Jim Baen's Universe

Introducing: Stories by new authors

Devil May Care

Written by Jason Kahn

Illustrated by David Maier

In his assigned pit in Hell's vast Pain Management Center, Cornelius, Tormenter Second Class, plied his trade with tireless enthusiasm. At present he was in the middle of his morning session, working on a serial adulterer who had been shot, stabbed, strangled and poisoned after all of the women he had been seeing discovered his infidelities at the same time. One look and Cornelius knew he had a fear of small places, which was why he locked the offender inside a small room that slowly contracted until the man was crushed to a pulp. The process would start over after the soul was revived. Cornelius waited until the screams reached a crescendo for the fifth time and then broke for lunch. He retired to his personal alcove where he sat back in his comfy chair and ate some salamander stew while perusing the Daily Apocrypha.

Cornelius flipped through the pages, careful to get a minimum of ink on his reddish skin. A headline read: "Reaper Union Demands Overtime Pay." Cornelius shook his head. Reapers had the worst job, flitting Above Ground, grabbing their assignment and hustling back to Hell. They were little more than glorified escorts, and they had a ridiculous quota to fill each day. Cornelius had started out as a Reaper, most everyone did. Fortunately, he was stuck in that job for only a hundred years or so before moving up.

Unfortunately, while his job had more cachet than that of a Reaper, it had never been good enough for his broodmare. She complained to anyone who would listen that she wished he had a more glamorous occupation, like a Devourer or a Corruptor. But Cornelius had never doubted his calling. His sense of fairness and need to punish the wicked made him a natural Tormenter.

The next headline read: "Samael Calls for Overhaul in Elemental Dept." Cornelius raised an eyebrow. Samael was second in command to Lucifer himself. The Elementals were the demons who caused natural disasters Above Ground: flood, hurricane, earthquake. But they were under Scylla's authority. The demoness also ran the Devourers, the demons who ate the most unrepentant, evil souls after the Tormenters were done with them, which made her very powerful. But she was still a rung or two below Samael. Scylla would not welcome Samael's intrusion into her affairs.

Cornelius sighed and thanked the Void he was not involved in the politics of Hell's Hierarchy. He was about to turn the page when an intern came by with the mail and a roster of the next day's "cases," as the Tormenters called their victims.

Cornelius felt a stab of anxiety when he looked at the parchment. Instead of the normal list of names and accompanying transgressions, there was a single name with a time and place Above Ground. He was going Reaping.

Had he done something wrong? Was he being demoted? Cornelius quelled his rising apprehension and reached for the telephone on his desk. Perhaps his supervisor could shed some light on this. He dialed an inside line—there was only one outside line, and it hadn't been used for as long as he could remember.

"Yes, Cornelius?" came the deep voice at the other end of the line.

"Mr. Moloch, sir? I think there's been a mistake made in the assignments for tomorrow."

"What mistake?" The voice rumbled with mild concern.

"Well, it appears that I'm being sent to Reap someone." Cornelius tried to keep the irritation out of his voice.

"Ah, yes." Moloch's voice registered sudden comprehension. "New program, straight from the top. We're now required to put in a little field work now and then, to keep us fresh. Do you a world of good. Don't worry, someone else will handle your cases until you're back. All right? All right. Thank you for calling."

Cornelius hung up. Field work? This seemed as sensible as when the Devourers were given mandatory sensitivity training for preferentially eating the souls of building contractors. He sighed, knowing he had no choice but to go on the Reap tomorrow. The thought distracted him the rest of the afternoon. Twice he lost focus and allowed a third-world tyrant with a fear of drowning to fall into shallow water, leaving the man soggy but unharmed. And once he even failed to properly heat a bed of hot coals, leaving a triple murderer with a confused look on his face and mildly uncomfortable feet.

At length, however, the workday was done, and a grateful Cornelius filed out of the cavernous Pain Management Center and headed for home, which was a small but well-appointed townhouse in the Plateau area of Hell's middle-class district. His house was just a few hundred yards from a crevasse with a breathtaking view of a lava flow far below. That was why property values were so high, though the schools were not as good as in the really pricey parts of Hell.

