Sleepless in Manhattan

Nancy Kilpatrick

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Two a.m. Hellboy can't sleep again. The dreams, same as before, of the

priest and the nun at the ruins of the church in East Bromwich, the

dreams he had when he visited there a few years ago ... Hellboy decides

on an after-dark walk through New York's Central Park. He doesn't feel

like company and figures nobody in their right mind will be out and

about at this hour, especially on such a cold night. But as he strolls

around Turtle Pond, a craggy voice catches him. It originates not from

the bench, but behind it, where a ratty sleeping bag has been spread

out and a tiny, grizzly old woman reclines, propping up her head with

its mop of gray hair with one fist.

"You're Satan, right?" The old lady brushes aside a bit of hair to

adjust her glasses. Hellboy has never seen such black skin on a human

being, even Africans — it seems to be blacker than the night. "I seen

your picture. 'Cept your horns wasn't broke off like that."

"Yeah, right. I'm Satan. Maybe you should go back to sleep, grandma."

"Can't sleep. Fate of the elderly, you see. We're waiting for our

creator. Is that you?" "Uh, sorry, I'm not an artist, but I've been

known to collect odd items." "Me too. Wanna see my Voodoo dollies?"

Hellboy's five senses focus. He glances in all directions. Looking.

Listening. Smelling the air. Is this a setup? Maybe he's being

paranoid. Just a crazy old coot with no one to talk to; why not hear

her out?

"Sure. Okay, grandma, show me what you got."

"Have a seat," the old woman says, gesturing to the bench as if it's a

sofa in her living room.

Hellboy lifts his tail and the tails of his oilskin coat and sits, one

arm draped over the back of the bench, waiting while the diminutive

woman hauls herself to her feet with difficulty. She can't be more than

four feet tall, if that, a vertically challenged person. She hefts a

beat-up canvas backpack onto the bench with a sigh, then perches at the

opposite end from Hellboy, who immediately catches the eau de gar-bage

wafting through the air. It is bad manners to mention the odor;

Bruttenholm taught him to be polite. He lights a cigar, and the smell

of burning tobacco helps.

"You oughta quit. Them thing'll kill ya," the old woman says knowingly.

"Yeah."

"Got a spare?"

Hellboy finds another in his pocket. He offers it and she snatches it

up, smelling it as if she hasn't savored tobacco in years. Finally she

sticks it between her thin lips and begins to chew.

Hellboy pulls out a lighter, but the frail old lady waves it away.

"Don't smoke 'em, just like the smell."

"Whatever." He slips the lighter back into his coat pocket and shakes

his head.

While the old girl rummages through her backpack, Hellboy takes in the

quiet of the park and the stillness of the pond he is facing. He

started out up in Spanish Harlem, at 110th Street, climbing the steep

hill to enter from the north end of Central Park. Up there, it's all

rough terrain, where most New Yorkers never venture, and Hellboy likes

it best because he knows he probably won't run into a soul for the

first ten blocks — unless you count the souls of animals, which he is

inclined to do. The peace and quiet give him a chance to think, which

isn't always a good thing.

Tonight's insomnia is triggered by the sense of aloneness that never

leaves him, especially since Trevor Bruttenholm's death. The man took

him in, raised him, was a father to him in every way, and his loss has

left Hellboy even more alone, but for a few friends. It's hard being

the only one of your kind, with no ancestry, no sense of where or who

you came from but for the snatches in dreams and visions. Bruttenholm

was as related as it got. The feeling of floating solo in the universe

rears its ugly head big time on occasion and keeps Hellboy pacing the

floors, dissatisfied with the latest episodes of Law and Order. This

evening those floors were at the Manhattan Branch Office of the Bureau

for Paranormal Research and Defense, where he'd been sent to chat with

a nervous curator of the Museo de las Momies in Guanajuato, Mexico.

Half the time, when there's a paranormal case to investigate, his

thoughts don't get out of hand. Tonight, though, with time to kill

until the curator arrives, Hellboy feels the desire to be out in the

open sans people. Maybe he can walk his troubles away.

