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Erebus, issue 4, 1943

Page 6

6 EREBUS
he'd discovered that she was evil tempered and grasping, capable only of making his misery complete.
All he had to show for his soul was ten years at an occupation he hated, a beautiful wife he despised, and a spacious mansion with all the trimmings that was so much ashes in his mouth.
The Demon listened to Peterson's impassioned tirade with stoic calm. "You'll still have to see Him," he explained.
"Him? Oh, you mean ---"
"His most Satanic Majesty," the demon finished the sentence for him. "His is, of course, the final decision on all cases."
"Of course," Peterson agreed, somewhat nervously. "Well ---?
He shuddered as the demon stretched out a horny, misshapen paw and took his arm in a vise-like grip. "Don't worry," he was admonished, "as long as I hold on to you you're safe."
The room blinked out with a sudden, violent lurch. Peterson shut his eyes as a terrible sensation of tumbling endlessly through empty space assailed him. After an interval this stopped, to be replaced by swift forward motion.
Tenatively, he opened his eyes, only to clamp them shut again. They were flying through an apparently limitless expanse of smoky blackness, while some distance below a turgid, bubbling river of red-glowing lava wound its sluggish, twisting way between towering masses of serrated black rock.
But though he shut out the sight, he could not shut out the endless, high pitched wail of the things that crawled and tumbled, screaming, along the fiery banks of that molten river.
Peterson heard the demon laugh above him. He felt sick and weak, and his heart lurched with sudden fear as he felt the hold of the gnarled paw begin to slowly loosen. He screamed in terror, frantically clutching the demon with both hands.
"Joke!" the demon explained, turning his ugly, grinning face. Peterson didn't laugh.
The river began to widen swiftly now, and the red glow brightened, brushing back the smoky strands of blackness. The space through which they were flying became discernible as a vaulted cavern of tremendous proportions. As the river emerged into a huge, incandescent lake, the heat became all but unbearable. As Peterson watched, the hairs on the back of his hand began to singe. When they had finally crossed the flaming expanse he felt and looked like a boiled lobster.
The demon's flight slowed now, and they swept in to a landing that jarred Peterson's jawbones. They were several miles from the lake, glowing among the jagged peaks tot he left, but the heat was still intense.
He saw that they were standing on a wide, gently undulating expanse of dirty yellow skulls, all of which seemed to turn their mocking, empty eyes and grinning teeth in his direction. Perhaps a hundred feet ahead stood a huge, obscenely carved red throne, at the crest of which was seated a formless black shadow. The demon bowed low, forcing Peterson to do likewise with a rough paw. He found himself facing an idiotically grinning skull for an intolerable twenty seconds, after which the demon released him with a shove.
he stumbled forward to the base of the throne, hesitated,and then began his protest of dissatisfaction all over again. His mind squirmed and twisted frantically as the words rand hollowly in his ears.
When he had finished, the black shadow spoke. Its voice was utterly horrible, like a man talking though a throatful of bloody froth. "Harad, the contract!" the shadow half-whispered, half-gargled.
Out of the corner of his eye. Peterson saw the demon reach up and whip a familiar looking sheet of some heavy material out of the nothingness. Released, it went fluttering up to the crest of the throne. The shadow scanned it in silence, stirred finally, and said:

Saving...

6 EREBUS he'd discovered that she was evil tempered and grasping, capable only of making his misery complete. All he had to show for his soul was ten years at an occupation he hated, a beautiful wife he despised, and a spacious mansion with all the trimmings that was so much ashes in his mouth. The Demon listened to Peterson's impassioned tirade with stoic calm. "You'll still have to see Him," he explained. "Him? Oh, you mean ---" "His most Satanic Majesty," the demon finished the sentence for him. "His is, of course, the final decision on all cases." "Of course," Peterson agreed, somewhat nervously. "Well ---? He shuddered as the demon stretched out a horny, misshapen paw and took his arm in a vise-like grip. "Don't worry," he was admonished, "as long as I hold on to you you're safe." The room blinked out with a sudden, violent lurch. Peterson shut his eyes as a terrible sensation of tumbling endlessly through empty space assailed him. After an interval this stopped, to be replaced by swift forward motion. Tenatively, he opened his eyes, only to clamp them shut again. They were flying through an apparently limitless expanse of smoky blackness, while some distance below a turgid, bubbling river of red-glowing lava wound its sluggish, twisting way between towering masses of serrated black rock. But though he shut out the sight, he could not shut out the endless, high pitched wail of the things that crawled and tumbled, screaming, along the fiery banks of that molten river. Peterson heard the demon laugh above him. He felt sick and weak, and his heart lurched with sudden fear as he felt the hold of the gnarled paw begin to slowly loosen. He screamed in terror, frantically clutching the demon with both hands. "Joke!" the demon explained, turning his ugly, grinning face. Peterson didn't laugh. The river began to widen swiftly now, and the red glow brightened, brushing back the smoky strands of blackness. The space through which they were flying became discernible as a vaulted cavern of tremendous proportions. As the river emerged into a huge, incandescent lake, the heat became all but unbearable. As Peterson watched, the hairs on the back of his hand began to singe. When they had finally crossed the flaming expanse he felt and looked like a boiled lobster. The demon's flight slowed now, and they swept in to a landing that jarred Peterson's jawbones. They were several miles from the lake, glowing among the jagged peaks tot he left, but the heat was still intense. He saw that they were standing on a wide, gently undulating expanse of dirty yellow skulls, all of which seemed to turn their mocking, empty eyes and grinning teeth in his direction. Perhaps a hundred feet ahead stood a huge, obscenely carved red throne, at the crest of which was seated a formless black shadow. The demon bowed low, forcing Peterson to do likewise with a rough paw. He found himself facing an idiotically grinning skull for an intolerable twenty seconds, after which the demon released him with a shove. he stumbled forward to the base of the throne, hesitated,and then began his protest of dissatisfaction all over again. His mind squirmed and twisted frantically as the words rand hollowly in his ears. When he had finished, the black shadow spoke. Its voice was utterly horrible, like a man talking though a throatful of bloody froth. "Harad, the contract!" the shadow half-whispered, half-gargled. Out of the corner of his eye. Peterson saw the demon reach up and whip a familiar looking sheet of some heavy material out of the nothingness. Released, it went fluttering up to the crest of the throne. The shadow scanned it in silence, stirred finally, and said: