Redemption Song (Daniel Faust)

by Craig Schaefer

  “Fine,” Sullivan snapped. “Very clever. Very creative. It changes nothing. You have the ring. We have the guns. Hand it over. Now.”

  I shook my head. “It’s hidden, but it’s not somewhere you can find it. Trust me on this one.”

  Forty-Three

  We had made a little detour on our way out to the Silk Ranch.

  Two blocks away from Lauren’s house, with sirens wailing in the distance, Caitlin pulled her car to the side of the road. The Wardriver rolled up, and Pixie leaned out the driver’s-side window. She held out a small burlap bag, but didn’t toss it to me.

  “I still have questions about what we did here tonight,” Pixie said. “About this whole mess.”

  “I know,” I told her.

  “One question,” she said. “One question, and I want the honest truth.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Were we the good guys tonight?”

  I had to think about that one. Finally, I nodded.

  “As good as it gets, Pix. As good as it gets. You can only expect so much, you know. We’re only human.”

  She chewed that over, decided she could swallow it, and tossed me the bag.

  Back in Vegas, the crowd in front of Winter parted like they knew we were coming, and every door opened wide without a word being said, all the way down to the cellar. The Conduit waited for us, still and silent, beside a single burning candle.

  “You did it,” Sitri’s voice said with the Conduit’s lips. “You actually did it.”

  “We did it,” I said, standing at Caitlin’s side.

  “So you say. But now, the proof.”

  The Conduit pulled back its soiled robes. It hooked its fingers against the center of its mottled chest and pulled. Leathery skin tore and bones cracked like dry twigs as the creature slowly ripped open its own chest.

  What lay beneath the muscle and bone was a starless void.

  I stared into that vastness, deeper than space and infinitely more bleak, and my blood turned to ice. The Conduit’s lips curled into a broken smile.

  “Choose, Daniel Faust. Wear the ring, and become humanity’s champion, or sacrifice it for your heart’s desire. I won’t stop you. In fact, if you keep it, I’ll even let you walk out of here alive. You would be an interesting opponent.”

  I looked to Caitlin, but she shook her head.

  “It has to be your choice,” she said. “Yours alone.”

  I weighed the ring in my hand. Two futures, neither of them certain, both liable to end in disaster. I didn’t need magic to look down the road and see what was coming: trouble brewing, blood on my hands, and a shadow dogging my heels. Same as it ever was.

  It might be nice to be a hero for once in my life. To fight for a cause, to have something to really believe in. For all Sullivan’s empty talk about redemption, here was the real thing being handed to me for free. A shot at making up for the wreckage of my life. A shot at being a better man. A shot at forgiveness.

  It’d be a good way to paint targets over every single person I loved, too.

  I held Solomon’s ring up to the candlelight. I knew what I’d decide. I guess I’d known all along.

  “Nah, you keep it,” I said, and tossed the ring into the void. It tumbled and spun away, lost in that eternal dark.

  The Conduit hissed as it shoved its rib cage back together, the bones crackling as they knitted and sealed. Caitlin squeezed my hand.

  “You win,” I said to Sitri. “Happy now?”

  “Happy, yes, but you’re mistaken. Tell me, what do you think the purpose of my little game was?”

  I shrugged. “There were only two possible outcomes. One, see if I’d take the bait and put the ring on, and distract you from being bored for a while. Two, surrender the ring and take a weapon against you off the table. Either way, you won.”

  “The game wasn’t to amuse me,” Sitri said. The Conduit raised its arm, pointing a bony finger at Caitlin. “It was to prove to me that you might be worthy of her.”

  “I didn’t know what he was up to until last night,” she told me. “My father’s sense of humor can be…trying.”

  “Wait,” I said, looking between them. “What? Father?”

  “The most exemplary warrior of the Choir of Lust,” Sitri said as the Conduit’s blind gaze drifted toward Caitlin. “Besides me, of course. Making her my hound simply wasn’t enough. I had to adopt her. I have other children, true, and they shower me in gifts and pretty words…but none of them ever brought me angel wings.”

