Текст книги "A Fate Worse Than Death"

Автор книги: Jonathan Gould

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

Chapter 12

I STARED AT BULLY MALONE. Bully Malone stared back at me. At least here was one mystery solved―my gunwork outside that Girl Scout hall had been more effective than I’d given myself credit for. It looked like I’d taken Bully out for good. Not that it helped me much now.

“I asked if there was a problem here,” Bully repeated. He spoke softly but his voice was hard, like a satin veil on a pile driver.

“No problem here, Mr Malone,” the bouncer said. “Just trying to keep undesirables out of the club.”

“Well, it just so happens that this particular undesirable is with me,” said Bully. “So are you going to let us both in, or do I have to get you to do a little dance first?” He took out a gun and pointed it at the bouncer’s feet.

“Right away, Mr Malone, come this way.” The bouncer stepped away, ushering Bully towards the door like a game show hostess pointing to a new car. I felt Bully’s powerful hand come down on my shoulder, and before I knew it, I was lifted up and pulled through the door into the darkness of the club.

The room was small but crowded. All heads turned towards us as we entered, and all conversation suddenly ceased. Even the band stopped playing and promptly left the stage. In the short time since his death, Bully had clearly wasted no time making himself known to the residents of Hell.

Bully dragged me along a hastily cleared path towards a table in the back corner of the club. He made a small movement with his gun, and the couple who were seated at the table quickly stood up and disappeared into the crowd.

“Just my luck. One table free,” said Bully. “Why don’t you take a seat and we can have a friendly little discussion?” He pointed towards one of the recently vacated chairs with his gun. It looked like this discussion was going to be as friendly as a pre-dinner chat between a goldfish and a piranha.

I sat down. I can’t say I was thrilled at the idea of spending the evening with the man who had murdered me, and whom I had, in return, dispatched to Hell. But it didn’t look like I had much of a choice. If there was going to be a discussion, I decided it would be better if I set the agenda.

“Okay, Bully, I know what you’re thinking,” I said. “But try to look at it from my point of view. I had a job to do. It wasn’t a job I particularly wanted, but a fellow in my position can’t afford to be choosy. So when I suddenly see you coming out of that Girl Scout hall with a semi-automatic pointed at my forehead, what else was I supposed to do? I didn’t want to shoot you, Bully, but you didn’t give me much of a choice.”

“Don’t think you can talk your way out of this one, Clarenden,” snarled Bully. “I don’t care what you say. You killed me. You, a lousy little nobody, killed me, the meanest, toughest hit man in town. I don’t like that, Clarenden. It’s not good for my image. So what do you think I should do about it?” As he spoke, he slowly lifted the gun until it was pointing at my chest.

“What difference does it make what you do about it,” I snapped back. “It isn’t going to make you any less dead, is it.”

“Maybe not, but it will make me feel a whole lot better.” Bully raised the gun further, so it was now pointing at my face. “So let’s hear you talk. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t blow you to—”

“What are you going to do, kill me a little bit more?” I interjected. Bully looked at me blankly, his mouth wide open as if he hoped to catch a fish in it. Emboldened by his obvious confusion, I kept talking. “We’ve reached the end of the line, you and me. There’s nowhere left for you to blow me.”

Bully still looked puzzled, but he lowered the gun. “Okay, you got me there. But let me tell you, I can still make Hell a pretty unpleasant place for you.”

“And here I was thinking Hell was one big fun park. In the last half hour I’ve been ripped off, I’ve been robbed, I’ve been drenched, and I’ve been swung like a pendulum until I thought my brains were going to slide out my ears. If you really think you can give me a worse time than the one I’m already having, I’d like to see you try.”

If Bully had looked confused before, his face now moved past nonplussed and settled at utterly bewildered. “Listen, small guy,” he shouted. “You’re pushing your luck. Nobody talks to me like that. I’m Bully Malone.”

“Sorry, but I’m going to have to correct you. You used to be Bully Malone, but now you’re just another dead guy.” I paused for a moment, hoping that some of this might actually sink in, but when his face didn’t move, I kept going anyway. “You may think you’re the big man and I’m the little man, but when it comes down to it, we’re really not that different. We were both small wheels in a big machine. We worked because we had to, and sometimes we killed because we had to. But when we got taken out, the machine didn’t stop moving.”

