The Kill Society

  “Are you satisfied now?” says Alice.

  “I’ll be satisfied when this is over.”

  “What are you going to do then?”

  “I have no idea. I don’t even know what ‘over’ means. The Magistrate will have his gun. To tell you the truth, I don’t trust him with it.”

  “Me neither.”

  I look at her.

  “I thought you were here to help him.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “You saved the havoc.”

  “We saved you. You’re why we’re here.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  She points a finger at the ceiling.

  “You have friends in high places.”

  “Mr. Muninn?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “Fuck me. I thought he’d checked out completely.”

  “Nope. Just busy. You might not have heard, but there’s a war on.”

  It never crossed my mind that anyone in Heaven or Hell remembered me or cared. Especially Mr. Muninn. Talk about a bigmouth. I popped off at him a couple of times. It didn’t occur to me until later that being snotty to the ruler of the universe might not be in my best interest. But now here we are.

  “Does the Magistrate know?”

  “Hell no,” says Alice. “And we’re going to keep it that way, right? The Almighty doesn’t want to look like he’s playing favorites, especially with an Abomination.”

  “The Abomination.”

  “Stop showing off.”

  The Magistrate signals for the flatbed to be moved onto the dock. Once it’s on board the first ship and secured, the second ship floats up. With the angels directing traffic, they load all the vehicles. We get on the third ship with the havoc and the conscripts. Vehuel seems to have figured out how the staff works, so she directs the ships to move farther into the channel and heads them downstream.

  As we pass Charon, the Magistrate walks to the side of the ship and calls to the old man.

  “If only you had asked politely.”

  He throws out his arms. Gold coins pour from his sleeves onto the deck.

  Vehuel walks to the stern of the ship and shouts, “We’ll send your staff back to you when we’ve reached our destination.”

  Charon shouts something that I’m pretty sure it isn’t “Sounds great. Catch you later.”

  I thought that with the angels around and finally knowing our next destination would calm people down. No such luck. We’re on the river for maybe an hour before the first fight breaks out. Some of the conscripts forced to work on the trucks jump one of the mechanics and try to throw him overboard. There’s a mini-riot between a mob of souls and a handful of Hellions over a case of beer looted from one town or other. The case is caked with dirt and rattier looking than Karloff in The Mummy. The swill is probably flat and has been that way since before the invention of fire.

  At least two people end up in Tartarus over it.

  The Magistrate spends the first hours of the trip doing nothing but putting out emotional tire fires. Johnny, Frederickson, and a couple of other idiots even heckle the angels. Vehuel and the others bunch together in the prow of the ship, clearly horrified by the emotional mortal meltdowns. I keep my distance, but can see Alice doing a lot of explaining and hand waving trying to calm them. The poor bastards were sent here to cover my ass and now it looks like they’re going to need pepper spray just to keep their feathers on straight.

  I think part of the problem is being underground. The Tenebrae might be a desiccated wasteland of shit and ruins, but at least you can see the sky. Down here, we’re bugs floating on leaves along the river of the dead. The only things you can see in any direction are the cave walls and stalactites overhead, any one of which could sink our asshole armada if it came loose.

  A whole group of geniuses abandons ship and swims for the dock. They’re in the water maybe thirty seconds before they’re torn apart by a swarm of something that are all tentacles and sharp, hatpin teeth. I knew Charon was bullshitting us. Maybe the river isn’t a torrent of puke or full of blood rapids, but it’s as depressing and dangerous as any other body of water in Hell’s little punishment carnival.

  I head up to the prow of the ship to talk to Alice, but she waves me off. When I go to the dog pack, half of them walk away.

  “Did I eat the last donut in the box?”

  “Yeah, you did, comfort-wise,” says Wanuri. “All those people who used to think you were crazy? They still do. Now, though, all the people who thought you were a guardian angel are starting to think that maybe you’re the cause of all our problems.”

