Red Litten World

by Alexander, K. M.

  “It is as before. As long as I am alive he must honor the agreement.”

  The creature frowned and growled a warning. The sound was titanic and filled the space, echoing off the walls.

  Gold turned back to the creature and spoke up at it. “You know the rules. I brought you forth. I name myself Gothi. I called you here from black N'kai, through red Yoth, beyond dark Tsath, and into Lovat. I am the one in control. Me! It is my boon!” He tapped his chest.

  “He does not like fetching his own sacrifices,” said a gargoyle from high above.

  “He hates you, little dauger,” the voices came from everywhere now. I looked up and saw more gargoyles lining the pit. Hundreds of them. They reminded me of a flock of ravens.

  “Your actions offend.”

  “He will kill you.”

  “He will kill you all.”

  “Someday.”

  “Yes, someday.” The voices seemed to come from every corner.

  The cultists nervously looked at one another. Gold spun, his face turning from one gargoyle to the other. It was hard to tell his expression with his mask but his movements were all frustration.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he spat. “If it wasn’t for me—”

  “Watch your words, little one,” said another gargoyle.

  “You are in the presence of a Mizra.”

  “You are all but a speck to one like him,” said another gargoyle.

  “A speck!” another echoed.

  “Speck,” came a third.

  “He will do as you ask, for that is the agreement. He hates it. Hates you.”

  “He seeks offerings, not commands.”

  “This will not last.”

  The whispered words faded. A few of the gargoyles withdrew. Disappeared.

  Gold’s hands had balled into fists. He stared up at the enormous creature, his posture defiant.

  It seemed to regard him with bemusement, an ugly expression playing across its face. Then it began to change. Slowly it shrank, its features shifting. The gashed eyes grew wider, became almond-shaped, the hair grew inward as its skin browned and then lightened. I stretched my neck over the crate, stared and watched as the titan shifted, transforming from monster to man before my eyes. I gripped the Judge tightly in my right hand, my left had lost to Sam’s vicelike grip.

  Across from Gold, and at the end of the row of cultists, there now stood a naked man. He was clean-shaven with plain features. Pale brown skin, lighter than mine. If it wasn’t for the red eyes and slightly too wide mouth he could be human.

  The man-creature grinned at Gold. “From the first circle I descended thus,” it said. “Down to the second, which, a lesser space. Embracing, so much more of grief contains, provoking bitter moans.” He spoke like he was reciting something. His grin widened. “Here Minos stands, grinning with ghastly feature...”

  “Ashton,” said Gold in a forced greeting.

  Ashton looked at his hands. “I hate this form,” he said. His voice was deep and warm, and he spoke his Strutten with a light accent I couldn’t place.

  “You know what needs to be done,” Gold said.

  “A judgement, perhaps?” said Ashton. “Am I to once again wear the mantle of Lord of the Underworld? Maybe I should grow a tail to really play up the part. Are there souls to examine? Sentences to deal out?” He chuckled. “Or is this just another death for financial gain?”

  Gold said nothing.

  Ashton continued. “You have the power of the Herald under your control and you use it as an assassination tool. How very... petty.”

  “You know what needs to be done,” Gold said again.

  “This isn’t over,” Ashton said. “You know that, Janus? Rituals cannot protect you. The moment your hold breaks—and it will break—I will tear through this city. I will climb its towers and I will hunt you.”

  Gold snorted. He folded his arms and stared at the First.

  Ashton padded up to Gold and leaned close, sniffing the dauger.

  “I hate you dauger most of all,” Ashton said. “You’re an abomination. He should have known better.” He turned and looked at the dauger woman who stood in one of the lines. “The rest of you aren’t much better.” He reached out and touched the woman’s forehead, dabbing the tip of his finger in the blood on her face.

  He stared at it for a moment and looked back at Gold. He asked, “Blood of the sacrifice?”

  “As always.”

  “Or should I call it the target?” said Ashton.

  “Don’t be crass.”

  Ashton ignored him. “I keep hoping you’ll forget the blood.”

