Act of Mercy

Thomas E. Sniegoski

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Fletcher Christian was typing.

Tap, tap, tap-tap, tap, tap, tap-tap, tap, tap, tap, tap-tap.

That's weird, Hellboy thought vaguely, nearly asleep upon the sectional

sofa in his private quarters at the Bureau for Paranormal Research and

Defense headquarters in Fairfield, Connecticut. He didn't remember any

scenes in the 1935 version of Mutiny on the Bounty involving

typewriters, but he might have been wrong.

Tap, tap, tap-tap, tap, tap, tap-tap, tap, tap, tap-tap.

Pulling himself from that strange, foggy place between wakefulness and

slumber, he opened his yellow eyes a crack to gaze at the screen of the

nineteen-inch Sylvania console squatting on the floor across the room.

Movie-star handsome Clark Gable as Fletcher Christian was having a

heated conversation with a not-so-pretty Charles Laughton as the

despicable Captain Bligh, and, as Hellboy suspected, neither of them

was typing.

Tap-tap, tap, tap, tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap.

Hellboy leaned forward on the couch, searching the darkened room for

the source of the strange noise. He grabbed the remote control from the

cushion beside him and turned down the volume on the DVD player,

listening carefully for the sound to be repeated.

Tap, tap, tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap, tap-tap.

"What the hell is that?" he grumbled, flexing his tail and pushing

himself up from the sofa. Slowly, he worked his way across the room,

illuminated only by the pulsing light of the television screen. He

froze as the sound came again.

Tap, tap, tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap.

It was definitely coming from the window. His hoof landed on the latest

issue of Cat Fancy, where he had dropped it earlier, and he almost lost

his footing, but caught himself. I gotta clean this place, he thought,

quickening his pace, careful not to step on any other debris littering

his living-room floor. What a sty.

Hellboy stood mere inches from the window but could see nothing save

darkness beyond it.

"C'mon, c'mon," he grumbled impatiently, itching for a glimpse of

whatever had interrupted his precious movie snooze time.

Without warning, something blacker than the night collided with the

glass, and Hellboy leapt back, kicking over Chinese takeout boxes of

General Gau's chicken and specialty house rice. I was gonna eat that,

he thought, his attention diverted for a fraction of a second.

The object threw itself at the window even harder. This time the glass

shattered inward with the force of the blow.

"Jesus Christ!" Hellboy roared, shielding his eyes from flying glass as

a large, black shape swooped into his apartment. It was a bird — a

crow, one of the biggest he had ever seen, and it flew crazily about

the room, banging into the ceiling, careening through the air. Its

incessant cawing was ear splitting.

He was close to calling Abe for help when the bird suddenly dove toward

the pulsing light of the television screen. The dry twig sound of its

neck snapping as it hit full force made him wince, the savage impact

leaving a bloody smear on Captain Bligh's face, as the bird fell limp

and unmoving to the floor.

Hellboy glanced out into the night through the broken window, just to

be sure that it held no more surprises. Finding none, he turned his

curiosity to the body of the crow. Its wingspan was easily five feet,

but that wasn't what caught his attention.

"What've we got here?" he said, kneeling down beside the dead bird. The

crow held something in its taloned feet, something that looked like a

scroll.

"Let go," he cursed, struggling with the bird's death grip. It wouldn't

oblige, and he found himself having to peel back the clawed toes, the

hollow bones cracking wetly as they were broken.

It was indeed a scroll, and as Hellboy rose to his feet and began to

unroll the message, his sense of smell was assaulted by an offensive

yet familiar odor. It was the smell of desiccated human flesh. The

scroll in his hands was not made of parchment, but of skin,

and judging by the length and width of it, it had likely been peeled

from somebody's back. "This just keeps getting better and better," he

grumbled as he read the message.

His Romanian was a bit rusty, but he got the gist of it.

Scrawled upon the parchment of skin was a challenge.

Written in blood.

[IMAGE]

Hellboy stood behind Kate Corrigan's chair, watching as her fingers

fluttered delicately over the computer keyboard.

"Sorry to get you in here so early," he said. Kate was Assistant

Director of Field Operations.

"No problem," Kate said, her eyes on the screen as she typed in her

password, preparing to peruse the B.P.R.D.'s mission-archive database.

