Rain was worried. Fury was wild and many times unpredictable, and the moon and the sun would only pause for a few more hours—her friend had to repent in order to be redeemed before that. She read from her book, following along with her finger, “The sun stood still, and the moon stopped, till the nation avenged itself on its enemies. And time stopped and delayed the passing of one full day.”
She looked back at the fall, at Fury torturing her father. “She has but a few hours left. She has this time. How she chooses will free her soul or trap her forever in Life’s eternity. And that is why she has to hurry.”
“I’m starting to hate the books,” said Salvation. “Where do they…?” She looked at Rain. “How do you think all this up? It’s—nothing makes sense.”
— CXXX —
FURY LISTENED TO Jump’s theory about Rain’s Prayer of the Protectors. He was a conspiracy-ranting old cocksucker, always cursing and muttering about dictators and shit. Even in Hell, even after Rain cast Life and Lived into the dungeons, he brooded about authority. He used to say that Life was just like the overpopulating monkeys she made in her garden—she always found a way to fill the world with more shit.
But this shit. He wasn’t a believer, so how could he…? “That’s why she helped me come back?” Fury said. “She needed fresh believers? Jesus Christ. Hah, like that’s gonna work. I’m not begging forgiveness for anything.” Fury was here to be redeemed, but Life had never said anything about—“Oh, that bitch,” she said, “she lied to me.”
“Ya think,” Jump said to her. Then he frowned. “For a smartass, you can be pretty dumb. So, now you got me chasing you around down here—cleaning up after you again—because you wanted to… What exactly are you doing down here, anyway? And don’t say training purgies, either.” He glanced at the six of them, looking a little more otherworldly, black feathers covered in red blood after dragging chunks and corpses to the hall.
The little purgatories hopped and clucked in place, obviously enjoying their first duties in the garden.
“Look at them,” Jump continued, “they’re a mess. There’s better places to teach them this shit. And revenge? You could do that up there on any Judgment night. Shit, walk right down in the dungeon and kick the dog any time you want.”
“Lord almighty, Jesus!” Faith shouted. Fury and Jump jerked their heads toward him. They hadn’t noticed, but Faith had finally found Father Ben’s body, in the corner where Fury told the purgies to put him. “I told him to—oh, no-no-no. You killed him! Why did you kill him? He was your—”
“Hold it together,” Jump raised his voice. “And I told you to stop with the begging for Jesus shit. She didn’t kill him. Those Protection agents in the hall shot him before—nothing she could do about it. We both tried. Not that we shouldn’t have shot his ass—running in here all waving his gun, dressed up like an agent.” Jump raised his eyebrows and scrunched up his face at Faith. “And she needs to figure that other shit out herself. So, keep your mouth shut and let her. And by the way, we still have to get back to you shooting me in the back!”
“What other…?” Fury said.
Faith gave Jump a fatherly look. “Yes … well,” he said. “That was … an unfortunate…” Then he nodded a couple of times at Jump. “I am sorry for that, but—”
Jump frowned back at him. “I liked you better when you were sucking on your tin tit,” he mumbled. “Goddamn booze—aw, shit!”
Fury jerked her head toward him. “I thought we weren’t supposed to say—”
“Why again aren’t we supposed to say ‘God?’ ” Faith asked. “Or Jesus?”
“Stop!” Jump shouted. It was getting messy and there were bound to be more Protection agents showing up any minute, suspension of time or not. He looked at Fury and said, “We don’t have time for—here it is: Life’s only reason for you to be down here is to torture you somehow. And she’s using her pretend puppet-master to help her. Only way she can do that—put you through some suffering.” He paused and pointed to the father’s dead body.
Faith stared down at himself as Father Benito. He shook his head. “I just can’t believe…”
Jump continued, “That’s the only way he—the only way both of them got people following them in the first place. Guilt-ridden, suffering citizens—they make good sheep, don’t they, Faith?”
Faith was silent, but he did look up and over at Jump briefly before he stared back down at his own dead body—Father Benito.