  “I won’t,” Gold spoke coldly. “We’ve brought you clothes. They’re on the table.”

  “And when this is done?” Ashton asked.

  “Then you return to N’kai, as always.”

  “Asshole,” Ashton growled.

  They stood and stared at one another. The First, in its human avatar, regarded the gore-covered dauger with a burning hatred.

  “If I had my way, Ashton, you’d still be buried down here.”

  Ashton laughed and leaned back. “Ah, little dauger. You say that, but you’re the one who calls me forth. You’re addicted to it. Addicted to control.”

  He paused, sniffed the air again.

  I felt that strange buzzing again.

  Ashton whipped his head in our direction, and with those glowing red eyes he looked directly at me.

  My heart stopped.

  A wicked sneer played across his lips, showing small versions of the stained teeth from its larger form.

  “You fool,” he growled.

  “What?” Gold spun and followed Ashton’s gaze up to the platform where we were crouched. He started. Shocked.

  “Bell? Waldo Bell? From the party?” stammered Caleth.

  “Carter’s cross,” said Dirch.

  I looked over at Samantha and she turned to me, panic in her eyes. I gave her hand a squeeze and released it.

  Ashton whipped around and pointed a narrow finger at Gold, “You arrogant cur. You come down here and bind me to your bidding and then you dare lead the Guardian here!”

  The gargoyles that stood in the pit now all silently turned to look at us. Hundreds of pointed hoods and blank faces gazed in our direction. The braziers behind Ashton flared up, bathing the hole in a wave of bright light.

  Ashton turned and pointed at me.

  My stomach dropped. I felt like I was in free fall.

  “Get them,” he growled.

  TWENTY-ONE

  I SPUN, rising to my feet and swinging the Judge with me. My breath had stopped in my chest. I ignored the pain that flared into my body as I leveled the heavy revolver at the nearest gargoyle. The creature balked, then recoiled as I stepped forward, rushing it, driving the Judge up under its chin.

  The thing felt weird beneath my hand. Like a gas bag. The barrel didn’t connect with bone or soft flesh. No matter. I pulled the trigger.

  The thing evaporated before me into a cloud of thick black smoke forcing me to cough. Behind me Samantha pushed herself up and shouldered past a second gargoyle as she moved up the stairwell.

  Ashton screamed. “Get them! Get them! Don’t let him live!”

  His voice had risen an octave. It filled the space, echoed off the walls, and blew through me.

  “Bell, get back here!” someone shouted.

  I turned and fired over my shoulder down the stairs and into the mass of bodies that were hustling to catch up.

  Gargoyles and bloody cultists leapt back, wary of closing in. They paused and looked down at Ashton who sneered up at me.

  “What am I, Guardian, that you think a measly firearm could ever harm me?” Ashton shouted. The bastard knew my name.

  I focused on following Samantha.

  She had become entangled halfway up to the next platform. Two gargoyles had grabbed her jacket, her hair. One had a hand on one of her horns. She elbowed one where a face should have been, and brought her knee up into the
stomach of another. One of them stumbled backwards against the cement, while the other slipped and dropped off the stairwell.

  We pressed onward. Upward. Higher. Higher!

  The stairs beneath our feet quaked and squeaked and cracked. I could see boards shaking loose and portions of the staircase slap against the side of the wall as we moved.

  I fired past Samantha at another gargoyle moving down the stairs to stop us, the thing—like others before it—just vanished. Black smoke choked us as we pressed up.

  “Keep moving!” I shouted.

  “No shit!” Samantha said.

  I turned, looking down the stairwell and saw Gold and the others gaining on us. How many shots had I fired? Unsure, I fired the remaining shells from the gun and the group all crouched where they were, cowering for cover.

  Below, still standing in the center of the pit was Ashton, slowly getting dressed, a cocky smile splitting his face.

  Ashton’s voice carried up the stairwell. It rattled around inside my skull. I knew he was now far below, but his voice sounded close, like he was whispering over my shoulder. “You have angered us, Bell. Your name is a curse in our hallowed halls. It echoes down the corridors and enrages the throne. The High Priest will not be pleased! He won’t be as considerate as I am!”

