The Last God

by Norris Black

  "Louie is more capable of taking care of himself than the rest of us combined," I said. "That's especially true right now given what we're off to do."

  As the Marauder roared through the night, I thought about everything leading up to this point. A week ago, the only thing I cared about was staying somewhere in the 'slightly hazy to blind drunk' zone. Now here I was off to fight some otherworldly monstrosity with a Seraph and the most feared wych in the nine wards at my side. Of course, there was the promise of my own godhood, can't forget that part. Not that I was buying into that honeypot. No one wants me as a deity, me most of all. We'd find a way to put down Ralph, and then we could all get back to our own lives. An unexpected pang of sadness ran through me on that last thought, but there was no time to think about why.

  We had arrived.

  The first time I laid eyes on the old stone structure housing the ill-fated nightclub known as the Underground, it had reminded me of something long dead and picked clean by scavengers. Seeing it again under the white blue of curbside streetlights did nothing to change that impression. If anything, the blackened scars running up the side of the walls from the row of blown-out basement windows made it appear even more lifeless. I stared at the soot-stained concrete steps leading down into blackness, my mind conjuring images of flaming many-limbed corpses dragging themselves towards me and shuddered.

  "Are we going down there?" The apprehension in Dagda's voice was evident.

  "Fallen's balls no!" I shuddered again, this time a little more violently. "He'll meet us out here."

  "How do you know he'll show? If I recall you two were not on the friendliest of terms," said Mara.

  "We spent some time bonding in the Seraph cells. When you share an experience of being put under the tender mercies of a human toad whose favorite hobby involves carnal exploration with the local canine population, well, old grudges tend to fade a bit."

  "He was a dogfucker was he? I should'a guessed that!" The voice rang out like a bell in the otherwise quiet night. The voice's owner followed soon enough as Happy Jack sauntered around the corner of the building with a pair of rough-looking gangers in tow. Jack was shirtless as always despite the slight chill in the evening air, and a bright grin shone below the red wildness of his hair.

  Jack extended his hand to me and I shook it in, hiding a wince. His grip was unyielding and felt like it had been carved from wood.

  "I see you're keeping comely company these days. Mara, lass," he said, nodding to both my companions in turn before returning his attention to me. "I've got men in place like ye asked. We moved 'em in nice and quiet like through the day to draw no attention. Got a look at the place myself, seems the barrier's been breached sometime recent. They've thrown up a quick patch on it, but a strong fart'd knock it over right now." His face went even redder than usual at that, and he nodded at Dagda. "Apologies for the language miss."

  "No apologies for me?" asked Mara.

  Jack's grin returned. "Ah, my dear, I reckon you've heard far worse than could ever pass these lips."

  Mara just smiled at that.

  During my meeting with Merk at Red Market he had let me know the Seraph had let Happy Jack go shortly after they did me, They didn't have any actual evidence against him and while, for the most part, lack of evidence wasn't a barrier to the Seraph, Apoch seemed to take the strict rule of law seriously. It appears Jack's proximity to me brought the big man's attention and Jack's subsequent release. Through Merk, I had set up a line of communication. At the time I hadn't known what was in store for us, but it never hurt to have some muscle on standby. While we hashed out our final plans, Mara had passed along another message through mutual contacts in the wyrd to let Jack know what we needed him to do.

  "How many men did you bring?" I asked.

  "Counting these two scoundrels here, a little over forty."

  "Forty?" That was twice the number I could've hoped for. Good news for a change, we were going to need every single body we could get. "You're running with a big crew these days."

  Jack shrugged. "They ain't all mine to be fair. Rowe being taken out like he was got the attention of the other Wardlords, and they've loaned out some of their best killers. We might all hate each other, but this thing that's been running around and chewing people up?" He shook his head and spat on the ground. "It's not one of us. No one fucks with the nine wards. Apologies again, miss."

  "You think Ralph's going to try to pass into the Battery at that barricade? Out of all the possible places he could try?" asked Dagda, waving off the apology.