“Yeah…” Jump said. Then he looked back at Fury. “Anyway, I’m guessing you’ve suffered”—he pointed to Mercedes, sleeping in her chair, smiling as the Judgment slithered its way through her bloodstream, probably causing her to dream about pixie-fairies and warm beaches in Cancun—“she’s suffered plenty for both of you. So the only thing you have to decide—because the rest of us are just along for the ride on this little Judgment trip of yours—are you gonna condemn him or are you not? Because I’ve made my decision—I’m gonna let this bastard wake up to his little nightmare the same way I did last time. So, what’s it gonna be?” And Jump held up the syringe, offering it to Fury. She was a big girl. It was time he let her act like it. “Get him cracked or let’s get back, because time is gonna start ticking again real soon, and I got a feeling that that bitch is getting exactly what she wants.”
“Stand him up!” Fury shouted.
As soon as Jump cut Frank free and jerked him to his feet, Fury raced at him and grabbed him with all of her talons—wrapped them around his arms and legs, and then she knocked him to the floor. He went down with a thud and she landed on top of his chest.
Fury spread her wings wide and pushed off the floor, holding herself and Frank up a couple of feet above it. Then she reached behind her back and held her hand open at Jump. As soon as she felt the syringe in her palm, she said, “Franklin James King, you are hereby remanded to my fucking Protection,” She said. The vial was three-quarters full—the PAIC had planned on double-dosing Frank.
Jump had gently injected a quarter of the syringe into Mercedes’ neck and she was out cold, dreaming the sweet angel dream.
Fury held the syringe tightly. Half of a full vial would send her raping father into a euphoric fantasy dream about flying with fairies and banging his secretaries, no doubt. When he woke up, no one would believe a word he said. But he would know to keep his mouth shut anyway—crazy talk got you killed. If Fury gave him the rest of the vial—three quarters—he would end up a psychotic, religious nutjob.
Fury hovered the needle inches from Frank’s neck. It was all she could do to stop from eating the man’s eyes out. She leaned in close enough for him to get a good look at his future. And she let a little bit of her saliva drip onto his lips—taste the rage in her. Then she gritted her teeth and spoke slowly, “State your compliance, bitch. And you better submit to judgment too, or I’ll tear your guts out and eat them while you watch.”
“Please,” Frank said. “I—”
“Wrong answer,” said Fury and she jammed the needle into her father’s neck.
“Aaaah—wait-wait-wait!” Frank shouted. Then he stared into his daughter’s demon-angel eyes. There was nothing there to bargain with. “I submit to … to—to your judgment.” And then he closed his eyes.
Fury grabbed the two twisting snakes on the side of the syringe and she pushed down hard on the wing-shaped plunger at the top, injecting him with about a quarter of the liquid.
Frank’s eyes rolled back, and the whites turned black and he started to shake in Fury’s grip. Then she slowly pushed in another quarter of the sleep serum, debating in her head. She held herself and Frank there for a couple of seconds, still pressing the needle into his neck, drinking in the pleasure of feeling him shake.
“No!” Rain shouted at the fall. And she lunged toward the nothingness, preparing to stop Fury from killing her father.
Salvation stepped in front of Rain and let her slam into her, then she grabbed the tops of Rain’s wings at their base and held her back. �
�You can’t!” she shouted. Whatever came next, intervention wasn’t the answer. “She’s not—she can still save herself. You don’t know what—”
“Don’t touch—she can’t!” Rain shouted back. She struggled in Salvation’s grip, but her mother held her firmly. Then Rain closed her eyes and looked away from the fall. She stopped struggling and went a little limp. “I cannot—please, I don’t want to see it.”
Salvation turned Rain away from the fall and held her slumping daughter in her arms. “It’ll be okay,” she said. “Have a little faith.”
Fury looked up and screeched out a long, loud scream above her head. When she was done, she ripped the needle out of Frank’s neck and threw the quarter-full syringe across the cell. Then she dropped her father’s body to the floor and watched him spasm and shake.