Bully continued to stare uncomprehendingly. Then, suddenly, his face broke into a grin. “I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about, but I have to admit you’ve got guts. There’s not too many guys that could kill Bully Malone and then look him in the eye afterwards.” Then his expression hardened again. “But you gotta understand, I can’t just let this slide. I got my image to consider. I gotta get my respect back.”

“Seems to me you don’t have too much of an image problem. In fact, if I’m not mistaken, your image is better than it’s ever been.”

“What are you talking about?” Bully’s brow wrinkled as his brain struggled to make sense of what I was saying. Given it had never had much of a workout while he’d been alive, it was a big ask to expect it to start functioning now.

“Look at it this way,” I said. “You may think you got respect while you were alive, but was that really the case? Did people respect you for who you were and what you did, or was it all due to the Bostino family?”

“What have the Bostinos got to do with this?”

“Quite a lot, Bully. As long as you worked for them, you could never be sure if the respect you got was all due to that association. But now that you’re on your own, there’s no doubt. The respect you’re getting is for you and you alone. But don’t just take my word for it. Have a look at these people. They’re absolutely terrified of you.”

I’ll never know if Bully really understood what I was saying, but in some way it seemed to satisfy him. “Yeah,” he said. “They are terrified of me.” He pointed his gun at a gentleman sitting at a table beside us. “Hey you, give me a handstand,” he demanded.

“Right away, Mr Malone, sir,” the man squeaked. He stood up and then crouched down on the ground, attempting to support himself on his shaky hands. He swayed unsteadily for a couple of seconds before collapsing into the crowd, sending drinks flying.

Bully roared with laughter. “Maybe you’re right, Clarenden. Maybe I don’t have to take you out after all.”

“Call me Jimmy,” I said. “And don’t forget you’ve already taken me out once. Don’t you think that’s enough?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Getting killed by you isn’t so bad after all. I still got my respect, plus I haven’t got any of those crazy Bostinos to worry about.” Bully shook his head. “I tell you, Jimmy, I’m not going to miss the Bostinos. Complete whack jobs, every last one. Did you ever meet them?”

“Never had the pleasure, Bully. They had a gang of trained assassins to ensure that nobody except their closest advisors ever got close to them.”

“You’re right, I trained them,” Bully chuckled. “Let me tell you something about them Bostinos. First, there was Billy Bostino. He got his leg shot off by accident during a poker game, and he had to have a wooden stump attached. I had to kill him because Tommy Bostino didn’t like the thumping sound he made at night when he went to the bathroom.”

“I can understand that.”

“Then there was Freddy Bostino. Freddy had this superstition about his fingernails. He would only clip them once every two months, on a full moon. I had to kill him because Tommy Bostino didn’t like how he got cut every time he shook Freddy’s hand.”

“That would annoy me too.”

“And not forgetting Franky Bostino. Franky had one green eye and one blue eye.”

“And let me guess. You had to kill him because Tommy didn’t like those colours.”

“Nah, Tommy was colour blind. I killed Franky because he had bad breath.”

“That’s a pretty big crime in my book too. So I guess that would make Tommy the craziest one of them all.”

“Not for much longer though,” said Bully, sounding as close to thoughtful as he was ever likely to get.

“What do you mean by that?”

“He’s on his last legs, the old man. They say he doesn’t have much time left. And I’m glad I won’t be around when he goes. With nobody left to lead the family, it ain’t gonna be pretty.” Bully paused for a moment, then he grinned broadly. “But I don’t have to worry about them no more. I’m finally free, and that deserves a drink. Stay here, I’m buying.”

Bully stood up and strode across the room. Although the crowd at the bar was packed six deep, somehow he had no trouble getting straight to the front. And as for the service he received, I’d never seen a barman move with such haste—like a wind-up doll with a fast-forward button.

As Bully made his way back through the crowd, I considered how I might take advantage of his unexpected camaraderie. It seemed unlikely that he knew anything about Sally and her connection to the Devil, but I couldn’t leave this club without making an enquiry along those lines.

“I’m glad we’ve sorted out our differences,” I said after Bully handed me a drink, “because as it happens, I’m after information. Perhaps you can help me.”

Bully scowled. “Listen, Jimmy, don’t push your luck with me. You’re still the guy who killed me. Now shut up and drink.”

I shut up and took a sip from the glass. It tasted a little like bourbon and a lot like raw sewage. I gagged and spat it back into the glass.

“I would’ve figured a man like you could hold his liquor,” Bully laughed.

“Liquor I can hold,” I said. “This is urine.”