He finds it amazing the numbers of humanity that locate shelter and

safety in the middle-of-the-night darkness of this huge green space in

the heart of one of the world's largest cities. They crawl under fallen

logs, hide beneath decaying leaves, behind shrubs they use as walls.

Thinking about it, maybe he isn't so bad off after all. At least he has

a home, a place to crash when sleep overtakes him, a place to rest and

heal when he does battle with creatures hellbent on his destruction, or

the destruction of human beings. He had a dad, someone who cared about

him. And there are friends: Abe, Dr. Kate Corrigan, and Liz. It's good

to have friends.

Hellboy'd just been circling Turtle Pond, about to head back up north

and give it up to the TV at the Bureau Branch, when this old woman

insists on showing him her dolls, a dozen of which are now lined up on

the bench between them.

"That's quite a collection."

"Yep. Been huntin' 'em down whenever I can. Had more, back when I lived

down on Delancey. These're all that's left, but they're the best."

A row of a dozen Barbie-sized bundles lie wrapped like mummies, hands

crossed over chests, ankles together. The swaddling ranges from gray to

black to the red of old blood and the blue/purple of healing bruises,

but mostly the fabric is just plain dirty and the colors fading. None

have exposed heads, but little pin holes were made in the wrap over the

skull and the hair pulled through, likely by a crochet hook or some

other fine instrument. It leaves the hair flowing over a wrapped form.

"Like 'em?"

Hellboy doesn't know quite what to say. "They're ... different. How

come you collect these? You into Voodoo?"

"Hah! I like 'em 'cause they're pretty like me. Don't ya think they're

pretty?"

"The eye of the beholder," Hellboy says.

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Listen, this has been an education, but I've got a date with

reruns of Survivor."

"Hold on there, young fellow with a tail." The woman touches Hellboy's

arm with unanticipated strength, which sends a warning through his body

as if he is being microwaved. "Wanna give you one."

"Gee, thanks, but I couldn't — "

"Here!" The gnarled hands close around one of the dolls lying on its

front and the old lady shoves it at Hellboy.

"Right." He takes it reluctantly, and when he turns over the plastic

effigy wrapped in dark red gauze, he feels even more reluctant. "What

the ...?"

The mummy-wrapped doll with fire-red hair flying every which way

resembles all the rest but for one thing: two horns emerge from the

wrap where the forehead and hairline meet. Hellboy stares at the doll

as if mesmerized. "How the hell did you ..."

The bench next to him is empty. The old woman has disappeared. So have

the other dolls. He looks over the back of the bench; no sign of the

sleeping bag. The few other bench sleepers haven't stirred.

From all around him comes a crooning voice eerily like the old woman's,

singing about love and family and connection and home being where they

have to take you in.

Hellboy jumps to his feet. He races around the pond, then through the

bushes, smashing tree branches aside, his ears pricked for the voice,

which seems to come from here, then there, from everywhere. Just when

it grows louder, when he almost reaches it, instead of being in front

of him, it now comes from behind.

Half a minute of this run-around is enough, and he stops in his tracks.

"Okay, be an invisible old lady, see if I care."

The response is a cackle that to other ears might be the wind blowing a

candy wrapper across the concrete path. It fades, and with it the sense

of a presence, and Hellboy knows he is alone again.

He looks down at the mummy doll he holds in his hand. Boy, does it

resemble him! "If this isn't a paranormal experience, I don't know what

is."

[IMAGE]

"Helldoll?" Liz turns the little red-headed, red-wrapped mummy with

mini horns over and over in her hands.

"That's why you wanted us to come down from Fairfield?" Abe Sapien

says, joining them, his moves graceful as a fish gliding through water.

"Let's have a look," Dr. Kate Corrigan says. The esteemed author of

books on folklore and occult history takes the little doll from Liz's

hands, examines it, then begins to search for the end of the wrapping.

"This is not a Voodoo doll."

"Could have fooled me," Hellboy says.