  “I didn’t ask to join this circus. I was drafted as much as any of those slobs who were out pushing trucks up the hill today.”

  “Don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just telling you what I hear around. Plus, now that people got a look at real angels, and watched you practically saw one’s head off, they’re a little spooked by you.”

  “Johnny’s probably going around telling everyone I’m a wombat. I’ve never even seen a wombat.”

  “They’re adorable,” says Doris. “I took the grandkids to the zoo for Tristan’s—my little grandson’s—birthday and there was a whole enclosure full of wombats. They look like little piglets crossed with teddy bears.”

  “I’ve been called a lot of things, but never a piglet bear.”

  “I don’t think he meant he thought you were cute,” says Wanuri.

  “Why don’t you ask him?” says Daja.

  “No. He might ask me to be his valentine and I’m already seeing someone.”

  “Speaking of seeing someone, your little angel is quite something,” Wanuri says.

  “Alice? She’s great.”

  “The few angels I’ve ever seen were all so stuck on themselves. Better be careful or I’ll steal her away from you.”

  “There’s nothing to steal. She’s my ex.”

  “Dumped you, did she?”

  “No. A shit named Parker was going to murder her, so she killed herself just to spite him.”

  “Damn,” Wanuri says. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah.”

  Still on crutches, Gisco rattles off a few syllables and signs with his hands.

  “What does that mean?”

  “I think he’s wondering the same thing I am,” says Doris. “How does a suicide get into Heaven? I thought there was a rule about that.”

  Gisco nods.

  “If there’s anything I’ve learned about Heaven, it’s that the rules are subject to change without fucking notice. That’s the one good thing about Hell: at least it makes sense.”

  “If she put up with you,” Wanuri says, “then she was destined to be an angel.”

  Daja puts out a fist so Wanuri can bump it, but before she does, an arrow goes through Daja’s wrist.

  “Fuck!” she yells, holding her bleeding arm.

  I push her to the ground as a volley of arrows arcs high overhead and plummets down on the ship. Another volley flies up from the opposite shore. All around us, members of the havoc are getting skewered. Pinned to the ground, where they lie, or stuck to one of the masts or a hatch door. Others have it worse. They take shots through the throat or skull.

  Then, as quickly as they started, the arrows stop. The wounded lie all around us, but before anyone can get to them, jets of fire erupt from each shore, their streams crossing downriver. We’re sailing straight into a firestorm.

  The angels split into two groups of three and fly off, their Gladiuses blazing. The gouts of fire ahead break apart and move upward, trying to catch them in flight. Fat chance. Whoever is operating the flamethrowers is way too slow. When one of the streams gets within fifty feet of Vehuel, she dives for it . . . and catches the flames on her Gladius. The fire arcs back to where it came from, frying everyone on that side of the river.

  It doesn’t go any better for the fry cooks on the opposite shore. Alice and a tall blond romance-novel-cover angel named Johel come at tha
t flamethrower from two sides at once. They dive-bomb the shooters. One of their Gladiuses must have hit the flamethrower’s fuel source, because their whole side of the river goes up in an orange ball of fire that rolls all the way to the top of the cavern.

  I yell, “Alice!” But I’m being melodramatic. She and Johel swoop out of the flames a second later and land back on the ship. I run over to her, but she puts out her hands for me to keep back. Waves of heat shimmer off her armor.

  “I’m still a little hot to the touch,” she says.

  “Can I at least light a cigarette off you?”

  “Fuck you. I was being heroic and all you want is a smoke. Typical.”

  “You cool off. I have to check on someone.”

  By the time I get back to Daja, Doris has cut off the tail end of the arrow right at her wrist. Wanuri holds the end with the arrowhead. Gisco and Johnny hold on to Daja’s arm. I crouch down with Billy and grab her shoulders.

  “You ready?” says Wanuri.

  Daja grits her teeth and nods.

  On three, Wanuri rips the business end of the arrow out of Daja’s wrist. Blood spurts from the wound, but Barbora binds it tight with a piece of cloth, stanching the flow.

