by Paul Crilley
Every part of me is crying out in pain. My arms, my nose, my chest. I feel like I’m a single throbbing raw bruise. My muscles are seizing up and we haven’t even found Lilith yet.
I look around as we descend. The tunnel is old. The walls worn smooth. We pick up our pace, so that by the time the tunnel levels out about half a kay down we’re dripping with sweat. The heat has grown heavier, relentless. It sucks out every bit of moisture from our bodies.
I can hear sounds now. A low mumbling, as if a group of people are having a whispered conversation.
We keep moving, and eventually we see light coming from up ahead, a pulsing, lurid glow that leaks out into the tunnel from around a bend in the passage.
I pull out my wand and my Glock and we move slowly forward.
We follow the curve around and find ourselves a few feet from the end of the tunnel. A sickly, warm breeze touches my face, carrying with it the stench of gangrene and blood.
We edge forward, though every instinct is screaming at us to turn and flee. We pass through a rough arch at the end of the tunnel.
And stumble to a stop.
I look around in awestruck horror, feeling suddenly dwarfed, tiny.
We’re standing at the top of a stone ramp, looking down into a massive cavern. Indistinct light comes from somewhere, purple and red. It glows strong then soft, strong then soft, like the beating of a heart.
The walls . . .
I look to my left, at the wall closest to me. I reach out and gently touch it, then snatch my hand back.
The walls are made of flesh. Not skin, but flesh, like someone has stripped away the top layer, leaving behind exposed nerves and glistening sinew. I lift my gaze, taking in the entire cavern. Every single surface is covered. Bloody, quivering meat.
‘London . . .’
Armitage’s voice drips with horror. I follow her gaze, see something else embedded in the walls.
Faces.
They’re part of the flesh, growing from it. Insane eyes rolling, mouths opening and closing, moans of horror and terror issuing from them. My eyes scan the cavern. There are more. Hundreds of them – the source of the voices I heard.
‘What the fuck is this?’ whispers Armitage.
We edge forward, peering down the ramp. At the bottom is a mound of . . . something.
It looks like a heaving, cancerous mass of flesh, easily the size of a tank. And the mass is . . . connected to the walls. I look around. Everything is attached, part of a single organism that begins and ends with the mound below us.
Then I see Lilith. She’s walking slowly around the mass, watching it intently.
She hasn’t seen us. We move down the ramp, our weapons at the ready. She carries on walking around the mass, moving out of sight. We start to run when she vanishes, arriving at the foot of the slope just as she reappears into view.
She stops when she sees us. Frowns at me, but doesn’t say anything.
‘You told me there would be a selection,’ I say. ‘That only the guilty would be punished.’
‘I spoke the truth. Your whole race is guilty.’
‘Innocents are dying up there!’
‘No one is innocent, Tau. You of all people should know that.’
I shake my head in despair. ‘So, what happens? You wake this Sinwalker up? How does that help you? I thought you wanted the sins to return to God. That you would guide him in his anger.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. How can I guide something as insane as God? You’ve seen what he’s capable of. This way is better. The Sinwalker cannot hold onto the sins if he is awake. They will drive him mad. He will slowly push them out. They will seep into your minds. Your souls. They will spread across the world, infecting everyone.’ She smiles. ‘You will do our work for us. And we just . . . pick up the pieces.’
‘But won’t it affect your kind too?’ asks Armitage. ‘The orisha?’
‘No. God is an orisha. Just like we are. His sins have no power over us. They only affect humanity.’ She turns back to me. ‘This was always the plan, Tau,’ she says gently. ‘You knew that.’
I shake my head. ‘No.’
‘Yes. You sat in that jail cell and you listened to me talk and I knew you wanted this. I could see it in your eyes. It will be tough. To begin with. But there will be survivors. A few at least. We will make sure they’re taken in. Taken care of.’
I turn away from her, stare up at the heaving mass of the Sinwalker. She follows my gaze.
‘Not pretty is it? He used to look just like any other angel. But God’s sins have . . . changed him a bit.’
‘Angel?’ says Armitage sharply. ‘You’re saying this Sinwalker is an angel?’