  I nodded. "Path of least resistance. A Twist came through there about a week ago, the same morning I got tripped up in Ralph's little trap here. This thing may be new to the world, but it's proven to be clever enough. It'll know the Seraph wouldn't have had time to finish repairing the breach."

  "I think yeh might be right on that," said Jack. "Men have been reportin’ things movin' round in the sewers. Lots of things. I've left orders to stay out of them. Not that many would venture down there even if I told 'em to. Gangers are a superstitious lot, half of 'em believe there are dragons livin’ down there for Fallen's sake. Like they're twelve-year-old boys instead of men fully grown."

  "Dragons. That's ridiculous," I said, pointedly ignoring the small smirk on Dagda's face.

  "Right?" Jack shook his head in despair at the foolishness of grown men. One of his henchmen, a rough-looking woman with a sallow face and who seemed to be missing both her ears, having just holes in the side of her head surrounded by scar tissue where they had once sat. "Oh yes, this one's strange. A few of the lads say they've heard sounds of fightin' down there in the sewers. Is it possible these things are squabblin' amongst themselves?"

  "Not that we've seen so far. Ralph's had them wrapped up tight and in line every time we've run up against them, but hey, we're overdue for some small miracles." Even as I said it, I didn't believe it. Given our luck so far, whatever was happening below the city streets wasn't likely going to be a good thing for us.

  "Why, hello little fella." Jack was staring down at his feet where a large black and white cat was rubbing up against his pant legs and purring.

  "Louie! How in the hells did you get here?" All I got in response was a look from the big feline I could only describe as indignant.

  "You know this lad?" The fire-haired gang boss squatted down on his haunches to provide Louie some obviously appreciated attention.

  "I guess I technically own him."

  Jack just shook his head. "If you knew anything about cats, you'd know that's the other way round."

  Mara narrowed her eyes as she studied the animal. "There's something not right about that cat, Gideon."

  "A mystery for another day. We need to get this show moving." While I seemed eager, the truth of the matter was the longer we delayed the more I wanted to jump in the car and drive as far away from all this madness as fast as I could. Nerve is not a thing I had an endless supply of. "You riding with us, Jack?"

  Jack nodded and sent his henchmen off back around the corner with a few spoken words and then piled into the Marauder with the rest of us. Dagda grabbed Louie and put him in the back seat between her and Mara.

  Engine rumbling, we drove down the block before pulling into the square across from the Seraph's barricade into the Battery.

  When the soldiers took control of the city, they pulled down most of the buildings ringing the city's center, creating a near-impenetrable wall of rubble, twisted steel and deadly traps. At designated points around the perimeter the Seraph took over and fortified a building instead of tearing it down. These outposts gave the soldiers a staging area to respond to any threats from inside the Battery itself.

  This particular outpost had once been a church, built from heavy granite blocks and fronted with arching windows once housing stained-glass that had long since been bricked up. On either side, walls of rubble at least twenty feet high stretched out of view in both directions.

  The building reminded me
a lot of the main Seraph keep, though not quite as colossal as that place had been.

  "You guys really like your old churches," I said over my shoulder to Dagda.

  "They're solidly built," came the reply.

  Fair enough.

  "I've always wondered why Twists don't just go around,” I said. “There are miles of wall between outposts they could go over unseen. I know it's not an easy climb, but it's not impossible.”

  The question had been a rhetorical one, just a little musing out loud, but Dagda supplied an answer anyway.

  "From what we've observed, Twists aren't really intelligent, with some rare exceptions. They're barely more than dumb animals. The ones that used to be human will sometimes mimic things they did in their former life, but it's all reflex, not considered thought." She became more animated as she spoke. There had been a few ugly truths revealed about the Seraph that Dagda was still coming to grips with. The ability to speak on one of their undeniably altruistic efforts must have been a welcome balm to the soul. "The approaches to the outposts are, by design, much easier than any other path out. They funnel anything trying to leave the Battery directly to us."