"I was up anyway doing some file review for Manning. Still haven't

gotten your official report on the Grottendieck Stone Thrower, by the

way," she admonished, double clicking the mouse and entering the

archives.

"Hmmm." He wasn't thrilled with the prospect of paperwork. It was the

part of the job that he hated the most. "Did Abe do his yet?" he asked,

hoping to gain a little time.

"Turned it in two weeks ago."

"Brown nose," he grumbled.

Kate chuckled, turning to the scroll that Hellboy had placed on her

desk. "Let's make sure we get the correct spelling of your challenger's

name before we begin." Carefully she unrolled the macabre skin scroll.

"Dyavo Mahr."

"The name doesn't ring any bells?" she asked, entering it into the

search box on her computer screen.

"Nothing," Hellboy answered. "But judging from the tone of the message,

it must be someone I pissed off pretty good."

"You do have that effect on people," Kate said as she watched her

information appear. "Bingo."

Hellboy leaned in closer. "Son of a gun," he said in surprise. "Guess I

do know this guy."

"Yep. 1978. Romanian mining village called Balanbanya. You were

assigned to investigate a number of disappearances that occurred after

an old shaft was reopened."

He brought his large, stone hand to his face and rubbed his chin, deep

in concentration. "Balanbanya," he said once, and then a second time,

hoping to stir some memory. "Was that the place with the really good

cabbage rolls?"

"I couldn't tell you," Kate said. "It says here that you fought Dyavo

Mahr in the mine shaft and killed it." She turned in her chair to look

at him.

"Guess he got over it," Hellboy shrugged. "What kind of beastie are we

talking about?"

"You really don't remember this thing?" she asked incredulously.

"Guys like this are a dime a dozen. After a while they all kinda blend

together. You punch one demon face, you punched 'em all, know what I'm

sayin'?"

"If you say so." Kate returned her attention to the computer screen.

"It also says that Dyavo is your typical fiend of the night with a

penchant for human flesh. For a time, it was considered quite the

boogeyman in that region of Romania."

"I guess poundin' the crap out of him in '78 didn't do much for his

image," Hellboy said, reading over his friend's shoulder.

"Nope. Probably why he wants a rematch," Kate added. She turned back to

him. "So, what are you going to do?"

Hellboy reached for the scroll. "Can you hook me up with a flight?" he

asked, rolling the message up tight.

"You're going?" she asked, surprise in her tone.

"When someone bothers to send an invitation by giant bird on such nice

stationery, I'd have to say they're real serious about getting

attention." He slipped the scroll into one of the deep pockets of his

overcoat. "Don't think I have much of a choice."

[IMAGE]

In a matter of hours, Kate had provided Hellboy with a private flight

to Romania, as well as a ride from the tiny airfield to the village of

Posaga, the closest spot to the Apuseni Mountains, where the challenge

was to occur.

The flight was relatively uneventful, but now Hellboy held on for dear

life as the powder-blue Yugo barreled down a country road that was in a

serious state of disrepair. He was sure the car was going to fall apart

completely as it rolled over huge potholes and ruts. The driver's name

was Anatoly, and he was in the midst of explaining something that only

he seemed to find incredibly funny.

"And then he rescued the big monkey from the laboratory and there was

much laughing on my part," the chubby man said, wiping tears of

laughter from his eyes as he drove. "And then there are his pants. I am

laughing now with just the thought of them."

Hellboy tore his eyes away from the road illuminated in the Yugo's

headlights to look at the driver. "This Urkel must be one funny guy,"

he said.

They had been driving for a little over an hour, the surroundings

becoming progressively more rustic, and he found himself getting itchy.

"How much farther to Posaga?" Hellboy asked as he tried to reposition

his bulk. The passenger seat had been slid back as far as it could go,

and he still found that his legs were cramped, the top of his head

scraping the ceiling.

Anatoly shifted noisily into second gear and the car bucked and whined

as it began to climb a mountain road. "Not long now."

"Maybe I should get out and push," Hellboy suggested, and the driver

laughed.

"You are very funny, Mr. Hellboy of the B.P.R.D., almost as funny as

the Urkel — but not quite."

That was good to know, he thought as he tried to keep his head from

bouncing off the car ceiling. Almost as funny as some guy named Urkel.

