Chapter 1 - Wayward Son

He had been clean over an hour ago, but Hellboy continued to scrub at his chest, arms, legs, andtail. The mud from the tiny moat outside the Guarinocastle had washed down the shower drain, but Hellboywas still dirty. He would always be dirty. He braced himself against the wallwith his left hand and rubbed slow, soapless circlesaround his chest with his right. He stared at the wall in front of him, butlooked beyond it, into the events of the past evening.

As soon as he and Abe had arrived at the shambling Guarinoestate he had had a bad feeling about the place. He had been there with hisfather, Trevor Bruttenholm, before Guarino had purchased it. The place hadn’t been any morewelcoming in 1969 than it was in 1996. In fact, it had grown much worse, andfar more foreboding. Hellboy was glad Abe had gonewith him; the place gave him the creeps.

Knocking didn’t seem like it would matter, especially if the Count and Countesshad opened the little box. But Hellboy gave theknocker a resounding “boom” and the door swung inward. Hesitating briefly onthe threshold, Hellboy entered first with Abe closebehind him. They wandered into an open study and found what they had dreaded;the box had been opened and was empty.

Abe was examining the small tin container when Hellboyspotted movement in a dark corner of the room. It was a chimpanzee and it hadsomehow managed to get hold of a gun. Before either of them knew what washappening, before Hellboy could get to his friend andshove him out of the way, the chimp fired the weapon, hitting Abe in the chest.His legs finally getting the message to move, Hellboyapproached the armed chimp, but was frozen in place when a voice from yetanother shadowed corner whispered three words, “Anungun Rama”.

A soft knock on the bathroom door flung Hellboy backinto the present. He stared at the door, willing whoever was on the other sideto go away. After a few moments, as he turned his head back to the shower wallin front of him and began rubbing his already red skin raw, another knockfollowed.
“What,” Hellboypractically growled.
 
“You’ve been in there a long time,”Kate called, “You okay?”
 
“I’m fine,” he lied, “I got real dirtyout there. I’ll be done soon.”


Another silence followed and he resumed his futile efforts to cleanse himselfof what he had experienced.
“If you wannatalk, I’ll be here, okay?” Kate said, the concernevident in her voice.
 
“Yeah, sure,” he said absentmindedly.


He waited for several minutes, listening for any sounds that Kate might stillbe outside. Finally, he leaned forward and rested his head against the wall,his horn stubs making a soft “tick” sound. The burning stream of water floweddown his back and along his tail. He stared at his cloven feet and his mindmade its’ way back to Castle Guarino.

Igor Bromhead stepped out of the shadows; a small,ugly demon crouched beside him, whispering to him excitedly. Hellboy had been surprised to see Bromhead-he was in prison last he’d heard. But there he stood, in a monk’s robe and withthe image of Saint Dunstan around his neck. And hecontinued to say things; words that kept Hellboy frommoving. He spoke words that brought Hellboy to hisknees; words that did something to him. Hellboyhad only felt such things once before in his life, and not that long ago.

As Bromhead spoke, Hellboywas thrust backward, still on the floor, still unable to move of his ownaccord. More words flew from Bromhead’s lips and firesprung up around Hellboy, from inside of him.The fire billowed out of his mouth, but didn’t burn him. He tasted smoke andbrimstone and his vision wavered. As he was engulfed by the fire that didn’tset him ablaze, he felt his horns growing back. A wave of panic fell over him,but he couldn’t do anything to stop Bromhead fromspeaking. He couldn’t move and he couldn’t stop the terrifying feeling of powerthat was welling up and out of him.

That was the worst part; the intense power he felt. It was as though he weregrowing, but stayed the same size. He could feel something inside of himstruggling to get out, something monstrous, something hungry. And he knew,without thinking about it, that it was an inseparable part of him. Nothing hecould ever do would make that feeling go away; not now that it was brought sofully to the surface. Nothing would be able to quell it, to take it out of him.He would always have that power within in.

He was staring up at the ceiling, his mouth hanging open, the fire stillsnaking out in small tendrils. He couldn’t see the ceiling, he couldn’t seeanything. But he felt the fire take form above him. He could see in his mindthe small crown that materialized out of the smoke and flames. He could feelthe amazing, unsettling power that golden coronet represented.

He had been told his purpose before- by Hecate in Romania.Something similar had been done to him there. Similar, butnot nearly as intense; not nearly as encompassing as what he was feeling atthat moment. He had retained his ability to move, to think clearly in Romania. Thepower he felt then, rising within him, hadn’t been awakened completely. It wasstill half asleep. But kneeling on the floor in the castle of Count Guarino, that power was moreawake than asleep. It was aware and it wanted out.

