The Kill Society

by Richard Kadrey

  I head for the breech. Wanuri and a few other people are waiting.

  She says, “How exactly do you plan on using an unloaded gun?”

  “It doesn’t have to be loaded. They just have to think it’s loaded.”

  “All right. How are you going to do that?”

  “I’m not a hundred percent sure. I’m making this up as I go along.”

  “I don’t believe it. Daja was right about you.”

  I take out the plastic bottle of Aqua Regia and have a pull.

  “I’m going to try something. You might want to move back in case I don’t get it right.”

  “Faith is dwindling in you, Mr. fucking Pitts.”

  I pull open the breech and get down on my knees. I can see the other end through the barrel. It looks a mile away.

  “Well?” says Wanuri.

  “I don’t think it’s going to work from this end. I’m going up front.”

  “Make up your damned mind!”

  She follows me up to the muzzle. The ships are still a good distance away, but closing fast.

  “If you’re going to do something, do it,” she says.

  I watch the ships for a minute.

  “We should wait until they’re closer.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause I’m not sure how far I can do this.”

  “Do fucking what?”

  “Give me a minute.”

  As the big ships crawl our way, a group of smaller attack boats moves out in front, speeding toward us. They send out long streams of fire over the water as they come.

  “Right. You’re an idiot,” says Wanuri. “I’m going back to the real fight.”

  “If you do, you’re going to miss it.”

  “What?”

  “This.”

  Crouching by the barrel, I shout Hellion hoodoo as loud and long and pissed off as I can.

  Fighting Hellbeasts in the arena isn’t a subtle job. I used the na’at as much as I could on the smaller ones, but the big ones I had to use hoodoo. The bigger the beast, the bigger the hex. It left me rusty when it came to small spells, but an expert at eviscerating house-size fuckers. But those were mostly close battles. I’ve never tried killing something as big as a ship and never anything this far away. I have no idea what’s going to happen.

  But I know it’s going to be pretty fucking spectacular.

  There’s an explosion by the muzzle and the gun rolls back a few feet. Over the attack ships, the air catches fire and blows three boats in the middle right out of the water. I shout hoodoo again. The air explodes. This time I miss, but a couple of the outer ships slow. I shout again, switching the hoodoo around a little.

  This time the water beneath the remaining ships explodes, tossing them into the air. The blast also tosses a whole school of the tentacled underwater bastards upward with them. The ships and sailors that survive the blast are pulled into the churning water in a writhing mass of teeth and tentacles. I try shouting one more time, but nothing comes out. My voice is fried.

  I sit down with my back against the gun, suddenly exhausted. Get the Aqua Regia and drink a big mouthful. It burns my raw throat like acid, but it’s worth it.

  Wanuri sits down next to me. I pass her the Aqua Regia and she passes it right back.

  “Keep your swill and tell me how you did that.”

  I make a rasping noise and point to my throat.

  “You can’t talk? That’s one blessing at least.”

  The rest of the crew that uncovered the gun come up to where we’re sitting and stare out over the water. Nothing to do now but wait and see what happens next.

  A lot of nothing occurs over the next few minutes. Eventually, though, one by one, the big ships turn and head back upriver away from us.

  A cheer goes up a couple of boats back as the peanut gallery sees that they get to die tomorrow instead of right now. Our bunch cheers, too, but Wanuri and I just sit there. I know she’s thinking exactly what I am: We got lucky once, but what happens next time?

  We head back to the ship, where the havoc is already breaking out drinks.

  Daja is waiting for us.

  “What did you do up there?”

  I point to my throat.

  “He’s gone mute, the poor dear,” says Wanuri as unsympathetically as possible. “What he did was what he’s best at. He talked them to death.”

  Daja says, “Whatever that means, good job. The Magistrate wants to see you.”

  I point to myself.

  “Yes. Just you.”

