horrified, shivering, naked man nodded his head and then wandered off into the night.

  Charon repeated the process a dozen more times, until the final soul was released into the First Circle, and then he stabbed his staff into the sand with a sigh.

  “I’ve been doing this job for several thousand millennia,” the Ferryman mused sadly as he looked up at us. “Informing people they are dead and doomed to spend eternity in Hell is a task that never gets easier. I’m glad to see you alive and well Jacob. I’ll admit, I was worried the next time I saw you, you’d be a Shade in my cargo.”

  “Not quite,” I sighed. “We still have a mission to finish. You know what they say, there’s no resting until you’re dead.”

  “I wouldn’t call what happens down here ‘resting,’” Charon retorted darkly. “What can I do for you, Jacob?”

  “We need your help,” I explained. “Black Bart and his cronies robbed us and fled Limbo. We figured if anyone knew where he was, it would be you.”

  Charon’s sunken eyes narrowed at my words, and he began to stroke his beard thoughtfully.

  “Black Bart, huh?” he grumbled. “That fool commandeered one of my vessels a few centuries ago. I’d very much like to get it back.”

  “That’s why we’re asking for your help, Charon,” Eligor said as she stepped forward. “If you help us get to Bart, not only will we get all of our items back, but you will also be reunited with your old ship.”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t think I can be of much help,” the man in purpled sighed. “There’s a reason I haven’t been able to find my ship in hundreds of years. I’m just too busy. If I step away for even a few hours, who will guide all of these Shades to their respective Circles?”

  “Yo, ZZ Top,” Todd whistled. “I’ll do it. I’ve always wanted to be the captain of my own ship!”

  “You?” Charon scoffed. “No offense, my friend, but you’ll stick out like a sore thumb. Especially once you get to the lower Circles, where you cannot throw a rock without hitting a demon of some sort.”

  “Are you a demon, bro?” the imp asked curiously.

  “Todd!” Tris gasped. “You can’t just go around asking people if they’re a demon or not. That’s very rude.”

  “It’s alright,” Charon promised. “What I am is … complicated. I’m not human, nor am I demon or angel. Much like this city, I exist on an astral plane that falls somewhere beyond the capabilities of the human mind.”

  “So … not a demon?” Todd reiterated.

  “Not a demon.” Charon shook his head.

  “Alrighty then,” the imp said with a grin. “This’ll be a piece of cake.”

  Todd did a couple athletic stretches for good measure, inhaled deeply, and then closed his eyes. Almost instantly, the imp’s skin began to bubble and change color. His legs and arms stretched out to human length, his horns melted into a head of unkempt black hair, and his soul patch extended so it hung all the way down to his bellybutton.

  Within seconds, Todd was the spitting image of Charon.

  “Tadaa!” he exclaimed as he did jazz hands. “It’s like looking in a mirror. Besides, you seem more like the strong, silent type that doesn’t really talk to anybody. Nobody will even know the difference.”

  “Uhhh, strong silent type?” I asked, and we all turned to Todd.

  “Yep,” my friend said with a nod. “No one will know the difference between me and buddy boy Charon here.”

  “Silent?” I said.

  “Sure,” Todd replied.

  The succubi and I exchanged looks, but before we could point out to my best friend that he was full of shit, The Ferryman cut in.

  “Hmmmm,” Charon pondered aloud. “I supposed all you would have to do is make my stops in the next few Circles and break the bad news to them … the magic of my staff and the boat will do the navigating automatically.”

  “See?” Charon-Todd laughed. “No problemo, bro. I’m really good at breaking bad news to people. Like that time I had to tell Jakey’s parents their son got caught in the closet with Janet Harrison. I got to them before the principal did, but they were piiiisssed.”

  “I’m not sure that’s the same level of bad news,” Charon pointed out.

  Todd just shrugged. “You’ve never seen Jakey’s parents when they’re mad,” he explained. “Hell hath no fury like God-fearing midwestern parents when their child gets caught misbehaving.”

  “I can actually second that,” I said with a chuckle. “Todd’s great at being a punching bag.”

  “That’s totally not the words I would have used, bro,” the imp grumbled. “But thanks.”

  Charon looked hesitant, but then he finally nodded, walked over to his doppleganger, and handed over his staff.

  “There’s nothing to it,” he explained as Todd swiped the long piece of enchanted wood. “Just stand at the front of the boat, hold it out in front of you, and it will guide the way.”

  “What about the Shades?” Todd questioned the ferryman. “Do I just jab the stick in the water, or … ”

  “Precisely,” Charon confirmed. “Just keep placing the head of the staff into the water until it starts to come up empty, and then move on to the next Circle.”

  “We need to make sure we don’t miss each other,” I explained. “My team has only made it as far as the Fourth Circle. If Todd gets any further than that, we won’t be able to catch up with him.”

