All Hell by Allan Burd Read Free Book Online Page B

forming an inhuman wall. I study the circle and see interlacing lines of ash that form a pentagram, all very skillfully blended in with the dirt and shadow. I’ve already figured out it’s Massan, ash of the dead. I’m familiar with the pentagram too. It supposedly represents the five wounds of Christ, the five points of the human body, or the five elements; earth, fire, water, air, and spirit. However, this one’s inverted, meaning it represents black magic and evil… the dark side of eternity and infinity. Simply put, I’m trapped within a circle of Hell.
    Sidekick lays out the plan just to show me how stupid I am. “Because in order for the spell to work, the blood sacrifice must enter the circle of their own free will.”
    And there was one of the missing pieces. For whatever reason, Old Man Jones was the original willing sacrifice. Who knows what he was promised or what would make him do it, but demons had a way of being persuasive.
    Sidekick continued. “I never liked you, Silas. But I never figured you were this much of an imbecile. Hell Pack isn’t six rebel wolves. Our entire clan is Hell Pack.” He pauses for a second, letting the horrifying implications of that sink into my brain. The treaty was never real. It just kept us away from them until they were ready to strike.
    Sideki ck lifts me higher, adding humiliation to my pain to afford me a better view. “Welcome to the Gate, Silas Hill. Thanks for being the key.” His claws lash out, slashing me across the chest. My blood splatters on the tombstone and dribbles on the ground. A gust of wind rises out of nowhere, kicking up the Massan around the perimeter.
    “You really pulled out all the stops for me?” I say. I spit right in his eye.
    He wipes it then I scream as he claws my leg, feeding more of my blood to the ritual. The wind whips up another notch, scattering dirt and debris everywhere. Sidekick momentarily shields his eyes and I try using the opportunity to get free. I struggle like a swamp rat as the ground starts rumbling beneath our feet. He stumbles, which gives me a moment to grab a dagger from my belt. I’d love to stick it in his throat, but I can’t reach and it wouldn’t have any more effect than the bullet. No silver, no harm. So I reach up and slice the knife through my hair, cutting myself loose. I drop and roll, the ground cracking beneath us. A patch of dirt disappears into the earth as if taken by the suction of a powerful unseen vacuum. A cloud of charcoal smoke puffs back in return. The smell of brimstone and sulfur overtake the smell of the dead. I see the SD9 I dropped then watch it disappear as a second whoosh sucks it into the earth.
    “Nowhere to go, Silas. If I don’t get to pick your bones clean, the Devil will,” says Sidekick, as he steps back to safety.
    The Devil. That’s too fucked up to even think about. I’m hoping he’s full of shit, but somehow I don’t think he is. The wind around us starts whipping faster, making it hard to breathe, and all the while, Sidekick’s laughing it up like he won the lottery. Fissures form directly along the lines of ash and more dirt crumbles inward. I scramble to my feet and race out of the circle as far away from Sidekick as I can. I try brushing the ash as I cross over the mystic lines, hoping against hope that somehow it disrupts the spell.
    It doesn’t. The ground within grows hotter as a full sinkhole forms, ripped inward into a fiery black vortex… a perfectly circular chasm, a direct tunnel to death. I’m ready to bolt for the hills, but the zombies block my way, four or five thick in every direction. I’m trapped between a dead human outer wall and the doorway to Hell, stuck in the middle ring with an alpha werewolf who will never let me leave here alive.
    The sinkhole breathes fire, like the top of a volcano. Sidekick is looking down from the edge, his arms wide, trying to catch a glimpse of what’s to come. I slowly back away so I’m equidistant between