"Ditto," adds Liz, lighting a cigarette.

"A real Voudun doll," Kate continues, "is formed to represent the one

upon whom the spell is to be cast."

"It has horns," Liz says.

"Horns that are complete, not clipped like Hellboy's. A doll also has

to include something of the person, for instance, hair, blood, or

fingernail clippings."

"The fabric might be soaked in Hellboy's blood. It isn't as if he's

never been wounded in a fight," Abe suggests.

"I sprayed it with Luminal. It's not blood. This doll is not Hellboy.

The horns are a giveaway. It also has no nail clippings that I can

find, and it has long, bright red hair." Kate shoots him a look. "I

take it this isn't your hair."

"Only my hairdresser knows for sure," Hellboy says. "So if it's not me,

who?"

"Maybe it's a coincidence. My guess is that she's just an old lady

crazed from living on the streets who likes to collect dolls. This is

no more a Voudun doll than a regular Barbie or Ken doll."

"That's not what she said. And what about the laughter I heard?"

"Could it have been something else?" Liz asks. "You said it reminded

you of paper."

"I guess ... But she vanished."

"Did she?" Abe wants to know. "It was late—"

"Come on! I didn't imagine this!"

Liz places a soothing hand on his arm. "You said you hadn't slept in

almost forty-eight hours. You were exhausted, H.B. The woman probably

has an escape route, some wormhole all these park people know about for

fast getaways when they feel threatened."

"Maybe ..." Hellboy feels unsure. Is he so caught up in machinations,

dwelling on his unknown past, that he is making things up?

"Look!" Kate holds the fully unwrapped doll out for them to have a

look. Sure enough, it is just a red-headed doll some nut bar wrapped in

dirty gauze. Other than the horns.

"You know," Kate continues, "it could just have been a prank."

"Yeah, well, tonight I'm taking another walk through the park to look

for the prankster. Anybody want to join me?"

[IMAGE]

"The pond looks inviting," Abe says. He steps to the edge. "If there

are turtles here, I don't see any."

"Maybe there used to be turtles." Liz lights a cigarette from her

fingertip just, it seems, for the hell of it. "There used to be a lot

of things in this world."

"Hellboy, I don't see anyone who resembles your geriatric." Kate peers

at the few homeless forms draped across benches in the darkness. She

checks her watch and wraps her jacket tighter around her against the

chilly evening. "It's almost five a.m. Maybe we should call it an

evening."

"But she was here last night!"

"That was then, H.B.," Liz says, "she's not here now. I agree with

Kate. I think we should go back."

"I don't see any sign of disturbance," Abe says, still scanning the

pond's surface for turtles and apparently still finding none.

"Look, you all go. I'm staying here until I find that old woman."

"Suit yourself, H.B.," Liz says, crushing her butt underfoot. "We'll

see you back there, okay?"

"Sure."

Once he is alone, Hellboy walks the perimeter of Turtle Pond for the

fourth time, but there is nothing new to see in or out of the water.

Finally, he sits on the same bench he occupied last night with the old

lady, in the same spot. He has already checked the ground for

"wormholes" as Liz calls them. Nothing. Maybe he was so tired last

night and absorbed by the doll long enough that the woman just up and

left and Hellboy didn't notice. That's not like him, but anything is

possible.

Maybe I'm losing it, he thinks. First the old man is killed, then all

the cases that seem to invite questions about my origins ... Could be

it's all catching up to him. Maybe he needs some time off from the

Bureau to search — search for what? Search how? And where? He doesn't

even know where to begin. He's already been back to East Bromwich in

England where he had visions. Of the priest and the nun. And of the

human woman who might or might not be his mother and the ... what?

Demon from Hell is what he'll stick to, that claimed to be his father.

The demon that spoke directly to him. If those visions were true — and

who could trust a demon? — that would make him at best half demon, at

worst what so many have insinuated is his destiny: the Beast of the

Apocalypse.