They drove for a while longer; the sun was just starting to peek out

over the horizon, casting their surroundings in the eerie shadows

seemingly distinct to this part of the world. I wouldn't be surprised

in the least to see Boris Karloff come stumbling out of the thick woods

in full monster of Frankenstein makeup, chased by villagers with

pitchforks and torches.

It was hard to believe, but the road was actually getting worse.

Anatoly drove the Yugo like he was driving an all-terrain vehicle, and

Hellboy could have sworn he heard pieces of the car clattering off into

what passed as a road behind them. He didn't have the courage, or the

room, to turn around and check.

"We are now between Turda and Campeni," Anatoly announced. "A curve in

road up ahead will take us through a stone archway into Posaga village,

I think." Hellboy peered through the early morning murk, but saw

nothing.

"Hold onto your hat," Anatoly cried with a throaty chuckle, and cut the

wheel suddenly to the right, hurling Hellboy's mass against the

passenger door. His head banged off the ceiling again as the car

fishtailed, kicking up dust and dirt in its wake. "Easy there, Mario,"

he barked, and Hellboy began to wonder if he would reach his

destination in one piece.

They bounced down the ancient dirt road, surrounded on either side by

thick brush and trees, and as they came up over a slight rise, the

Yugo's headlights illuminated the forms of several darkly clad

villagers carrying a wooden casket.

They were standing in the road.

"Holy crap, look out!" Hellboy yelled, reaching over to grab hold of

the steering wheel, pulling it roughly to the right, hoping to avoid

the people in the Yugo's path.

The wheel broke loose from the steering column.

"Cheap foreign junk," he mumbled, not sure what to do with the wheel,

as Anatoly stomped his foot on the brake.

The Yugo spun around, brakes screeching like a cat stuck in a fan belt,

its tail coming to an abrupt stop mere inches from the villagers, who

had not moved an inch from their place in the center of the dirt road.

Hellboy and Anatoly sat for a moment in silence until Hellboy handed

the driver his steering wheel. "Sorry about that."

Anatoly tentatively took the hard plastic wheel from him and attempted

to place it back on the steering column with little success.

Hellboy threw open the door and slowly began to extricate himself from

the close quarters of the front seat. Anatoly got out of the car as

well, and with steering wheel still in hand, walked toward the crowd of

mourners.

"Have you lost your minds?" he yelled in the language of the region.

"Do you want to be killed?" He shook his steering wheel in annoyance at

them.

"Cut 'em some slack, Anatoly," Hellboy said, joining the driver. He

gestured toward the wooden coffin in the road behind the villagers. It

was draped in a purple cloth, adorned with religious symbols of the

orthodox faith. "Doesn't look like they're havin' the best of days

either."

The gaggle of villagers stared silently at him with blank eyes, as if

all emotional response had been drained from them.

"What is wrong with you people?" Anatoly berated them. "Haven't you

ever seen an agent of the B.P.R.D. before?"

Hellboy watched as the crowd began to part, and an old woman, her back

twisted and bent, hobbled forward with the help of a cane as gnarled as

her spine. Her head and shoulders were enshrouded in a shawl of black,

the clothing she wore the same dour color — the color of mourning.

She stopped mere inches from Hellboy and leaning upon her cane, tilted

her leathery face up to gaze into his eyes. Her own were covered with

the thick, milky film of cataracts, but there was no mistaking that she

could see him just fine.

"It brings us great joy to know that you have come," she said in the

dialect of her village.

He was much better at understanding Romanian than he was speaking it,

and asked his driver for a hand. "Anatoly, ask her how she knew I was

coming."

Anatoly put forth the question and the woman responded.

"The night lurker said that you would come to face him — that you would

come to help the children."

"She said that the night lurker ...," Anatoly began.

"I got that part," Hellboy interrupted. "But did she just say something

about kids?" he asked with growing dread. "What kids?"

Again the driver posed the question to the old woman, and translated

her response.

"He came in the night and stole away the youngest children of our

village," she said, pointing with her cane up the road to where the

village of Posaga sat. "Father John tried to stop him, but the creature

tore the flesh from his body." She shuddered.

The villagers blessed themselves as they stepped aside to give Hellboy

a better view of the coffin, and he suspected that he knew where Dyavo

Mahr had gotten the materials he needed to write his challenge.

The old woman went on.