“Get used to it, buddy. You’re in Hell now. It doesn’t get any better than this.”

“That’s what you think.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out my little bottle. “Help yourself to a real drink.”

Bully grabbed the bottle and took a swig. “Now this is more like it,” he exclaimed. “Jimmy Clarenden, you might be a dirty, two-bit weasel of a private detective—”

“Easy on the compliments.”

“ . . . but I have to say you’re a man of good taste, and I like that. Now I suggest we take this bottle of yours and head over to the pool table. We can shoot some pool, and I can try to tell you everything you need to know.”

“Rack them up and do your worst.”

Judging by the number of balls on the pool table, it looked like a new game had only just begun.

“You fellows nearly finished?” said Bully as we strolled over.

“A-a-as it happens, we just f-f-finished this moment, M-M-Mr Malone,” one of the players stammered, shoving his cue into Bully’s hands.

“That’s good timing,” said Bully. “Now if you’d be so kind as to rack the balls, me and my friend Jimmy are gonna have a game.”

Both players immediately complied with more than reasonable haste and then vanished into the smoky blackness.

“Okay, Jimmy, why don’t you break.”

I chalked my cue, took a swig of bourbon, and settled over the table. I aimed for the spot just to the right of the leading ball, but I miss-hit and the white ball went spinning off to the left. The balls scattered around the table, leaving Bully with a simple shot on the number two ball. He leant over, carefully measured the shot, hit the cue ball with precision, and missed the shot to the right.

“Looks like there’s a slight roll to this table,” I said. “So how about you tell me a little more about life in Hell. Is this what eternal punishment is all about? Miserable weather, drinks that taste like excrement . . . ” I paused to take my next shot. “ . . . And pool tables with strange ideas about the laws of physics?” I added as I allowed for the roll and missed far off to the left.

“Nah, that’s just for leisure. Most of our time is supposed to be spent working.” Bully helped himself to more drink and then missed his next shot to the right again.

“What sort of work?” I asked as I sent the white ball spinning into the side pocket.

“Can’t speak for everybody here, but I’ve been put on garbage collection.” Bully retrieved the ball and then promptly sent it into the pocket on the other side.

I took the white ball out of the pocket, gave my mouth and throat a quick alcoholic lubrication, and made a shot that hit every ball except the one I was aiming at. “You haven’t been doing much of a job. The streets here are filthy.”

“Of course the streets here are filthy,” said Bully, striking the ball so hard that it bounced off the table and into a woman’s drink. “This is Hell. We’re not supposed to pick up the garbage here. We do it in Heaven.”

My ears suddenly leapt off my head. I waited for them to come down and reattach themselves before I continued. “You collect the garbage in Heaven?”

“That’s right,” said Bully, trying to brush off the profuse apologies of the woman with the ball in her drink. “Every night, we go up into Heaven and make sure it’s completely free of litter. Well, you wouldn’t expect the people in Heaven to have to do it, would you?”

“So that’s how things work,” I muttered, feeling like a tiny bit of a much bigger picture had just been unveiled. “You spend your life making a mess of things, then you spend your afterlife cleaning messes up. I suppose there’s some sort of justice there.”

“I suppose so. I used to say my job was taking out the trash, but now my job really is taking out the trash.” Bully paused, possibly overwhelmed by the complexity of his statement. Luckily, he found a simple remedy. “How about you give me more of that drink.”

I passed the bottle and then put the cue on the table. My interest in our game of pool had waned. “So shouldn’t you be in Heaven cleaning up right now?”

“Yeah, I should. Except right now we’re on strike.”

“On strike?”

“For shorter hours and better conditions. I dunno much about it because I’m only starting out, but from what I hear, there’s some new people that just took over the garbage collection operation. They’ve increased the hours we work and the quotas for the amount of rubbish we have to collect each night. So we’re striking in protest, and let me tell you, Jimmy, I’m all for it. Just because I lived a life of violence and bloodshed doesn’t mean I should have to put up with that.”

“Do you know who these people are that took over the operation?” I asked.

“No idea,” he replied. “You know me. I just do what I’m told, no questions asked. Now are we going to finish this game or not?”

I looked at the table. The only ball that had gone near any of the pockets was the white one. “I really don’t see any point.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” said Bully. “Anyway, this dump is dead. I think it’s time you and me split. I know a rocking little place around the corner. If we’re quick enough, we may still be able to catch some action.”

“I think I’ve had enough action for one day, Bully. I need a rest.”

