God Killer (Redneck Apocalypse Book 3)

by eden Hudson

  Just as I made it to the pull-down stairs, somebody grabbed my arm. The static in my brain dropped to a low whine and the sound faded back into the world.

  “Tough?” Scout said. “Where have you been? You’re bleeding. What the hell?”

  I shook her off and took the steps two at a time. By the time I got to the top, Lonely and Clarion had joined the party.

  I lifted one end of the TBG-7 crate until the roll of razor wire slid off and hit the floor. The crate’s lid was nailed shut. I dug at it for a second with my bare fingers, then started looking around for a pry bar or claw hammer.

  Clarion was the first to stick his snout in it. “What’s going on?”

  I ignored him. Grabbed a bayonet knife out of a box full of them, levered the blade into the crack, and put all my weight on the handle. The nails creaked. The lid gave about a quarter inch. I shifted the bayonet to a new spot deeper in the crack and threw my weight onto it again. The nails screamed and the lid popped off. I tossed it and the bayonet off to the side.

  “Somebody’s got bleeding on the brain,” Lonely said, not bothering to come all the way up into the attic. “And I don’t mean medically. Who’s the target, tarnished one?”

  They’re… Words wouldn’t come, just a shot of her face falling back toward me, tears dripping down into her ears. I scooped handfuls of packing straw out of the crate and threw them on the floor. They’re hurting her.

  “The angels have his girlfriend,” Lonely explained for Clarion and Scout.

  They don’t just have her. They’re torturing her. I pulled a TBG-7 out of the crate. Hefty. Good. I pointed it at Lonely. Now, where do you keep your launchers?

  “No,” Lonely said.

  No?

  “You heard me, and you’re crowspawn, so I know you understood me.” Lonely flapped up into the attic and wheeled around Scout so he could land in front of me. He shifted back to human form and crossed his fat arms. “You’re not running off to have a showdown with Kathan. Not with my warheads, and not after everything we just went through to organize this uprising. You’ll lose the last battle before it even gets started.”

  Oh, and now you care so fucking much?

  “Lonely’s right,” Clarion said. “You can’t just run in there, guns blazing. They’ll put a stake through your heart, then go back to whatever they’re doing to your girlfriend.”

  I’m not going to run in there. Me and my new best friend here are going to paint those basement walls with fallen angel.

  “If they’re really torturing her, then they’re not going to kill her,” Lonely said. “You torture with a goal in mind, not to kill. They’ll keep her alive until they’ve achieved their goal.”

  I guess in whatever reality crows were from, that was the kind of thing that passed for comforting. I snorted, but didn’t bother responding. I shoved around Lonely and went for an unlabeled crate. The lid was already loose on that one. I tore it off. No launchers, just disassembled bipods.

  “Someone shot you,” Clarion said.

  Can’t sneak anything past a coyote.

  Lonely relayed that one, but Clare didn’t take offense.

  “They saw you,” the coyote said. “That means they know that you know what they’re doing to her. They’re going to use her against you. They’ll try to draw you out.”

  I waved the TBG-7 at Clarion. Hey, look. It’s working. Then I glared at Lonely. If I could get a fucking launcher.

  “Tough.” Scout was looking at me like I’d slapped her or something. “She’s not even… She left you. What…” Scout must’ve realized then that she was talking out loud because she shook her head like she was trying to reset her brain. “Tough, that coward bitch chose Kathan. She picked the fallen angels over us—over you. She’s getting what she deserved.”

  My teeth ground together. Some predatory vampire sense warned me that Lonely and Clarion were tensing up, probably getting ready in case they had to stop me from ripping Scout’s throat out.

  “Regardless,” Clarion said. “We can’t just leave an innocent bystander—”

  “She’s not an innocent bystander!” Scout stomped her foot like a little brat throwing a tantrum. “This is her fault!”

  “Whatever you want to call it, we can’t leave her with them,” Clarion said. “But Tough, you need to stop and think for a second. You can’t fire a thermo round into a basement and expect anything mortal to survive. The fallen angels will heal. Your girlfriend won’t.”

