Prince of Hell

Chapter 1-2

Dismas looked around, totally unimpressed. He could feel a sinister stillness in the crude little room and noticed that the fissures in the rock made a shrill, menacing kind of music.

“The minute we stepped over the threshold we became mere holograms, but as you can see, the workers, as well as my other self are here working over the creation,” Satan whispered. “They can’t see us, and we cannot touch anything here. If we do, we will be instantly swooped up into a vortex and thrown back to our place of departure.”

“I understand,” Dismas said softly as he continued to look around.

The semi-darkness hung in corners, in crevices, under rock, and even formed shadow creatures that climbed the rock walls, ornamenting the dark, swarthy face of Satan’s creation in both light and shadow. Dismas was standing beside Satan’s doppelganger, and saw him gaze down into the open chest of his creation as if he were considering his next move. Dismas could see that his attention was drawn to the ingredients that crowded his shelves and lifted his own eyes to gaze at each one. When the doppelganger had made up his mind, he pulled down snake venom, hair of the werewolf, blood taken from the knife of a slasher, the hungry bite of the vampire, growl of the rabid wolf, and the cry of torment from damned souls. As he opened each lid, forlorn voices rose from the vials, and when he mixed them all together, a wild, chilling call of evil echoed around the rock-hewn room. With these, he poured, mixed, solidified, formed, molded, and twisted, spending several minutes studying each facet very carefully until he was satisfied.

Just then Dismas leaned forward and looked closely at Dante’s face. It was a ruggedly handsome face that had the arrogant look of a high seas pirate. His lips were firm yet sensual beneath a faint beard, and his clear, penetrating gray eyes were ringed with dark feathery lashes that made his eyes look mysterious, almost as if they were lined with kohl.

He looked at Satan’s hologram. “This is Dante?”

“Yes,” he answered softly. “The Prince of Hell.”

Dismas then glanced back down at the doppelganger as he continued to work over the creature, and saw merciless lines carved across his horned brow, his eyes searching for anything inconsistent—any imperfection or flaw. When none was found, he gently touched Dante’s body. He stroked, pressed, and pushed the flesh unmercifully, and with every test, the results were positive.

Dismas’s excitement grew when upon close examination it showed that the flesh of the being had remained soft, almost dewy, and the lips were lush and full, even a little pouty. When he looked closely at the eyes, he saw the shining insanity of a serial killer, the terrified scream of a dying woman, the cries of men, children, and women in war-torn countries, and sighed. As he beheld the creature, he began to feel something in his nether regions. It was a feeling of want, of desire, of need. He had to admit that this creation was so beautiful that he could tempt the angels in Heaven.

But the evil creator wasn’t through.

The knuckles of Dismas’s fisted hands blanched white when he saw Satan’s double add the dark shadows of terror, the last breath of the dying, and the gurgling cry of the moment of death. And then as a bonus, he gave him a remarkable endowment.

“What’s that for?” he asked the hologram.

“To do his job he must have extra abilities, strengths, and powers that a mere human doesn’t have. Now watch this.”

Dismas turned back to Satan and saw him fill his creation with a gigantic rage that built inside him, a disgust at the people around him, and last, but not least, he added the most important ingredient. He pulled from his shelf, a vial of decency, because along with the horrors of the world, he had to have a certain amount of civility to ensure an internal balance. This would give him the ability to live among men, giving him the desire for normal things like eating, sleeping, thirst, comfort, pleasure, and s****l gratification. And then, like the cherry on top, he made him able to talk, move, and think like a normal man.

“You can see that he is very different from all the other creations I’ve given life to,” Satan’s hologram whispered as if afraid someone else could hear. “They were all miserable failures. The men were ugly, and the women even uglier. They all crawled around like animals. But it doesn’t matter, because Dante will make up for all of them.”

“What made the others so different?”

“They were created en masse, but as you can see, I took time with Dante, because he’s one of a kind, a prototype that will be tested severely. Not only will he be strong physically, but mentally, as well. To excel in his job, he must know more than they know, be stronger than they are, and have a sharp-edged wit about him. He’ll have knowledge of both facts and figures, and since he will be a stranger in a strange land, I will give him the ability to quickly learn the lay of the land. If he passes this stringent test, then I will build more just like him until I have an army that can’t be defeated.” He turned and pointed at a blackboard filled with math equations, squiggly lines that made no sense to Dismas, along with crudely, drawn pictures. “Over there on the wall is a log of everything I’ve done to him. If he passes this test it will be a simple task to make more just like him until an army has been amassed.”

“This is what makes me nervous, sire. Hell is the ultimate land of evil, and Dante will be surrounded by both good and evil, exposed, if you will, to the goodness and decency that exists there. It will be like a disease. A disease that he can in no way escape. In that environment, he cannot maintain the evil nature you’ve given him. I fear the test will fail, and he’ll be contaminated by the goodness of the world. If that happens, all the work you’ve done, all the evil that you’ve instilled into him, will be defeated by good.”

“I know I’m taking a big chance with Dante, but listen and understand. When God created man, He gave them free will, knowing He was taking a big chance. Can I do less than God? It’s true, I might lose him, but there’s always the chance that Dante might prove to be the biggest and most wonderful discovery to ever come out of Hell, and an army of men just like him would mean sure victory against anything that comes against us.”

“But what if he fails?” Dismas asked. “That would be devastating.”

“Don’t you think I’m prepared for such a catastrophe? I am not stupid, Dismas. There’s no way I will let him go into that world of both good and evil without an edge in my favor. I have filled him with everything evil, but most importantly, I have given him no knowledge of God.”

“But he might learn.”

“He might, but by the time he does he will have become so overcome with evil it will be like speaking to a child in a language he doesn’t understand. It will mean nothing to him. In other words, it will be too late.”

“Ahhhh,” Dismas said as he smiled, and nodded.

“What you see before you is a flawless specimen. I’ve done everything I know to make him perfect.”

Just then the two men heard a sound and turned to look. Their eyes widened as they saw Dante begin to move, stiff and rigid at first, and then his motions became fluid and smooth—until he was standing straight and tall, and casting a large, foreboding, ice cold shadow.

“Behold the Prince of Hell,” Satan whispered, his voice like a soft echo.

A verbal gasp came from Dismas’s throat when he saw the creature standing tall and strong, like a gladiator. Dismas paced around him, looking him up and down. He was not only beautiful of face, but of body. He was muscled and decorated with flawless tattoos that lay across his broad chest, and down his arms, each one undulating like an ocean wave as he moved. His eyes shone with just enough evil to make Dismas fall in love. He turned to Satan’s hologram quickly. “Sire, it’s entirely possible I have been wrong about Dante. To make sure nothing goes amiss I would like to volunteer to go with him.”

“Go with him?” Satan repeated.

“Yes, sire. I didn’t want to admit it, but now I must. You were right about me. I have been arrogant. Let me do this to make up for all of that. To show you that I can be trusted. I wouldn’t allow Dante to know who I am. Don’t you see, sire. I could watch over him and report back to you, keep you updated on his every move.”

“Well,” Satan’s hologram said while pacing and rubbing his pointed chin. “I do need someone…” He turned quickly to Dismas. “But you’re not to interfere. He must do this on his own, otherwise it won’t be a true test. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes, sire. Completely.”

“One more thing,” Satan said. “You will be there alone. Nothing to protect you, and if by some chance you meet with disaster, you will be thrust back into Hell and spend the rest of eternity in the Lake of Fire. It is something to think about.”

“I understand, sire, but remember that I have lived on Earth before.”

“Not in this era. It is new, different. Don’t act too quickly.”

“It is not something I cannot handle, sire. Please let me prove to you that I am capable of this.”

“Very well. I will release him by midnight, Earth’s time, so plan on leaving no later.”

“Yes sire,” Dismas said, feeling a big rush of excitement. “Sire, may we leave? I have much to do before I depart.”

“Good thinking. Come, we will go.”

Once they were back in Satan’s chamber, Dismas moved hastily, following the proper protocol before he turned and hurried out. When he finally stood on the other side of the door, he hesitated a moment, and then slowly spread his lips in a shrewd, sharp-witted smile, already planning his first meeting with Dante, this…so-called…Prince of Hell.