  “It’s not public knowledge,” Caitlin said. “The court wouldn’t react well to it given my low birth, but we agreed it was time to tell you. Besides, you’d figure it out eventually. You’re clever that way.”

  I arched my eyebrow at her. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

  “Yes,” she said and lifted my hand, gently kissing the curl of my fingers. “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” I whispered, and I knew I’d throw away a thousand chances at redemption just to hear her say those words again.

  “Your work isn’t done tonight,” Sitri said. “You’d best be off. And Daniel?”

  I tilted my head.

  “We’ll play again soon,” he said, and the Conduit stepped back into the darkness, its golden chains rattling against the frozen stone.

  Caitlin and I walked upstairs together, side by side. Her hand brushed my hip, rubbing against the odd bulge in my pocket.

  “What’s this?” she asked. I took out the velvet pouch from my lunch at the Blue Karma and showed her the brass collar nestled inside.

  “Naavarasi tried to bribe me with it. Apparently it’s a magic get-out-of-death-free card, with heavy strings attached.”

  Caitlin gave me a hard look and plucked it out of my hands.

  “Mine,” she said, and I wasn’t sure if she meant me or the bag. Then she grabbed my shirt and pulled me into a kiss that removed all doubt.

  • • •

  “You…threw it away,” Sullivan said in disbelief after I’d told the abbreviated version of the story. “The greatest weapon against hell ever devised, and you threw it away?”

  “What can I say?” I told him, shrugging. “It was cramping my style.”

  “You just sealed your doom,” he seethed. “And when we’ve slain the lot of you, we’ll be paying a visit to your friends, your families, anyone who ever meant anything to—”

  “That threat is getting old,” I said, and glanced to my side. “Melanie? You want to do your thing? See, Melanie figured out early on that I was running a con, and she wanted to help. I had just the job for her.”

  Melanie put her fingers to her lips and whistled, high and shrill. A moment later, all around the compound, doors swung wide and shadows emerged from the darkness. Men, women, teenagers, at least twenty people wearing everything from overalls and shitkicker boots to tailored three-piece suits. They joined us, forming a clustered line behind our backs. Most had rifles or shotguns, any weapon they could scrounge up at a moment’s notice.

  I looked back and pretended to count heads, then flashed a smile at Sullivan. “Huh. Look at that. We brought guns too. And we’ve got more than you do.”

  “I reached out,” Melanie said, “to my friends, and their friends, and their friends. On every private network and phone listing I could find. And everyone came. Every cambion from here to the California coast. They’ve all heard of you, Sullivan. So they came by car and bus and train, and they got here any way they could, just to be here tonight. Because we’ve got a message for you, and we want to make sure you’re listening.”

  Sullivan looked at her, suddenly pensive.

  Melanie pointed at him, her voice like a whipcrack in the dark. “Go away. You say you’re here to save us? We don’t need your kind of salvation. You say you love us? How can you love anyone when you hate yourself? I don’t hate you, Sullivan. I pity you. I pity you because you can’t see what’s right in front of your face: our blood doesn’t make us who we are. We do.
Our choices, our lives. So listen close, because we’re only going to say this once. You can sell your lies and bullshit back east all you want, but you are not welcome here!”

  Sullivan looked out over the gathered sea of faces, condemnation in their eyes. He shook his head.

  “How dare you—”

  Caitlin cut him off, sharply holding up one hand.

  “The prince’s amnesty,” she said, “extends to all. Hear me, members of the Redemption Choir: you have a choice. Get in your cars and drive into exile, or stay, and find a new home. No one will harm you, either way. It’s time to make your choice.”

  A cloud of silence settled over the ranch. Both sides stared each other down, unsure who would make the first move.

  Then one of Sullivan’s followers dropped his gun to the dusty ground and walked over to join us. The gathered cambion met him with open arms, taking him gently into their fold.

  “Get back here!” Sullivan shouted. “You can’t—you’ll be damned. I’m your only hope.”

  Another rifle clattered to the dirt. Another of the Choir walked across the divide.

  “I’m your teacher!” Sullivan ranted as another deserted him. “I’m your savior!”