  Shit. He was right. I’d be scraping what was left of Desty off the walls. The pit of my stomach ached and the muscles in my arms and legs jittered. I didn’t know what to do. Fuck, I didn’t know what to do.

  My fist tightened around the shaft of the TBG. If I wanted to save Desty, I needed Clarion and Lonely on my side. I couldn’t get her out by myself.

  Lonely, tell him I saw the sword. Rian has it. I also saw about twenty more vehicles parked out front—two of them helicopters—and a bunch of fallen angels I didn’t recognize. I swallowed. I had to stop there before I lost my shit all over again thinking about those fuckers laughing and talking while Desty cried.

  Lonely relayed everything to Clarion.

  The coyote considered it. “He’s gathering the legions.”

  What if I went in and got Desty? Grab her and get out, then somebody outside lights up the Dark Mansion with the TBG. The angels might heal, but it’ll take them at least a few minutes to go from meat paste back to—

  “They’ll stake you before you get through the door, tarnished one,” Lonely said.

  My eyes landed on a box of shotgun shells marked AP-INCEN.

  Maybe not. If I can get in, will you guys back me up?

  Lonely laid out the gist of what I’d said for Clarion.

  “Tough, how can you not see what a terrible idea this is?” Scout asked. “We need to forget about that coward tourist whore and focus on training the humans so we can go after the Sword of Judgment. We can’t risk the last battle on a doomed rescue mission.”

  “Too late,” Lonely said, shifting his shoulders like he was shaking out his wings. “They know the tarnished one was there. If they haven’t already sent the Tracker after him, they will.”

  “We need to press what’s left of our element of surprise before it’s gone,” Clarion said. “Right now the fallen angels think they’re just dealing with Tough. Even if they know about the humans organizing, they probably assume it’s just a few angry kids. They won’t expect those kids to be armed and accompanied by primals. It’s not a great plan, but if Tough does manage to get in alone, they’ll concentrate on stopping him. They won’t look for anyone else.”

  Lonely twisted one of his lip rings with his split tongue. “Tough goes in, then two separate waves of ground troops, one aerial squad, then an exit round to give ourselves time to run.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking,” Clarion said, nodding. “Maybe Tough can get the girl out, maybe somebody can get their hands on the sword.”

  “Maybes are better than nothing,” Lonely said.

  Scout’s fists clenched and unclenched. She took a long breath and let it out before she opened her mouth.

  “I won’t force any of my people to go in,” she said. “I’ll ask for volunteers.”

  That was as close to an agreement as I would probably get from Scout, but I wasn’t too worried. Thanks to her stupid freedom propaganda, everybody in Scout’s army was a volunteer.

  We headed downstairs. Lonely nodded at the crows hanging around his drafting desk. Some had stayed in human form, others were in their true form. They all crawked and flapped and nod-pecked at each other.

  Clarion went straight to his packs. Any coyote who wasn’t already on four legs shifted, and crowded in shoulder-to-shoulder around Clarion. There were so many of them that it took almost a whole minute of biting, growling, and moving around for the coyotes to get into an order they could all agree on.

  I headed for Dodge and Willow. If anybody would back me up, it wo
uld be them. Scout obviously wasn’t in any hurry to give her army the news because she tagged along behind me.

  Dodge nodded when he saw me. “What’s up?”

  I gestured at Scout so she would tell him. She cocked her body like she was about to throw some stupid teenager fit, then said, “He wants to attack the Dark Mansion tonight.”

  “Tonight?” Dodge asked. “I thought we were going to have some time to train first.”

  “That tourist girl,” Scout said. “Kathan’s familiar’s sister—”

  “Desty,” Willow said.

  Scout kept on talking like she hadn’t heard. “Tough thinks Kathan’s hurting her and he wants us all to go running in to save her, even though she chose her side and it damn sure wasn’t with us.”

  “If Kathan’s hurting her, then Tough’s right,” Will said. “We’ve got to do something. What’s the plan?”