"He said that the beast of the end times, who had rejected evil and now

fought on the side of the angels, would be called forth to face him,

and if he did not come, the children would die for his cowardice."

"Son of a bitch," Hellboy growled. There was nothing worse than someone

who hid behind kids to get what he wanted. Dyavo Mahr was quickly

moving to the top of his must-punch-hard list.

The elderly woman shuffled closer and placed a gnarled hand on his

broad chest, as if to feel his heartbeat. "But you have come," she

said, "and will return our babies to us."

"I'll see what I can do." Hellboy patted her aged hand reassuringly.

"Might as well get this show on the road."

The villagers picked up the coffin from the ground and continued on

their way through the woods to the cemetery.

"How will you know where to go?" Anatoly asked him, once they were

alone in the road. "The Apuseni, they are very vast."

Hellboy looked toward the mountains that loomed behind the tiny village

and wondered the very same thing. In the distance, a black shape

disengaged itself from a patch of shadows, soaring down toward them to

perch in a nearby tree.

A crow, even bigger than the one that crashed my apartment.

It fluttered its jet-black wings, cocking its head and fixing Hellboy

in a piercing stare. Then the bird lifted its wing and pointed, and he

saw that it was directing him toward a winding forest path that

disappeared into the thick of the wood.

"Guess that answers your question," Hellboy said to Anatoly. With a

final farewell, he proceeded up the path that would hopefully lead him

to his challenger.

[IMAGE]

"Hey, bird!" Hellboy called into the thick forest, hands cupped to his

mouth. "Where'd you go?"

He looked around, scanning the trees for signs of his black-feathered

chaperone. The crow had been leading him deeper, higher, into the

forest of the Apuseni Mountains, but now it was nowhere to be seen.

"Great," he groaned, shielding his eyes as he gazed at the turquoise

sky through the canopy of branches. He had been walking for hours, and

still had no idea where he was headed. Hellboy sat down on the rotting

trunk of a fallen tree, disheartened and thinking of the children in

the clutches of the ancient demon.

His stomach grumbled noisily, and he remembered that he hadn't eaten

anything since the stale cheese Danish on the flight over. He reached

into the satchel at his side and found a chocolate bar that he kept

there for just such emergencies. "This oughta hold me until I can get

some real grub." He peeled away the candy wrapper and broke off a

piece, popping it into his mouth.

"Would you be willing to trade a piece of that candy bar for some

help?"

Hellboy leapt up from his seat upon the log to see that a large,

spotted lynx was talking to him. The cat sat calmly beside the fallen

tree, looking up at him with wide, sea-green eyes.

"How do you know I need help?" he asked, amused that he was not in the

least bit surprised that the animal was talking to him. Doing the kind

of job that he did, it took a helluva lot to get a rise out of him.

"You're sitting all alone on a log in the middle of nowhere with a

candy bar," the lynx observed. "And don't tell me you're just enjoying

the scenery."

Hellboy sat back down on the log and considered what was left of his

chocolate. "I guess I could give you some." He broke off a piece and

tossed it to the ground in front of the cat.

The lynx dexterously grabbed the piece of candy with its paw and

brought it to its mouth.

"Didn't know lynxes liked chocolate," Hellboy said.

"I wouldn't know," the animal said offhandedly as it chewed. "I'm a

Krukis — a forest spirit. I just look like a lynx."

"Got it," Hellboy said with a nod, and popped the last bite of candy

into his own mouth. "So, now that you've had part of my snack, you're

gonna help me find what I'm looking for, right?"

"Of course I am," the Krukis replied, licking some stray chocolate from

its paw. "That was the deal."

The two continued on their way, climbing higher into the western

mountains. The sun was starting to set, the shadows of the forest

growing more bold.

"He's very upset, you know," the lynx said as they crossed a clearing

filled with tall brown grass.

"Who is?" Hellboy asked, running the palm of his left hand along the

top of the waist-high grass.

"Dyavo Mahr."

"Holding out on me, eh?" Hellboy said as they entered another, thicker

section of woods. "Last piece of candy you'll get from me."

A stray leaf blew by in the cool, gentle wind, and the lynx pounced on

it. "I've heard some things," it said, leaning down to smell its prey.

"He's angry because he's been forgotten. It's quite sad, really."