That's all he knows, or thinks he knows. Hellboy's origins are a

mystery, as much as what has been deemed his Right Hand of Doom, the

horns he files down so he will not be so outrageous looking to ordinary

mortals, as much as his fiery red skin and his tail. Everything about

him is a mystery. If only another of his kind existed. Not like Liz

with her fire-starting abilities, or Abe, whose history is also

shrouded in unknowns of a totally different type. Wouldn't it be great

to find a being similar to himself, somebody he could talk to, who

might know some truth about where he comes from, who he is? Someone who

would let him know that he isn't the only one of his kind, his species,

whatever! The only one in the universe.

Suddenly his ears twig to a sound. How long has it been going on? Paper

scraping concrete. He spins in all directions, seeing nothing.

Then he catches a flash of red emerging from the pond, rising swiftly.

As big as him. No, bigger ... Huge! And ...

"What the...?"

In seconds, he is face to face with ... well... himself, or something

close. But the new arrival is bigger ... much bigger. The horns are

curved and sharp. It looks a lot like the demon he saw in East

Bromwich, but this guy has long, bright red hair. So he's not exactly

like Hellboy ... but then there's that one enormous hand like his.

"Oh, come on! I don't believe this!"

"Believe it," comes a voice that sounds familiar, as familiar as his

own voice.

The big guy steps from the pond onto the opposite bank, across the

water. Hellboy braces himself. His body automatically takes a stance in

preparation for a fight.

"Hey, I'm on your side!" the new arrival says.

"Yeah? How's that?"

"Notice a resemblance?"

"What? You're gonna tell me you're my long-lost brother or something? I

don't believe it."

"Not your brother, just like you. I'm the same species, or haven't you

noticed? We're from the same world."

Hellboy feels stunned, and it keeps him from moving forward, from

reacting to the threat his senses perceive.

"Listen, aren't you curious, about where you come from, what it's like

there? About your father?"

"I know my father. Trevor Bruttenholm is — "

" — not your real father. I know your real father, and he's nothing

like these puny humans. He's full of power and majesty. He rules the

universe. It is the destiny of our kind to rule over the lesser beasts,

the human beasts. You're the offspring of a deity."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Just look at me. Tell me you don't think I know more about you than

they do." He gestures dramatically with the hand that is identical to

Hellboy's to take in all of humanity. "What's to distrust?"

Hellboy scowls and holds up his massive right hand. "Well, no denying

the resemblance, but I'm pretty sure there's only one of these."

Just then, one of the bodies lying on a bench behind and to the left of

the big guy sits up, his upper body weaving. "Shut up, shut up, shut

up! People are trying to sleep!" Even from his side of the pond,

Hellboy picks up the scent — the guy reeks of the wine he consumed in

abundance that is now seeping from the pores of his skin.

"Relax!" Hellboy says. "We're just having a conversation."

"Yeah, well take that and your big, ugly red butt someplace else,

buddy!"

Hellboy turns back to the big guy. "Look, let's go up to the north end

of the park where it's usually deserted and — "

Before he can finish, the big guy leaps into the air, his heavy hand

raised. He brings it down hard onto the drunk, pulverizing him, the

bench, and the ground beneath it in a split second. Hellboy is stunned

as bits of flesh, wood, metal, and dirt fly up into the air and a hole

forms in the ground where the fist landed.

He is about to leap across the pond when from behind him he hears a

small cry: "Help! Help me!"

He scans the trees behind, to the left, then to the right where the

sound has shifted. Then laughter cuts the night air, causing him to

spin in all directions. In the five seconds it takes all of this to

happen and for Hellboy to determine that there is no one about to

attack him from the rear, and then to turn back to the wino, the big

guy vanishes. Then, from the street, he hears a noise that reminds him

of an earthquake. The ground is wet, and he follows the moist tracks,

racing out of the park to the Upper East Side in time to see an

apartment building collapsing on itself, its occupants buried beneath

the rubble. There is no sign of the big guy

Within seconds Hellboy is lifting heavy metal beams and slabs of

concrete, rescuing as many people as he can, which is pretty well all

of them. Then he waits for the police and the ambulances to arrive.