“Okay, suit yourself.”

We walked back through another quickly-cleared path towards the door. As we left the club, I couldn’t help noticing the band finally returning to the stage.

Back out in the street, Bully turned to me, handed back the bottle, and grinned.

“It was good to see you again, Jimmy. And thanks for the drink. I hope the information I gave you was helpful.”

“So do I, Bully,” I said. “So do I.”

“So, I guess I’ll see you round.”

“I can’t make any promises.”

“Well, good luck anyway.” He turned and began walking quickly up the street.

“Good luck to you too, Bully,” I said. It felt strange wishing good luck to the guy who had shot me down. But I guess when you share a drink and shoot some pool with them afterwards, it puts everything into a different perspective.

I began walking the other way, pondering the new information I’d received. They say dead men tell no tales, but Bully had told me plenty. After our conversation, the plot hadn’t just thickened—it had congealed. I needed a place where I could think in peace, but more importantly, I needed somewhere I could sleep. It had been a long day and I was absolutely exhausted.

My plan was to return to the warehouse at the end of the alley where I’d first arrived, so I could have a brief lie-down on the mattress Jessie had left behind. Unfortunately, there turned out to be so many dark side alleys that finding the right one was virtually impossible. After a while, I gave up trying and decided that the first unlocked door I could find would provide sufficient sanctuary.

I turned into the next alley, but I hadn’t taken more than a couple of steps before I began to get that feeling when you know you aren’t alone. I turned to see a large shadow blocking the end of the alley. From out of the shadow, a voice hissed.

“This is what happens to people who stick their noses in places they don’t belong.”

The shadow split into five smaller but still significant shadows. Closer and closer they advanced, rapidly cutting off all of my light. For a fraction of a second, there was pain, and then my whole world became nothing but a shadow.

Chapter 13

I WOKE UP. I WAS LYING ON A HARD BED, with a head that felt as if it had recently become acquainted with a very large rock. Too weak to even consider opening my eyes, the most I could manage was to let out a low groan.

“Just try to relax,” said a voice I had no trouble recognising. It was a soothing melody, a soft light in the heavy darkness.

“Angel,” I said. “Am I back in Heaven?”

Jessie laughed. A bitter, mirthless laugh. “Open your eyes and tell me if this looks like Heaven.”

I opened my eyes. I was in a small room. The walls initially appeared to be covered with brown, patterned wallpaper, but a closer inspection revealed that it was actually a swirling mix of grot and grime. Tatty olive carpet covered the floor, and the only furniture apart from the bed I was lying on were a table and a couple of chairs that looked as if they’d been carefully crafted from scrap timber and splinters. Jessie stood beside the table, a joyless smile on her face.

“This isn’t Heaven,” I said.

Jessie shook her head.

“I’m still in Hell.”

Jessie nodded. “I found you lying face down in an alley and I brought you here. What happened to you?”

“I’ve been spending my time getting to know the locals, but it seems they’re not so keen on getting to know me.”

Jessie sighed. “I tried to warn you, Jimmy. I tried to let you know that Hell is worse than you could have possibly imagined. How do you feel?”

“As good as anyone would feel if they’d just received a back massage from a steamroller. But why are you here? You’re not telling me that—”

“Yes, I’m afraid I am. Sally discovered who I was and made sure everybody in Heaven knew about it. So I’ve been sent back here to serve my penance.”

“I’m really sorry,” I said, feeling uncomfortably like someone trying to cheer up a friend after their grandmother died.

“I guess it was bound to happen eventually. There’s only so long you can keep someone like Sally fooled.”

At the mention of Sally’s name, I couldn’t help thinking of my last encounter with Jessie. I’d had lipstick on my face and a semi-clothed Sally draped around me. Despite everything I’d said to Jessie, I had a horrible feeling she figured I was the one who had turned her in.

“Please trust me, Angel,” I said. “It wasn’t me.”

“It’s a little difficult for me to trust anyone at the moment.” Jessie sat down and buried her head in her hands.

“But you’ve got to believe me. I don’t know how Sally found out, but I promise you I didn’t tell her anything.”

She looked up again. “You don’t have to worry, I know it wasn’t you. It was actually an unfortunate accident that gave me away.”

“What happened?”

“My batteries went flat.” For a moment, Jessie looked almost embarrassed. Then she frowned again. “As for you and Sally, I guess that’s none of my business. I can see why a man like you would be attracted to someone like her.”