"My heart's breakin'," Hellboy said, ducking his head to avoid a

low-hanging branch. "So have you talked to him recently?"

Forgetting the leaf, the Krukis padded along beside him. "Last night I

encountered him with the children from the village."

It had become like night in this part of the woods, the darkness again

victorious over the day.

"He hasn't hurt them, has he?"

"Not yet," said the lynx.

"The clock's ticking then. I gotta hurry."

Slowly but steadily they were climbing higher into the Apuseni. As far

as mountains went, they were not all that high, so he figured they had

to be getting closer.

"Oh yes," the lynx said in agreement. "The clock is ticking, for

everybody. Dyavo wants to be feared again before his end, to remind the

world that he once held them in a grip of terror."

"Grip of terror," Hellboy repeated. "Got it."

The forest began to thin and they found themselves standing before what

appeared to be a wall of solid limestone. Hellboy reached out with his

left hand to touch the cool, white rock. "What's up?" he asked his

forest guide. "Do we go around, or what?"

The lynx sat on the ground and began to groom itself. "I'm not going

anywhere," it said with finality. "You've reached your destination."

Hellboy was about to ask the forest spirit for an explanation when a

thick patch of clouds parted in the night sky, and rays of pale, yellow

moonlight shone upon the rock face. "Would you look at that," he said

as the sudden light revealed an opening in the limestone. "Why am I

always so surprised?"

He unclipped a flashlight from the side of his work belt and shone it

inside. "It's a cave all right. Let's get going."

"I go no further," the Krukis said. "How far did you think a little

piece of chocolate would get you? I've done more than enough. Good

luck," the creature said, casually sauntering back into the forest.

Hellboy watched the spirit go. "Thanks for the help," he called after

it, a little disappointed to be losing his companion.

The lynx turned and stared at him, its animal eyes glowing an eerie red

in the moonlit wood. "I didn't know creatures from Hell could be so

pleasant," it said, sounding genuinely surprised.

Hellboy shrugged. "I'm just a guy doing a job."

"Interesting," said the Krukis. It padded deeper into the forest, and,

blending with the shadows, was gone.

[IMAGE]

According to Kate, the Apuseni Mountains were like a great white chunk

of Swiss cheese, thoroughly carved through by underground rivers over

thousands of years, and from what Hellboy could see, her intel was

right on the money.

He shone the beam of his flashlight around the vast cave, the sound of

distant, underground streams making him feel as though his eat was

pressed to a seashell. The path he took descended into the base of the

mountain, crossing a huge, natural bridge where, at one time, a

powerful river had eroded itself passage. He directed his light over

the edge of the bridge to see how far it was to the bottom, but all he

saw was a sea of black.

"Don't want to be going down there," he muttered, returning the light

to his path.

He was looking for some kind of sign, something to prove he was on the

right track, when the beam of his flashlight fell upon something

startlingly colorful against the yellow-white limestone of the bridge.

He snatched up a piece of blue ribbon, the kind worn in a little girl's

hair, knowing at that moment that this was where he was supposed to be.

The passage dipped down precariously, the floor slick beneath his

hooves, and he was careful to not lose his footing. The darkness seemed

to be closing in on him, and he stopped to the check the flashlight.

"Stupid batteries," he complained, slapping the light against his palm,

thinking that would somehow fix it. But it only made matters worse, the

light dimming to nearly nothing. Knowing that he was fresh out of new

batteries, Hellboy tossed the flashlight. "Can't believe this," he

griped, reaching into his satchel for the matches he carried. "C'mon,

c'mon." His fingers fumbled over stray silver bullets, a pack of Tic

Tacs, a button from his coat ...

Hellboy continued to move forward as he searched his bag, and in the

darkness, his foot caught on a rock. He tried to catch himself, but to

no avail. "You stupid son of...," he hollered, tumbling down the

incline in the pitch black of the cave.

The floor finally leveled slightly, and he was able at last to stop

himself. More embarrassed than anything else, he clambered to his feet,

dusting himself off as he glanced around. It was lighter here, an eerie

glow coming from an area not too far up ahead and around a bend.

Hellboy moved slowly toward the source of light, cautiously turning the

corner. The passage before him led down into an open cavern lit with

candles — candles inside of human skulls.

"Cute," he said, proceeding down the path, fire flickering inside the

eyes of the skulls to light his way.