  There’s a party going on belowdecks. As I push through to the Magistrate’s stateroom, people clap me on the back and offer me drinks. I shake my head and keep moving. At the Magistrate’s door, I knock and go in.

  Traven isn’t there anymore. I point to his bunk.

  “Do not worry about the father,” the Magistrate says. “He just moved to the adjoining room to give us some privacy.”

  Grimacing, he sits up a little higher in bed.

  “I heard the blasts from here. I take it those were your doing?”

  I nod and point to my throat.

  “Shouted yourself hoarse, did you? That is all right. I know about the Sub Rosa and the things they can do. And I know about the nephilim. More perhaps than you think. Help me take my shirt off.”

  He unbuttons himself and I help him get out the rest of the way. With some effort, he turns around.

  “If you will, look at my back.”

  There are two deep scars, long and ugly, running from his shoulders almost to his waist.

  Fuck me.

  He’s an angel.

  I was not expecting that.

  He turns back around and falls against the hull of the ship. Pearly blood dots the bandages on his chest.

  “I can tell that you recognize the scars. And that you are perhaps a bit shocked. Is it my wound? Yes, it is worse than it should be, but I do not heal the way I used to. I lost some of my power when I gave up my wings.”

  All I can do is croak out a word.

  “Why?”

  “That is a story for another time. What is important now is the weapon. It was clever of you to use it as you did. But niphal tricks will not bring down Heaven’s wall or restore order to Creation. That is why we must continue the crusade.”

  “You. Captured.”

  “When I was taken by the Legionnaires? Yes. Your first guess was right. I allowed it. I needed to speak to them. I hoped that as fallen angels, they would understand an angel who lives in exile voluntarily. Unfortunately, they did not. They had no information of value and they would not join the havoc. There was nothing left for them but to be destroyed.”

  “Does Daja know?”

  “No. And please do not tell her. Her faith is strong, but her heart is fragile and there is still so much left to do.”

  I shrug.

  “We must find the Lux Occisor. We must arm the weapon and take it to Heaven. That is our mission. Nothing must stop it.”

  I try to say something, but nothing comes out. I take a shot of Aqua Regia and try again.

  “Why tell me?”

  “Because you have something that I do not have, nor do our angels. You have a friendship with Death.”

  I frown at him. Where is he going with this?

  “You must find him. Convince him to help us. How many attacks have we endured and the second part of our journey has barely begun? We cannot continue on like this. Death is one ally none of our enemies can overcome. He must be brought to our side.”

  “Don’t know where he is.”

  “Then you must find him. We will bring the ships to shore and, like the saints of old, you will go into the wilderness and meditate until he appears.”

  The Magistrate is ten times more deranged than I thought, but what if he’s right? He’s a wreck. The havoc is barely holding together. I’m sure the angels want the gun, but it’s no use to them unless it works. They should just steal it and get the Light Killer themselves, but angels aren�
�t supposed to steal. And maybe they need the havoc to get the sword. It’s entirely possible that they’re not telling us something and stringing us along.

  Then there’s Wormwood. I know they’re involved somehow, but I can’t figure out how or why. The Magistrate has more secrets, too, I bet. Goddammit. I don’t know what to do. I want off this crazy train, but there’s nowhere to jump and people I care about will get hurt if I go. Maybe even Alice. I got her killed once. I won’t let that happen again.

  “Okay,” I croak. “I’ll try.”

  “You must do more than that,” says the Magistrate. “Help me up. We will go to shore immediately.”

  I help him onto the deck, where he uses Charon’s staff to steer the ships out of the deep water to shore.

  Alice comes over.

  “Nice trick back there,” she says.

  “Thanks,” I rasp.

  “Oh, you poor thing. You’ve ruined your voice. Let me see if I can help.”

  She puts a hand on my throat and mumbles a few words.

  “How’s that?”

  The pain is gone.

  I look around at the havoc. People seem happy that we’re heading to shore. Without me making half of them uncomfortable, the dog pack seems happy, too. Cherry lifts her respirator enough to sip a beer as she talks to the big blond angel.