  “Then we must make sure we meet him in the Fourth Circle,” Charon confirmed. “There are many, many Shades who end up in the Second and Third Circles. I usually spend a few hours in each one due to the sheer size of my cargo.”

  “Then we need to find Black Bart, get our shit back, and be in the Fourth Circle before Todd gets there,” Gula said as she slammed her fist into her open palm. “But where would Black Bart be?”

  “It’s like you guys have never watched a single pirate movie in your lives,” Todd-Charon sighed. “Everybody knows after collecting a big ‘ol heap of booty, you go celebrate at Tortuga. It’s a fucking pirate’s paradise, bro.”

  “I don’t think Tortuga is down here,” I chuckled. “That sounds a little too heavenly, even for the First Circle.”

  Charon ran his hand down his beard as he pondered. “There is no ‘Tortuga,’” he explained, “but there are a handful of islands and ports around this C
ircle. I normally drop people off in the City of Limbo, but there have been a few times I’ve been directly instructed to take Shades to the other ones.”

  “Why do other locations even exist?” I questioned the ferryman. “I thought everyone who came to the First Circle was put in the city of Limbo?”

  The man in the purple hood shook his head. “There are some people who lived decent, Godless lives on Earth Realm that were before the time of cities,” Charon explained. “People like Aristotle or Einstein are able to adapt to life in a modern city easily. Prehistoric man, however, is not. Likewise, there are some people who come down here that just cause too much trouble to be thrown in with the rest of the bunch. Case in point, Black Bart.”

  “He was supposed to stay in one of those ports?” Eligor interrupted, “but then he tricked you and stole your vessel.”

  “That is correct,” Charon admitted somewhat bashfully. “Lucifer was not pleased about that one.”

  “Alright, so he has to be at one of these ports or islands,” I pondered.

  “I don’t think he’d go to one of the islands,” Tris added. “If he’s a real pirate and all that, he’s probably off celebrating his ‘victory’ over us. You can’t really do that on a secluded island.”

  “I second that notion,” Charon said with a nod. “The islands of the First Circle are for the prehistoric men who ended up down here. A pirate would find no comradery there, only trouble.”

  “Then it’s got to be one of the ports,” I concluded. “How many are there?”

  “Only three,” Charon retorted. “Not including this one here.”

  “Then we’d best check all three of them,” Eligor grumbled. “We need to get going. Time is of the essence. We can steal one of these vessels from the port, find our man, and then bring it back before anyone even realizes it’s gone.”

  “I like the way you think, Eligor.” I grinned at the blonde. “Let’s get going.”

  We turned to walk away, and the disguised Todd scurried over to Charon’s boat. I looked back over my shoulder and saw the imp leap into the dinghy, land at its front, and then use his glowing staff to push off. As he began to float off into the morning sunrise, I distinctly heard the imp singing Blow the Man Down. He had by far one of the worst singing voices I’d ever heard, but he was trying his damnedest to stay in tune.

  “Do you think he’ll actually get all the Shades delivered?” Charon asked as we walked toward a collection of boats docked at the port. “I will admit I’m a little concerned.”

  “Say what you will about Todd,” I reassured the ferryman, “but he’s never let me down before. He always finds a way to make things work, even if it’s in his own strange ways.”

  “That only makes me feel mildly better,” the ferryman admitted.

  “This one looks badass!” Tris nearly shouted as she ran over to one of the boats.

  It was a tiny vessel, shaped almost as if it were an upside down banana. The ship had a singular upright mast with a lone sail, and it had hieroglyphics all over the side.

  “Egyptian vessels are great for quick trips,” Charon explained, “but they’re way too small for a group like ours.”

  “What about this one?” Gula spoke up. “This looks like the one Chef Ramsay always drives around at his lake house in California.”

  The redheaded succubus was pointing at a bright red speed boat that floated gracefully in the water.

  “It might work,” Charon admitted, “but that’s too modern and loud. We’d give ourselves away before we could even get to Black Bart.”

  “Then what about this one?” Eligor suggested and pointed to one of the older ships.

  It was a very long vessel that stood nearly two stories tall, and it was painted with a vibrant red and blue coat. The ship was made completely out of wood, and a large sail sat atop its deck, complimented by two smaller ones at the fore and the aft. There were also hundreds of long, branch-like oars that jutted out of each side.

  “A Roman Naval Vessel,” Charon said with a grin. “That just might work.”

  “Wait, wait,” Tris said in a fluster. “That’s an awwwful lot of oars, dude. Please don’t tell me we’re going to have to be the ones to man all of them. I’ve had enough exercise in the last few days to last me a lifetime.”

  “You won’t be, my girl,” the ferryman chuckled. “I’m the Ferryman of Hell. I can make this vessel move without even lifting a finger. Observe.”

  The man in the purple robe closed his eyes and lifted his hands toward the ship. Purple Hellfire arose from his open palms, and then it spread across the top of the ship like wildfire. As it rose up the three masts, the spell stretched itself into a series of glowing purple sails.