"These are the heads of my fallen enemies." The voice from inside the

chamber was like fingernails on a blackboard, and he felt the hair on

the back of his neck bristle. "Enter so that I may add your own to my

collection."

"Sorry," Hellboy said as he stepped into the low-ceilinged chamber.

"The Smithsonian's already got first dibs on my coconut."

Skull lanterns were placed throughout the chamber, and the floor was

littered with a variety of bones, some from local wildlife, and some

not. "Nice place you got here. Are heat and utilities included?"

The monster offered no response, but Hellboy could sense his enemy

somewhere in the pools of shadow on the ledges overlooking the cavern,

watching his every move.

Hellboy was ready, tensed to repel the inevitable attack, when he heard

the tiniest of whimpers. Zeroing in on the pathetic sound, he found the

children from the village. There were five of them, three girls and two

boys, the oldest not more than seven. They were tied up and crammed

inside a cage that was, surprise, surprise, also made of bones. He was

relieved to see that, though scratched, bruised, and filthy, they

appeared to be otherwise unharmed.

As he walked toward the cage, they began to scream and cry.

"Shhhhh, that's enough of that," Hellboy said, holding up his hands in

a non-threatening gesture. "I'm here to make sure you get back to your

folks."

The children continued to carry on, pressing themselves to the sides of

the bone cage, refusing to look at him. He reached out, grabbed hold of

the door, and tore it away from the cage. "C'mon out, it's all right,"

he said, speaking softly. The children stared with teary, fear-filled

eyes. They didn't trust him, and really, who could blame them.

"Isn't it strange," came that creepy voice again. It was closer now,

but he still couldn't pinpoint its exact location. "You have come to

save the babies, but they are just as afraid of you as they are of the

one who snatched them from their beds."

Hellboy looked back into the cage. A boy, obviously the oldest of the

five, was looking at him inquisitively, a glimmer of something that

could have been trust in his eyes. "What's your name, kid?" he asked

the child in rusty Romanian.

"Jon," the boy answered in little more than a whisper.

"Is what he said true, Jon? Am I as scary as him?" He pointed out into

the darkness of the cave.

Jon thought for a moment and shook his head. The other children

cowering behind him slowly did the same.

"Come on out then," he coaxed.

The children tentatively inched toward the opening.

"Promise I won't bite," Hellboy said, carefully helping them out of the

cage, one at a time.

Something moved on the darkened ledge above them.

"But I have made no such promise," hissed the voice of the monster, as

it leapt down to the floor of the cave.

Hellboy reacted instinctively, pulling the last of the children from

the cage, and stood between them and the attacking beast. He brought

back his right hand, ready to pound the monster's face, but found

himself pulling the punch instead.

"Dyavo Mahr?" he asked the thin, leering beast who landed in a

stumbling crouch before him. The B.P.R.D. file had described Dyavo Mahr

as a powerful demonic entity, a dangerous predator that was to be

approached with extreme caution.

Confused, Hellboy studied the figure before him; its sickly gray skin

stretched tightly over sharp, angular bones, sparse, downy tufts of

hair atop its sore-covered skull reminding Hellboy of something he had

once seen growing on an old piece of fruit in his refrigerator.

The monster smiled, a near toothless grin. "You remember me," he hissed

gleefully, nodding as he spoke. "As I remember you."

"What the hell happened?" Hellboy asked incredulously. "You've been

sick?"

Dyavo Mahr sneered, a thick, pointed tongue the color of rancid meat

passing over scabbed and bleeding lips. "Sick of the world, and how

easily its inhabitants dismiss that which once caused them to cower in

the darkness of their hovels, hearts filled with terror, praying for

the coming of dawn.

"I am sick from being forgotten," he spat. "And will stand for it no

more." One of the children began to cry, and Hellboy couldn't blame the

kid; he was getting pretty sick of this business himself.

"Why don't you guys go wait for me over there," Hellboy suggested,

gesturing back to the chamber entrance. "I'll take you home just as

soon as I'm finished here."

"They are going nowhere!" Dyavo Mahr roared, scrambling toward them,

spider-like, across the floor of the cave, bits of dry bone scattering

with his frenetic approach. "Once you are dead, I will feast upon their

soft, delicate flesh in celebration."