  Samantha shoved another gargoyle aside and sent it careering off the edge as we passed the third landing. She looked back, checking on me, her face flushed.

  “Wal, behind you!” she shouted.

  I turned and saw the maero woman lunging. I smacked her across the face with the barrel of the Judge, feeling the cold metal strike bone. She tumbled down.

  “Go! I’m right behind you!” I said.

  The others slowed and helped the maero to her feet. A trickle of her own blood now mixed with the congealing drips from Gold’s earlier concoction.

  It was only a moment, but it gave us more time. Put more stairs between us and them.

  Higher. Higher!

  One step at a time. The journey up felt four times as long as the descent and we had a lot more stairs ahead of us.

  A small army of gargoyles blocked our path on the next landing. Samantha slowed slightly, unsure of what to do. I pushed her on the back, urging her forward.

  “Go, go, rush ‘em! Go!”

  She didn’t question it. She moved. Her legs pumped and she threw herself at the creatures, the jagged bones that grew from the knuckles of her balled fists catching the light. The gargoyles cried out as the dimanian priestess showed them why her people had been banned from boxing.

  Black smoke filled the air, making the murky light even murkier.

  The pads of my thumb sizzled as I pressed the shells into the empty cylinder and flipped it back into place. Time seemed to move incredibly slowly.

  Gargoyles were slipping and falling off the platform. Their robed bodies disappeared into the space below with howls that vanished before they hit bottom. Samantha lashed out, her jaw set, her breath exploding out in short bursts. Her dark hair flowed around her and beneath it her eyes blazed. She swung her fists, blazing us a trail through the black robes.

  I turned, my back to hers.

  “I’ll handle the others,” I shouted over the roars and shouts that filled the air around us.

  The others were only half a landing below us. I fired, missing and striking the stairs at their feet.

  Henry—the human with the white mustache—was now in the lead and first in line for a full face of wooden shrapnel. It spattered his face, and he slipped. His arms swung around like windmills and someone grabbed for his shirt, missing by inches as he tumbled off the stairwell and towards the pit floor far below. His screams were cut short by a wet thud.

  The group stopped, staring over the edge at their fallen companion.

  Somewhere below Ashton laughed.

  “That’s one, Gold,” he said cheerily. He still sounded so close.

  Samantha threw another two gargoyles over the edge, making a hole through the mass.

  I followed, firing the Judge into the faceless head of one of the creatures and pressing on.

  We could make it! Henry’s death had slowed the cultists and the gargoyles were falling away under Samantha’s fists.

  I could see the light from Level Two’s lamps beyond the pit’s entrance at the upper landing.

  We took the stairs two, sometimes three at a time. My chest burned. My legs ached. My knee and my side sent waves of pain rippling through my body. I didn’t care.

  Higher. Higher! Escape. Get out!

  As Samantha cleared the top platform, I wanted to shout out my relief. Turn and taunt Ashton, Gold, and the others.

  CRACK!

  An exasperated wheeze and clatter of cracks echoed through the pit.

  Below my feet, the staircase disappeared.

  “Wal! Nooooo!” Samantha’s voice filled my ears. Her words stretched as time around me slowed.

  Boards tore loose from the cement wall, some snapped in half. The stair I had been standing on twisted violently to one side. Dust filled the air behind us like a summer storm in Syringa.

  Something roared in my ears. My arms scrambled, reaching for anything. There hadn’t even been time to jump.

  The world rushed around me. It spun... dropped. I looked down and saw only open air below.

  Then I hit. My arms slapped against something solid. I felt a snag, a nail, a jagged piece of wood, something puncture my skin. I didn’t care. I clambered for purchase as my chest and arms hit the jagged edge of the last platform. My legs dangled.

  In times of panic, the mind focuses on strange things. Right then, all I saw was Samantha’s boots. Roader boots, beautifully worn in. It was a calming image. Something in this tangled mess was all right.

