Butcher Bird

FORTY-SEVEN Miss Fuckin’ Manners

According to the map, they were at a place called the Razor Pits of Merry Vengeance.

Only there were no pits and no razors. Just a cracked alkali plain whose surface had been scraped flat sometime in the not too distant past. Mounds of crystallized mineral salts and dry soil dotted the plain where they’d been left and never removed.

“Are you sure?” asked Spyder. “We’ve been off the path for a long time. Maybe we’re lost.”

“I know exactly where we are,” said Shrike. “Things are just different.”

“So what?” said Lulu. “Shit changes. Those carts over the Bone Sea weren’t always there, right? The devil’s building Barbie’s Dream Hell House. Big deal. Pandemonium’s right over there and so’s the book. What are we going to do about that?”

“Go and get it, I suppose,” said Spyder.

“Just walk in?” Lulu asked.

“We hadn’t really worked out a plan yet.” He sat down by one of the alkali piles.

“No shit, Dr. No. And under a cloak of darkness isn’t going to cover our asses ’cause this place is nothin’ but a cloak of darkness.”

“Shrike, what do you think?”

“We need to know what’s ahead of us. And I only trust that demon so much. He could be leading us into a trap or a dead end just for his own amusement.”

“Well, I don’t see a Chamber of Commerce to get a new map.”

“One of us is going to have to go into Pandemonium, take a look at Lucifer’s palace and see if the book is really there.”

“I hate this plan.”

“If he has the book, it should be easy to find. Lucifer will probably have it on display, a war trophy. Do you think there will be many guards?”

“How should I know?”

“You’re our Hell expert.”

“Let me tell you, this place isn’t exactly like the books said. But, I guess, the psychology’s the same.”

“How does that help us?” asked Lulu.

“There’s this old story about Vlad the Impaler, this kill-crazy Romanian prince. He’s the guy Dracula is based on,” Spyder said. “More than anything, this guy loved killing Turks, and he loved killing them by impaling them on long wooden poles. He’d stake whole fields with thousands of dead and dying Turkish POWs. Everyone was afraid of ole Vlad. A story goes, that he left a golden goblet by a waterfall on the road to his city, a place where travelers could get a cool drink on the long road. This goblet was worth a lifetime’s wages for anyone in his kingdom. But people were so afraid of this psycho that no one ever stole the goblet. They didn’t want to end up like one of those Turks.”

“Thanks for taking us there, bro. But what the fuck does that mean?”

“Vlad left the goblet so people could get a drink. He also wanted to prove what a badass he was.”

“There won’t be any guards at all,” said Shrike.

“That’s my guess,” said Spyder. “Lucifer knows no one has the balls to steal from him. I bet the place is going to be wide open.”

“Who’s going to find out?” Lulu asked.

Before any of them could respond, there was a sound. Deep, ponderous and rhythmic, like diesel engines the size of mountains driving wheels the size of skyscrapers. Spyder climbed to the top of the alkali mound and peered carefully over the top.

“What is it?” asked Shrike.

It was an army. At least, that was Spyder’s best guess. There were demons and damned souls marching onto the plain to Spyder’s right. They were clad in armor. Or maybe not armor, he decided. Machinery? Parts of the souls were definitely machine-like. In fact, some were variations on the spider machine they’d seen back at the Bone Sea. Others were Frankenstein patch jobs, trailing long umbilicals attached to still larger machines driven by demons.

“Lulu, tell me you’ve still got your shotgun,” said Spyder.

“An armed society is a polite society and I’m Miss-fuckin’-Manners.”

“I take it we’ve been found out,” Shrike said.

“Found out, sold down the river and the river frozen over.”

“You’ve got the magic knife. Think what Shrike and I have’ll stop these demons?” asked Lulu.

“I doubt it. But if they’re going to snuff us, I want to send a few home with bad dreams.”

“Wait a minute,” said Spyder. He shifted position on the mound. “Fuck.”

“What is it?” asked Lulu.

“Déjà-fucking-vu.”

“What?” asked Shrike.

“Remember that nightmare you had in the desert? The one we both had? With the chariot?”

“Of course.”

“We’ve got the director’s cut about to go down right in front of us,” Spyder said. He slid down the mound. “That Hell army isn’t for us. It’s for your friend, Xero.”

“Did you see him?”

“I saw a gold chariot, leading a shitload of souls and demons from the opposite side of the field. They were too far away to see any details.”

“My father,” said Shrike. “What was pulling the chariot?”

“Same as his army. Souls and demons.”

“One of those souls is my father.”

From across the plain, came a thundering war cry. Spyder and Lulu crawled around the side of the mound.

“What’s happening?” asked Shrike.

Another mad shout.

“They’re just yelling and tossing shit at each other. Getting the troops worked up.”

“The man in the chariot, what does he look like?”

“He’s wearing a helmet. I can’t see his face. But he’s tall and ballsy. He’s shouting something at the Hell army and his boys look ready to chew bullets.”

“Xero was a fine general. He fought beside his men. Even when he sent them off to slaughter, they loved him.”

“I knew a pimp like that back in Houston,” said Lulu.

“Something’s happening,” Spyder said.

At some unseen signal, both armies surged forward. They slammed together with the sound of a crashing jumbo jet. Xero drove his chariot into the middle of the massacre, spearing demons and souls with an enormous longbow that never seemed to lack for arrows. When shafts hit his enemies, they didn’t just skewer them, but went clear through, gutting one opponent, then taking out the one behind, as well.

Shrike charged around the mound, past Spyder. “Father!” she screamed. “I’m here! It’s Alizarin!”

