Infernal Contract Read online

  Infernal Contract

  by

  Thomas Green

  http://thomasgreen.info

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

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.

  Copyright © 2019 Thomas Green. All rights reserved. Including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the author.

  Version 1_2019.07.30

  A special thank you belongs to my wonderful editor Saundra Wright.

  Contents

  Lucas 1

  Lucas 2

  Amarendra 1

  Lucas 3

  Lucas 4

  Amarendra 2

  Lucas 5

  Lucas 6

  Amarendra 3

  Lucas 7

  Lucas 8

  Amarendra 4

  Lucas 9

  Lucas 10

  Amarendra 5

  Lucas 11

  Amarendra 6

  Lucas 12

  Lucas 13

  Lucas 1

  THE ONLY entertaining part of my prison sentence was planning the escape. Since I’ve been sentenced for over seventeen thousand lifetimes, I didn’t lack motivation. Though here in Tul Sar Naar, formerly known as Tartarus, time possessed little meaning.

  I got out of the bed, my skin itching beneath my steel collar, and started stretching. The prisoner sharing my cell, Loki, was already finishing this morning’s warm up. Well, technically speaking, he has been sharing his cell with me since the Nordic god has been imprisoned here for two years while I arrived less than a year ago. Our cell featured little other than the two bunk beds and a tiny lavatory embedded into the room. The steel floor chilled my feet as I started the basic workout.

  “Another day in damnation,” Loki said, mischief playing on his lips. “Still planning your grand escape?”

  The bastard asked me this question every day for the past half a year. I should have never told him I was working on that. “I wouldn’t call it grand.”

  “What’s the rush, Lucas?” He stood smaller than me, leaner and less muscular, with short brown hair and an unremarkable, clean-shaven face. He had the same steel collar I wore, which limited his ability to use magic the same way mine did.

  Telling him anything may not have been strategic, but I couldn’t hide everything from him. Especially since he was a part of the plan. “I promised someone I would be back in a year.”

  “And you still believe that whoever escapes this place and reaches the shore will be pardoned of all crimes?”

  He asked in a joking manner, but desire bubbled underneath. Yes, the Hand of God was so confident in their prison they taunted everyone with the promise of a pardon. “The Devil herself told me.” And in the supernatural world, her word was an unbreakable law.

  Sirens thundered through the air, the official alarm clock. The cell’s steel door flung open, displaying the abyss beyond. Like in a twisted beehive, cells were built inside the walls of a massive tower-like column with no paths leading from the door. The male part of the prison housed about four hundred prisoners, a wild mix of old gods, newly reborn demi-gods, rogue mages and witches, werewolves, and pretty much everything else supernatural that the Hand of God deemed fit for imprisonment.

  The air in the tower blew upward in a strong current. With heavy rumbling, a steel contraption unwrapped like a blooming blossom above us. As if not having a path from the door wasn’t enough, the only exit—the corridor leading to mess hall—had its own, special door.

  This place wasn’t merely a prison, but also a factory where we were the basic materials. Everything magical in the world ran on aether, the arcane energy that powered all magic. The main purpose of this prison was to extract aether from the prisoners, liquefying it into aether batteries, which were a prized commodity in the supernatural world.

  Sirens changed their tone into a staccato. Time to go. I glanced over my shoulder. “Remember when I told you what the first move would be? We’re doing it today.” And like all the other orange-jumpsuit-wearing prisoners, I leapt into the open space, letting the magical updraft carry me. The air was wet and lifted me up as if I weighed nothing.

  The spell allowing us to leave the cells was a simple one, but quite effective given the updraft ended at the only exit, the tunnel leading into the mess hall.

  I enjoyed the short flight, watching the other prisoners floating nearby, and landed into a wooden hallway. Thousands of oak-made cubes formed the walls, floor, ceiling, and sculptures within the tunnel. The sculptures were a wild mix of animals, men in armor, and women in dresses. A smile crept onto my face from the pleasant change of scenery. This was by far the prettiest place in our prison.

  Yet like everything else in Tul Sar Naar, this had a purpose. The corridor presented the only path to and from the cells and contained powerful detection magic, which scanned the prisoners for any object we weren’t supposed to have. Wood was the material that interfered the least with magic and cubes were a shape that was easy to filter out. The sculptures themselves served for the scan’s contrast, like the black background on a negative.

  Loki landed next to me and we walked ahead. The detection tunnel’s magic made my fingers tingle.

  Ignoring the ever-present stench of sweat and misery, we entered the mess hall. The usual set of angry glares welcomed me into the near-barren room. I loved being popular. Iron tables and chairs made rows like in a school dining hall and we stepped into the waiting line. One by one, the prisoners walked to the small window in the steel wall where a machine served breakfast.

  The prisoners were spread into their usual groups. The gods and demigods—who were all really just humans with immortal souls—grouped up by their pantheons, fallen angels sat together, and so did the werewolves, mages, and everyone damn else. And most were here for the same reason as me. Divine souls would eventually revive if killed, so ending our lives was suboptimal. Imprisoning us forever, however, was much more efficient. Given we also produced large amounts of aether, which this facility was built to extract, jailing us here was also a lot more economic. And if the Devil, the prison’s owner, loved anything, it was money.