  More of the Choir walked away, torn between hope and fear, leaving their weapons behind them. When the exodus was done, only four cambion remained at Sullivan’s side.

  “The rest of you,” Caitlin said, “drive east. Out of our territory. And never return. Sullivan, you also have the option of exile. This is the only mercy you’ll be offered. I suggest you take it.”

  “I decline,” he spat, his face contorted into a mask of rage.

  “Very well. As Prince Sitri’s hound and appointed persecutor of the Court of Jade Tears, I find you, Suulivarishisian, in violation of hell’s law. The sentence is death, to be carried out immediately.”

  “Come for me, then,” Sullivan growled. One of his hands was larger than it should be, fingers lengthening and sprouting yellowed claws as they curled at his side.

  Caitlin turned to me and rested her hand on my shoulder.

  “Cait, I—”

  “Daniel. Listen to me. This is my fight. I have to do this myself. No matter what happens, do not interfere. Promise me.”

  “But what if—”

  “Promise me.”

  I nodded reluctantly. “All right. I’ll stay out of it.”

  Emma waved her hand in the air and shouted, “Give them room. Everyone back!”

  A ragged ring formed around the open square, all eyes on Caitlin and Sullivan as they circled one another, ten paces apart. Sullivan didn’t stop with the claws. His spine bulged and bent, shirt tearing, and his eyes glowed like molten lava as spines pushed up through his skin. His face stretched and tore, leaving a nightmare of bone-plated muscle and jagged tusks in its wake. He looked like a mutated, tumor-ridden warthog on two legs, feral and twisted.

  “Change your form!” he cried. “You can’t defeat me in that human disguise, girl. I want Faust to see what you really look like. I want you to see the horror in his eyes, the rejection, just like I saw in my wife’s eyes before she died. You’re too weak to defeat me, you were always too weak, but in your true shape you might have a fighting chance. Change your form!”

  Caitlin dropped her trench coat to the dust. Underneath she wore an ivory silk blouse, black slacks, and a leather waist-corset lined with silver knives. She plucked two of the blades from their sheaths, holding them overhand, and dropped into a knife-fighter’s stance.

  “I decline,” she said. And then the fight was on.

  Forty-Four

  Sullivan charged at Caitlin, bellowing, but she wasn’t there anymore. She kicked up into the air, cartwheeling, and drove her daggers into Sullivan’s shoulders like a bullfighter. My heart soared—I was sure she had this—and that was when he whipped around, impossibly fast, and grabbed her by the legs. The crowd parted just in time as he hurled her through the air. Caitlin slammed into the wall of the ranch house hard enough to rattle the bricks, a blow that would have snapped a human’s spine, and crumpled to the ground.

  My cards leaped from my pocket and riffled into my hand, answering my subconscious call, but I squeezed them tightly and watched. I’d made a promise.

  Caitlin rubbed the back of her head, wincing, and Sullivan roared with triumph. He charged her, racing across the hard-packed dirt, but she rolled to the side a split second before impact. He rammed into the wall headfirst and blasted a chunk of brickwork to powder. She stood, swung out, and drove another dagger into his hip. He yanked his head free, still bellowing, and made a wild lunge that carved the air over her head.

  Caitlin ran. She dashed away from the buildings, out to the open ground littered with construction supplies and sleeping machines. Sullivan bared his tusks in a bestial grin. The crowd followed cautiously as he raced after her.

  “She’s not running away,” I murmured to Emma. “She wants him on open ground. She’s got a plan.”

  That was when I realized Emma was gone. I shrugged and jogged along with the rest of the crowd, getting as close to the action as we dared.

  Caitlin turned and drew another two blades, mirroring her stance at the start of the fight. Sullivan grunted and chortled, beckoning her over with hungry, grasping claws. She ran and launched into another spinning jump. He saw it coming. Sullivan grabbed her by the legs, spun around, and hurled her away. This time, instead of a wall, she landed on hard-packed earth. I heard the bones in her leg snap.

  Caitlin lay helplessly on the ground, clutching her broken leg, tears streaming down her cheeks. She tried to get up, pushing herself on one trembling hand, only to fall down again. Sullivan licked his lips.

