One of the angels falters. Spins and nose-dives to the ground. I run to the body. I was so set on using my gun that I didn’t bother to see who I was aiming at. My heart is going a million miles an hour.
The body is Hadraniel. Her armor is twisted. Her wings broken.
Hesediel lands a few yards away in the circle of burning trees. Her armor is new and perfect.
I point with the Colt to Hadraniel. Try to say something, but my lips are sealed by the tar. I find the knife and cut through the stuff until I can open my mouth.
“It’s okay now. See? I kil
led her. Not you. None of this is your fault. It’s mine. You can come back now.”
She smiles at me. It’s all so perfect and beautiful.
“My little monster. Do you really think it’s that simple?”
“Yes. It’s over. I fixed it.”
She takes out her knife.
“You can’t fix things that haven’t broken. Some things just are, even if we don’t like them.”
“Please.”
She draws the blade across her throat and falls back into the tank.
The forest is one solid sheet of flame reaching to the sky. The tar boils and bubbles on my skin.
I put the Colt to my head.
And pull the trigger.
I WAKE UP on Wild Bill’s table. He’s standing over me.
“Bad dreams?”
“You could say that.”
He walks away and sits on a barstool.
“That’s why I gave up on sleep. The visions are acute. Never had a lie-down that didn’t end with me shouting like a fool at ghosts.”
“I talked to Hesediel.”
“Did you now. What did the lady have to say?”
I rub the back of my head.
“Stay away from rodeo clowns. They’re drinkers.”
He straightens his mustache with the knuckle of his index finger.
“Sound advice from anyone.”
I roll off the table still feeling the gun barrel against my head. It takes me a minute to get my balance. When it comes back, I put on my coat. Slip my knife and na’at back into place.
I sit next to Bill at the bar.
“Now that the thing’s been done, how long do you reckon until those rebel angels and Wormwood feel the pinch?” he says.