  “Where’s the Magistrate?” Daja says. “Is he all right?”

  Wanuri says, “I’ll find him,” and runs into the chaos of the walking wounded and the dying.

  “Who the bloody hell was that?” says Johnny as Alice comes over.

  “I don’t know,” she says. “We didn’t see on our side, and they ran off into tunnels before Vehuel’s group could find them.”

  “Fat lot of good the angels have done for us.”

  Alice ignores him and takes Daja’s wrist.

  “I can’t fix you, but I can make you feel better. Is that all right with you?”

  “Yes. Please,” says Daja through gritted teeth.

  Alice puts a hand on either side of Daja’s wrist and speaks a few words. Some of it sounds like one of the High Hellion dialects, but I’m guessing it is the angels’ original language that Hellion came from. I can’t understand a word of it. I bet Traven could.

  Fuck. Where’s Traven? I get up to look for him when Alice pulls me back. Daja’s eyes are closed and she’s more relaxed.

  “Better?” she says.

  “Much better. Thanks,” Daja says.

  Alice looks at me.

  “Help take care of her. Keep her hand elevated. I have to go help others.”

  Before I can say anything, Alice disappears into the crowd, going from one wounded body to another.

  “Has anyone seen the Magistrate?” says Daja again.

  “Wanuri is looking for him,” Doris reminds her.

  She comes back a couple of minutes later, out of breath and bloodier than before.

  “Did you find him?” Daja says.

  “Yes. He’s hurt, but he’s all right,” says Wanuri.

  “I want to see him.”

  Daja grabs Frederickson’s shoulder and tries to pull herself up. He takes her good arm as Wanuri gets on the other side. Alice wouldn’t approve, but Daja isn’t going to be talked out of it.

  We guide her through the mess on deck and down into one of the ship’s holds. On a bare bunk in a dim stateroom, the Magistrate is on his back with quickly wrapped bandages across his chest. Traven is in the bunk next to him. Cherry is tying bloody rags around his right thigh. I ignore her as I go to him.

  “How are you doing?”

  “I’ve been better,” he says. “Check on the Magistrate. He’s more badly injured than I am.”

  That’s the best news I’ve heard in a while. If the Magistrate snuffs it, we can shove the big gun into the Styx and all go our separate ways. Unless the angels want it for the war. That hadn’t occurred to me until now. That might be the real reason they’re here. Maybe Mr. Muninn told them to see if they could keep me in one piece, but I bet if they had to choose between my ass or a weapon that could change the war, they’d drop me off on the nearest corner with a dollar and a bus map.

  When I look over at the Magistrate, he’s sitting up in the bunk with his back braced against the wall. He’s pale, but doesn’t look like he’s going to check out tonight. The angels probably aren’t down for doing any cold-blooded murder themselves, but I wonder how they’d feel if I held a pillow on his face for a few minutes?

  I’m snapped out of that merry thought when he says, “How are you, dear Daja?”

  “I’m fine. It’s just a little cut. It doesn’t even hurt.”

  “Are you sure? Your head is clear?”

  “I’m positive.”

  “Then, until I’m better, I want you to take command of the havoc. Continue the crusade with the help of our angels.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  She doesn’t say “Father,” but you can hear it in her voice. If I killed the Magistrate, I’d probably have to kill her, too, and at this point I don’t think I’d like that.

  “I don’t understand how anybody could find us down here,” says Doris.

  Wanuri moves up next to her.

  “She’s right. The angels said that almost nobody knows about the river. How did they find us?”

  I go to the foot of the Magistrate’s bed.

  “That’s easy. One of us told them.”

  Everybody looks at me.

  Wanuri says, “How do you know that?”

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense. There’s still a traitor in the havoc. While you geniuses were measuring me for a noose, the real saboteur has been having fun and now has us trapped underground.”

