Merihim says, “Red leggers have been caught delivering bogus potions to physicians and hospitals. The real ones end up on the black market.”
“Okay. Maybe bad drugs get them to kill themselves, but what do they have to do with killing me?”
Merihim shrugs.
“Well, no one likes you very much.”
On the screen I’m examining the weird weapon. Ipos watches closely, safe from slicing himself open.
He says, “General Semyazah controls the distribution of vital goods. That gives him access to you and to a lot of power. There’s a long list of generals who would like to replace him.”
Damn.
“We’re back to generals stabbing generals in the back? I thought that shit was over with when I killed Mason.”
“In peace or war, there are always men who want power for its own sake.”
Ipos has given up pretending to look at the peeper projection and has gone to my desk to fix the wobbly leg.
“You think Semyazah is letting his own trucks get ripped off?”
From under my desk Ipos says, “It’s possible. Being smart doesn’t exempt you from corruption.”
He hammers a wooden spacer under one of the desk legs. Between taps with a small hammer he says, “Of course it could be another general earning some extra money while making Semyazah look bad.”
“Why not just kill him? That seems to be a quick way to get promotions down here.”
Merihim shakes his head.
“Murdering Semyazah risks an all-out war among the generals. Legion against legion. No one wants that.”
Ipos says, “If someone could possess Semyazah and have him, say, attack you, then he could be killed and you would have to appoint another supreme general.”
Merihim opens his hands in a weary gesture.
“We’re back to speculating. We know more than we did but not enough to come to any reasonable conclusions.”
I go to my eye and start the projection over again in case I missed something the first time through.
Ipos comes out from under the desk. He wipes dirt from his knees and says, “Even without war we’re still trapped in chaos and fear. It reminds me of waking up here after the fall from Heaven.”
He looks at Merihim.
“Do you remember? How many brothers and sisters cut their throats or threw themselves off the high mountains?”
“And the ones who turned on each other. I remember. It was a terrible thing to see.”
Ipos looks at me.
“Lucifer saved us. The first one. Like you, he had us work building Pandemonium. It took our minds off those . . . other possibilities.”
Neither of them looks at each other or at me. Their eyes are glazed in an ex-soldier’s thousand-yard stare.
I never thought of Hellions this way. They always seemed so full of Fuck You spirit when it came to the war in Heaven. It never occurred to me that being thrown here was as terrible for them as it was for me. When Heaven started shipping in damned souls, it must have been a nice distraction, but only for a while. Guarding passive, broken ghosts can’t be that exciting. And maybe they reminded the fallen angels too much of themselves. The damned minding the damned. If Hellions hadn’t tortured me for all those years, I might even feel sorry for them. But they did, so I don’t.
I take a picture from my pocket and hand it to Merihim.
“While we’re on the subject of lousy deaths, this is a girl from L.A. She had dyed green hair and worked at a donut shop on Hollywood Boulevard. She was murdered by two Kissi sometime between last Christmas and New Year’s. I don’t know if she’s down here, but if she is, can one of you find her?”