The bench shot forward with incredible force, making Kurt feel like he was in astronaut training, the acceleration pressing his body into the bench and his pack into his chest. The sensation was mercifully short as the bench came to a sudden stop and he was flung out of the cave mouth, only barely keeping a grip on his pack.

He tumbled head over heels, one arm and both legs flailing in an attempt to gain some sort of control, the remaining arm holding his pack tight to his chest.

Slowly, gradually, he oriented himself so that his head pointed forward and his body remained relatively parallel to the ground. At this point he was able to look around him. Alain and George were ahead of him — Alain by about 15 yards, George by about 10 — both already composed.

They were heading down toward a castle that was larger than any building Kurt had ever seen. Made from stone and crowned in precious metals, the walls formed a giant square at least three miles on each side. Soaring towers rose up from within, bridges connecting them a kilometer or more over the gigantic main hall below. Kurt had seen pictures of the newest hotels in Las Vegas and Macao, huge monstrosities that were supposedly the largest ones in the world. They paled in comparison to Pandaemonium.

Ahead of them, Kurt could see a set of cables running down toward a platform at the top of one of the taller towers. Alain pointed to the platform and George and Kurt angled themselves to try to reach it. As they got within a few hundred feet of the platform, Alain yelled something, but his voice was drowned out by the sound of something coming down the cables. Kurt looked back and saw a large white cable car bearing down on them. It swooped over them and came to a stop at the platform. Alain and George hit the platform running, coming to a stop before going off the other side. As Kurt joined them on the far edge, the car's doors opened and Nybras stepped out.

Nybras loped over to them and took Alain's hand, shaking it heartily. "Mr. Stark," he said, "what a magnificent landing. That was... ummm... outstanding."

"Thank you," Alain said, trying not to show his disgust at being touched by a demon, instead turning it into a mild disdain, as if he was being touched by someone who did not deserve to touch him.

"Please let me apologize for overreacting earlier," Nybras pleaded. "I understand you were not trying to accuse me of kindness, but were just being polite, as I had been. I truly... ummm... hope you won't think too harshly of me."

Alain pulled his hand from Nybras's grip. "These things happen."

Opposite the platform was an elevator which made a binging sound as the doors opened.

"Shall we enter?" Nybras asked.

"You go ahead," Alain said. "I'm enjoying the view."

"I could wait."

"No, no." Alain put a hand on Nybras' back and gently pushed him toward the elevator. "You have business to attend to."

"Really," Nybras said, looking over his shoulder at Alain. "It's no bother at all. I... I could give you a tour."

With a little extra force, Alain pushed Nybras into the elevator, reached in, and pushed the "L" button. "Thank you, but no."

None of them had seen a demon be sad before, but the way Nybras deflated just before the door closed looked about as sad as anything they could imagine.

Alain walked back across the platform to where Kurt and George stood, questioning looks on their faces. "Shit," Alain said shrugging off his pack and sitting down, leaning his back against the railing.

"Jesus H. Christ," George exclaimed. "Man, I thought we were goners."

Alain ran a hand down his face. "You thought?"

Alain smiled only briefly. "We're in it now," he said seriously. "One screw-up from here on in and we are the main course at the weenie roast."

George shrugged off his pack and sat down cross-legged facing Alain. "So what's the plan?"

Kurt followed George's lead, sitting as Alain ran his hand over his face again. "According to the information I was able to gather, they keep the soul segments in the dungeons under the castle. We're going to have to find the way in..."

"So that's what's going on," Kurt interrupted, a look of comprehension growing across his face. "We're stealing back your soul."

"Actually," Alain said, snapping and then regretting it. Taking a deep breath he brought himself under control. "Actually," he said more calmly, "it wasn't supposed to be we. It was supposed to be me and me only."

"Well we're here," Kurt said, "like it or not. So what can we do?"

"Nothing," Alain said. "Just follow close, act subservient, and don't slow me down."

---

Alain and Kurt had swapped packs again, Kurt carrying the frame pack and Alain slinging Kurt's small pack over one shoulder. Kurt couldn't help but notice that he'd gotten into the habit of long elevator rides with vampires. At least this one hadn't kicked him in the crotch and the elevator music was at a moderate volume, though the selection was still oddly inappropriate. While they descended, it played "Dead Man's Party".