  I take Alice aside.

  “Have you ever heard of Wormwood?”

  “No. What is it?”

  “Mortals. Very bad people. They make money on everybody else’s misery. They might be arranging these attacks.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Pretty sure. I need you to keep an eye on things. Angels are good snoops. If anyone acts strange—well, stranger than a bunch of idiots on a mission from God—let me know.”

  “Okay. Do you know why we’re heading for shore?”

  “I’m going bowling with Death.”

  “No. I mean, do you really know?”

  “Seriously—I’m going to meet Death. We’re sort of friends.”

  “I’d like to think you’re lying, but I know you aren’t.”

  “Nope.”

  “Do I have to tell you to be careful?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Be careful anyway.”

  We stand by the side of the ship watching the shore get closer.

  She says, “Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if you didn’t go to Hell and I didn’t die?”

  “Only a few thousand times.”

  “We would have made funny old people.”

  “We would have.”

  “Candy is a lucky girl.”

  “Not so lucky at the end.”

  “No one is lucky at the end.”

  Alice holds my hand until we reach shore. A lot of confusing feelings are coming back to me, but like my memories of Candy, this isn’t the time or place for them. I push them all away. For now.

  When we reach shore I pick a tunnel at random and go inside to look for Death.

  The passage is made of the same shiny black stone as the rest of the mountain. It reflects light from the opening a long way in. I don’t have to use a match until I come to a sharp right turn. By the time I use two more, the tunnel ends at a smooth wall. I light another match and look around. I suppose if I was looking to die, this might be a nice, dramatic location. I’m sure it would look great in a forensic photo and on the dust jacket of a bestselling true-crime exposé. But all that will have to wait. I’m not looking to die. I’m looking for the prick that makes people die. But this seriously doesn’t feel like the place. I’m about to back out the way I came when I look up and see a patch of dirt. Dry roots hang down a few inches. I stand on a rock outcropping and touch it. The dirt crumbles in my hand and a few inches of sky lights up the cave. Probing a little deeper, my hand lands on what feels like the lip of the hole. I jump from the outcrop and shove my other hand up until it finds the edge. Then I pull myself up.

  I swear climbing out of the ground feels exactly like the first time I escaped from Hell. I half expect to come up in Hollywood Forever cemetery. But no such luck.

  I’m back on that little slice of parched Heaven we call the Tenebrae. Right back where I started from again. The story of my life. I look around at where I came out.

  I’m at the base of one of the spiked mountains that the Magistrate insists are rocks. There’s nothing between me and the next set of mountains but the remains of an old fifties-style gas station with a general store attached. The roof of the store has collapsed, but it’s better than nothing.

  I use the golden blade to dig a big X in the ground so I can find my way back, then head for the store. Being back in the desert feels funny after being on the river just a few minutes ago. I can feel the water being squeezed out of my system with every step. My boots crunch on pulverized rock, so that each step sounds like I’m walking on snow. I wonder if it ever snowed in the Tenebrae. This place might not be so depressing with a few flurries coming down. I remember a funny little movie, CQ. There’s a scene toward the end where it’s snowing on the moon. It was weirdly pretty. If Mr. Muninn can make this place such a brain-numbing shit pit, he should be able to turn it into something a little less stifling. I’ll have to mention it the next time I see him.

  I reach the general store in about twenty minutes, give or take a decade. I’ve given up trying to tell time out here. The X is good and clear from the front of the store, so I go in.

  The place is as much of a wreck as it looked from the mountain. However, after just a few minutes of looking, I find an unbroken bottle of Moxie cola and a box of very stale chocolate donuts. I take them outside under the gas station’s carport and use the golden blade to draw a magic circle in the dirt. Nothing elaborate. Just some simple summoning hoodoo. Then I sit in the middle with my bounty and wait.