  He charged, coming at her like a razor-studded freight train. She wouldn’t be able to get out of the way this time. I broke my promise without thinking twice, plucking a card from my deck, getting ready to send it flying.

  Then Sullivan disappeared as the ground slid away from under his feet.

  He plummeted down into the earth, and the trap he’d charged over—a green oilcloth tarp covered in dirt and rocks, went down with him. The hole was at least eight feet across, and I realized Caitlin had telegraphed her final move on purpose. She’d tricked Sullivan into throwing her clear across the pit, out of harm’s way. It hadn’t been a fight at all. She’d been in control of every move, hers and his.

  I ran to the edge. At the bottom of the hole, sharpened spears of metal rebar jutted up from the stony ground. Four of them impaled Sullivan’s twisted flesh. His wounds drooled with black ichor. He groaned, struggling to pull himself free.

  Melanie helped Caitlin to her feet. She leaned against the teenager for support, and looked down at Sullivan.

  “You see,” she said, “maybe you are stronger than me. But it doesn’t matter, and I’ll tell you why: because I’ve always been smarter than you.”

  She raised one weary hand, and the earthmover roared to life. White-hot headlights blazed like the judgment of God as it rolled close with its scoop raised high in the air. I could barely make out the figure of Emma behind the wheel.

  Sullivan figured it out a split second before Emma pulled the lever to drop the scoop. He had just enough time to scream. Quarried rock thundered down into the pit, filling it to the brim. When the dust settled, Caitlin stared down at the rubble.

  “You’ll make a lovely parking lot,” she murmured.

  A cry of raw panic jolted me to attention. Ben. He turned and ran, racing for the ranch house. Caitlin saw him go and pointed.

  “Take him!”

  I didn’t need to be told. I was already off and running, hot on his heels. I burst through a rickety screen door and into the darkened ranch house, then froze. He’d been just far enough ahead to hide, and with all the construction tools lying around, I needed to be careful. Nothing’s more dangerous than a cornered rat.

  The door to one of the bedrooms hung open, swinging ever so slightly on its hinges. I eased my way past a stack o
f drywall, keeping my eyes on the opening. The room beyond was stripped down for remodeling. Nothing left but a closet, an empty vanity, and a double bed with no sheets on the musty mattress. With no bulb in the overhead fixture, the room swam in shadow.

  A card jumped to my fingers, crackling with power.

  “Give it up,” I said softly. “Come on, Ben. It’s over. It’s time to show a little dignity and face the music.”

  I approached the closet, ready for a fight. I wasn’t ready for him to burst from his hiding place in the shadows behind the bed, screaming like a madman, throwing himself onto my back. I forced myself up and stumbled backward, trying to run him into a wall, but he had his arm locked around my throat in a sleeper hold. I pushed against him, straining to breathe, and fell against the vanity. It hit him in the spine, hard, and he let go with a grunt of pain. I wheeled around fast, but I didn’t have time to throw my card. He ran for the door, and straight into Emma.

  “Please,” Ben blubbered. “Please, Emma, just let me go. You don’t have to do this, just let me go—”

  I could see the sorrow in her eyes as she gently brushed his hair aside and kissed his brow.

  Then she snapped his neck.

  Ben’s corpse tumbled to the floor. Emma sank to her knees beside him, mute. She brushed her fingertips along his lifeless arm.

  If this was an action movie, that would have been her cue to say something badass. But this wasn’t a movie. It was just a stupid dead man and a grieving widow and a gulf of pain I couldn’t imagine. She opened her mouth and let out a long, keening cry that rose to a wail as she pounded her fists against her legs. As she broke into sobs, leaning her head against Ben’s chest, I saw Melanie appear in the doorway.

  “No, hey,” I said, moving fast to get between them and take Melanie by the shoulders, ushering her out into the hall. “You don’t need to see this. You don’t need to remember him like that.”

  She looked up at me. “Is he…?”

  “It’s over,” I said, and pulled her into a hug. She let me. She stayed there for a while, close in my arms, while her mother howled in the next room.