As the doors opened onto the ground floor of Pandaemonium, Kurt's senses were assaulted by a host of stimuli. Bells rang, lights flashed, and an air-conditioned breeze blew in through the doors, a relief after the August-like temperatures outside.

"Shall we," Alain said under his breath. He stepped out first, Kurt and George following.

The carpet they walked across was a vibrant crimson, extending throughout the giant hall under a grid of grand chandeliers in gold and crystal. Any visible exit was hundreds of yards away with a maze of gaming tables and slot machines covering the floor in between. Demonesses cruised the floor in short cocktail dresses, barbed tails waving lasciviously behind them as they trucked their trays to waiting players while other demons walked with whips, lashing damned souls who pushed change carts.

To the side of the elevator, a sign advertised the entertainment on tap. A demon that looked like Jabba The Hutt with horns wore a white jumpsuit with gold sequinned highlights and held a microphone. Gilded letters proclaimed that he, Behemoth, could be seen nightly in the Cocytus room.

"Holy shit," George mumbled.

"We need to find a way down to the dungeons," Alain said through closed teeth as he pretended to smile, looking out over all the wretched excess. "We'll follow along the walls. Look for a door marked Security or Employees Only."

Alain led them off to the right, walking along as if he owned the place, nodding jovially to the patrons as he passed. Kurt, on the other hand, could feel his heart thumping in concert with every step. He kept waiting for someone, something to stop them and question Alain. But they kept moving.

Not all the patrons they passed seemed to be demons either. Some appeared to be living and human, their skins healthy and in good color, their clothes in the latest style, but Kurt had no chance or desire to do any detailed examinations to confirm his judgment. He just plodded along, keeping his mouth shut and trying to keep his eyes straight ahead, ignoring whatever whoops of joy or screams of pain assaulted his senses.

Kurt could catch glimpses of all sorts of devious gaming tables. A damned soul lay strapped to a wheel of fortune, his head tilted back and to the side in an unnatural position, his nose smacking against each pin as it passed through zones that represented the prizes to be won. At another table a damned soul was being cut open, its mock intestines scooped out and thrown in the air over a play area, the gamblers laying bets on how they'd fall. There was a Back-A-Rat table where a damned soul lay face-down over a piece of cheese, its back marked into quadrants as gamblers lay bets on which section a starving rat would gnaw through to get to the cheese.

Kurt bordered on becoming physically ill as Alain called their first halt. Moving in front of a door marked Private, he ushered Kurt and George behind him. Kurt stood just behind and to the side of Alain, blocking George as he knelt in the space between them and the door and picked the lock. Kurt looked straight ahead as he heard the door click open and then shut again. "Nothing," George whispered harshly.

Alain began walking again, Kurt and George following close behind. They made a circuit of the room, checking two more doors in the same manner as the first, then turned into a shopping concourse, heading for an exit. Even though the air was cooler, Kurt was sweating lightly, surreptitiously wiping away the moisture in circular motions, spreading the dirt on his torso and face around, trying to keep it from leaving trails.

The shopping concourse featured shops selling everything from sundries, to clothing, to jewelry. Kurt paused in front of one shop, staring incredulously at the wares in its window. "Jesus died for my sins and all I got was this lousy t-shirt" sat under a Pandaemonium logo on a t-shirt. Another shirt featured the bleeding statues from Gorgon World with the slogan "Gorgon World: Come on Baby, Light My Fire."

"Kurt," Alain growled, standing five feet away, "come on." Kurt looked at the damned souls modeling the shirts, hanging from stands by hooks that pierced their skin, their faces masques of pain. He shuddered, feeling the bile rising in his throat, and made an effort to keep it down as he jogged over to join Alain and George.

"This is monstrous," he said sadly.

"This is Hell," Alain said, glaring at him. "Get over it."

Walking further along the hall, Kurt kept his head down, watching Alain's feet as he followed, unable to look up for fear of seeing the displays in other windows. Alain halted. Moving his gaze up, Kurt saw another door. He went to his usual position as George worked the lock behind him. The door opened with a click. "Stairs," George whispered.

"Go," Alain said through gritted teeth, his arm swiping out to the side and pushing Kurt toward the door. Kurt backed through and stepped to the side, Alain backing in after him. Once in, Alain shut the door and breathed a visible sigh of relief. "George," he said quietly, "get your gun."

George slipped off the pack and pulled the Uzi out of the pocket where it had been hidden, chambering a round. Alain moved to the top stair and put a finger to his lips, looking down into the stairwell. "Okay," he said, coming back, "it's clear. I've got point. George has flank. Kurt, you're in the middle."