I started to laugh, but protests from my body stopped me mid-guffaw. “If you’d only stayed another minute, you would have been seen me pick Sally up and throw her out on the street.”

“You threw Sally out on the street?”

“Dumped her like a broker dumping stock in a bear market.”

Jessie almost smiled at that. “How did she take it?”

“Not well, I’m afraid. Apparently, as far as she’s concerned, I’m about as welcome in Heaven as the bubonic plague.”

“You’re right, I wish I had stayed to see it.” Jessie paused. The smile that had flirted with the idea of appearing on her face clearly thought the better of it. “You’re a brave man to take her on, but it looks like she’s not going to let you have the last laugh.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Just look at you.”

“So I got beat up by a local gang. It could have happened to anyone.”

“Come on, Jimmy, you’re not that naive. You don’t think this happened purely by chance.”

Jessie was right. Who was I kidding? This had definitely not been a random attack. Those thugs, whoever they were, knew exactly who they were targeting. And the fact that Sally had some serious connections within the underworld was as clear as a teenager’s skin wasn’t.

“Okay,” I said, “so Sally and the Devil are hatching something, but for what purpose? Sally seems pretty comfortable as it is. She’s got her mansion on the hill, and she’s got God practically eating out of her hands. What else could she possibly have to gain?”

“I don’t know,” said Jessie, “and to tell you the truth, I don’t want to know. I’m in enough trouble as it is, and I’m damned if I’m going to get embroiled any further.”

“Seems to me you’re already damned.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not usually at my funniest straight after I’ve been beaten up. I’m usually much funnier while they’re doing the beating.”

“I assume from that comment that you’re starting to feel a little better.”

“I feel well enough to eat a horse.”

“Then perhaps I can get you some breakfast?” She stood up and walked towards the door.

“Please do. But before you bring it out, can you do me one favour?”

Jessie stopped and turned to me. “What would you like?”

“Whatever you bring me, mash it up just a little. I think I’m going to have to drink it through a straw.”

Jessie chuckled and then disappeared through the door. While she was gone, I finally managed to sit up, and by the time she returned, I had made the momentous journey from the bed to one of the chairs.

Jessie placed a bowl on the table in front of me and handed me a spoon. I dipped the spoon into the thick brown sludge in the bowl, took a mouthful, and then spat it straight back out again. I’d never actually eaten mud before, but I was sure it would have tasted like nouvelle cuisine compared to what had just passed my lips.

“What in God’s name is this supposed to be?” I gasped.

“You don’t like cereal?”

“I didn’t realise ‘cereal’ was the word for toxic slime here in Hell.”

“That mediocre food up in Heaven isn’t looking quite so bad now, is it.”

“Come on,” I protested, “you can’t tell me there isn’t good food in Hell. I’ve seen some of the restaurants down here.”

“There’s plenty of good food in Hell,” Jessie agreed. “It’s just practically impossible to eat any of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, first of all, you’ve got to be able to afford it. And secondly, even if by some chance you do manage to get enough money, you’ll probably find they’ve run out of the ingredients for the dish you want to order, or the chef has taken the day off, or they just don’t feel like cooking it.” Jessie paused and looked at me with a strange, cock-eyed grin. “But I shouldn’t have to tell you any of this. You’ve been in Hell for a while now. So, how are you enjoying it?”

I put the spoon down and pushed the bowl away. “When I first got here, I thought it was great. Here I was expecting fire and torment, but what did I find instead? Streets full of people. Bars and nightclubs playing music till the early hours.”

“But did you actually get into one of those nightclubs to hear some of the music?”

“No I didn’t. Well, I got into a club, but the band left the stage straight away.”

“Exactly,” said Jessie. “The band always takes a break whenever you go into a club. And they always come back just as you’re leaving. You never actually get to hear them play.”

“But what about all the people who were in the club when I arrived? They would have heard them play.”

“That’s right, the other people would have. Good stuff only ever happens to other people in Hell. When you go to the movies in Hell, the ticket office always sells out just as you reach the front of the queue. When you go into a bar, you always leave by yourself, even though everyone else seems to be leaving in pairs.”

“Come on,” I said. “I’ve had a bad night, but you still can’t convince me Hell is so terrible. With the attitude you’ve got at the moment, I’ll bet the Garden of Eden would look like a cesspit. By the way, I don’t suppose you’ve got a cigarette? Suddenly I’ve got a real craving.”