Hellboy shook his head and his present surroundingsswam into focus. He was still looking at his feet, but the water that swirledaround them was a rosy pink. He stopped his right hand from scratching at hischest and held it up before him. Blood dripped off his stone fingers andsplattered into the cloudy water. He blinked droplets of hot water out of hiseyes and lowered his hand into the shower’s spray. Pushing off the wall, heflexed his left arm and wiggled the feeling back into his fingers. He placedhis right hand against the stall and lifted his head through the steamingliquid. He leaned back enough to let the water hit his chest; hissing throughclenched teeth as his wounds were burned. The vortex of used water momentarilyturned bright red, then faded to pink as it was sweptaway.

He closed his eyes and let his head drop backwards, forcing himself to returnto the house of Guarino. After the crown had formedabove his head, he heard the little demon speak, but his words sounded asthough they were far away. Hellboy tried to move, toflex his arms, to see through his open eyes. He felt someone approach andsuddenly the power that wanted so desperately to get out,was gone. He slumped forward, in relief, exhaustion, and- though it hurt toadmit it- with a sense of loss, of emptiness. His vision cleared a little andhe heard the demon conversing with Bromhead. He saw ashape approach him and the next thing he felt was pain. Asharp, smashing pain that rained down on him relentlessly and from every angle.He cried out, but the beating didn’t stop. It was a very long time before hegrew accustomed to the pain. Through eyes now hazed with blood, he could see hewas on the floor. He could see the vague shape of Bromhead,and he could see another, larger demon in the room. But on that demon’s headwas a tiny crown; a crown that seemed very familiar.

He closed his eyes as he heard Bromhead and the demontalking. He wanted to sleep; he felt so tired, vacant, and useless. He heardthe demon mention his own stone hand, and then he drifted off in an exhaustedsleep. That was when he heard the other voices; the all too familiar voices.One of them belonged to the Daoine Sidh with whom he’d conversed decades ago to get back ababy for a Scottish couple. The other two didn’t have faces, but he’d heardtheir voices in Romania,telling him he had to accept his destiny or die. He wondered where he was, andwhat they wanted with him now.

It was then that the little Daoine Sidh asked him his name. He thought for several moments, then settled on the last thing he’d heard clearly.
“Anung un Rama,” he whispered. The name left a cold feeling in histhroat.
 
“Phaa,” saidthe man, disgusted, “That’s just words, boy. What do they mean?”


He tried to think, but he couldn’t come up with an answer. They werejust words to him; he had no idea what ‘Anung un Rama’ meant, nor even from what language it was.
“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly.
 
“Anung un Rama,” the little man told him, “World Destroyer. The Great Beast.”
 
“And upon his brow is set a crown offire,” came the deep, gruff voice of another man. It was one of the beings thatspoke to him in Romania.
 
“Is that who you are?” asked a femalevoice.
 
“I…,” he trailed off, not sure how heshould answer.


He thought about what he’d been told. He lay on the cold floor, not able to seeand in great pain. A picture of the large demon with the crown on his headflashed through his mind, then.
“No,” he replied, feeling his strengthreturning slowly.
 
“Well then, boy,” said the Daoine Sidh matter-of-factly,“It’s not your name, is it?”


He was silent, struggling to feel something other than pain.
“Is it?!” demanded the little man.


His words were so resounding, so shocking in their intensity that he was thrustawake. He opened his eyes and stared up at the demon with the crown- hiscrown. In the demon’s hand was a hot, glowing sword. He locked eyes with thedemon.
“What do you think you’re gonna do with that sword?” Hellboyasked him, “Better put it away before you hurt yourself.”


The demon stepped back in surprise, his grip on the sword loosening. Bromhead yelled that he shouldn’t be able to move; thedemon told him to shut up. Hellboy got to his feet,feeling his strength and, best of all, his will, returning to him. He leveledhis stone fist at the demon, determined to stop him and- though he’d neveradmit it outside of himself- get his power back.

A loud “crack” brought him back into the present. Hellboyblinked rapidly and looked at the wall; his stone fist was clenched tightly andburied in a hole under the showerhead. He slowly pulled his hand out of thecrumbling plaster and tile and opened his fist. He looked at the hole and bithis lip. It was time to get out of the shower. It was time to get moving. Itwas time to forget.

He reached down and turned the water off. He opened the door and stepped ontothe bath mat. Shaking his head, he grabbed a beige towel off the rack to hisleft and draped it over his head. Rubbing vigorously, he dried himself and puta clean pair of black shorts on. Tossing the towel over the stall door, he leftthe bathroom. He walked down the corridor and to his makeshift room at the BPRDbranch in Scotland.He grabbed another coat off the rack near his door and slipped it on whilesearching for another pair of boots. Not finding any immediately, he resolvedto just leave without them; he didn’t need shoes anyway.

He pulled his hair into its usual samurai bun, made his way out of the buildingwith no interruption and hailed a taxi. He instructed the driver to take him tothe airport. Upon his arrival, he exited the cab and tossed a handful of moneyinto the front seat. He turned up the collar on his coat and walked through theairport. At the luggage counter, he bought a ticket to England. Theplane would leave in half an hour. Hellboy found aseat near the window in the terminal and looked out on the cold, drearymorning. He had a lot of forgetting to do and knew the perfect place to clearhis head.
END
 

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