‘The first and foremost.’ Lilith holds her arms wide, like she’s opening a show for an audience. ‘May I present to you the one, the only, Lucifer Morningstar.’
Lucifer?
I look at the Sinwalker in amazement. I take a step back, searching for anything recognizable in the pulsing tumour. A face. Arms. Legs. But there’s nothing. Just black, cancerous growths leaking pus and blood.
‘That’s not Lucifer,’ says Armitage. ‘No way. Lucifer fell. He’s ruling in Hell.’
‘A cover-up. Or propaganda. Both are the same.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ I say.
Lilith frowns. She cocks her head, thinks about it. ‘I suppose it is a lot to take in. Hold on.’
She disappears back around the black mass, then reappears dragging something along behind her. It takes me a moment to realize it’s a person who’s had his legs cut off.
The figure trails dark blood behind it as Lilith props it up against the mass and pats it on the head.
My breath catches.
It’s not a person.
It’s the archangel Michael.
‘Silly bastard was waiting here when I arrived,’ says Lilith. ‘Thought he could stop me. Always was a fault with that lot. Arrogance, thy name is angel.’ She leans down and slaps him till his eyes flutter open. He frowns and focuses on us.
‘Tell them, Michael,’ says Lilith. ‘Tell them the truth about the Sinwalker.’
He closes his eyes, tries to turn away, but Lilith grabs his hair and jerks him back. ‘I’ve already told them it’s Lucifer.’
Michael still doesn’t talk.
‘No? I’ll just tell them, shall I? Feel free to chime in if you need to.’
She turns back to us. ‘I was there, remember? I was the first wife of Adam. Selfish bastard, he was. Misogynistic pig. He didn’t even want me to speak, you know that? Wanted me to just sit there and be silent. To smile and nod and spread my legs when he wanted me to.’ She shakes her head. ‘I said no. So he went crying to God and I was disposed of. Kicked out of Eden as if I was nothing.’
‘What’s that got to do with Lucifer?’ asks Armitage.
‘Just that Lucifer was treated no better than I. He did everything God asked of him. He was the ultimate fall guy. You think it was he who slid into Eden to tempt Adam and Eve? Don’t be stupid. It was God. Glorious God and all his wonderful insecurities. Always testing. Always trying to catch us out. He could never just leave it alone. He was convinced there was a conspiracy. That everyone was plotting against him.
‘But the angels finally had enough. When God brought the flood they admitted he was being ruled by his sins. So they stepped in, came up with the idea of the Sinwalker. Only thing is, they needed a volunteer. Someone to spend the rest of eternity holding onto God’s sins, letting them eat away at his being. No one would step up. Not a single one of them. Not Michael. Not Gabriel, Not Raphael.’
She shrugs.
‘So Lucifer finally said he’d do it. Why not? He was already considered a pariah. The one who rebelled against God – which, by the way, was another test. God wanted to see who would stay loyal to him so he ordered Lucifer to rebel, to question his judgement in front of the others.’ She shakes her head. ‘There were other tests. The Watchers. The Grigori. All those angels, rotting away in
prison just because God was paranoid.’
Michael finally speaks. ‘We . . . we didn’t force him to become the . . . Sinwalker.’
‘No. You didn’t complain, either.’
‘It . . . made sense. He was already . . . tainted. His . . . loyalty will be rewarded.’
Lilith spreads her arms wide, taking in the entire chamber ‘Rewarded? Look at him. Look at where his loyalty brought him.’
Michael turns at us. ‘You . . . must stop her. He cannot wake up. If he does . . .’ He coughs up some black blood and wearily shakes his head. ‘Things are not as you think, Lilith.’
‘No. They never are with you lot, are they?’ She turns to me. ‘Everything you hate about the world – the corruption, the evil, the lying – it all starts with them. The angels.’
‘It . . . it is not like that. Please . . . listen to me.’
‘Why?’ She turns to Michael. ‘I’ll give you one chance. Convince me. Why shouldn’t I wake him?’
Michael stares at her. ‘You must . . . have . . . faith.’