  Strong hands wrapped around my wrists as air returned to my lungs. The boots faded as I was dragged up and forward. The rushing river that had filled my ears subsided and I felt my belly hit a flat surface, then my thighs, then my calves and feet.

  Safety.

  Salvation.

  But only for a moment.

  “Come on, Wal,” Samantha said. She was already scrambling to her feet. Her face was drawn, her eyes moving towards the door.

  Laughter echoed from below.

  Ashton.

  “We have to get to Kiver,” I said.

  Samantha nodded.

  I pushed myself up, still feeling the rush of adrenaline. Distantly, I could feel new pains in my arms and chest. I had probably torn open my stitches yet again. I didn’t care. I was alive.

  I looked back to see what ruin lay below.

  Only a part of the stairwell had fallen. Now only empty space hung between the second and the upper platforms. Along the ragged edge of the collapse stood the cultists, a few gargoyles mixed in with them. Only five, I realized, where there had been seven. Remaining were Gold, Caleth, the dauger woman, and the two maero. No Dirch. She must have gone over when the staircase collapsed.

  As I slipped toward the door I gave them a final look. Ashton was too far below. But I could see the angry expressions on the faces of the maero. The dauger’s features were, as ever, inscrutable.

  Far, far below Ashton still stood near the altar. From this distance, in his human form, he was nothing more than a dark smudge. Yet I could sense he was looking up at me. And I knew he was smiling.

  TWENTY-TWO

  THE CLAMOR OF RAISED VOICES REACHED US before we even saw Paramount Square. Echoes rampaged through Level Eight’s towers, carried on the wind. The whole level vibrated from the cacophony and the towers shivered.

  When we came upon the square we could see the reason. Hundreds of thousands of people had filled the open space: humans, maero, dauger, umbra, anur, kresh, dimanian, and even cephels. Male and female, young and old, children and broodlings. The crowd stretched out over the plaza, ran down the surrounding streets and wrapped around the looming towers like angry centipedes.

  Balled fists, clawed hands, and curled tentacles were rai
sed in unison. Signs rose from the throng with demands spelled out in angry capital letters. City Hall shook in its foundations before them. It looked like a fortress under siege. Its windows had been boarded and cement barriers surrounded it, keeping the throng away from its walls. Armed police with clubs, long rifles, and shotguns lined the roof .

  The air simmered with anger. Tension wavered among the throng like a heatwave.

  Samantha and I stopped running. My heart thudded in my chest and my lungs ached from the cold. We stood at the fringe of the gathering, buried our hands in our pockets and stuffed our chins into our upturned collars.

  Where did all this come from? Lovat itself seemed intent on stopping us from getting to Kiver, from warning him about what was coming. These people didn’t realize what walked among them. It wasn’t only the rich preying on the rich. It was a creature far more foul. A creature that would stop at nothing to get to its target.

  What was one rich maero to this lot? Kiver had eaten dim sum, hosted Auseil parties, and drank wine while these people went hungry. With his silence he had aided a mayor more concerned with control and power than the lives of citizens. No, Kiver would get no sympathy from these folk.

  “There’s the Shangdi,” I said, pointing to the massive tower that rose from Level Eight and punctured the sky. “Kiver’s place is near the top, above the Level Nine latticework.”

  “Look at all these people,” Samantha said. I could hear the wonder in her voice. “How are we going to get past them?”

  “I’m not quite sure,” I said. It’d take hours to press through, and near as long to circumvent the crowd.

  “Solve your Society problem yet?” said a familiar voice.

  I looked to my left and saw Elephant leaning against a somber statue draped with red fabric. A bowler hat was perched on her head, and tilted so its brim dipped low. Her sly gray eyes flashed from beneath and took us in.

  She wore a suit, similar in cut to the one I had seen before, but this one was charcoal gray tweed. Two thick-necked goons loitered nearby. One was the muscled dimanian with stubby jet-black horns I had seen in Elephant’s warehouse, the other a paunchy human with a lantern jaw.