Spyder grabbed Shrike’s shoulder and pulled her back, as much to shut her up as to comfort her.

“I can’t stay here. I have to fight,” said Shrike.

“No problem,” Spyder said. “As of now, we got both sides coming at us.”

“Good,” said Shrike. She stood, brought up her sword and climbed to the top of the mound.

“Xero Abrasax, the men you betrayed took your head,” she shouted, “And I, Alizarin Katya Ryu, the woman you betrayed, is here to take it again!”

“Tell ’im, girl,” shouted Lulu. She and Spyder both ran from the mound as the few first few soldiers from Xero’s army reached them. Shrike was already in the air, doing a perfect somersault and slashing the throats of three demons as she landed. As Spyder slashed away with the black knife, he saw that Shrike’s left arm was streaked with blood. She’d called up some kind of magic before leaping into the fray. It must have been heavy because her own blood splattered on the ground with the demons’ as she split them open with her sword.

Spyder slashed his way through the battle, picking up a fallen demon’s shield to defend himself as he went. Souls came apart when cut by Apollyon’s blade, but demons seemed to be burned by it, their eyes popping and their skin crisping as if heated from the inside. Lulu was pumping her shotgun to Spyder’s right. It didn’t seem to kill the demons, but it exploded heads, arms and torsos, leaving them nicely crippled.

Things suddenly went very quiet. Spyder lunged at a hyena-headed demon, but slashed empty air when the thing backed away and knelt down. Shrike and Lulu’s opponents mimicked the move. Spyder looked around and saw a slave-drawn chariot rolling slowly toward them. Behind it, Xero’s men were mopping up the remnants of the Hell army, most of whom were sprawled on the ground, slaughtered or twitching like broken toys.

The chariot stopped a few yards from Shrike. “My eyes and ears did not deceive me. It is you, Alizarin,” said the man in the golden helmet. “What a charming surprise. Say hello to your father. He makes a fine mule.” He reached down to a blank-eyed old man and petted his head the way you might pet a dog.

“I’ll kill you, Xero,” Shrike said.

“You can’t, child. I’m already dead.” Xero pulled his helmet off. Spyder was surprised by what he saw. After all of Shrike’s vitriol and the terrible dream they’d shared in the desert, he was expecting a brute. What he saw was a refined and strangely handsome face. It was long, with a wide forehead, bright eyes and the kind of nose his grandma would have called “noble.” Xero’s smile was wide and toothy, giving him an elegantly feral look. It was no mystery why a younger, more naïve Shrike would have fallen hard for the man.

“I’ll burn your soul from existence,” she said.

“Lucifer said the same thing and he hasn’t managed it. What makes you think you can?”

“I hate you more than the devil does.”

Xero laughed. “That, I believe,” he said. “I’ll make you a proposal. Stay here with me in Hell and I’ll release your father from his curse. I’m going to win this war soon. I already control the outlands and am slowly strangling Lucifer. When I take his throne, I’ll have more use for a bride than a broken-back nag,” he said, pulling Shrike’s father’s matted hair.

“I trusted you once and it destroyed my world. I won’t trust you again.”

“Please reconsider. For both your sakes. It’s a reasonable offer. When I have to make the offer again, the terms will diminish and they’ll diminish each time I ask you, until you agree.”

“I’ll cut my own throat first,” said Shrike.

“Perfect. Then you’ll end up right back here with me.”

Spyder saw it just before it happened. In Xero’s presence, Shrike was still that furious, irrational, deeply wronged teenage girl. And she was losing her shit completely, he thought. She shrieked and went right for Xero, her sword up in killing position. Xero brought his bow up and fired off a volley of arrows at her, but he didn’t really seem to be trying to kill her. He was laughing the whole time. Shrike spun and parried, splitting the arrows in the air. Spyder was already hacking his way through Xero’s army when one of the arrows slashed Shrike’s right arm. But she kept coming, even while Xero took aim right at her heart.

Spyder reached the chariot and lunged blindly, not knowing or caring where he hit. He jammed the black blade into Xero’s right thigh. The general groaned and backhanded Spyder off the chariot, harder than any human had ever hit him before. Spyder blacked out for a moment, but shook himself awake enough to see Xero pull out the knife as his leg was cooked black. Apollyon’s blade even burned his hand. He tossed it away, and his demon troops scattered from the knife as it fell. Spyder scrambled to retrieve it and was almost run down by Xero as he shifted his chariot to slip Shrike’s sword blow. Kicking his chariot forward, he took off fast across the blood- and machine-oil-splattered plain. His surviving troops followed behind on foot.

Spyder, still winded from Xero’s blow, staggered to where Shrike was on her knees. When he touched her, she was softly crying, and pushed Spyder away.

“I lost him,” she said between sobs. “My father was right here. I lost him and it’s my fault.”

“Xero played you,” said Spyder. “You weren’t ready for him. You will be next time.”

“I will,” she said. “Are you all right? I didn’t mean to push you.”

“It’s all right.”

Lulu dropped down on the ground nearby, breathing hard. Seeing her, Spyder had to laugh.

“I guess we can forget the element of surprise,” he said.

They were filthy, covered in sweat, demon blood and fluids Spyder didn’t want to think about.

“It takes a big man to get down on his knees and beg,” said Lulu.

“It’s why us sissies carry knee pads. Ashbliss, can you hear me?”

The little demon was suddenly standing on a nearby alkali mound, wringing his pudgy hands.

“You’re all so damp and exhausted. Am I too late for the rutting?”