[IMAGE]

"Hellboy 2?" Liz says. "Liz, please."

"Sorry, H.B. This is so weird. Did you search for him?"

"Of course I searched for him! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell. I'm

upset."

"He's obviously dangerous," Abe says. "He's moody and destructive. Not

to mention the megalomania."

"No kidding. And I was too mesmerized to stop him. And he says I'm just

like him." Gloomily, Hellboy collapses into a chair.

"You're nothing like him," Liz tells him adamantly. "You're your own

man."

"But he said my father is — "

"Yeah, you told us." Kate looks up from the book on the occult she is

reading while Hellboy has been relating his experience over the last

hour. "I might be wrong, but I think you're up against not one but two

creatures."

"Great! And both of them can vanish whenever they want to."

"Maybe. I think what you met tonight was nothing more than a powerful

demon."

"Who looks a lot like me, only bigger? No problem, then. I'm relieved."

"I didn't say it isn't dangerous, just that if we know what we're

dealing with, that might help you take it down."

"You said two creatures," Abe reminds the doctor.

"Yes. First, the old woman. I think she's an imp."

"You mean like a gargoyle come to life?" Liz asks.

"Not a bad analogy. Imps were sometimes depicted in stone on medieval

churches. They're lesser demons. Some have said they're the souls of

evil children who have died but returned to earth to create problems

for the living. Their skin is supposed to be a very deep black, blacker

than any natural black, and they don't cast a shadow, because they are

shadows. They're also changelings, which would explain how the old

woman disappeared so quickly — she probably took on the appearance of

another sleeper in the park."

"Why do you think the old lady is an imp?" Abe asks.

"Because she's not the source of the problem, just a distraction.

That's often the role of the imp. They work for a major demon."

"I'd like to see their job description," Hellboy says. "So, what's this

major demon about?"

"That's what we have to figure out," Kate continues. "From what has

happened so far, it's clear this demon knows something about you."

"Yeah, well, he said he's of the same species and everything." Hellboy

sighs. "Sharing my DNA with this guy does not fulfill my fantasies of a

pedigree."

"He's not related," Liz chimes in.

"Yeah, but we're genetically the same."

"So the new guy says. Sounds like some kind of scam to me. He knows

just enough about you, things anybody might guess."

"I'm curious," Kate says, sipping tea from her China cup. "You've met

the imp both times by Turtle Pond. And this demon came out of the pond.

It's odd, don't you think, that if he wanted to contact you, he'd wait

until you were in a more populated area of the park?"

"And when you said you should go somewhere else and talk, he didn't

want to do that, did he?" Abe adds.

"He didn't like the idea at all," Hellboy remembers. "He didn't want to

leave that area."

"And yet," Kate sets her cup onto the saucer, "he left the park and

demolished the first building across Fifth Avenue, but only that

building, and then vanished."

"That might mean his range is limited. To the area surrounding Turtle

Pond. He did use a lot offish imagery."

Kate nods. "His range might be limited to the source of his energy.

Abe, you noticed there were no turtles in the pond. Did you notice

anything else about that water?"

Abe thinks for a moment. "It was pretty murky. I couldn't see anything

below the surface. But nothing was moving, I'm certain of that. No fish

or even insects, let alone turtles."

"Here's what I'm thinking," Kate says. "In the Middle Ages it was

thought that the earth was divided into four elements: gnomes rule

earth, salamanders rule fire, sylphs the air, and undines the water.

The undine is related to the mermaid and the Greek nereid, the German

nixie. It can't survive long outside of water."

"Which is why he didn't go far from the pond," Liz says. "It's his

world."

"Seems that way," Kate adds. "The undine doesn't change form, but more

clouds the mind so a person sees what he wants to see. It can tap into

dreams and fantasy and become whatever you need it to be. A lover, a

friend, a long-dead family member — "

"I was thinking about where I come from, wishing there was someone like

me out there ..." Hellboy holds his head in his hands.

