The cavity had been covered by a thin sheet of plywood, but as Henry dragged the mower a loose fitting caught and moved it slightly. Even then he might not have noticed the cavity if he hadn't been so hyper. But he was watching out for clues and spotted the dark crack at once. He pushed the mower clear and lifted the plywood.
The cavity was no accidental flaw. It was a three feet by two feet rectangle, three feet deep with neat, clean edges, obviously built in when the concrete was first laid. Inside was a metal strongbox with a combination lock.
Mow the front lawn
Henry's heart was thumping so loudly now it was making his whole body shake. That's what the numbers were for – the combination lock! His fingers were trembling as he dialled the combination and jerked the lid.
The lid didn't move.
Henry tried again, taking great care to do it right this time. 6
… 8… 5… 1… But while he was certain he'd dialled exactly, the strongbox remained locked.
What was going on here? The numbers had to be the combination -nothing else made sense. He frowned. The message wasn't Mow the front lawn 6851. The message was Npx uif gspou mbxo 6851. To get it right you had to shift the letters. Maybe you had to shift the numbers as well!
Henry tried the new combination. 5… 7… 4… How did you shift one backwards? Zero, he supposed. He dialled in the final 0 and the strongbox opened easily. Inside was a brushed aluminium cube with two inlaid concave plastic buttons on the top. Lying beside it was another scrap of paper. He picked up the paper. There were eight words, but no code nonsense this time. Mr Fogarty's second message said simply, GONE ON AHEAD. FOLLOW SOON AS YOU CAN.
Gingerly Henry picked up the cube.
Twenty-six
Pyrgus had the impression of an open trapdoor with stone steps leading downwards, but his mind was no longer working. He felt as if it had been pushed into a tight, dark corner of his skull and locked there like a small, furry animal in a cage. He could still see through his eyes, still hear through his ears, but everything was at a distance, as if he was looking through the wrong end of a telescope. Nothing was important any more, not where he was going, not getting back to the palace, not his father, not his sister, not his new friend Henry. His thoughts crawled through treacle and were blurred around the edges, slipping and sliding away from him every time he tried to use them. His memory had collapsed and his head ached. He was no longer sure where he was before he got here or even who he was exactly. If he concentrated really hard he could recall his name, but not much else.
The demons led Pyrgus along a stone-flagged passageway that seemed to be illuminated only by a greenish fungus clinging to the walls. The light level was so low he stumbled constantly, although the demons themselves didn't seem to have much trouble. He could hear them oozing and chittering along the edges of his mind. The slime-mould had withdrawn a little, but he knew it was still there with the others, ready to pounce at the first hint of him trying to break free. Pyrgus couldn't fathom that. Why would he try to break free?
The passageway led into a maze of galleries with corridors and tunnels branching off in all directions. Most of them looked the same to Pyrgus, but the demons never hesitated. The colour of the light began to change, sliding from the bilious fungus-green into a softer, rosy hue, but he couldn't understand where it was coming from. At the same time the temperature seemed to be rising, a little at a time, until he found himself sweating. There was an increasing smell of sulphur in the air that was vaguely familiar, although he couldn't remember why.
They emerged from the maze after more than an hour. An odd thought occurred to Pyrgus. An invading army could wander for months in that labyrinth. Had it been built for just that purpose – as a protection for the place where the demons lived? Pyrgus didn't know and didn't really care.
They were standing in a cavern so vast Pyrgus couldn't see the other side. Before them, stretched out across the cavern floor, was an underground city, laid out in a mirror image of the ruined city he'd seen above. But this city was made from gleaming metals, not stone, and in far better repair. The polished surfaces reflected the dim red light, yet the whole city was somehow in shadow. Pyrgus didn't care, any more than he cared about the heat. Pyrgus didn't care about anything much.
The demons marched him through the gloomy streets towards the central plaza. In his drifting thoughts he mused about the demon world. Demons kidnapped people all the time and flew them off in metal ships. Somebody had told him that, although he couldn't quite remember who. Six million people called Americans were missing. He wondered why the demons wanted so many. Perhaps they were food. He wondered if an American would taste as good as a potato crisp.
There were demons on the streets, but none stopped to look at him.
In the centre of the plaza was an enormous dome-shaped building that extruded a metal ramp as they approached. It looked so friendly and inviting that Pyrgus almost broke into a run, but the slime-mould at the edges of his mind reached out and quickly pulled him back. His thoughts clicked into gear. They were all going to see somebody important. He stepped on to the ramp and forgot what he was thinking.
As they entered the building he saw there was machinery in the walls. How weird was that?
In the gently wafting thistledown that had replaced his mind, a new thought appeared. Nobody who was kidnapped by demons ever got back to their own world. The slime-mould seized the thought at once and threw it out. What a totally stupid thought that was! Demons only wanted to be friends.
The demons led him through into a large, high-ceilinged chamber (throne room? Situation Room?) where a red-robed demon studied a large map spread across a metal table.
The creature looked up as they entered. 'Crown Prince Pyrgus,' it said smoothly. 'How good of you to visit us.'
The world snapped into sharp focus as Pyrgus's mind cleared. He was in Hael, the demon world. He had no idea how he'd got there, but it was the only thing that made sense. Somehow Mr Fogarty's portal must have sent him here. He remembered the smell of sulphur and the barren desolation, the sullen, stark, unmoving sun, the rosy light, the metal city – he had to be in Hael.
Without the slightest hesitation, Pyrgus hurled himself at the demon in the scarlet robe… and found his body wouldn't move.
'Don't upset yourself, Pyrgus,' the demon said. 'It will be easier on you if you avoid aggressive actions. And more convenient for me.'
If he couldn't move, could he talk? There were things he needed to know if he was to have any chance of getting out of here. 'How do you know my name?' he asked. It came out slightly slurred, but otherwise just fine.
The scarlet demon stared at him with huge dark eyes, but made no attempt to control his mind again. 'We've met before.'
Pyrgus blinked. He had no memory of ever seeing this creature.
'Don't you remember?' the demon asked, picking up his thoughts. 'Well, perhaps that's understandable. I looked a little different then.'
To Pyrgus's astonishment the creature began to expand in all directions. It grew upwards to a height of six feet… seven feet… eight feet and more. Its body burst out of the scarlet robe and took on slabs of rippling muscle. Its skull distorted and its face changed. Ram's horns erupted from its forehead and curled powerfully to frame the side of its head. 'Does this refresh your memory?' Even the voice had changed. The smooth, well-modulated tones now rumbled like a thunderstorm.
Pyrgus's mouth opened and closed like a fish. It was the creature Brimstone had called up, the creature that had tried to kill him just before his father's guards arrived. 'You're – you're – '
'Prince Beleth at your service!' laughed the demon.