“Why don’t you all do it together? I can’t possibly take all three of you at once.”
No one moves. Merihim’s body language says he’s somewhere between fainting and doing a Cowardly Lion dive out of the nearest window. Marchosias backs away behind a bust of Lucifer on a short marble pillar.
Semyazah’s eyes narrow. I gave his ego a hotfoot. He looks like he might actually go for the blade.
The moment his shoulder twitches, I kick the desk chair in front of him. He’s quick. The chair catches one of his legs but he still manages to get the knife. Rolling to his feet, he throws it at me. It’s a pretty good shot for someone off balance on a hurt leg. But I’ve had a lot of knives heaved at me over the years. I know what good aim looks like and knife throwing isn’t Semyazah’s specialty. All I have to do is lean back and the knife sails past. Semyazah grabs a metal candle stand, holding it in front of him like a spear.
It’s three fast steps to where he’s planted himself. I drag the desk behind me as I go. Whip it around like a baseball bat, crashing through a bookshelf and catching him on the side. There’s a loud crack as I make contact and he half flies, half slides down the marble floor to the library doors.
Blood flows into my left eye. The crack when I hit Semyazah wasn’t from him or the desk. It was a derringer he’s pulled from his sleeve. The shot grazed the side of my head.
Merihim and Marchosias are backed up against shelves full of Hellion art books. Merihim has gone dead white. I throw each of them over a shoulder in a kind of half-assed fireman’s carry, holding them low. Keeping their bodies between me and Semyazah. The general is flat on his back but he could be playing possum and he has at least one bullet left in the pocket gun. Merihim starts thrashing when he figures out he’s a human shield. I pull my arm a little tighter and squeeze the air out of him.
When I’m over Semyazah, I step onto the arm holding the gun. The general’s eyes are open but he doesn’t move. I don’t think he’s broken. Just a little dazed. I toss Merihim and Marchosias down on either side of him, take the derringer, and drop the hammer so it won’t go off in my pocket.
A minute later Semyazah sits up. I take the knife from a scabbard on his belt and slap it into his hand.
“We aren’t done yet. It’s still three against one and I’m not armed. You drew first blood, General. Take your shot. Kill me.”
He doesn’t move. I can’t tell if his gaze is uncertain or unfocused.
“Afraid you’ll miss?”
I grab him with the Kissi hand and press the tip of the blade into the base of my throat.
“Now you can’t. Kill me. Become Lucifer.”
When Semyazah doesn’t budge, Merihim grabs his hand and pushes. The blade goes in far enough to draw blood. I feel it run down my neck and under the armor. Semyazah twists and punches Merihim in the face. The preacher lets go of the knife when Semyazah elbows him in the throat. He looks at Marchosias like he’s about to deck her. She holds up her hands, shaking her head.
Semyazah slides the knife back into its scabbard.
“This doesn’t change anything. You’re still a coward and a fraud.”
“And you won’t do anything about it ’cause you’d rather have a coward and a fraud on the throne than sit there yourself.”
I find my knife where it’s embedded in the wall and slip it into the waistband at my back. Walk back to where the last of Bill’s bourbon fell. The bottle hit the floor but didn’t break. Lucky me. My desk is cracked and splintered but still has four legs. I pull it upright and sit down, taking a couple of pulls from the bottle. The wound on my head throbs but is already scabbing over; my burned hand, though, got bounced around enough that it throbs and aches.
“You Hellions think you’re so fucking special. What’s that stuff on the ceiling? The Thought. The Act. The New World? You think God threw you out because you bravely stood up to Him? Bullshit. You started a fight and you lost and you’ve been whining about it ever since. Hell isn’t righteous exile. With all your secret handshakes and horseshit rituals, you’ve made the place into one more members-only gated community. All you people need are Mercedes SUVs and illegals to clean your pools and you couldn’t tell Hell from Brentwood. That’s why you hate Deumos and her heretic ducklings. It’s not because they’re crackpots, which they definitely are. What gets under your skin is that they want to move into the house down the street. Old money hates the nouveau riche. It’s a sad, stupid story even down here in the stupidest place in the universe.”
Merihim and Marchosias get to their feet. When Marchosias starts to help Semyazah, the general shakes her off.
“Are you going to open the door or are we your prisoners?” he asks.
I bark some Hellion and the library doors unlock.
“May I have my gun?”
I get the derringer, pop out the remaining bullet, and toss the pistol to him. He heads for the door without waiting for the other two. Merihim pulls a book from his robes and throws it on the floor.
“Here’s the book you asked about, you ungrateful lout. Read it before you do anything else stupid. Pay particular attention to the final passage. It’s more apt now than ever before.”
When they’re gone I go over and get the book I never asked Merihim about.
It’s an old copy of Hellion psalms. Battered and annotated in the margins. Complete bargain-bin shit. The book doesn’t matter. It’s the note inside. I recognize Merihim’s neat writing.
Last night Ipos sent word that he found evidence of someone or possibly more than one person in maintenance uniforms using building plans to move about the palace. This morning Ipos is dead. I’ll send updates when and if I can. Until then, do not contact me.
Looks like I just burned a few more bridges. Fuck ’em. I was always the dog-faced boy to Semyazah. A sideshow freak in a suit. Merihim might have been on Samael’s side but he knows I don’t give two shits about his church. Marchosias, well, she likes to be where the action is.