No heaven can save them from their own twisted visions—
welcome to a side of the underworld you have never dared to
imagine.
Mystics in Hell
A Heroes in Hell Anthology
compiled by Janet Morris
Genre: Dark Fantasy Anthology
Mystic
Madness!
Join the doomed on their vision quests in eleven stories by
the damnedest writers in Perdition: Janet Morris; A.L. Butcher; Joe Bonadonna;
Andrew P. Weston; Gustavo Bondoni; Seth Lindberg; Tom Barczak; Michael H.
Hanson; Louis Antonelli; Christopher Crosby Morris.
Mystics in Hell is the latest volume in the notorious
Heroes in Hell series of anthologies and novels created by Janet Morris.
A Frame of Mind by Janet Morris & Chris Morris
Kit Marlowe treks back from exile, where he has encountered
three witches. Carrying a skull which he found on a blasted heath, he arrives
at the Globe, where Satan and the angel of death accost him. At their
displeasure, he’s banished once more, this time to return instantly via the
powers of the Fates. Satan meets him at a cast party and decrees that Kit not
only will spy for him, but play Banquo, beheaded in each subsequent performance
of Macbeth.
The Come Right Inn by Andrew P. Weston
Where we meet up with one of Satan’s most secretive agents. A
charming woman with a finger—and most other body parts—in every pie. She’s
bewitching, beguiling, and bedeviled to be sure, but won’t think twice about
skinning you alive if you cross her.
Abode of Woe by A.L. Butcher
When the self-proclaimed anti-messiah builds a temple on
their doorstep and ruins business, Calchas and Cassandra look to some devious
means to bring down the walls. Dueling mystics and misinformation bring mayhem
to the underworld.
Fool’s Gold by S.E. Lindberg
A tale of the Egyptian god of mysticism, Thoth, who seeks
conspirators to retrieve the Philosopher’s Stone; with it, Thoth could usurp
Satan’s control of the realm of Duat. Taking up the charge is Howard Carter,
infamous antiquarian and tomb raider, and the disgraced evolutionist Ernst
Haeckel. They discover that King Midas’s alchemical ability to transmute flesh
into gold relies on the stolen stone, and Midas is producing Hell’s new
gastro-currency: buttcoin. They infiltrate the Mortuary Mint and sabotage the
currency’s production. Instead of returning the stone to Thoth, the duo uses it
to build up their own fortune. The auditors of Hell, namely the First and
Second of the Sibitti, police the matter.
The True Believer by Lou Antonelli
Few national leaders of the 20th century had as much of a
negative and controversial impact on history as Hendrik Frensch Verwoerd, prime
minister of South Africa from 1958 to 1966, when he was assassinated. Commonly
referred to in South Africa as “Dr.” Verwoerd, he had a PhD in psychology, and
went down in history as The Man Who Invented Apartheid. Now in Hell, Dr.
Verwoerd refuses to acknowledge his infernal fate and gets a special visit to
set him straight.
By Any Means Necessary by Gustavo Bondoni
Umberto Eco knows he’s in Hell; the suffering and multiple
deaths that never kill him permanently are more than enough of a clue for a man
of his learning. But when he gets forcibly recruited by Nazi Commando
Otto Skorzeny to prove the theories of one of history’s greatest charlatans, he
thinks things can’t get any worse. He’s wrong. Hell can always get
worse.
Excalibur by Tom Barczak
When dealing with the harsh reality of the Afterlife: Hell
can be hard. But Rasputin has something even harder, and Lafayette Ronald
Hubbard desperately needs it if he is going to pull off the greatest magic
trick Hell has ever known.
On The Run by Michael H. Hanson
Tells of Sufi mystic Rumi, Zen Buddhist Dōgen, and Charlatan
Spiritualist Mina Crandon using their new-found magics on the grandest of all
quests, to find powerful talismans that will allow them to escape Hell itself.
The Sorcerous Apprentice by Andrew P. Weston
Daemon Grim learns new tricks from an old dog. And just as
well. There’s a fallen saint to bring to heel, and she’s not known for playing
ball . . . crystal or otherwise.
The Colossus of Hell by Joe Bonadonna
Doctor Victor Frankenstein and computer scientist Alan Turing
want to build a cyborg. Quasimodo wants to win the hand of the French fortune
teller, Marie Anne Lenormand. Rasputin and Cagliostro want to open an
exclusive, private club. And a mysterious damned soul, known only as the Orange
Ogre, wants revenge against anyone in Hell who ever cheated or betrayed him,
laughed at and humiliated him, or even ignored him—especially His Satanic
Majesty himself.
Strange Arts by Janet Morris and Chris Morris
In a Tower cell, Marlowe’s head struggles to regain
consciousness and rejoin his body. Here he finds his Elizabethan spymaster,
Walsingham, waiting with J the Merciful and three mysterious Sisters. After
painfully stitching together his body and soul, the five entreat him to join
their most secret conspiracy.
From The Abode of Woe
by A.L. Butcher
Paradise’s
dim light grew ever dimmer as the hell-lights began to glare with the blue glow
of sulfur. It was an unforgiving light for the unforgiven. Word had got around,
and crowds had begun to gather for the evening’s entertainment. Calchas had
started a book on the outcome of the battle, and the diablos were rolling in.
“Two to One
for the Pig Man!” yelled a grifter clad in the sharpest suit of the evening.
“Seven to
Four for the Prince!” bellowed another voice, shrill in the crowd.
Kevin the
fiend grinned. He was having the time of his unlife; he’d read the small-print.