  “Oh thank heavens,” Tris gasped. “I was really worried there was going to be a lot of work involved in this mission.”

  “There still is,” I promised as I headed toward the boarding ramp. “We still have a Demon King to slay, remember?”

  “That’s not work, Jacob,” Tris retorted and followed me up the ramp. “That’s revenge.”

  Our group entered the vessel and took our places in various spots along the deck. Then Charon lifted his hands out in front of him once more, and we were off.

  I nearly fell as the boat lurched forward, but instead I was stopped by Eligor’s arms.

  “Easy there, Mr. Ralston,” she warned flirtatiously. “That armor must be weighing you down. More than you’re used to, anyway.”

  The knight looked down at my crotch, and I knew exactly what she was referring to.

  It took us nearly an hour to reach the first port, which was much larger than the one in Limbo. This one felt a lot more like your stereotypical fishing village, with seagulls swarming the sky and Shades in waders carrying bags of what I assumed to be fish. The landscape was rocky and green, completely devoid of any sort of skyscrapers or modern buildings.

  As much as we would have loved to hang around the beautiful village, there was no sign of Black Bart’s ship, so we moved on.

  The next port was almost two and a half hours away. The aesthetic of this one was ripped straight out of a Japanese history book. The port itself had a bunch of modern piers, but the city was surrounded by a large cobblestone wall. However, a handful of white and black multi-story buildings with thatched, curved roofs rose up from behind the barrier and gave us a peek at what lay inside.

  “He’s not here, either,” I growled as we surveyed the port for any sign of Bart’s ship. “I guess that just leaves one more.”

  Charon turned the ship around and pointed us in the direction of the final port city of the First Circle. We traveled for another hour, and the seas got rougher as we went.

  The waves crashed against the side of the boat, and if it weren’t for Eligor using her elemental magic to keep them at bay, we would have been capsized.

  Finally, after a long, grueling journey, we reached the third port.

  The second I saw the final port, my eyes lit up with excitement. The surrounding landscape was full of palm trees and other tropical vegetation, and the village itself looked to rest among the forest. The buildings were made in the colonial style, with wooden beams and tile roofs and several large, circular windows. Torches of red Hellfire hung from the lampposts as well as the fronts of the buildings, and they illuminated the dirty, raunchy glory of the port.

  Todd was fucking right. This place basically was Tortuga.

  “We got him, Jacob!” Gula hissed, and then she bounded over to my side and pointed out at the port.

  There it was, Black Bart’s ship.

  “Wh-what has he done to my vessel?” Charon gasped. “It used to be beautiful, and now it just looks like any other filthy pirate ship.”

  “It’s okay, dude,” Tris comforted the ferryman. “Once we get it back, you can make it return to its former glory.”

  Charon sighed, and then he led our ship to one of the empty piers. We exited the vessel and made our way into the small trading village.
>
  It really was like something ripped straight from a pirate movie. There were drunken sailors stumbling around, chasing women and firing their guns at each other. A Shade was running after a few of his livestock, which I assumed had been set free in the chaos, and another one stood atop a roof and made rooster noises.

  “Excuse me,” I shouted to a nearby Shade to try and draw his attention, but he completely ignored me.

  I tried again as another drunken sailor ran by, but once again, I was ignored. I was already pissed, but now I was getting madder by the second.

  The next time a Shade ran past, I threw up a wall of violet Hellfire in his path. His eyes widened as he tried to halt his momentum, but he instead slammed face-first into my barrier and fell back into the mud with a dirty thump.

  “Where is Black Bart?” I demanded. “I’m only going to ask once.”

  The Shade had a look of pure terror in his eyes, and he pointed over toward a nearby building.

  “Y-you’re looking for Bart?” he stammered. “He’s drinking in there. Something about celebrating a major victory or something like that. P-please, Mr. Demon Lord, don’t kill me.”

  I wasn’t a Demon Lord, but I really wasn’t in the mood to correct the guy. Instead, I lowered my shield and stomped off toward the tavern. I opened the door forcefully, and my senses were assaulted with every vile smell known to man.

  Pipe smoke and old beer mixed together with the smell of vomit, rat droppings, and men who hadn’t showered in hundreds of years, and I nearly hurled when it hit my nose. I took a deep breath, composed myself, and began to scan the tavern for our flamboyant friend.

  Finally, I laid eyes on the fucker.

  Black Bart was sitting at the bar next to the innkeeper from Limbo. He wore the same over-the top frock coat and hat, and he was laughing loudly as he talked to a handful of similarly-dressed pirates.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, I drew my goat-headed dagger and moved on the fucker. The second I was within striking distance, I raised the weapon above my head, lurched forward, and stabbed it into his right hand to pin it against the bar.

  Bart let out a wail of pain, and the entire tavern went silent.