  “No offense,” Scout said in that voice that means all the offense, “But do you even know which way to point a gun?”

  Willow smiled. She reached behind her back, lifted up the hem of her baby-t and pulled out a big honking .45 with mother-of-pearl grips and a laser sight clipped to the barrel. She popped the mag, stuck it in her pocket, pulled back the slide, ejected the round from the chamber, and caught that fucker midair.

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” Will said.

  Scout’s jaw hit the floor, but she covered that shit up fast with a scowl. That might’ve been the first time I’d felt like smiling for real over the last few days.

  “Where’d you get that?” someone behind me asked. I looked over my shoulder. It was Drake.

  And almost every other human in the building.

  “It used to be my dad’s.” Will’s ears went red, but she didn’t quit grinning. “One of the foot soldiers snuck up on me and Owen when we were practicing with it a few years ago, but I made a deal with him so we could keep it. Pretty good deal—I got a daughter and the only legal conceal and carry in Halo.”

  That burned away what was left of my good mood. Will was so nice. She’d never done anything wrong or hurt anybody in her life. People like her weren’t supposed to get fucked over—literally in her case—by the authorities.

  “Wait,” Addison said. “Whose is Bitsy? Is she Ashtaroth’s? She’s Ashtaroth’s, isn’t she?”

  “No,” Dodge said. “Bitsy isn’t some fucking fallen angel’s. She’s Willow’s. End of story. And now that we’re all done asking stupid questions, we should probably talk about Tough’s plan. We’re attacking the Dark Mansion tonight.”

  Apparently, that was what everybody needed to hear to get them back on track because they all shut up and looked at me like I was going to miraculously start talking.

  I pushed Scout out in front of me, then I crossed my arms and leaned against the piercing display counter. She wanted to be the general, let her.

  Scout cleared her throat.

  That feeling of having been in that exact same spot before was back. How many times had I stood around in crowds of people while we waited for Dad to tell us the plan?

  “We’re moving against the Dark Mansion tonight,” Scout said. “I know we thought we were going to have more time to get familiar with our weapons, maybe even some time for target practice, but it looks like tonight or never. We’re going after the Sword of Judgment, Mikal’s fiery sword. Rian has it now.”

  Dodge stepped up. “There’s a hostage, too. Tough’s girlfriend.”

  Scout flinched when Dodge said girlfriend, but it happened so fast that I think I was the only one who noticed.

  “This is volunteer only,” Scout said. “But we need to stress that most of the volunteers will probably die. It’s the fallen angels, so there’s a pretty good chance that all the training in the world wouldn’t have helped us anyway. Tonight isn’t really about finesse. We’re basically just looking to dump as much lead into them as possible while we try to get the sword and while Tough tries to get the hostage out.”

  I thought I saw a flicker of uncertainty in her gray eyes, but it was gone before I could be sure.

  “We’re not expecting tonight’s assault to be graceful or flawless,” Scout said. “I mean, crap, you guys, we have about as much experience with fighting non-people as vamps have sun-bathing. It’s going to be messy. So really think about this before you say you’re in. Think about what you’re saying yes to. Odds are that for most of us, this is a suicide mission.”

  She paused to let that sink in. I waited for somebody to say something, to make any kind of argument about how retarded this was, about how we were all going to die because these were some batshit crazy hornets that we were about to stir up. Hornets who couldn’t die or be killed. Hornets who were faster, stronger, smarter, and a whole hell of a lot more experienced than we were.

  The whole tattoo parlor had gone silent. The coyotes and the crows were watching us.

  The tension in the back of my neck cranked up a few notches, and I tried to look around at the humans without being obvious about it. You can’t show weakness to any NP—even ones who are supposed to be on your side. That was pretty much the first thing you learned in this damn town. The second thing you learned was not to fight them because you would lose. Know you’re weaker, but don’t show you’re weaker.

  I had no idea how Scout had convinced these people to even show up tonight, much less agree to fight the power. It went against everything they’d done so far to stay alive. Those freedom speeches she’d been feeding them must’ve been seriously powerful.