  I start on the donuts first and use the Moxie to wash down the rock-hard nuggets. Even stale they’re good, though nothing like the ones at Donut Universe back home.

  Donut Universe. I hadn’t thought of it until this moment. One more thing maybe lost forever. If I remember right, there was a donut shop a mile or two from Lucifer’s old palace in Pandemonium. It’s where I found Cindil, my Donut Universe angel who was murdered by some piece-of-shit demons just to piss me off. I got her out of Hell, but never went back to check on the Hellion donut emporium. All right. That’s the first place on my bucket list when I get back. It’s good to have priorities.

  Thinking about Cindil, Donut Universe, and L.A., I almost fall into the trap of thinking about home. I try to force the thoughts from my head, and when they won’t go, I take out Doris’s butcher knife and cut my arm lengthwise from the elbow to the wrist. Let the blood flow and the pain sink in. Then I have another donut.

  I finish the Moxie and toss the rest of the donuts back into the store. That was a good and useful way to spend my time. How long have I been waiting for Death? How long does it take to eat six stale donuts? Probably not that long. Maybe I should have paced myself. Not only am I sitting alone in the most monotonous place in the entire universe, but I’m full of sugar. Didn’t think that one through.

  I get out a Malediction to calm my nerves only to find that I used my last match back in the tunnel. I could use some hoodoo to burn something, but there’s nothing in the circle I can burn except me. I shouldn’t have thrown the donut box away. I could have used that. I can still go get it. I mean, I can see it from where I’m sitting, but I’m new to this saint-meditating-in-the-desert bit and I’m afraid that if I leave the circle it will reset whatever magic clock determines how long I have to wait and I’ll have to start all over again.

  In an act of desperation, I put a Malediction on the ground and whisper some hoodoo to see if I can light it.

  It explodes like a firecracker.

  Yeah. I need to work on those little spells. God knows I have time for it now.

  I try shouting at the mountain to see if I get an echo back, but what little voice I had lef
t I used up talking to Alice.

  I might have lost everything else, but at least I got to see her again. That’s pretty good. One check mark in the Not Entirely Dismal column. I’m going to have to come up with a lot more of those to even out that column with the Are You Fucking Kidding Me one.

  Now how long has it been? Another five minutes? Ten? I shouldn’t have had all that sugar.

  After all the time I spent in Hell, I should probably have looked up my parents. I know my father is here. He tried to kill me and Upstairs they’re not big on trying to kill your son. That said, I’m not even sure my mom is down here. Her only sin was being sad and lonely. Okay, she fucked an archangel and gave birth to me. And I’m guessing giving birth to an Abomination might not get you in good with the Heavenly membership committee. Right. Second thing to do when I get back. Look up Mom. She hated being alone, so she’s probably with the refugees at Heaven’s gates. I think about my father some more. Consider letting bygones be bygones and all that crap they tell you in magazines. Hell, I’m knee-deep in angels ready to murder the universe over daddy issues. Maybe it’s time to let mine go.

  Still, it might be fun to sneak up behind him and yell “Bang!” just once.

  Is Death here yet?

  I take a long drink of Aqua Regia. It burns my throat, but not as much as before. Still, it makes me dizzy. Or am I dizzy because I cut myself? I think I lost a lot more blood than I meant to. Oh, man. If I die here and someone finds me, my headstone is going to read here lies sandman slim, he died of donuts and self-pity.

  Happy eternity, everybody. Good night and be sure to tip your waitresses.

  I jerk my head to the side and come up with a mouthful of dust. I’m not sure, but I think I might have passed out for a while. At least I’m not bleeding anymore.

  Man, I want a cigarette.

  I try shouting at the mountain again and sound comes out of my mouth. And it didn’t even hurt.

  Wait. If my throat’s healed it probably means I really was unconscious for a while. I wonder for how long.

  Maybe I should just go back and lie. Tell them that Death said hi and that they should say their prayers and remember to floss. I mean, how would they know I wasn’t telling the truth?