Alain moved to the wall of the stairwell and walked down cautiously, Kurt following with George behind him. They made their way down flight after flight, going deeper into the recesses of the castle until the stairs bottomed out in what seemed like a service tunnel, pipes and cables running along the top and sides. It was hot down there and Kurt was now sweating more than he could cover with simple wiping. It didn't matter, though. If they were caught now, pretending to be a lost guest with his two damned souls in tow wouldn't cut it. "Hold it," Kurt said.

Getting behind Alain, he opened the zipper of his pack and removed his bandanna, then opened a side pocket, pulling out two Snickers bars. "I was saving these for an emergency," he said, handing one to George and then moving around Alain and offering him the other.

Alain took the one Kurt offered and then snatched the other from George who was raising it to his mouth to tear the wrapper with his teeth. "Hey," George protested.

Alain put one in his coat pocket and then tore the wrapper on the other. "We'll split one," Alain said. "We'll save the other for our victory dinner." He smiled wanly, trying to convey confidence, but it didn't seem to take as he split the Snickers bar in thirds and each consumed their portion in a dismal silence.

---

Alain walked down the hall, Kurt behind him, George behind Kurt. He hadn't thought to prepare himself for nearly as much as this was turning out to require. The whole plan had been nuts to begin with and was only getting nuttier. He was supposed to slip in and out, blending into the shadows, find the portal into Purgatory in the wall of the ninth ring, dive through, and make his way to Heaven where he'd plead his case before God. But even if he didn't have Kurt and George with him, it wouldn't have been that easy. He was a fool to have believed otherwise.

He had no idea what to expect when he found the part of his soul they'd removed 66 years ago. He didn't know exactly where he was or how to get to the portal into Purgatory. From here on he was winging it.

There was a cross tunnel about fifty feet up. He approached it with caution, motioning for Kurt and George to stay back. Peering around the corner, Alain saw it was empty. To the left it led farther down nearly as far as the eye could see. But to the right... About thirty yards down it ended in a door. He was tempted to go on and ignore the door, believing that finding the dungeons couldn't be that simple, but it bore investigation. Motioning Kurt and George forward, he skulked around the corner, heading toward the door.

The door was made of metal and it was heavy, a steel lip preventing it from being kicked in. Alain took the Uzi as George got to work, watching behind them. Five agonizing minutes later, George tapped him on the back. "Not going to happen," he said. "I'd have to drill it, possibly blow it, but I don't have the equipment."

Alain looked at the lock. The handle was stainless steel, heavy, no screws or bolts visible. Taking a grip on it, he began to pull. Even with his vampire-enhanced strength, it wasn't budging. He put a foot against the wall, pushing himself backward as he pulled. The handle mechanism jerked, pulling out partway, a loud squeak accompanying the movement. Alain let go and shook his hand, the imprint of the handle pink in his palm.

"That's good," George said, pulling a screwdriver out of a toolkit on the floor. "I can work with that." Prying under the circle of metal around the handle, he popped it out, the ring shooting down the handle and clattering onto the floor. George reached into his pack and pulled out a spray can with a long plastic nozzle and a heavy glove. Putting the glove on, he picked up the can and inserted the nozzle into the gap exposed by the ring's removal, spraying for a good while. Putting down the can he picked up his screwdriver again, orienting it carefully, and then smacked its end with the heel of his palm Alain heard something shatter inside and the handle fell to the floor. "Freon," George said, cleaning up his tools and putting them all back into the pack with the can, keeping only the screwdriver. George inserted it into the lock, taking great care with where he put it, and tapped the end a bit. Scooting to the side of the door frame, George grabbed the handle of the screwdriver and pulled it toward himself. The shaft of the screwdriver flexed, seeming almost on the verge of bending, and then the end moved, a click sounding inside the door's lock. The door swung open.

Alain caught it and held it open a crack, exchanging places with George. The door led into a grid of criss-crossing hallways, sitting at the intersection of a T, with hallways extending away from it to the left, right, and straight ahead. Along the walls of the hallways, there were prison-like barred doors every ten feet or so. "I see cells," he said, turning back to Kurt and George, moving the door so the steel lip pressed his fingers against the frame.

"You think that's it," Kurt asked.

"It's gotta be it," George said.