  No human said anything. They were waiting for Scout to go on.

  Scout took a deep breath. “There’s one other thing. The Sword of Judgment…the one we’re after… In case you don’t know, if it cuts you at all, it sends you straight to Heaven or Hell. So, if you’re going to volunteer, you should make sure you know where you’re going and make sure you’re okay with it. Like I said, there’s a pretty good chance you’ll get there sometime tonight.”

  Less than a second passed.

  “I’m in,” Dodge said.

  “Me, too,” Willow said.

  Scout and I already knew they were volunteering, but I knew why they had said it again in front of everyone. It was something the band had figured out a long time ago, playing at Rowdy’s—if you plant somebody out in the crowd to yell the first request, it breaks the ice and lets everybody else know it’s okay to jump in.

  That crow-boy, Cash Pershing shouldered through the humans and nodded at Scout. “You going, too, shiny girl?”

  Scout didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

  “Then I’m in.” Him and Lonely had probably worked it out so that he would be the crow to speak up for the murder. He was the one these kids went to school with. Out of all the NPs in town, they liked and trusted him the most.

  “I’m in.”

  “Me, too.”

  Jim and Tawny Hicks spoke up at the same time. Then a girl from Scout’s class. Then it was like a mudslide of people volunteering. Nobody wanted to be left out of the dying.

  I squeezed the place where my neck met the back of my head, trying to force some of the tension out, and tried not to think about how we had worked the crowd. Just focus on getting Desty away from Kathan. Remember that this was what they’d wanted when they signed up for Scout’s army. But it still felt like we’d tricked them.

  Scout must’ve felt it, too, because she let out a little puff of breath and said, “If you die tonight, I’m sorry. I—” She swallowed and tried again, but she couldn’t go on. After a while, she gave up on that thought. She took a deep breath. “Okay. Clarion and Lonely are going to explain the details of the attack and we’ll sort out who is going in when. Then Cash and Talitha and I are going to hand out weapons to anybody who doesn’t have one. Try to get as familiar with them as possible. When we get there…just do whatever you can. It’ll be enough, I promise. And if you see Rian with that flaming sword Mikal used to carry around, scream and fill him full of lead.” She stood up straighte
r and looked around the room, meeting every eye in the crowd. “This is it, guys. This is where it starts. We closed down the Armistice Celebration and sent the tourists packing. Tonight we show the angels that we’re going to do the same to them.”

  “Hell yeah!” one of the boys from Scout’s class yelled.

  A couple people nodded. Someone near the back of the crowd clapped.

  Dodge stepped forward again. “Uh, I think maybe now would be a good time to pray. I know I’m not exactly a saint and I don’t do much more than lead the Sunday service, but since—” He nodded at me. “—since Tough can’t pray out loud anymore, or at all I guess, I will. Anybody who wants to can join in. Anybody who doesn’t want to or is offended at me suggesting it is welcome to fuck off.”

  That got some laughs. Everybody circled up. A few grabbed hands. Then a few more.

  Clarion and his packs came over. “Would it be all right if we joined in?”

  “Sure,” Dodge said. “Plenty of you guys are dying tonight, too.”

  More laughs. Even I smirked.

  Dodge took off his hat and looked around to see if everybody was ready. And since I wasn’t ready and never would be again, I took Dodge’s suggestion and fucked off. After a couple seconds, Lonely followed me.

  Upstairs, I grabbed a 12-gauge and that box of armor-piercing incendiary rounds I’d seen earlier. We’d never had any of these come through the arsenal back when I was still hanging around. Which was probably for the best. Ryder would’ve had way too much fun with those.

  Lonely smirked at my train of thought. “Point away from yourself. You’re a mite more flammable than you used to be.”

  I nodded. I wasn’t looking to spend any more time burning than I had to. I loaded the tube. It took eight rounds. If I survived long enough to run through those, I would probably get staked before I could reload, but I stuck a handful of shells in each pocket anyway. Better safe than sorry.

  That made me laugh. Probably the first and the last time I would ever think that.