Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming

Chapter 2

Azzie and Scrivener proceeded through the iron gate in the iron wall and up the spiraling road that leads through the outer suburbs of Purgatory, a region com­posed of great crosshatched depths and startling heights exact­ly as Fuseli drew it. They trudged along, demon and man, and the way was easy, for easy are the roads of Hell, but it was also boring, because Hell is the state of not being amused.

And after a while Scrivener said, "Is it much farther?"

"I'm not sure," Azzie confessed. "I'm new in this sector. In fact, I shouldn't be here at all."

"Just like me," Scrivener said. "Just because I fall into a corpselike coma from time to time is no reason for your Grim Reaper fellow to grab me up without making proper tests. It was slipshod, I tell you. Why shouldn't you be here?"

"I was intended for better things," Azzie said. "I got good grades in Thaumaturgy College. Finished in the top three in my class."

He failed to tell Scrivener that all of his class except three had wiped out when a sudden infestation of good blew in from the south, freak metaphysical weather that killed all but Azzie and two others, who seemed to have a natural immunity against good halations. And then there had been the poker game.

"So why are you here?" Scrivener asked.

"I'm working off a gambling debt," Azzie said. "I couldn't pay up, so I had to serve time." He hesitated, then said, "I like to gamble."

"Me too," Scrivener said, with what sounded like an air of regret.

They walked for a while in silence. Then Scrivener said, "What's going to happen to me now?"

"We're going to insert you back into your body."

"Will I be all right? Some people wake up from the dead and are all funny, so I've heard."

"I'll be around to look out for you. I'll stay until I'm sure you're all right."

"That's good to hear," Scrivener said. He walked for a while in silence, then said, "But of course, when I wake up I won't know you're there, will I?"

"Of course not."

"Then I won't be reassured."

Azzie said testily, "When you're alive, nothing can reassure you. I'm just telling you this now. It's only when you're dead you can appreciate it."

They walked on. After a ways more, Scrivener said, "You know, I can't remember a thing about my life back on Earth."

"Don't worry, it'll all come back to you."

"I think I was married, though."

"Fine."

"But I'm not sure."

"It'll all come back to you as soon as you are back in your body."

"What if it doesn't? What if I've got amnesia?"

"You'll be fine," Azzie said.

"Do you swear that on your honor as a demon?"

"Certainly," Azzie said, lying with ease. He had taken a special course in forswearing and had proven adept at it.

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you?"

"Hey, trust me," Azzie said, using the master mantra that makes docile even the most suspicious and bellicose.

"You can understand why I'd be a little nervous," Scriv­ener said. "Being born again, I mean."

"Nothing to be ashamed of," Azzie said. "Here we are.

"Thank Satan," he added under his breath. Talking long with humans made him nervous. They went around subjects so! The Demon Fathers had offered a survey course in Human Tergiversation at Demon U, but it was an elective and he hadn't bothered to take it. False Dialectic had seemed more interesting at the time.

Up ahead he saw the familiar scarlet and chartreuse stripes of the North Pit ambulance. The ambulance stopped a few yards away and a medical demon got out. He was an obelisk-eyed pig-snouted fellow and very different from Azzie, who was a fox-faced demon with red hair, pointed ears, and startling blue eyes, accounted quite handsome by those who have a taste for demons.

"Is this the fellow?"

"This is him," Azzie said.

"Before you do anything," Scrivener said, "I just want to know - "

The pig-snouted medical demon reached out and touched a spot on Scrivener's forehead. Scrivener stopped talking and his eyes went unfocused.

"What did you do?" Azzie asked.

"Put him on idle," the medical demon said. "Now it's time to ship him."

Azzie hoped Scrivener would be all right: it's never good news when a demon messes with your head.

"How do you know where to send him?" Azzie asked.

The medical demon opened Scrivener's shirt and showed Azzie the name and address tattooed on his chest in purple ink.

"It's the devil's identification mark," the medical demon said.

"You'll take that off before you send him back?"

"Don't worry, he can't see it. That's for us to read. You going along with him?"

"I'll get there on my own," Azzie said. "Let me just see that address again. Okay, I got it.

"See you later, Tom," he said to the blank-eyed man.