Hellboy reached for his gun, with one fluid motion, pulling it from the

holster hanging at his side and aiming it at the approaching demon.

"That's close enough," he warned, squinting down the thick barrel of

the pistol, his finger twitching on the hairpin trigger. At this range

he doubted that even he could miss.

Dyavo recoiled, hissing like a vampire with a face full of crucifix.

Then he began to cough uncontrollably.

Keeping one eye on the hacking beast, Hellboy again motioned the

children in the direction of the cave entrance. "Go on," he said. "Wait

for me over there." He had no idea how this was going to turn out, and

he didn't want them to see anything that would give them nightmares,

although being taken from their beds by a demon and put inside a cage

made of bones had likely placed them well on the toad to lifelong

therapy.

The older kid, Jon, was taking on the role of team leader, corralling

the others and ushering them toward the cave mouth as Hellboy turned

back to the pathetic creature that had summoned him here.

Dyavo Mahr was still trying to catch his breath. He had fallen to his

knees, rocking from side to side as he attempted to suppress the

bone-rattling coughs.

"Need a glass of water?" Hellboy asked, as he lowered his gun. What do

you say to a demon that's on the verge of harking up a lung?

The monster gulped at the air. "Mock me while you can, hellbeast," he

growled between gurgling breaths. "You may have beaten me once, but

this day, victory will be mine."

Hellboy looked around and then back to the demon kneeling on the ground

before him, wracking his memory for any trace of the familiar, and

finding nothing. This place — this monster's lair — could have been one

of thousands he had entered throughout his career with the B.P.R.D. But

Dyavo Mahr was so pitiful, he almost felt guilty for not remembering.

Hellboy returned the gun to its holster.

"You seem to remember the time we fought pretty good," he said to the

demon as it slowly rose to its feet upon trembling, bowed legs. "Why

don't you refresh my memory?"

Dyavo smiled horribly, his large head atop a pencil-thin neck nodding

in understanding. "Of course, you wish to delay the inevitability of

your demise. I suppose I could find it within myself to grant you this

last request."

Hellboy rolled his eyes and motioned for the demon to go on.

A milky film seemed to cloud the demon's bulging eyes. "It was a day

still talked about by the dark denizens of this region, and even by

those beyond it," he said wistfully. "The miners of Balanbanya had

stumbled across one of my many lairs littering these mountains,

awakening me from my centuries-long slumber."

Dyavo rubbed his bony hands together, thick trails of saliva oozing

from the corners of his mouth as he spoke. "I fed upon them for their

impertinence, gorging myself with their delicious flesh and bones. It

had been long since I last feasted on the meat of humans, and it

awakened in me a hunger most voracious." He wiped the spittle from his

chin with the back of a spotted hand.

"So you ate some miners, and then they called me," Hellboy interjected,

attempting to move the story along.

The monster nodded, a look of annoyance upon his wan features. "Yes,

they summoned you, their monstrous champion, and the mountains shook

with the intensity of our battle."

Dyavo Mahr smiled again, his dark eyes glistening wetly. The skin on

his face was pulled so tight that Hellboy was surprised it didn't rip.

"You remember that battle, don't you?" he said, pointing a clawed

finger at him. "I can see it in your eyes. Oh, yes."

Hellboy shook his head. "No. Not really, but if you say so. No offense,

but I've kicked a lot of grave-monkey ass over the last twenty years or

so, and I'm sorry to say I've kinda forgotten most of 'em."

On spindly legs the demon again lunged forward. "You lie!" he

screeched, his face twisted in a strange mixture of rage and disbelief.

"You have to remember — the mountains, they trembled with the ferocity

of our battle."

Hellboy recoiled as the demon grabbed the front of his coat with

skeletal hands. "You must remember!"

The first rock hit Dyavo Mahr in the face, just below the cheekbone.

The demon released Hellboy and stumbled back. A large gash had been

opened in the paper-thin flesh at the jutting cheekbone, and black

blood as thick as tar began to ooze from the wound. The second rock

struck him in the shoulder, followed by another to the head that

knocked him to the ground.

Hellboy turned to see the oldest child, Jon, let fly with another

stone.

"Leave him alone!" the boy cried, reaching down to the cave floor for

more ammunition. "He has come to help us, you wicked ugly thing!"

The other children were now throwing rocks with varying degrees of

success, a rain of stones falling upon the pathetic beast.

