The Devil's Engine 01: Hellraisers by Alexander Gordon Smith

Author:Alexander Gordon Smith [Smith, Alexander Gordon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780374301712
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Published: 2015-12-02T08:00:00+00:00

ANOTHER WORLD

It was less like he’d flown to another continent and more like he’d arrived in a whole new world.

Everything felt different the moment he stepped out of the plane door. The sky was bigger, the stars were so numerous and so bright that it was as if the sun had exploded into a billion burning pieces. He took a breath and even that felt strange, the air so crisp, so clean, so cool, that it was like he’d just had a blast on his inhaler. This must be what it’s like not to have asthma, he thought, and he felt a sudden, deeper rush of hatred for it, knowing that the monster still sat on his back, its fingers hovering next to his throat. The plane powered down, the engines whining, and then it hit him—how quiet it was here. Where were the revving cars, the horns, the shouts, the sirens?

“Gonna stand there all night?” said Pan, barging past him and clattering down the stairs. He followed her.

“No, it’s just … I’m not used to being away from home.”

“First time abroad?” she asked over her shoulder.

“First time abroad, first time out of state. Apart from Jersey, obviously.”

“Jersey doesn’t count,” she said, walking across the floodlit tarmac. This couldn’t have been the city’s main airport because there was only one hangar, a silhouette against the sky, and a cluster of smaller buildings. Not unless things were just smaller in Europe. There were three cars at the side of the runway, two black Land Rover Defenders and a bright blue BMW M6 Hurricane, all with their engines running. Figures stood beside them, shielded by the blazing headlights, just ghosts in the dark. It was so surreal. He rubbed his gut to try to settle it.

“Nothing to worry about,” said Truck, rolling up beside him and planting a huge hand on his shoulder. It weighed a ton and Marlow grunted in surprise. “I remember the first time I got here, I freaked. I wouldn’t even get on the plane, they had to dope me, Mr. T style.”

“How long ago was that?” Marlow asked, grateful to know he wasn’t the only one.

“Couple of years now,” he said. “Herc pulled me out of an illegal boxing ring in Chicago. Told me I’d be better off fighting for something that might make a difference. And here I am.”

Truck lifted his hand and Marlow felt about twenty pounds lighter, stretching the kinks out of his back.

“This is so weird,” he said. “Feel like I’m dreaming.”

“Believe me,” Truck replied, laughing so deeply that it was almost subsonic. “Weird doesn’t cut it. Doesn’t come close. You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Truck sashayed across the runway, replaced by Herc. The older man was carrying half a dozen huge bags and he looked pissed.

“Any of you lazy bastards want to help?” he yelled after the others. Nobody replied. Herc swung two of the bags off his shoulder and handed them to Marlow. “Here, make yourself useful.”

They walked toward the SUVs and gradually the figures there came into focus.

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