  Loki and I took the trays carrying our portions and sat at the far end of the furthest table. I chose this spot because we would be alone at the table, but also because a group of prisoners concentrated around the Aztec pantheon sat at the table behind Loki.

  We weren’t very popular. Nobody wanted to talk to Loki because he was, supposedly, a treacherous bastard, at least as far as his legend described him. I, on the other hand, used to work as a private investigator. Over seventy people were imprisoned here because of my short-lived career. The man I arrested last, Sora Izanagi, was giving me the usual glare. I threw him a wide grin and he looked away.

  We dug into the cereals drenched in milk. Next to an apple, a banana, and a small bottle of orange juice, this breakfast was so boringly healthy it made my stomach twitch. But hunger didn’t care.

  A tray clanged on the table next to me and a man sat down by my side. His hair grew wildly to all sides, as did his rugged beard. Sun Wukong smiled at me, motioning at my banana.

  The usual trade. I nodded.

  With a swift move, he switched his apple with my banana. Satisfied, he dug the spoon into his cereals and began eating. His mouth sto
pped around the spoon. Air swirled around his face, revealing him biting into an apple he now held.

  Wukong tore the apple away, spitting out. “You had to do this, didn’t you?”

  Loki and I chuckled. While the collars blocked most of our magic, we could still do minor tricks. This illusion was Loki’s.

  The chair on the opposite row screeched and a bulky man stood up. Wukong’s spit hit his back and he turned, glaring at us. “What’s so funny?”

  “Your face.” I smirked at the man and bit into my newly received apple. Keith arrived here after I arrested him. He used to run a sex trafficking gang on Long Island. I found him hiding next to a family whose son he kidnapped and buried, keeping him alive for blackmail. Back then, I shot him in both shoulders and the knee before rescuing the kidnapped son. “Heard your mom killed herself when she first saw you.”

  Keith glowered at me, fuming.

  Come on, Keith, punch me in the face. I needed a fight to happen and he happened to be good friends with Ricardo Xolotl, who sat behind Keith and would join. I needed to fight Ricardo but couldn’t engage him straight since that would be too obvious. “What? Want to prove you give the best head in the prison?”

  His face turned red and the veins on his neck bulged. “You’ll pay for this.” He pivoted, grabbed his tray, and turned away.

  “Sure, run to your butt-buddies,” I shouted as he walked away. Meh. Hopefully, Keith would gather more of his buddies later and come show me who’s the boss.

  Loki snorted, but Wukong’s features froze. The monkey king glanced at me. Yeah, he knew a bit more about the escape plan than Loki did and now, he recognized the first move. “Our lovely stay seems to be coming to an end.”

  “One way or another.” I returned to the breakfast and continued eating. Awkward silence marred the meal’s remainder. There was only so much to talk about when going through the same routine every day. The light shining in the center of the ceiling turned from green to orange.

  That marked the start of our free time. We gave the trays to the designated machine and turned toward the sports hall. I gave Keith another smirk accompanied with an insult as I passed him.

  The sports hall was one of the three facilities we could use. For our bodies to produce maximum amount of extractable aether, we needed to remain in top shape and of a healthy mind, so the prison was designed to keep us that way. Our free time thus offered exercise and sports as the only possible sources of entertainment. Over time, everyone gave in as few things were worse than boredom. The three facilities we could use were two sports halls and the arena. But there was little to do in the arena unless a match was being held.

  The first sports hall itself was a vast, square dome with three exits. One led to the mess hall, one to the local bathrooms, and one to the second sports hall. This hall offered dozens of exercise machines, basketball hoops, football keeps and, sets of mats, benches and weights. By the end was a fence-guarded platform, which served as the delivery point for new prisoners. Water fountains rimmed the walls.

  Loki split from us, heading for the rowing machine he favored. The story had it that when he was in high school, he was on a rowing team. The machine wasn’t quite the same, but a small reminder of the good old days was better than nothing.

  Wukong and I went for our usual mat by the far wall. There was no truly secluded spot in the prison, but this one was the furthest from the basketball hoops. “I start on top today,” he said.

  “Yeah.” I began to stretch and so did he.

  Before obtaining the soul of the monkey king, Wukong was an agent of the Chinese Ministry of Defense. I tried to pry from him what precisely he used to do, but never got exact answers. Not that I cared much. Plus, I only ever told him the general idea of what I did as a private investigator. The important part was that he had martial arts training, so we had something to do. Since punching each other would be a problem without gloves, we focused mostly on wrestling, Judo, and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. Sure, we pulled a muscle from time to time, but that was much better than breaking each other’s faces.

  I lay onto the mat and he got on top of me. The jumpsuits somehow simulated the traditional kimonos. We made for decent practice partners. While I was bigger, heavier, and stronger, he had better technique as he possessed a much larger degree of experience.

  We spent the entire morning with him trying to catch me into submission and me defending. In the afternoon, we would switch, and I would be on the top. Sweat covered my body as I rose, and the water fountain provided blessed sustenance.

  From the corner of my eye, I spotted Keith glaring at me. Finally. Things would be awkward if he swallowed the morning incident and did nothing. I turned off the water fountain and headed to the bathroom to answer the call of nature.

  Much like the rest of the prison, this hallway was also made of barren steel. After nine months of living here, I got used to it. Though the lack of windows still annoyed me.

  When I finished with the bodily needs, I grabbed two toilet brushes, steel rods with stinking brushes at the end, and walked back toward the sports hall. As I did, I flipped the brushes in my hands and hid them behind my back.

  In front of the sports hall’s door stood Keith, flanked by four of his friends. Three were his fellow gang members and the last one was an Aztec demigod, Ricardo Xolotl. Good. This was going to hurt, but also went exactly as planned. I promised Evelyn I would come back to her within a year. Now, nine months later, this was the first step of fulfilling that promise.

  Lucas 2

  KEITH arched an eyebrow at me. “Not going to run?”

  I eyed the five men. They had no weapons other than themselves and stood in defensive stances, chins tucked, and muscles clenched. The door behind them was closed and they stood far enough back not to trigger the sensor that opened the door. “You look ready for extraction.”

  “A few days in hell are worth wiping the smirk off your face.” Keith tensed and so did his friends.

  Extraction, the process where a machine harvested one’s aether to feed the battery-making factory, was where all troublemakers ended. The extraction process was not pleasant and served for what would normally be the solitary cells. Usually, there were more than enough people to extract as the prison was seldom peaceful. In the odd chance no one needed to be punished, guards picked a few prisoners at random to keep the extraction going. I laughed, my voice thundering through the empty, steel hallway. “If you say so.” And I bolted forward.

  Keith stepped in with a punch. How sweetly predictable. That was why I chose Keith for the morning stunt, after all. I ducked, whirled, and struck his front leg’s knee with the brush. The kneecap leapt from the joint. He fell on his other knee shouting with pain. The other four men converged on me. I leapt back and swung wide, using the brushes as clubs. Sure, the bristles lessened the impact, but the base was still a steel rod. And I was strong. I swatted away one man’s hand and hit another one’s temple. He fell to the ground, unconscious. Three left.

  One slipped by my strikes and grabbed me by the waist. After shifting my weight to stop him from taking me down, I dropped a toilet brush, and placed my palm on his back. By focusing a thought, I reached out for his aether. The collar blocked most of my magic, which resulted with me being unable to blow most of the prison to smithereens, but I could still do this. I blended my aether with his and made it swirl inside his body. But only slowly. If I did this fast, I his heart would explode, and I needed him to only get a slight arrhythmia to knock him down. He shouted with pain and fell to the ground, clutching his chest.

  Not that I would shy away from killing, but that wouldn’t be strategic at this moment.

  The two remaining men hesitated, their eyes darting around. Keith tried to put his kneecap back into place, unsuccessfully. Come on, now, what did they expect? They thought they would attack a fallen angel and not get hurt in the process?

  I sprinted to the first one, slamming my shoulder into his chest. His back hit the wall and he shoute
d. I punched his chin with a swift hook, knocking him out.

  The last man punched the back of my head. Pain shot through me and my vision blanked for a moment. I slammed my elbow into his midsection. He spat out and bent. I turned, grabbed his head, and slammed my knee into his face. But only once, since that was enough to knock him out.

  I let go of him. Today, I needed to make a statement. Further down the road, I would need the other prisoners to listen to me or at least to not get in the way. Fear of death was the best tool I knew to achieve that.

  Before I went to Keith, I glanced at one of the unconscious men. Ricardo Xolotl bore the soul of the Aztec God of Death. He mostly wasn’t here for any crime other than the revival of his ancestor through himself. Still, I searched this opportunity. I stomped on his ankle, aiming to crush one of the bones in its middle.

  Keith stared at me with wide eyes. I picked up one toilet brush, stepped forward and kicked Keith in the chest. He flew through the door, landing on his back at the sports hall’s edge.

  Sharp ringing alarm thundered through the room. I flipped the brush in my hand, gripping it above the bristles.

  The prisoners scattered away from me, shouting. “For fuck’s sake, Lucifer, would you calm down?”

  No. I grabbed Keith’s head, demonstratively raised him, and then slammed my knee in his face. That knocked him out and I let go of him.

  This was one of the few men I wouldn’t mind killing since he got here for multiple cases of murder, rape, and extortion. The world wouldn’t miss him, nor most of his companions, who were here for similar crimes. But I didn’t want to do so needlessly. Especially not now, given how many prisoners were going to die in the near future.

  I moved toward the hall’s center and the prisoners dropped to the ground, putting their hands behind their heads. Guards started flooding into the room. The largest stream came from the mess hall, where four doors were hidden in the wall. One stream of guards came from the bathroom direction, where one door stood, and the last stream came from the second sports hall. They followed the protocol to the letter. Upon any trouble, the guards were to capture the suspects and throw them into extraction while the rest of the prisoners were to be shackled until the guards were done.