Four banners hang in front of the church. The first three I recognize. Merihim’s church gospels and the ceiling of Lucifer’s library. The Thought. The Act. And the New World. But I don’t recognize the fourth banner. There’s a shape on it, but it’s vague like a face lost in TV static. In between the banners is a wicker figure. I can’t tell if it’s a man, a woman, or André the Giant. The wicker whatever is as tall as the church.
I didn’t know that Obyzuth was in Hell’s rebel church or that she was such a big wheel in it. That makes it extra interesting that Lucifer recommended her for the Council.
She and the other higher-up churchwomen are holding burning torches. Women move through the crowd, handing out lit candles. Deumos is whipping up the crowd with a pretty good Elmer Gantry impression.
“The old must burn to make way for the new. Not because it is old, but because the ancient wounds it worshipped and that it believes define it have become diseased and the disease threatens to spread everywhere and to everyone and lay them low.”
A murmur of agreement rolls through the crowd.
“You have to burn beliefs when they become convenient lies solely for the purpose of gaining and holding power. Isn’t it interesting that when the entire city shook to its foundations and bled, the Tabernacle was barely scratched?”
More murmurs. She has a point.
“The city burned and they want to turn back the clock to the way it was. We will not permit that.”
This time she gets cheers.
Deumos picks up a torch from the ground. Obyzuth brings over hers and lets Deumos light hers from it. She tosses the torch into the wicker figure as Obyzuth tosses hers. The other big-time churchwomen toss in theirs. The crowd tosses the candles and lurches forward. I go with it.
From this distance I can tell it’s a man they’re burning. God the Father blew it, so let’s give Him a hotfoot and hope Mom will come down and set things right. I hope you ladies brought lunch because you’ve got a long wait ahead of you. Dad’s broken into more pieces than Humpty Dumpty and Mom doesn’t exist.
A young Hellion woman hands me a candle and automatically lights it.
“Are you part of the movement, brother?”
I look around at the crowd.
“I don’t really know what it is. I just wanted to see.”
She nods.
“That’s all right. We all started from where you are. Throw a candle and take the next step.”
I expect her to move on but she doesn’t. She has candles in one hand and a cup in the other. There’s a small pile of coins at the bottom.
“If you can help at all, brother.”
She’s a Hellion monster. But I’m a monster too. She was tossed over Heaven’s walls like trash thousands of years ago but she looks and acts like a kid with her first summer job. Goddammit, for a second she reminds me of the Donut Universe girl and I’m digging in my pocket looking for something to give her. And come up with one big coin. The Veritas. I look at her one more time. No. She’s never had green hair or dished up day-old apple fritters.
I drop the Veritas in her cup. You need advice more than I do right now, kid. Momentum and the power of Bible bullshit will carry me safely home to shore. Or not. Anyway, maybe you can trade the Veritas for some decent black-market food.
She doesn’t see what I drop in her cup but nods her head in thanks.
“Don’t forget your candle.”
I follow the line of true believers up front. It seems the polite thing to do. Besides, I just paid for the candle. It might look funny if I dropped it and headed the other way.
People are laughing and singing like a high school pep rally up front by the flames. I should have a camera. Hellions laughing at a tower of fire. Now, this is the Hell I’ve been looking for. Flames. Mad cheers. And the tingling feeling of things right on the edge of getting out of control.
The fire is up over the wicker man’s waist. I have to admit, he’s staying upright better than I am. I toss the candle and watch as it tumbles into the flames.
Turning away, I duck deep into the crowd. And I can’t help but laugh. This has got to be the strangest day of my whole damn strange life.
It’s me in the barbecue pit. They’re burning Lucifer.
I circle around the market and back to where I left the Hellion hog. I tweak the glamour one more time, giving myself a new Hellion face. I don’t toss off the glamour until I’m back in the palace heading up the secret stairs to the library.
I’m not in the mood to deal with assassins, Brimborion, or arsonist Joan of Arcs, so I use Vidocq’s friend’s trick of stacking furniture against the bedroom door.