She stood up and looked at Mercedes, sleeping in her chair. That’s what a quarter vial of J would do to someone. Fury knew that. Now, so did Mercedes. “Don’t fuck it up,” she said to her sleeping “sister.”
Then Fury sucked in a deep breath of air, trying to calm herself down. She looked across the cell at Faith.
Faith stared back at her. The fear was just leaving his face.
“Stop pissing yourself,” Fury said to him. “What’s your problem? Afraid I was gonna kill my own father?”
Faith stared back … at his daughter sleeping in the chair and then at his vengeful child staring back at him as an angry archangel. “I … I—”
“Yeah,” Fury said. “Ya-ya—you. Why are you back down here, anyways?”
Faith stood and stared at her. He still couldn’t bring himself to admit it.
Fury looked over at the father’s corpse. “Couldn’t save her, huh? Sucks again,” she said to Faith. “So your trip’s like, a total waste.” She stared at Faith, waiting for him to respond, but he said nothing. “Why do you keep trying with her? She’s totally gone to the darkness. Growling around down in that dungeon. She reaped that for you, ya know. Yeah … and you got to live all righteous in Heaven.” She glanced over at Jump. His eyes were a little wider, too. “Uh-huh, I figured that out. Calling me a dumbass. Whatever.”
“How did—how did you…?” Faith stumbled on his words.
Fury looked back at him. She folded her wings a little tighter behind her back. “Couple of old cocksucking idiots, you two are,” she said. “Duh, my loft is like—I had to sleep right above you two humping… You guys—sick! I don’t even wanna think about it. No wonder you’re—”
Faith still couldn’t believe she knew. “I am sorry. I never—that does not mean—” he said. “You … you have red hair like … and—”
“Jesus,” Fury said to Faith. She slowly shook her head. “And—and what? I looked that up on the feed, ya know. Hello, two parents with light eyes. You don’t get brown eyes from that. And you … your eyes are scared as shit brown. You flew down here for redemption? Good luck on that, because the denial’s not helping you get it.”
— CXXXI —
AFTER FURY FINISHED ripping the denial off of Faith’s wide eyes, the three of them stared down at the father’s body. The little purgatories crowded around behind them, peaking through legs and jostling each other to get a better view.
Fury swept her wing back and sent a couple of little hatchlings sliding across the cell’s concrete floor.
They rolled and jumped up and scurried back to their positions.
They’re learning, Fury thought. She looked back down at the father’s body—her father. “Miserable old—why isn’t it coming out?” she asked, herself more than anyone else.
It had been almost a full day back in the garden and the only return ticket to Heaven or Hell that any of them could think of wasn’t showing itself. There wasn’t a wriggling, squirming maggoty-soul coming out of a single one of the dead bodies that were piling up in the bottom of the Fifty. Surely Rain would be sending down some soul-security angels to start gathering them up.
It was a dirty job—ferrying spent souls from the garden to the pearly gates of the arena for recycling—but they had all done it. Fly down through the portal, grab the little maggot with your talons, fly the screaming, screeching thing back to Purgatory. It was disgusting duty, but pretty simple, too. That was why it was one of the first real tasks a freshly cracked hatchling was given.
“Why isn’t she sending some purgatories down to clean up the corpses?” Fury asked again. This time she was looking for an answer.
There was jostling around her legs again as the little hatchlings shoved at each other and bumped into her legs.
“Knock it off!” she shouted down at them. “You fidgeting little—I can’t hear myself bitch. If you pissing little purgies don’t knock it off, I’m—”
Jump laughed out loud. Then he got control of himself and put his hand over his mouth. He looked down at Fury’s feet. The little hatchlings were all over her legs—in and out and between like cats.
“I know,” said Fury, “they’re annoying little shits, aren’t they?”
“Purgatories…” Jump said, hoping she would get a direct hint. The moon and the sun were setting on this day, and that meant they had to hurry up. But just like the garden, souls were the only way in and out of Purgatory. And carrying one or burying one, they were shitty business, best left to newly cracked hatchlings. “Eh, what are you gonna do with them?”