Alain shushed them. "I don't like this. It smells like a trap. It's too easy."

"What," Kurt said, sounding exasperated. "They knew you were coming so they built a fake dungeon?"

"Anything's possible," Alain replied, deadly serious.

"So, what do we do? Turn around and go exploring in this labyrinth until we find the minotaur? We might never find our way back here."

Alain had to admit Kurt had something. As much as he distrusted the whole scenario--finding the dungeons so quickly, and finding them unguarded on top of that--it would be nearly as stupid to walk away as it would be to check it out.

"All right," Alain said, "we're going in, but there are no heroes here. First sign of trouble, you two take off running. There's a portal out of here somewhere in the cliff wall, I think. Find it, get out of here, and if anyone or any thing tries to get in your way, just shoot it and keep running."

Alain looked at Kurt and then at George, each one nodding his assent. "Okay then," he said. "Stay close and stay low."

Turning back to the door, Alain took a firm grasp on the steel lip with one hand, removing the screwdriver with his other and dropping it into his coat pocket. Opening the door a crack, he looked down the hallway again. It was empty. He opened the door further, sticking his head in partway and looked up and down the hall. Still empty. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door further and moved inside, taking a quick right and crouching against the wall. He motioned Kurt and George in and they both snuck through the door, quickly joining him.

Alain pointed to his right, planning to make a circuit around that block. Rising up from the crouch, he walked down the hall, his knees bent. Kurt and George followed. Passing the first cell, Alain looked in. "What the..." George exclaimed in a loud whisper. "There's a kid in there."

George was right. Sitting on a bed that hung down from the far inside wall was a child, looking at them, a forlorn expression on its face. Its skin was pale, and though it was possible the lack of color came from being down in the dungeon instead of up in the sun, Alain knew that wasn't the case. The child was a part of some vampire's soul. Alain was tempted to try and open its cell and free it. It was abominable that it was being held here. But it was a risk he couldn't take. As much pity as he felt for the child, he had a task he had to complete. Alain raised a finger to his lips as he raised his eyebrows. The child acknowledged it with a sad nod that tore at Alain's heart.

Moving down the row, the next seven cells held the same. In each sat a child, some slightly less pitiful than the first, some more, all of them breaking Alain's heart as he passed, unable to help them. When he reached the corner, he looked around it. The hall stretched away into the distance, no one visible along it. He turned left around the corner, Kurt and George following, passing by five more cells, each with a child in it.

He turned the next corner just as easily. Perhaps there were no guards because they had nothing to fear from a dungeon full of children who seemed to have no desire or ability to escape.

The opposite side of the block was like an E. Passing the first two cells, Alain found a gap opening into a short hall that dead-ended at a cell, four cells running along each side. He turned in, walking along the center, looking into each cell. At the third cell on his left he stopped.

It was like looking through his mother's photo album. Sitting on the bed was a child almost exactly resembling him at the age of seven. Running to the door of the cell, he grabbed the bars, staring between them at the child. The similarity was amazing. "What's your name?" he asked the child in a loud whisper.

As if it were waking up, the child focused on him, seeming to just be noticing him at the door. "What's your name?" he asked again.

"His name's Alain," a voice came from his left, shouting in a Brooklyn accent.

Alain, Kurt, and George all whirled to face the owner of the voice. At the hallway's exit stood Vinnie, four very large bouncer demons moving in to flank him, two on each side. "Howdy, Kurt. See you met my old Army buddy." Vinnie smiled, his fangs extended.

Alain slid the backpack off his shoulders and dropped it to the floor, advancing on Vinnie, his fists up. "Let them go, Vinnie. You and I can settle this right now."

Vinnie raised his hand and placed it on a demon's shoulder, leaning against its muscular arm as he patted its chest with the other hand. "I don't think my friend here would like that. Anyway, why should I fight you? I got you."

"Bastard," George shouted, running toward the line, his Uzi erupting in a stream of fire, strafing the demons. Vinnie was knocked back as bullets struck him in the jaw and throat, but the demons didn't even move, the bullets embedding in their thick hides. Five feet from the line, George came to a halt as the demons moved in to close the hole left by Vinnie. Standing there, panting, George stared at the demons. They didn't move to hurt him, didn't say a word. They just stood there, blocking the exit. "Shit!" He lowered the gun and backed up, coming to a halt next to Alain.

There was nowhere to go. Slowly, Alain raised his hands.