“It wouldn’t help if I did. The cigarettes in Hell don’t satisfy the craving. They only make it worse. But tell me something, Jimmy. Did you have that craving while you were up in Heaven?”

Of all the things that Jessie had said, this was the one that really floored me. She was absolutely right. Even when I’d thought about cadging a cigarette from God, it hadn’t been a pressing need. I hadn’t even been that upset when I’d found out He’d given them up.

Jessie must have noticed the sudden glint of madness in my eyes, because she gave me a knowing smirk. “It’s starting to hit home, isn’t it. You’re starting to see how Hell really is. Everything here goes wrong. Absolutely everything.”

“Hang on a minute,” I interjected. “Not everything went wrong. I not only succeeded in making an ally out of my old enemy Bully Malone, but I actually got a lot of information from him about . . . damn!”

“What’s the matter?”

“I wanted to get information about Sally and her connections here, but I completely forgot to ask.”

“No,” said Jessie with unexpected fierceness. “You didn’t forget. It’s just the way it works down here. As long as you’re in Hell, you’ll never be able to get what you want. Hell is constant craving and constant disappointment. In Hell, you can never be satisfied, no matter how hard you try. There’s never any time for rest or peace. You’re forever rushing around, desperately searching for the one thing you think will bring fulfillment. But even if you find it, it’s never enough. It never fills that burning, gaping hole inside your soul. That’s what it’s like here in Hell.”

As Jessie finished her diatribe, she pounded her fist on the table. The force of the blow sent the bowl flying into the air, raining thick brown sludge all over her.

I grabbed what looked like an old piece of cloth that was lying on another chair and tried to wipe her down. Immediately, she screamed and reached out to grab the cloth from my hand.

“Keep still, Angel,” I said. “I’m trying to clean you up.”

“Stop it,” she cried, still clawing blindly for the cloth.

I stepped back. “Take it easy. Even in Hell, I don’t think a face full of toxic slime is a good look.”

“You don’t understand. I have to wear that.”

“This?” I held up the cloth. Underneath the grunge that had been smeared all over it, it appeared to be some sort of body stocking. “Why do you have to wear this?”

“I told you before I had a penance to serve.”

“Wearing this is your punishment for sneaking into Heaven?”

“It’s worse than that,” Jessie sighed. “I have to go out into the street looking like this. I have to do a mime performance.”

“A mime performance here? Out on the streets of Hell?”

Jessie nodded sadly.

“Ouch,” I groaned. “That’s cruel and unusual punishment.” I shut my eyes, trying to hold back an image of Jessie in her filthy bodystocking, walking against the wind out on the busy streets of Hell. It wasn’t working. Suddenly, this room was starting to get awfully claustrophobic. I had to get out.

“I’d love to stay and watch your performance,” I said, “but I’ve got to get going. There’s still plenty of work for me to do here.”

“You’ll come back though, won’t you?” said Jessie, her eyes big and round beneath the layers of caked-on cereal. “I’ll be here, waiting for you.”

“I’ll do what I can, Angel. This case is starting to get awfully complicated. And if what you’ve said is right, I’ve got to watch my back. But whatever happens, just remember I’ll be thinking about you.”

“I’ll be thinking about you too, Jimmy.”

I walked through the door, trying my best not to think about her. Of course, I banged my head on the way out.

It was daytime in Hell, but there wasn’t a lot of sunshine creeping through the clouds. A light drizzle was falling as I made my way through the gloom of another side alley, back towards the main street.

In the cold light of day, the main street of Hell didn’t scrub up so well. What had seemed bright and exciting at night now seemed faded and tired. The music that still thumped from the bars sounded atonal and jarring, while the neon signs glowed feebly, barely illuminating the dimness all around.

There was less foot traffic than the previous night, but it was still pretty busy. I walked slowly through the crowd, quietly observing the faces that suddenly didn’t seem to be quite so becoming. There were the women whose lipstick and powder couldn’t disguise their thin mouths and dry, lined skin. There were the young stallions with their clinking jewellery, thrusting out their chests and shoulders but impressing no one but themselves. There were the old drunks in faded dinner jackets, dancing to the music of parties that had long since ended. In all of their eyes, I could see a look that I might once have taken for purpose and determination, but which now looked a lot more like futile desperation.

I trudged along the street, stepping in every puddle along the way, until I arrived back at the Devil’s castle. Even that didn’t seem to be quite so imposing. It was neither as black nor as solidly threatening as I’d remembered it from the night before.