Arthur Quinn and Hell's Keeper by Alan Early

Author:Alan Early
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mercier Press

Loki’s throne was a thing of wonder. It was forged from solid gold. A life-sized wolf sculpture was carved out of the left-hand side. The narrowed eyes, lips drawn back in a snarl and sharp little lines incised along the back of its neck indicating its bristling hair gave the carving a sense of menace. A golden sea serpent was coiled on the other side, two fangs bared with a pear-shaped piece of emerald dripping off one point, like venom. Both beasts’ heads were at just the right height for armrests. The back was shaped like a tree, rotting and crumbling, with a woman standing next to it, draped in robes of gold. Her lips were turned up in a half-smile but the empty metal of her eyes gave her a cold and forbidding expression.

The softest cushions imaginable adorned the seat, with covers crafted from tightly woven silk and stuffed with down from the long-extinct dodo. The throne was tall, so a footrest was necessary to ensure that Loki’s legs didn’t dangle as he lounged back in the chair. Tonight’s ottoman consisted of a single cushion balanced on the back of a young boy on all fours.

The boy was squirming so Loki gave him a swift and vicious kick in his already tender ribs.

Max tumbled aside, tears in his eyes.

Loki surged to his feet and glared down at him.

‘What are you crying for? It’s an honour to serve me, isn’t it?’

Max whimpered that it was, nodding frantically to emphasise his agreement.

‘You have a choice. Be a good – and unmoving – little footstool. Or you go back to the cage. And I don’t think you like the cage very much, do you?’

Max shook his head and clambered back in position, holding the cushion in place until Loki was comfortable once more.

‘Much better,’ said the Father of Lies, returning to his thoughts.

He had been pondering the disturbance before Max had moved. He had first felt it a couple of days ago: the faintest of vibrations in the fabric of reality, rippling like a pebble dropped in a pond. Something wasn’t right. Someone was interfering.

Loki drummed his fingers on the golden wolf’s head and looked in the direction of Hel.

It couldn’t be, he thought. No. Not Arthur. Impossible. He had watched the boy disappear, watched reality change around him.

Yet a nagging doubt remained. The boy had proved exceptionally lucky in the past. Perhaps he’d been getting help all along. And if this was true, then there was the slimmest of chances that it was his presence Loki had sensed.

He shrugged mentally. Even if the boy was back, Loki wasn’t concerned. He had a back-up plan. He hadn’t come this far just to let that brat ruin everything once more.

He grinned.

But despite the smile, his throne had never felt so uncomfortable, as if it wasn’t meant for him.

He looked down at Max on hands and knees, making the perfect footrest.

Then, just for fun, Loki kicked him in the ribs once more.

Hard.

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