"It's natural, H.B." Liz tells him, touching him on the shoulder, her

voice soft with understanding. "We all wonder about our powers, and

about where they stem from. And with you and Abe, you both also have a

lot of questions about where you come from."

"Our strength here," Kate says, "lies in the fact that the undine is

severely limited to the element that sustains it, water. I doubt it can

travel far from that pond. Likely Fifth Avenue depleted it, and it was

forced to return."

"Sounds like we have a fighting chance." Hellboy stands. "But how can

we be sure it's an undine we're dealing with?"

"Simple enough." Kate slams the book closed, absently places it on the

table, and knocks over the cup, spilling tea onto her trousers. While

she wipes it off she says, "Abe goes in for a look. I'd be worse than

useless with an undine. I'm human, but I can keep a lookout. And, Liz,

if this demon is the water spirit I think it is, it might be powerful

enough to douse your fire — "

"Look, I'm still coming — "

"Of course! There's always the imp to take care of" Kate turns to

Hellboy. "If it's in there, Abe can drive it to the surface for you."

"I can hardly wait." Hellboy grumbles in a monotone, thinking of the

thing twice his size. He yawns. "Somebody bring along the first-aid

kit."

[IMAGE]

They arrive at the park at just after three a.m. Tonight, most of the

benches are empty of street people; probably because the temperature

plummeted to below freezing, and they headed off to shelters.

"I wish I'd worn another sweater." Kate tucks her hands under her arms

and shivers.

"Why?" Abe looks at the three of them, one after the other, his eyes

rounder than usual with innocence.

"Us warm-blooded, you cold-blooded," Hellboy says.

"Ah. I keep forgetting." Abe is dressed in only a thin jacket for

appearances. "I guess I'm the only one here who knows how this undine

exists. Not that I empathize with its actions."

"So," Hellboy says, "you go in, I wait here for what comes out."

"Right," Abe says. He walks to the edge of the pond and instantly dives

in. It's the most graceful dive Hellboy has ever seen.

Kate paces in little movements, trying to warm herself. Liz lights a

cigarette and looks where Hellboy is looking, at the pond. The murky

water's surface holds crusts of thin ice here and there.

Suddenly they all hear it, a sound, like a ton of crumpled paper being

scraped over concrete. The three spin in every direction, searching for

the source. "I see something!" Liz shouts, dashing into the trees after

the flash of black on black.

Hellboy is torn: wait to see what Abe drives to the surface, or rush

into the trees to help Liz.

"Hellboy, wait here! You have to wait!" Kate shouts. Her voice is

obliterated by the sound of roiling water that results in a geyser in

the pond shooting straight up into the air. Riding the top of the

geyser is a thing that Hellboy recognizes for its size, which is more

than double his. Tonight he sees it in its true form. The undine is no

red-skinned horned replica of him. It has a tail, split at the end,

like a fish. And a few tentacles that resemble shortened arms — fins

really — scaly. The flesh is iridescent and elongated, fish-like, but

not. But what strikes Hellboy most is the mouth. No, not the mouth, the

teeth, three sets of them, row after row after row, shark-like,

disappearing inward in the mouth. Teeth that are headed his way.

Hellboy leaps left to avoid that ferocious mouth. The jaw crashes to

the cement. A hole is left, like the other one, and Hellboy realizes it

was no otherworldly hand he saw that night, just this powerful maw

hitting the ground.

He gears up for a punch, and lands one on what might be the undine's

solar plexus. It makes a Grawwwwwhhhh sound and rears back. But not for

long. One of the tentacles flaps by, knocking Hellboy into the air. He

plummets six feet back, plowing into a tree, the breath knocked from

his lungs. "Lucky punch!" he snarls, leaping to his feet.

Suddenly, a dark shadow races between Hellboy and the undine, with Liz

in hot pursuit. Hellboy figures that Liz can take the imp out. He also

sees that the undine knows it, too, and is ready to spray Liz with

enough liquid to maybe nullify her fiery powers.

"Hey, big fish, small pond! Catch this!" He hurls a large rock into its

gaping mouth, breaking a couple of those ultra-sharp teeth. While the

undine reels from the pain, Hellboy hurls himself forward, knocking the

monster back, onto land. But he falls in the water, struggling for

purchase, sinking like a stone. Suddenly, from underneath, Hellboy is

lifted out of the turbulent pond, high enough that he can leap to land.

"Thanks, Abe! I owe you."

"What're friends for?" the aquatic one says. "Watch out!"

Hellboy ducks instinctively. One of the undine's fins scrapes up his

arm, ripping the coat sleeve to shreds, cutting deep into flesh from

elbow to shoulder. Instantly, the wounds gush blood, but Hellboy has no

time to feel the pain.

"It's trying to get back into the pond!" Kate calls out. "It's weaker

on land, especially when forced out of the water."

And in fact the undine seems to be struggling to retreat into the pond.

Hellboy uses both hands and clamps onto its tail. The tail is powerful,

the force of a rushing river, and every muscle in Hellboy's body aches

as he yanks the slippery, scaly creature hard, over his shoulder,

lifting the undine off the ground. Another loud Grawwwwwhhhh! cracks

the air. Hellboy twirls the monster around and around in mid-air like a

lariat, spinning it fast then faster until the water creature becomes a

blur. Liquid flies out of its body in all directions like horizontal

rain, a hurricane, soaking the land, the trees, and Kate.

"You're depleting it!" Kate yells. "Don't stop!"

The sound it makes begins to fade as more and more water leaves its

body. Hellboy keeps spinning the undine. His arms feel as if they will

drop out of the sockets, but he does not stop. And then a curious thing

happens: his burden grows lighter. As the seconds tick by, the undine

loses weight until it feels feather-light.

"Let her fly!" Liz cries out, a dark lump tucked beneath her arm.

Hellboy uses his heavy hand like a bat to send the water spirit soaring

high into the air. Only then can he see what the undine has become, a

shriveled, dried, filleted fish, dehydrated.

A burst of fire shoots straight up from the ground into the air, frying

the fish as it catapults to earth. The corpse of the undine splatters

onto the concrete, breaking apart. One eye lands near Abe, who is still

in the pond. He leans over for a closer look.

Hellboy tips his imaginary hat. "Here's lookin' at you, kid!"

The four pause for a moment only. "What have you got, Liz?" Kate asks.

"A hellion," Liz says.

The squirming bundle under her arm mumbles, "Let me outta here, bitch!"

Kate hurries over. She reaches in and pulls out a head, blacker than

midnight, the eyes like cats' eyes furtively darting around in the

darkness.

"So, you're a real imp. Straight from the nether regions," Hellboy

says.

"Go to hell, Redboy!" The voice has altered to that of a furious child.

It squirms in Liz's arm, trying to bite anything within mouth range,

and now it takes Kate as well to hold onto it.

"So," Kate says to Hellboy, "what do you want to do with this ... imp?"

Hellboy holds onto his upper arm to stem the blood flow. The wound

suddenly burns like, well, hell. "Let it go," he says.

"Huh?" Liz asks.

Hellboy strides to Liz. He reaches out and the imp growls at him,

snapping like a dog. He yanks a chunk of hair from the coal-black form.

"Uh, H.B., what are you doing?" Liz asks.

"I'm gonna make me a Voodoo doll."

"Red bastard!" The imp screams. Then an ear-splitting shriek causes the

three of them to put their hands over their ears, and Abe to immerse

himself in the pond.

Liz releases the minor demon. "I'll be back!" the childish imp voice

yells. "This isn't over!"

"Get going!" Hellboy says.

"You'll be sorry — "

"Ah, what the hell..." Hellboy hauls off and knocks out the imp with

his Hand of Doom.

Silence tings through the park. It is as if the world has come to a

halt. Out of the stillness, a small voice originating from a nearby

bench says, "Hey, can't you guys keep it down? Some of us are trying to

sleep."

"Sleep," Hellboy says.

Liz takes his good arm and leads him from the park.