Fury adjusted her wings and cocked her head sideways. He was her father, and he had been her friend, kinda, but the feelings just weren’t there. Why would they be? She didn’t have a bond with anyone.
Rain, she thought. Those feelings were weird, but right now her benevolent Protector was starting to piss her off. She looked at Jump, still holding his mouth. “Why doesn’t she send me a pack of purgies to clean this—?”
Jump and Faith cawed a little, laughing at her.
Fury closed her eyes and frowned and shook her head. “Aw, shit,” she said. “Go suck your own dicks, you bastards. I can’t believe I—son of a bitch!” Then she turned to her pack of little purgatories.
The little purgatories hopped and clucked and cheeped with excitement.
“Listen up,” Fury said to them, “you annoying, little maggot-movers. All you gotta do is reach in, grab onto it like, real tight, and then drag its ass straight up. Once you get up above the city, you’ll see the way. Then turn your asses around and come down and get another one. Unless she decides to help us, and then maybe you won’t have to get them all.” Then she pushed the first little fidgeting fledgling over next to the father’s body and nudged him toward it. “Go ahead, sink your talons right into him … just above the belly button.”
The three archangels and the rest of the little purgatories watched the little hatchling reach tentatively toward the father’s midsection.
“Stop pigeon-pecking around,” Jump said. And then he reached down, rammed his talons into the father’s corpse, rummaged around for a couple of seconds and then he ripped out the father’s writhing soul.
The maggot wiggled around in Jump’s hand and moaned and wailed like it was in pain. Then Jump handed it to the little purgatory, making sure he had a good grip before he let go completely, and then he looked at Fury. He motioned with his hands for her to send the little hatchling on his way.
Fury looked at him like she always did. “What the—”
“No time for that shit,” Jump said. “Next. Get him out of here and let’s get back to it.”
Fury sent the little purgatory on his way and ordered the rest of them to start cleaning up the hallway. Once they left the cell, she said, “Well, there’s how those little bitches are getting back, but like, how are we?”
Then an alarm blasted like a great horn. One long harbor-clearing … heart-stopping … haunting moan. And the building shook and rumbled on its foundation.
“Holy shit!” Fury said. “What the hell was that?”
Jump knew exactly what the blast was. He recited it to Fury and Faith exactly as he had read the passage
in Rain’s book, “And upon the great moan of the trumpet, the sun and the moon ground the gears of eternity again, and the darkness of night crept forward toward the burning truth of dawn”—he gave Fury his trademark half grin-half frown—“and judgment and damnation followed.”
— CXXXII —
JUMP PAUSED FOR a second, cataloguing the carnage around him. He had done it countless times while in charge of Protection clean crews when he was a Man-monkey. “Loose ends, loose ends,” he muttered. “Gotta clean this shit up. Come on, Jake, work it.”
“We fucked up,” Fury said. “Shoulda left the father’s soul—”
“He was dead,” Faith stated the obvious to her.
“Well,” Fury said, “you were supposed to make sure that didn’t happen! So now—”
They could all hear the boots coming down the hallway. Fighting off Man-monkeys, running for your life—the garden hadn’t changed much since the cleansing. Maybe a little reversed, Fury thought.
“Time to improvise,” Jump said to Faith. “Bring his body.”
Fury looked down at the empty husk that used to be the vessel for Father Benito’s soul. “What good is that gonna—”
“Bring him!” Jump shouted. Still got the Judgment syringe—quarter full. Gotta swap out the father. Only one way for Fury and Faith to go back. That leaves me, he rocketed through the list of things to clean up in his head.
The PAIC had finally “fingernailed” his way through the tape on one of his wrists. When his arm popped free, he ripped the tape off his mouth, and then he said, “Where’s Amy?”
Jump stopped and looked at him. Thinking he was in a hallucination Judgment trip or not, that’s what he would have asked. Technically—he smiled at the thought because it was just too insane—he had just asked it. “Sh—she’s fine,” he said, “but you gotta get outta here.”
“Bullshit,” the PAIC said, “I don’t stutter. Just tell me if she’s okay?”
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