  "Path of least resistance," I said with a grunt.

  "See, that's what I was telling you about." Jack was pointing to a dark spot in the church wall and I squinted as I tried to make out details in the dim light thrown by the Marauder's headlamps.

  Where the church door once stood was a hole about five-foot-wide and stretching up nearly ten feet. When the Twist came through here it had taken the door completely out as well as some of the surrounding brickwork. Fresh stone and mortar gleamed where some repair work had begun to take place. Of the Seraph, there was no sign.

  We stopped in the center of the square and I killed the engine. Eerie silence greeted us as we got out.

  "Um, isn't there supposed to be guards here or something?" I glanced over at Dagda who was busy staring at the darkened stone front of the old church.

  She never had a chance to reply as a gigantic, familiar figure appeared, stepping out of the gloom of the building's interior through the hole in the wall and into the feeble light of a nearby streetlamp. Behind him streamed scores of white-clad Seraph soldiers. They spread out into a line on either side of their leader.

  "Mr. Brown," said Apoch, greeting me with a nod. "I'm afraid I can't let you go any further." His flinty eyes regarded my companions, one by one, before coming to rest on Dagda. "Swordbearer Fray. Your special assignment has come to an end. I will expect a full report, but for now, come and take your place on the line."

  Dagda stepped forward, worry plain on her face. "Father... Lord General, the creature you set me to investigate. It's coming here, and it has an army of corrupted Seraph with it."

  I rested a hand lightly on Dagda's shoulder. "Take a closer look, kid. He already knows."

  Dagda glanced back at me in confusion before returning her gaze to the line of soldiers arrayed against us, her eyes widening as she took in the details she had missed. The Seraph's normally pristine white uniforms were covered in dirt and grime. Here and there bursts of red blossomed through hastily applied gauze bandages. Now at least, we knew who had been fighting down in the sewers.

  "Let me guess," I said, addressing the leader of the Seraph. "You were moving your troops under the streets to fortify this outpost, using the sewers to get around unseen. Except someone else had the same idea, and you ended up running into a little unexpected company down there. Is that about right?"

  Apoch ignored me, his stern gaze had never left his daughter. "Swordbearer Fray, you were given an order."

  The hesitation was plain in every line of her body. She took another step forward and stopped, wavering. She looked over her shoulder and met my eyes. "I'm sorry Gideon," she whispered, before lifting her chin high and walking across the square to stand at the far end of the line facing us.

  If there was anything I knew about, it was rocks and hard places. I couldn't begrudge Dagda the decision to stand with her father and fellow soldiers when we had known each other for less than a week. Still, not gonna lie, it stung a little.

  Now that was settled, Apoch focused again on me. "I'm still uncertain as to what your role is in all this, but I believe the time of allowing you to roam free is over. My soldiers will take you and your companions into custody until after this business is concluded. There are a great many questions still requiring answers."

  "Yeah, that's not going to work for me. Jack?"

  The shirtless Wardlord grinned, put his fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. The fading echoes of the whistle was followed by the unmistakable metallic clicks of dozens of firearms being cocked and loaded. Happy Jack's men had been lying in wait inside a pair of multi-story tenements across the square from the Seraph outpost and, at his signal, had risen from their hiding spots and now aimed a dazzling array of weaponry out of the windows where they crouched and at the Seraph line. I noted with a slight cringe that half held shotguns. There was no way those were going to do much but provide some uncomfortable lead pellet hail at that range, but it was the thought that counts.

  Apoch's glare hit me like a physical force, the two opposing forces facing off in a long silence. An awful thought hit me, and I whispered out of the side of my mouth to Happy Jack. "Um, your crew is all pretty reliable right? I just realized if one of them were to get anxious and squeeze off a shot, we'd be the squishy meat in a murder sandwich."

  "You're just thinking of this now?" asked Mara in an exasperated whisper of her own.