  “I am afraid he is right,” says the Magistrate. “We must be on our guard from now on. Besides the angels, we can trust no one outside of this room.”

  I’m pretty sure I know exactly what’s going on, but they wouldn’t listen to me because they don’t know what I know. A setup this complicated and devious, involving a Heavenly weapon, do-gooder angels, and a whole army of lunatics . . . there’s only one group I can think of with the resources and the greed to try and stop it.

  Wormwood. There isn’t just a cutthroat in the group. Someone is working for Wormwood and has been long before I got here. It could be any of these clowns. Aside from Traven, there’s no one I want behind me with anything sharp. And this time I know I’m not just being paranoid.

  “Magistrate, may I say something?” says Cherry.

  But before he gives permission, Daja is in Cherry’s face, stabbing her finger at her with her good hand.

  “Like hell you can. Why didn’t you see this coming, oracle? What good are you?”

  Cherry rubs her temples like she’s trying to push her skull together.

  “I didn’t see this attack because I was blinded by the real one. The arrows and fire were just a test of our defenses. The real attack will begin in a few minutes.”

  The Magistrate pushes everyone away.

  “Hurry. You must defend the ship. Do not let them get the Lux Occisor.”

  Daja is out of the door first, but the rest of us are right behind her. The weapons and ammo are all stashed belowdecks, where they’re hard to get at because we weren’t supposed to fucking need them. And even if we could get them and hand them out, how many are left on deck willing and able to get into a firefight right now?

  We head on deck and run to the bow of the ship. There are sails in the distance, spread out across the width of the river.

  “Fuck me,” says Wanuri. “It’s a whole goddamn army.”

  “Technically it’s a navy,” I say.

  “Shut up,” says Daja.

  “Whatever the fuck they are, we’re not going to fight them off with a few rifles,” says Billy.

  “We have to,” Daja says. “Start handing them out.” There’s a moment of hesitation, so she yells, “Now!” and people start moving.

  Billy, Johnny, and Frederickson go belowdecks to start getting together the weapons everyone knows will be useless. I don’t. I look back at the flatbed.
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  I say, “Billy is right. A few bullets aren’t going to stop—what, a dozen ships? Maybe more?”

  “What else are we going to do?” says Daja.

  Her hand is bleeding again.

  “We put up a scarecrow.”

  “What?”

  “We scare the shit out of them.”

  “How?”

  “You want to use the weapon,” says Wanuri.

  “Exactly,” I say.

  “But it won’t work without the Light Killer,” Daja says.

  “Then we make them think we have it.”

  “How?”

  I pull her and Wanuri in closer so people can’t hear us.

  “You heard these winged clowns. I’m as big an Abomination as there is. And Abominations can do tricks. Big ones. I can make these assholes think that your popgun back there works.”

  “How?”

  I’m starting to get tired of Daja saying that. “Let me show you.”

  “What have we got to lose?” says Wanuri. “We give everyone else the guns we know work and let the lunatic try his tricks.”

  “Fine,” says Daja. “But if you hurt the weapon I’ll kill you.”

  “It’s a date.”

  Wanuri and I head for the bow.

  I say, “Get some people on the ship with the flatbed. I need them to pull the tarp off. We’ll only scare these bastards if they can see the gun. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  I look around for Alice and find her with the other angels near the mast. Vehuel has conjured a map of the river in the air between them. It floats, transparent, showing our ships and the ones heading for us. She moves her hand back and forth across the map, laying out a battle plan. When she’s done, the map vanishes and the angels head to the side of the ship. I run and catch up with Alice.

  “Be careful, you,” I tell her.

  “You too.” She looks at me, confused. “How come you’re not armed? Where’s your gun?”

  “They’re getting it ready for me.”

  “Keep your head down.”

  “You too. Things are going to get loud.”

  But she’s already in the air with the other angels and doesn’t hear me. I jump from the front of the ship onto the one holding the vehicles, weave through and onto the ship with the flatbed. It’s almost completely uncovered when I get there.