“Just the weapon part. I didn’t want you to point it at me, so I never mentioned it.”
“Naturally. But the truth is that I could have pointed it at you all day and all night and you would have been perfectly safe because the gun lacks one key component.”
“The Lux Occisor,” says Traven.
“Exactly,” says the Magistrate. “The weapon could blow apart the gates and walls of Heaven or dispatch its enemies to oblivion. But it is a dead thing without the Light Killer.”
Something occurs to me.
“Let me guess: the light the gun wants to kill . . . it’s Lucifer, isn’t it?”
“It was at one time. The weapon was built for a final assault on Lucifer and his army. But it was never used because God sent the great betrayer over the walls himself with a sword fashioned from a thunderbolt.”
“And you need the sword to work the gun.”
“Very good, my boy. You have a good head for these things.”
“I killed a lot of generals over the years.”
“I only wish that our crusade were that simple. We had completed the first task. We found the obelisk. It would have led us to the Lux Occisor, but now it lies in ruins,” the Magistrate says. He drops back in the chair exhausted. “I must admit, at the moment I am at a loss as to what to do next. Do we wander from town to town forever, hoping for more scraps of information, while above us, armies of darkness seek to destroy God and all his works?”
“I’ve copied one side of the obelisk. I might still be able to figure it out,” says Traven.
“There’s no need,” says Vehuel. “I believe we can help you on your search.”
“You know what the obelisk says?”
“No. But we believe that we know the whereabouts of the sword.”
“That’s wonderful. Can you take us there?”
Vehuel takes a step closer to the Magistrate.
“Perhaps. But I need you to swear an oath that the weapon you carry will only be used against the enemies of the Lord and will be returned to him once we have put down the rebellion.”
“And open Heaven to all these losers,” I say. “Don’t forget that part.”
“Of course,” says Vehuel.
“What does opening Heaven mean?” says Wanuri.
I say, “It means you get to choose. You can stay Downtown, live in a shit hole like Pandemonium or the Dust Bowl out here, or you can ride your Harley straight through the pearly gates.”
“We could leave Hell and go to Heaven?”
“Or stay. The whole point is you get to choose.”
“And this was your idea?”
“Sort of.”
“Of course it was his idea. He’s really not as dumb as he looks,” says Alice.
“I agree to all of your terms, Vehuel,” says the Magistrate. “We, too, want the war ended as quickly as possible.”
“Very well. We have a bargain,” she says.
“How far away is the sword?”