Aveline and the Fifth Horseman of the Apocalypse

Part 3 - Job Interview

I just stand there, too stunned to speak. I'm in Hell? That sucks!

The Devil is waiting for me to move. I'm still wedged into the corner of the lift, and the moment is fast becoming awkward.

"Come my dear," he says, "you're quite safe with me, there's nothing to be afraid of. We have crumpets!"

The Devils voice is not at all frightening. You'd expect it to be all deep and gravelly and full of menace, but in fact, it's quite cheerful in a quaint, British upper class kind of way. Typical really - all the best movie villains are Brits, so why not the Devil?

"Crumpets?" I hear myself say, then immediately feel really stupid. I meet the personification of Evil, and the first word I say to him is "crumpets"? Idiot.

"Yes, I dare say you're hungry? We were just toasting some on the fire while we awaited your arrival. Please, do come in." The Devil extends his hand towards the room (well manicured claws, I see) and steps back, away from the lift.

Oh well, nothing for it, I guess. I step out of the lift into a place the likes of which is obviously not anywhere in the real world. It is a huge cavern, with a vaulted roof that arches massively overhead, supported by twisted columns several hundred feet tall. Everything is a different shade of red - the floor, the columns, even the ceiling. The furthest reaches of the cavern are in darkness, and it could extend on forever, as far as I can tell. Silvery-white light emanates from seams of quartz or crystal that weave throughout the whole structure of the room, across the floors, columns and ceiling, giving the most amazing feel to the place. It was, quite frankly, pretty cool.

And hot. The temperature was stifling, although it didn't seem to bother me much. There's a huge fire at the centre of the cavern, throwing its own light and sound into the mix, flames rising fifty feet or more and roaring like a Guy Fawkes night bonfire. There are other sounds coming from it too - far away clangs and rattles like chains and hammers on rock, and distant screams and wails. I shudder to think what might be down in the pit where the flames come from.

The lift I'd come up in was nestled in a lump of rock that stuck up from the floor, like an afterthought. Its door close and I wondered if this is my fate sealed – delivered to Hell and destined to spend the rest of my time here for reasons that aren't yet clear to me. I watch the Devil as he walks over to a table surrounded by plush chairs, the type you get in boardrooms of swish companies - all polished wood and leather. There are glasses and jugs of water and an enormous plate of crumpets piled high in the centre. There are several people in suits milling around. It looks like they've been waiting a while.

The Devil sits down at the head of the table and indicates that I should sit at the other end. The other people (if that's the right word) take their places on either side. One chair remains vacant, to the right of the where the Devil sits.

I take my seat and considere the Devil while the others help themselves to a crumpet or two. He's shaped like a human, for the most part. He is about my hight, excluding the horns, and he doesn't appear to have a tail of any sort. Nor hoofed feet, judging by the expensive shoes. His suit is black and inlaid with silver threaded motifs that shift in the light when he moves. The fact that he is red skinned and has claws instead of nails are classic Devil imagery, for sure, but his face is not what I expected. It is both scary and somehow child-like, with an innocence that was wildly out of place. It was the eyes. No goat-eye split-pupils here. The Devil's eyes are two perfectly round black holes, giving him a surprised expression, like a baby farting. He never blinks. His nose is two thin slits, and his mouth is like something from a deep sea fish, with a wide, ear to ear grin full of sharp, pointed teeth. Given that he appeared to have no lips, I found myself wondering how he managed to talk so clearly.