Grim Reaper's Arc

Chapter 1 of 4

Grim Reaper had harvested ten thousand souls, but never a devil's. Tonight they meant to take the throne of Hell, and that meant finding the Devil first. The scythe rested across their back. The cloak dragged smoke along the black stone floor. Somewhere beyond these caverns, the Devil held court and ruled every damned thing here. Grim Reaper did not know where. Hell had no maps, and asking questions woke the throne's attention. Wandering blind was the fastest way to die a second time. Grim Reaper had watched three reapers vanish for less. So they carried a plan instead of hope. From under the cloak they drew a small meter. Its face was a blunt cartoon dial, the needle twitching between green and red. The word DUMBMETER glowed across its front. A dead soul had sworn it could sense the Devil's presence from far off. Grim Reaper turned the left knob. The needle jumped toward red, then fell back. They turned it again. This time the needle held steady, pointing one way through the dark. The meter worked. But every sweep of the needle sent a faint hum into the stone, and the hum carried. Grim Reaper felt the caverns notice. The air grew warm. Somewhere far off, something turned to listen. Speed mattered now. Grim Reaper followed the needle down a sloping tunnel. The dial climbed, red bleeding across its face. At the tunnel's mouth stood a plant taller than a man. Its green traps snapped at the air, guarding the way, spiky mouths gnashing. One trap lunged and closed on the cloak. Grim Reaper did not draw the scythe. The scythe was loud. The scythe was a signal. Instead they reached under the cloak and pulled a compact handgun. They pressed it against the plant's thick stem and fired once. The shot cracked flat and quiet in the heat. The plant sagged. Its traps went slack. Grim Reaper stepped over the wilted mouths and pushed forward. The tunnel opened onto a wide floor. Ahead rose a building of pale stone and tall columns, out of place in all that fire. Through its open front Grim Reaper saw rows of red seats, a raised bench, and a set of scales carved above the judge's chair. This was the courtroom. This was where the Devil ruled and passed his sentences. The Dumbmeter's needle buried itself in the red and would go no higher. Grim Reaper had found the court. But the gunshot still echoed off the columns, and the warm air had gone hot. Behind them, footsteps started down the tunnel. Ahead, the courtroom doors swung inward on their own. The Devil knew someone had come. Grim Reaper gripped the scythe and stepped through the doors. The hunt for the throne no longer belonged to them alone.