"Hey, knock it off!" Hellboy bellowed, his booming command

reverberating throughout the underground cavern. The children froze,

another volley of rocks dropping from their hands.

"He was going to hurt you," Jon said in all seriousness as Hellboy

approached.

"Yeah, thanks for your concern," he said, picking up one of the candle

skulls and handing it to the boy. "Take this and follow the tunnel," he

instructed. "This is no place for you."

"Are you going to kill him?" Jon asked, his eyes glinting maliciously

in the candlelight.

Hellboy didn't know how to answer and chose to ignore the question.

"I'll catch up with you in a bit," he said instead, giving the boy a

slight push.

Jon did as he was told and headed out of the cave, holding the

illuminated skull to his chest, a line of younger children following

behind him.

"Be careful," Hellboy yelled after them, remembering the tumble he had

taken earlier. He wasn't too sure how safe the kids would be alone, but

didn't imagine that he would be here much longer. They would be all

right till then.

He then returned his attention to Dyavo Mahr. The monster was curled in

a ball on the ground, its frail frame again wracked with powerful fits

of coughing. He suspected that there wasn't much time left for the

monster, that nature would soon be running its course.

"Oh, how they feared me," Dyavo croaked. "When the night fell across

the Apuseni, they would gather up their young and barricade themselves

in their homes."

Dyavo slowly, painfully climbed to his feet, his body covered with

bleeding welts and bruises from the children's anger.

"It was me they feared," he said, touching his sunken chest with long,

trembling fingers. "I was the terror that came for them in the night."

"Yeah," Hellboy said, sharing a strange moment of empathy with the

demon. "You musta been something."

It made him feel kinda dirty.

Dyavo Mahr slowly nodded his large head. "Yes," he hissed. "Yes I was."

He started to cough again, and Hellboy saw that there was blood now

leaking from his mouth. The demon fell against the cave wall, too weak

to stand. "But that was long ago."

Hellboy turned to leave.

"Wait!" Dyavo cried, gasping for air. "Where are you going?"

Hellboy didn't even turn around. "I'm done here," he said, staring into

the darkness of the passage that would take him from the monster's lair

beneath the Apuseni. He thought he could hear the kids in the distance.

It sounded like they were singing.

Cute.

"How dare you turn your back on me," the creature warned.

He listened to the sounds as Dyavo came away from the wall.

"I was he whose name they refused to say, in fear that I would

overhear, and come for their wives and children."

Hellboy was ready to go; the stink of death was so bad here it was

starting to make him feel sick.

"Not even their prayers to the great Christian God could chase me

away," Dyavo Mahr growled. "I hid beneath the earth and slept, waiting

for them to grow complacent — then I showed them what fear truly was."

He could hear the demon's ragged breathing, his stumbling gait, as he

came closer

"You will show me the respect I deserve."

The demon's clawed hand fell hard upon his shoulder.

"Give me what I most desire," he demanded. The words echoed in the

cavern.

At last Hellboy turned, looking deeply into the eyes of the creature,

understanding the true reason why the monster had summoned him here.

The gun slid from its holster with ease. "You're too much of a threat

to live," Hellboy said to the demon of the mountains as he aimed and

pulled the trigger. He was certain he saw the demon smile as it

staggered toward him.

Weak, yet putting on its best mask of savagery, Dyavo Mahr lunged.

The single gunshot sounded like a clap of thunder within the confines

of the cave, a precursor to the most savage of storms.

The force of the shot threw Dyavo Mahr backward onto a pile of bones, a

smoldering black hole in the center of his sunken chest.

"I was the scourge of the night," Dyavo whispered, black blood bubbling

over his lips, as he at last died atop a bed of his victims' bones.

"Yep, you were something," Hellboy agreed.

The demon breathed its last. The decay of its flesh was instantaneous,

oily wisps of foul-smelling smoke rising up to writhe cobra-like in the

air of the cave.

Hellboy felt a strange satisfaction, a sense that he had done something

right — something humane. He had no idea why he'd given Dyavo Mahr that

small mercy. But he wondered if he'd be that lucky when his time came,

if he'd go out with some dignity.

He turned toward the chamber entrance, moving forward into the darkness

of the tunnel, drawn to the sounds of children's voices raised in song.

He wondered.