  Jack pondered the question. "A few of 'em have a bit of a deadleaf habit, if any of 'em have run dry on it, it'd make them a mite jumpy."

  Balls. Best to get this over with and fast.

  "Here's what's going to happen," I said, raising my voice so it carried across the square. "Your soldiers are going to step aside and let us through. Now trust me, I have no burning desire to go on a holiday inside the fucking Battery of all places, but there's something coming Something beyond what you and your little militaristic cult has the capacity to deal with. For some shitting reason I'm the one who has been chosen to sort it all out, and to do that, I need to get to the Last God before Raggedy Ralph does."

  "Chosen? Who in their right mind would choose the likes of you for anything?"

  "I know, bonkers right?" I said, spreading my arms wide. "But here we are."

  "Who is this 'Raggedy Ralph'?" As Apoch asked the question I noticed Dagda had stopped staring straight ahead and instead was shooting looks of frustration in her father's direction.

  "Hells, you really are in the gods' damned dark here aren't you?"

  Apoch opened his mouth to reply but whatever he intended to say was cut short by a long, mournful howl followed by the raw screams from scores of tortured throats.

  I spun around at the awful noise. Down the street leading to the square marched a horde of hulking figures, nothing more than outlines in a fog bank seeming to roll along with them. Smaller figures flitted about the feet of larger ones. At the center of it all was a gigantic silhouette of some four-footed creature, tall as a horse and twice as broad. Astride its neck sat a thin figure, a ragged cloak flapping around its spindly frame.

  As we watched, the ragged silhouette threw its head back and let a scream, the figures around it joining in.

  "You wanted to know who Ralph is? You're in luck, he's coming to say hi."

  Chapter 26

  If you've never been in the middle of a pitched battle between monstrous otherworldly creatures, homicidal soldiers and strung-out gangers, it's kind of hard to describe what it's like.

  Picture being spun round and round in a circle while shadowy figures try to take your head off with swords or stab you in the liver with rusty knives. Now, while you're doing this, you have to avoid tripping over a cat who has decided the safest place to be in all the chaos is right under your feet (thanks Louie). Add in the occasional high-pitched whine of a bullet passing a little too near for co
mfort, buckets full of blood, and a hefty dose of non-stop screaming and you still wouldn't come close.

  Mara, Jack and I had been standing in a tight cluster with the line of Seraph soldiers about a dozen paces behind us when Raggedy Ralph and his army broke free of the dense fog hiding them.

  Mara gasped in shock and covered her mouth with both hands as the former cultist, and the beast he rode on, came into view. "Oh Garm," she said, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears.

  The last I saw of the massive wolf was exiting the wyrd right into the middle of a Seraph raid. The beast had escaped, and I was taken prisoner. At some point between now and then Garm had fallen into Ralph's clutches.

  It was heart-wrenching to see what had become of the once-magnificent creature. His shaggy hide had been completely cut away, leaving nerves and muscles exposed to the air. Each step Garm took left a bloody paw print behind. Those lambent yellow eyes that had once menaced me in a wych-darkened hallway now shone a malevolent vermilion.

  From the wolf's back, Ralph threw back his head and laughed, urging his minions to charge in that horrible voice, the buckshot scars on his face and neck shiny in the light from the streetlamps.

  Ralph's army hit the square at a sprint, the corrupted soldiers' once-white uniforms now stained crimson with blood. Dagda had called them the Blood Seraph and the name fit. Mixed in among the former soldiers were the tortured shapes of everyday citizens who had been caught up in Ralph's bloody tide. Mutilated lawyers rubbed shoulders with gore-streaked cultists and deranged street sweepers.

  The smaller forms I had spied in the fog were more of the street urchins that had ambushed us in the alleyway outside my office. As the horde surged forward, these smaller monsters split left and right, scaling the walls of the buildings with the ease of spiders before clambering through smashed out windows to get at the gangers within. Gunfire, muzzle flashes and screams were a testament to the battles raging inside the dark hallways and rooms of the old tenements.