‘Faith?’ Lilith bursts into laughter. ‘Look at where faith has got us. Look at where faith has got you.’
I’ve heard enough. I point my gun at Lilith. ‘Put him back to sleep.’
‘How am I supposed to do that?’ She gestures above the mass. I can see faint lines in the air, flicking around like headless snakes. ‘The wards are broken.’
‘So fix them.’
‘I can’t. I have no idea how they were built. I simply severed them.’
I turn to Michael. ‘Can you?’
‘Perhaps . . . Given time. And . . . the help of the other angels.’
‘There is no time,’ I say, frustrated.
‘Quite the pickle,’ says Lilith sympathetically.
I hear a moaning noise from the mass and turn my attention to a spot at about head height. There’s something there. I step closer. Is that . . . is that an eye? I lean in. It is. A single eye that flicks between us all, then comes to focus on me.
Is that him? Lucifer? Hidden beneath the growths. I stare into the eye, see the pain there. The pleading. I turn and look at my surroundings.
The mass, this whole cavern, it’s a . . . tumour on his body. Sins given diseased form.
This must be what Stefan had been talking about. God’s sins are just too much for one person, even if he is an angel. The sin-eaters needed to . . . draw them out, pull them into their own being. Like a syringe drawing out pus from an infected wound. To stop the sins from spilling out into the world.
But it looks like they weren’t doing their job. All this disease, it shouldn’t be here. I bet it all started when the sin-eaters themselves became corrupted. The cancers started to grow when the sin-eaters shifted their focus to making themselves rich.
I look up at the near-invisible wards. They’re shrinking now, disappearing into nothingness.
Which means there’s really only one solution here.
I take out my gun and hold it against Lucifer’s eye.
‘Don’t!’ Michael falls over, tries to pull himself towards me.
‘Why?’ I shout. ‘We all have to live with our sins. Why shouldn’t God?’
‘Please . . . I can’t explain. Just do not pull that trigger.’
Lilith takes a step towards me. I lock eyes with her. ‘Don’t you dare,’ she says.
‘London,’ warns Armitage. ‘Not sure that’s the best idea. Maybe we should think this through, eh?’
Michael points at me. ‘Human!’ he shouts. ‘I order you to put that gun down. On the authority of God himself. The All-mighty. Your master. Put. It. Down.’
I tighten my lips. ‘Mate, nobody is my master. Understand?’
I pull the trigger.
The bullet bursts Lucifer’s eyeball. Ichor and pus sprays across me, scalding hot. I snatch my hand away and lurch backwards, trying to wipe the mess off my skin.
The tumescent mass starts to shiver. Yellow powder forms in the air, drifting to the floor like fine snow. Armitage and I step back, covering our mouths and noses.
Michael is trying to drag himself away from the tumour. It’s leaking yellow bile now, streams of it pouring onto the pulsating floor.
The faces in the walls start to shriek, like terrified inmates in an asylum.
There’s movement in the rippling mass. Bulges pushing outwards like . . . massive blisters. The bulges grow larger, the skin growing thinner. Stretching . . . pushing. . . .
. . . Until they burst, blood and fluids falling in an unholy rain.
Seven translucent sacks slide out of the tumour, leaving behind gaping holes. They hit the ground and split open. Black, foul-smelling fluid spills across the floor, wisps of steam rising into the air.
I stare in horror. Lying in the fluids are seven figures, pale grey flesh covered with blood and mucous.
The figures rise slowly to their feet.
My heart skips a beat. The faces are empty, hungry, feral. Black eyes blink, survey the surroundings. The one closest to me opens its mouth and a bubble of black ichor bursts out and pours down its chin.
Michael is on his back, staring at the creatures in horror. ‘I warned you!’ he screams. ‘I warned you!’
‘What is it?’ I shout. ‘What’s happening?’
Michael looks at me. He’s in tears. ‘It doesn’t matter if you kill the Sinwalker! You can’t send God’s sins back to him.’
‘Why?’
‘Because God is dead!’ Michael screams. ‘We executed him.’
I blink in shock. I turn my attention to the figures as understanding crawls up my spine. The seven deadly sins. If God is dead they have nowhere to go, nowhere to return to.