The next morning, after Cornelius' usual scalding hot shower, he wrote letters to some of the eighty brothers and sisters of his brood, many of whom still lived at home, much to his broodmare's annoyance. Then he made ready for his Reap. Cornelius stood and calmed his mind, then reached out to grab hold of the psychic winds that whirled unseen through the Void between Hell and Above Ground.

He grabbed a strong current and pictured his destination. In an instant, Cornelius disappeared from his living room and reappeared in the TV section of a Wal-Mart store in Anaheim, California. He changed his appearance to that of a normal human, since his true form sometimes upset the newly dead.

There was a group of people staring at a woman lying on the floor in front of a wall filled with television sets. She appeared uninjured, except for the television that resided where her head would normally be. Cornelius observed as the woman's extracorporeal essence rose out of her body. She stood looking down at herself.

"Well, I certainly didn't see that coming," she said. None of the onlookers could see or hear her, except for Cornelius.

She looked up, noticing him. "What are you dressed up for, Halloween?" Then she looked more closely. "Say, you look awfully familiar."

Cornelius' eyes narrowed as he studied her. Something was wrong, aside from the fact that she could see his true form and seemed to recognize him.

"What is your name, my dear?"

"Sandra, but my friends call me Sandy. Who the hell are you?"

Cornelius knew he had the right person, but this was still wrong. If there was one thing he was good at, it was knowing just how wicked someone had been. But this one didn't have any taint at all. Much the opposite, she gave off the curdled-milk smell of someone who had been quite good. The certainty sank in; she didn't belong in Hell. The thought of punishing someone who didn't deserve it didn't sit at all well with him. Had some clerical error caused this? And why wasn't there someone from Upstairs here, to take her to His domain? Cornelius looked around, sensing none of His representatives. Something was very wrong here.

"My name is Cornelius. I was sent to fetch you, but I fear there has been some mistake."

Sandy didn't seem to hear him. She snapped her fingers. "I knew you looked familiar! I've Seen you, but in my visions you look very different. But it's definitely you."

"You have Seen me?" Cornelius asked.

"Yes, I get visions."

Cornelius stroked his dark goatee. "Might that be why you can see my true form?"

"Could be. What are you trying to look like?"

"It's not important." He shook his head. "You know, your visions didn't seem to help you a great deal back there."

"Oh, I can't See anything about what's going to happen to me, just other people, sometimes places."

Cornelius didn't comment, unsure what to make of this human's claim of clairvoyance. "And what did you See about me?"

"Well, like I said, you look very different. No red skin or forked tail. All white robes and glowing. Very angelic, if you know what I mean. Does that make any sense to you?"

Cornelius almost stopped breathing. He knew with utmost certainty he could not deliver her Downstairs. If she ever uttered a single word of this to anyone in the Underworld, he would be done for. Those few demons who switched sides to work for Him were reviled as the worst sort of deviants, and their brood was considered forever tainted. If even an accusation were raised that a demon was considering moving Upstairs, he would be publicly dismembered to set an example for others. While such spectacles were excellent networking opportunities, he had no desire to be the one getting dismembered. And at the rate gossip spread among demonkind, all she had to do was open her mouth once.

Cornelius pursed his lips. But what to do about it? The girl's Reap had been scheduled. There was already a paper trail that led to him. She couldn't just disappear. Souls had to be accounted for; that was an absolute both Upstairs and Down. But this one didn't belong Downstairs. It must be some sort of foul-up. He needed a safe place to keep her while he cleared it up.

His decision made, Cornelius took Sandy by the elbow and steered her away from the crowd and over to the sporting goods section while paramedics dealt with her body.

"Clearly there has been some error; you do not belong in Hell." Sandy brightened visibly upon hearing that. "But I need to figure out what happened, and what to do with you."

"Well, if you're planning on taking me to your home, there are some people waiting for you. Well, they're not people, but you know what I mean."

He studied her. "They are demons like me? Can you describe them?"

She frowned. "They're bigger, and they've got cloven hooves. For some reason, they seem very . . . hungry."

Devourers. He no longer doubted Sandy's abilities. But why would Devourers be looking for him? Or her? This was getting stranger and stranger.

"Sandy, I'm going to ask you to come with me for a little while and do exactly as I say. I will do my best to figure out what's going on and see that no harm comes to you. You're going to have to trust me, all right?"

She looked at him with obvious reluctance. "So you're taking me to Hell?"

