I was trying desperately to keep focused, when what I really wanted to do was scream for mercy. Yeah, and good luck with that.

  When Acheron turned back toward me, he was holding the blowtorch. Panic fought savagely for release inside me, but I kept the lid of that box closed, somehow.

  Acheron tested the blowtorch to be sure it worked. You just squeezed a lever, and the mechanism got the gas flowing and generated a spark to light it. Once he was sure he knew how to get a nice hot flame going, he headed my way.

  I swallowed hard a couple of times to lubricate my vocal cords. I needed my voice to work at the first attempt, or I'd be too busy screaming to try a second one.

  As Acheron bent over me, I croaked, in Demon, "Hail, great Acheron, Lord of the Underworld!" I could have spoken in any language and been understood, but this had gotten his attention, as I'd intended.

  He stared, then gave me a vicious open-handed slap on the side of the head, probably just as a warm-up. The redhead's voice snarled, in Demon, "Who dares speak to me in the tongue of the Fallen?"

  "I am Markowski, a mere human and unworthy to address such as you," I said in his language. At least, I think that's what I said. "But this insignificant human can give you what you desire."

  He laughed scornfully, and whacked me again. But at least he hadn't started with the blowtorch, yet. "I desire your blood, Markowski, and your tears, and your screams. And I will have them, whether you give them to me or not."

  I swallowed again, hoping that my throat wouldn't constrict with fear and make speech impossible. "I offer more, great Acheron – I can give you vengeance."

  More laughter, and another hard slap to the head. I'd had a bad concussion a few months ago, and blacking out right now would mean the end of me.

  "Vengeance against whom? And how?"

  OK, he was interested. Now to close the deal.

  "Vengeance against those who would dare to summon you from the Netherworld, and would have the impudence to give you orders." I hadn't even realized that I knew the Demon word for "impudence", but the old memory came through when I needed it most.

  I took a breath and continued, "I can free you. I can break the circle that you are forbidden to touch."

  Another blow, but this one hit the back of the chair – and barely touched me. I didn't think that was accidental.

  Acheron bent over me, the blowtorch in hand. Oh shit, did I fuck up? Is he turning me down?

  Then I noticed that he had released the valve, and allowed the flame to go out. Acheron moved slightly, to block what he was doing from the cameras. He brought the flameless nozzle closer to my chest.

  "Scream," he said. "Scream as if you feel the fire on you."

  So I screamed – but good. If Laurence Olivier was watching from the Great Beyond, I bet he applauded a little. I screamed, I struggled against the chains, I pleaded for mercy. It's amazing what talents you discover in yourself when trying to avoid being tortured to death.

  Acheron withdrew the blowtorch a little, as if giving me a respite. "If I try to release you, that fool with the book will smite me," he said softly.

  Fortunately, I'd had plenty of time to work this out.

  "Use the blowtorch to sever the chain holding my right hand," I said. "Pretend you are using it on me. Then strike the chair again, knocking it over. If I am close enough to reach the circle, I can break it."

  He gave a loud snarl – for effect, I assume – and brought the blowtorch close. "Scream again," he said. "And continue to scream until I tip the chair. Do this for me, and you will be spared."

  I resumed my Academy Award performance. Acheron restarted the blowtorch and brought it over to the chain holding my right hand to the chair.

  That was when I realized something – iron is an excellent conductor of heat. As the link Acheron was working on turned cherry red, the other links and my shackle also started to glow. Then the heat reached me, and I started to scream for real.

  It only lasted a couple of seconds, but seemed a lot longer. Then the link that Acheron was working on began to melt, and my frantic struggles broke the rest of the chain free. At once the demon struck the back of the chair hard, knocking it, and me, over.

  Finally the wizard realized that something was wrong. "What are you doing, disobedient one?" Malachi shrieked in Demon, then said the word of pain again. Acheron let out a howl of anguish – and I had fallen short of the circle.

  I had to reach the red circle or I was cooked – maybe literally. Using what traction I could gain with the edge of my shackled right foot and my elbow, I jerked forward, mere inches at a time, like a snail on Adderall.

  My progress was slow, so slow. Meanwhile, I could hear Malachi screaming "Obey me!" in Demon, and Acheron's bellows of pain.

  Then at last I reached the circle painted on the concrete floor. The paint was already fading a little, and I went to work on it like a madman – maybe that's what I was, by then. I made my right hand a claw and dragged my nails through the paint, bearing down as hard as I could. And again. And again. My fingertips were starting to bleed now. And again. And again. Then I heard Acheron say something that chilled my blood. He told Malachi, "Very well, cease, I will obey you."

  Acheron walked slowly over to me, intent on righting the chair and starting the torture for real, since he had no choice. Claw the paint again. And again. And–

  I felt something move over me and through the circle, where I must have scratched a tiny break in the paint's continuity. That sliver of a gap was all Acheron needed. The red-headed man, whose body the demon had been using, collapsed limply to the floor. A shrill cry of triumph echoed through the warehouse, although I couldn't see its source.

  "Cease!" the wizard Malachi screamed. "Return to the circle! You must obey my commands!"

  Then the shit really hit the fan. And what a bloody mess it made.

• • • •

I tried to follow Acheron's progress as best I could, lying on the floor with three of my limbs still shackled to the chair. His first stop was Malachi. Smart move. I could hear the wizard scream "Noooo!" as he felt the demon take over, but Acheron didn't linger – he stayed inside Malachi just long enough to force the wizard to pick up his wand and plunge it into – and through – his left eye. Malachi collapsed, blood spurting from the ruined socket.