“Are they
ready?” Calchas asked, eying the large and sinister cloth-covered mounds on
opposing sides of the temple.
“Yep. Ready
for mayhem, master.” A smiling fiend is not something to stir the heart with
confidence or joy and Calchas sobered. He wondered if he should feel guilty,
but he had enough of that to last a thousand lifetimes and these New Dead had
brought it on themselves. At least that is what he told himself and Cassandra.
“Ego fighting
ego will bring no good for either. A temple built in haste to honor mere vanity
and lies will surely fall to dust.” Cassandra stared at the mounds, hoping
these fire-spiting death machines would not bring them all to the Undertaker’s
door. Were they too close? She closed her eyes and let her mind wander.
“Will we be
punished for this venture?” He’d asked, thinking too late they may have erred
and voicing both their fears. He hoped nothing would backfire; plans in hell
oft went awry. And he knew that sooner or later he’d pay the price for this
deceit.
“This is
Hades. Punishment is inherent. But I think not . . . at least not on this day.
‘Rue thy former life, and revel in thy afterlife, for thou art damned.’ Is that
not the advice you once gave me? We are the damned. We must survive as we may.
But those infernal and wicked weapons of the new-dead — Surely the walls of
Ilium would have fallen on the first day.” She paused, “Would we have fought
with such demon-weapons of war?”
Calchas gazed
over to the two looming cloth-bound shapes. “Probably. Priam and Agamemnon
would have found some means to destroy one another, no doubt. Man’s capacity
for war outweighs his capacity for reason — and this place is full of the
testimonials to that.”
“They will
fall in dust as vain men are wont to do.” Cassandra told him.
“They won’t
go through with it. It would be suicide. That building will fall down in the
next hell-storm,” Calchas replied, doubtful.
They’d
watched the crowd assemble from a reasonable distance. “Pack up. In case. And I
will try to steer the mayhem from our door to be on the safe side, should the
range of those war-weapons be enough to hit us. Make sure you are careful where
you stand.
“Look there’s
old Assisi. Out for the entertainment, along with everyone else by the looks.
Let’s see — drinks are half-price.” Calchas would not let this opportunity
pass.
Cassandra
nodded, “Where did you get the fire-spitters?”
“Che Guevara
owes me a favor. It might be useful to keep one—just in case. How hard can they
be to use? Look, come there are our two brave heroes.” Calchas separated
himself from Cassandra, still in the guise of the department man, and wandered
over to the two Prophets.
“So,
gentlemen, are we ready to settle this? Remember the winner gets control of
that site, should it still be standing. The loser, or losers . . .will have
more immediate issues to deal with.” Calchas motioned to the nearer of the
covered shapes. “Who would like Big Bertha?”
The Reverend
Henry Prince stared doubtfully at the shape. “That’s not a sword, or a
firearm.”
“Give that
make a Heck-Cookie!” Kevin chortled. He’d been milling and warming up the
onlookers. With a flourish he tugged the cloth away — to reveal a howitzer,
pointing towards the Temple of Woe. It was an evil-looking device, as were many
man-made machines of death. “Humans, they do like to kill one another in all
sorts of inventive ways! Welcome Big Bertha. She’s a friendly girl!”
“And the
other?” Smyth-Pigott asked, his voice tremulous.
They walked
across to a lower-slung shape. “Gentlemen, meet Roaring Meg, the deadly maiden
of the English Roundheads,” Kevin chuckled.
“Not your era, I suppose, but they do the job. They
are primed for combat. Meg has helpers: she fires but one ball at a time, yet
she’s a fiery lass and one of the more knowledgeable operatives of hell has
evened the odds.” Calchas held his palm out, containing dice. “Whoever rolls
snake-eyes gets first choice, but Meg is a little slower, and older, and thus
she fires first.”
“What happens if we refuse this ridiculous plan?”
Henry Prince could not take his eyes from the cannon.
“Refuse? I wasn’t aware that was an option.” Calchas
feigned surprise.
Kevin murmured something in Calchas’ ear, “My
associate says it is an option but if
a refusal is forthcoming then all rights are revoked to build now and for
infernity, Sentence will be the six-hundred and sixty-five years of cleaning
Perish sewers, and you must publicly affirm your rival as the true Chosen One,
the true heir and the ultimate seer. And as both are equally guilty you will
have to work together, and your women too, forever. If both refuse, then it
must be done at exactly the same time. Whomever speaks first is deemed the
greater coward.”
British-born A. L.
Butcher is an avid reader and creator of worlds, a poet, and a dreamer, a lover
of science, natural history, history, and monkeys. Her prose has been described
as ‘dark and gritty’ and her poetry as ‘evocative’. She writes with a sure and
sometimes erotic sensibility of things that might have been, never were, but
could be.
Alex is the
author of the Light Beyond the Storm Chronicles and the Tales
of Erana lyrical fantasy series. She also has several short stories in
the fantasy, fantasy romance genres with occasional forays into gothic style
horror, including the Legacy of the Mask series. With a background in
politics, classical studies, ancient history and myth, her affinities bring an
eclectic and unique flavour in her work, mixing reality and dream in alchemical
proportions that bring her characters and worlds to life.
She also curates
speculative fiction themed book bundles on Pubshare - for the most part - the Here Be Series
Alex is also proud to
be a writer for Perseid Press where her work features in Heroika: Dragon
Eaters, Heroika Skirmishers – where she was editor and cover designer as
well as writer – as well as Lovers in Hell and Mystics in Hell –
part of the acclaimed Heroes in Hell series. http://www.theperseidpress.com/
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