He tried to reassure her. "Only for a little while. I need to put you somewhere safe while I investigate."

She considered for several seconds. "All right. I guess if I'm just a tourist it's okay."

Cornelius declined to comment on the attractiveness of Hell as a tourist destination. He smiled and extended his hand. "Shall we?"

"Okay."

Cornelius reached out for the psychic winds. In an instant, he and Sandy disappeared from Wal-Mart and reappeared in Cornelius' alcove at the Tormenters' complex.

Sandy took a moment to look around. "Nice little office." She loosened her collar. "Kind of warm here, but I guess that's normal."

Cornelius hustled her out of his office into one of his "work" rooms. He waved his hand and an oblong, rectangular box appeared in the center of the sparse room. He looked at her, his brow furrowing. "You're not claustrophobic, are you?"

"Not at all."

"Good, because I'm going to put you in this sensory deprivation tank. No one will be able to see you, and I'll put a different name on today's roster. The only thing is that you're going to have to scream a lot. This is supposed to be torture."

"I can do that."

They approached the coffin-shaped box, and Cornelius helped Sandy inside.

"Uh, how long am I supposed to keep this up?"

Cornelius put his hand on the lid. "Until I get back. Hopefully, this is just some clerical error and it'll take a few minutes to rectify."

Sandy looked at him. "But you don't think so."

He pursed his lips. "I don't know, which is why I want you in a safe place for now." He declined to mention that it was for his safety, as well as hers.

"All right. Just be careful. They look awfully hungry."

Cornelius gave an uncertain smile and closed the lid. As soon as it was shut, Sandy started pounding and screaming with great gusto. Cornelius appreciated the way she threw herself into the role. He hurried back to his office and wrote down a false name on the day's roster, putting "mass pet-murdering tax evader" as her crime and "claustrophobia/sensory deprivation" as the major fear and preferred method of torture.

He was about to leave to start making a few inquiries at the Bureau of Soul Management and Redistribution when he was interrupted by a short, fat demon with a pair of large horns that were grossly out of proportion with the rest of his body. He was accompanied by two Devourers.

"Cornelius, what in the Void is going on!?" the short demon thundered.

Cornelius maintained his composure. "Mr. Moloch, can I help you with something?"

"Yeah. You can explain this!" His boss threw a copy of the Daily Apocrypha down on the desk. The top headline read: "Baal Bungles Several `Deals with Devil,' Souls Go Free."

"I really don't deal with Baal, sir, and I've never made any claims about being good with contracts."

"Not that one, toad!" Mr. Moloch's face began to glow cherry red, and smoke curled out from his nostrils. "Turn it over!"

Cornelius did so, and his jaw tightened. The headline read: "Reap Gone Bad, Soul Missing, Investigation Started." He scanned the first few paragraphs. Both his and Sandy's names were mentioned.

He tried to remain calm. "Sir, I can assure you I completed my assignment and brought the lady to Reaper Processing as per usual. Perhaps they messed up the paperwork over there. They're probably just covering their tails."

Moloch frowned, his expression doubtful. "It's out of my hands now. You need to go with these two." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

The Devourers smiled and came forward to grasp Cornelius by each arm. Insatiable hunger oozed out of them, so strong it made Cornelius dizzy to be near them.

"All right, sir."

The Devourers steered him out the door. His legs felt like jelly and his voice was weak. "I'll straighten this out. Don't worry about the current case, she can stay put for several hours if need be."

Moloch looked down at Cornelius' notes, muttering a few words before Cornelius was led away. "Pets and taxes, eh? She's bad, all right. We'll let her keep for a nice long time."

The two Devourers led Cornelius out of the Pain Management Center and through the cracked, dusty Plateau area, toward the hills where the various members of Hell's powerful Hierarchy lived. Cornelius swallowed and began to worry.

They arrived at a white marble structure with columns and figures carved into the stone. The Devourers' hooves clacked on the steps while Cornelius' tail swished nervously. They walked inside, straight to a large set of brass doors that swung open as they approached. The Devourers shoved Cornelius inside without ceremony, chuckling to themselves as the doors swung shut. Cornelius was left alone to face a demoness he knew by reputation alone.

That ends the preview. Probably in the middle of a sentence. Sorry.