And with the Sinwalker dead, they’ve taken on form.
Armitage grabs my arm and pulls me away. We back up slowly, watching as Lilith approaches the sins. She holds a hand out, almost as if she’s giving a treat to a dog.
‘Here now,’ she croons. ‘Aren’t you all just perfect? A true gift from God. Would you like to help me? Would you like to help me destroy the world?’
In answer, the seven sins tilt their heads back and scream, an ear-splitting shriek that scars my soul. I clap my hands to my ears as Armitage and I move quickly back up the ramp.
The sins stop screaming. Lilith smiles, steps forward and reaches up to touch the face of the closest one.
Armitage and I are at the arch at the top of the ramp by now. I grab one of the grenades Parker gave me. I hold it up to Armitage. She nods. I pull the pin and throw it back towards Lilith and the seven sins.
The grenade hits the ground and rolls down the ramp. The sins turn to watch as it bumps up against Michael.
Lilith starts running. Armitage and I are already in the tunnel, sprinting as fast as we can. The grenade explodes, a terrific roar of sound. The concussion hits, throwing us both to the ground. A huge cloud of dust billows past us. We scramble to our feet and sprint up the slope, heading back towards the storm drains. The ceiling is coming down behind us. Rocks and stones sliding from the wall, hitting the ground, forcing us to leap and dodge to stay alive.
I can’t see anything. My lungs are filling with choking powder. Can’t breathe. I look around. See hazy darkness. I try to call out for Armitage, but I inhale another lungful of dust. My throat constricts. Flashes of white before my eyes.
A rock falls and hits me in the shoulder. I drop to my knees. Try to crawl on. But then I realize I don’t know if I’m going up or down. I’m trying to breathe, but there’s nothing left. No air.
I push myself to my feet, struggle on. Have to keep going.
And then we’re through the hole in the wall, back into the man-made storm drains.
The choking dust isn’t as bad here. We fall to our knees, coughing and spluttering, spitting up black phlegm.
We don’t hang around. We struggle to our feet and get moving, retracing our steps towards the exit. After about a hundred metres there’s a deep trembling beneath our feet, followe
d by a long, drawn out crash.
‘That’ll be the tunnel leading into that cavern collapsing,’ says Armitage. She pauses, then smiles. ‘It’s over.’
I nod, then take a deep, shuddering breath. I’m finished. Exhausted. But we did it. We stopped Lilith. Stopped the seven sins. Dropped a cavern on their heads. Which hopefully means we stopped the battles raging through Poison City.
I allow myself a brief moment of self-congratulation.
Stupid.
It’s only a few moments later when I hear the noise.
I pause, turn back. There it is again. A shuffling sound, then splashing water. Echoing back through the tunnels.
I pull in the last of my energy and send out my shinecraft, tendrils of awareness drifting back along the tunnels, trying to track the sound.
I eventually spot it. A figure making its way through the storm drains, limping, clearly hurt.
It’s Lilith.
Fuck.
Should have known it wouldn’t be this easy.
Armitage is pretty far ahead by now. She arrives at the next turning and realizes I’m not following.
‘Come on then,’ she calls. ‘Haven’t got all night.’
I hesitate. I could just keep going. Leave it. Think about tracking Lilith down another day.
Except . . . I can’t, can I? I can’t let her live. Not after what she did. It’s up to me to finish it. I’m the one who brought her here. I’m the one who gave her the sin-eater’s soul.
I look into the satchel. Two grenades.
I take one out.
‘London? What are you doing?’
Armitage starts to walk toward me.
‘Stop!’ I shout.
She stumbles to a stop, checking her surroundings as if expecting an attack.
‘What?’ Her voice is urgent.
‘It’s not done.’
‘What’re you talking about?’
‘I . . . have to finish this. It’s my fault, Armitage. I have to end it.’
I pull the pin out of the grenade. The metallic sound echoes around the storm drain.
‘What was that?’ Panic in her voice. ‘London? Don’t be a silly bugger now.’
‘Armitage.’
She hesitates, peers towards me. ‘What?’
‘You better run.’
