“No!” Ellen cried.
Everyone was looking at her.
“How could you do such a thing?” she asked.
How could these people, these fucking Fore idiots who didn’t even have to risk their own lives, call for something so evil?
“No!” she shouted. “That’s barbaric!”
Father Klein nodded sadly. “In the Good Book, there were terrible punishments for certain crimes. Rebellious children were to be stoned. Cities that harbored apostates were to be put to the torch. In the old world, that sort of justice seemed cruel to us because we led blessed lives. In the old times, when God’s people were nomads roaming in the desert, if someone did something wrong, it could cause the whole tribe to be killed. That’s why conformity was so important. That’s why those laws seemed so harsh. Here, in Hell, we can now see God’s wisdom in giving such laws. Here we are, in a place where a single person can bring about the destruction of our entire village. It is still possible, if the Infidel Friend come back, that your actions have doomed us. That’s why our punishments seem so barbaric to you.”
“Seem!” Ellen was seething with rage.
El Cid would never allow something like this.
Massan put a hand on her shoulder. “Be easy, Ellen. It is okay.”
He looked as calm as she had ever seen him. He wasn’t even sweating.
Massan stepped towards the table. “You are very generous, First Citizen, to allow me to choose my punishment. You know I cannot choose exile, because I love Kara too much. I must stay with her. I offer you my hand.”
Ellen wanted to shout at them. She wanted to throttle them.
These people are evil. They stopped thinking, hoping that would defeat Satan, but all that did was let the Devil in.
But it was more than that. These people were rotten. Maybe they had been born rotten. Or maybe someone had planted a dark seed deep inside their hearts—a seed that grew up to poison their souls. Ellen looked at Chelsea. There was look of disgust on the Citizen’s face, and instinctively Ellen knew that the woman agreed with her.
“It was worse in Hellespont,” Rick whispered. “That’s why El Cid had to do what she did. They had become so much worse.”
If Turi was here, if he hadn’t died, he would have redeemed these people. He would have grown up and talked sense into them. I know he would have.
Maybe that was the important thing Rick had spoken of, the thing that Turi had to do.
And if I am to replace Turi in Rick’s heart, does that mean I have to redeem these people?
“Cris!” George said, his voice loud enough to wake Julian.
The Infidel Friend George had called Cris crawled out of the chute. He stood in an odd manner. First he held his torso up with a posted arm and then he swung one leg under himself. The infidel named Cris crossed the room and shook George’s hand.
“I’m glad you’re alive,” Cris said.
More Infidel Friend were coming. There was a tiny girl with dark hair and brilliant green eyes. There was a blond man who looked like a statue come to life. There was a tall, lithe black man with a shaved head. There was a couple, a man and a woman, who shared a kiss as soon as they entered the room. All of them stood in the same way Cris had.
Then Molly came through. Unlike the others, she scrambled clumsily to her feet.
Julian felt his jaw grow slack. At first he couldn’t believe he was seeing her, but then after he closed his eyes and looked again, his heart began leaping in his chest.
She had changed. She was svelte, as thin as he could ever remember her being. Her face seemed more grim now, more serious.
But doesn’t mine?
“Molly!” Julian cried.
He stood, rushing towards her.
A surprised grin spread across her face. “I thought you were dead!” She caught him up in a fierce hug. “Oh, God, Julian. We thought you were dead. We were sure you were dead!”
Julian’s blood ran cold. This conversation couldn’t continue. If it did, he would have to tell her what happened to him. He would have to explain about how they’d raped him. About how they broke him. How he had given up God. These were things he wasn’t ready to talk about. Worse than that, with her here, he no longer felt strong. He felt like the little boy who’d dared the Carrion in secret each and every day to access his cache of devilwheat. The boy who’d been forced to get that devilwheat so he could afford to buy the love and acceptance of the Harpsborough people. That Julian couldn’t withstand Selena. That Julian couldn’t survive the Carrion.
He noticed her face had changed too.
What is she doing here with these Infidel Friend?
She must also be feeling shame. Only, where Julian’s experiences had made him more holy, Molly’s had obviously done the opposite.
“What about Aaron?” Molly asked. “Or Patrick or Kyle? Or Duncan? Have you seen them?”
Julian shook his head. “I saw Turi and Galen. Turi said that Aaron and some others were waiting for me, but . . . well, he was able to get away. Maab sent some soldiers after them, though. I don’t think that . . .”
Molly nodded. “I was just hoping, you know, for Alice’s sake.
Alice.
“And who’s Julian?” The tiny Infidel Friend motioned towards him.
“Julian’s a community leader opposed to Selena,” George said. “I brought him because he’s got a group of Christian converts. He’s anti-slavery. I’m planning to help him if there is a rebellion.”
Cris cocked his head to one side. “You from Harpsborough?”
Julian had never seen the man before.
“Yes,” Julian said.
Cris snorted. “Figures. George, let’s get down to business. How much time do you have?”
Molly stepped back to stand by Cris’ side.
She loves him. She’s fallen for an Infidel Friend.
George shrugged. “At least a couple hours, but we should be quick, just to make sure. Hard to measure time, you know.”
The tiny one nodded. “Very true.”
Molly, the infidels and George were standing in a circle. Julian joined them.
“She’s in charge, George,” Cris said, pointing to the tiny one. “You can report to El Cid here.”
“My soldier contacts have been getting promoted,” George said. “I’m a little afraid of them exposing me now, but I think I should be safe. If they rat me out, then Selena is going to catch on to the fact that they were part of my organization for years, and that won’t be good for them. The positive part is, though, that I’m getting a lot more news than I used to. There was a full on battle with army of Blood and Stone. Rumor is that Lucreas has returned, and that he came to speak to Maab. Maab refused to obey him, so that’s what started the war.”
“Makes sense,” Cris told El Cid. “Maab is the nastiest woman you’d ever meet, but even she’d not deal with devils.”
El Cid nodded. “Go on, George.”
“Anyway, the City people started coming in and took over some of her food caches. A lot of Maab’s deep tribes were cut off. Some haven’t reported in almost a year. Others have managed to sneak some messengers through. Maab has no idea how many of them are left. Food got tight for a little bit, but Maab struck back. First she buckled down on local raiders. Anyone who was tapping a cache was killed. Then she attacked. La’Ferve, Gilgamesh, and Nephysis ambushed a Blood and Stone army and were able to defeat it.”
El Cid smiled, crossing her arms under her tiny breasts. “Good contact, Cris.”
George smiled. “There’s more, too. Right now Maab suspects Nephysis has turned against her, or that he’s at least playing both sides. Her scouts have found corpses that look like they were raised by Nephysis in the deep. Supposedly, they are being used to build bridges and dig. Maab thinks they’re trying to dig out an Archdevil named Tu-El.
“I think Maab’s putting a group together to try and sabotage their digging efforts—”
El Cid held up a hand. “You said he had
undead building a bridge?”
“Yes, or practicing building one. I’m not sure if I believe my sources. Apparently they were building the bridges randomly, ones that didn’t have any purpose. I don’t know, again, my reports are all second and third hand.”
The blond one spoke. “Do Furies attack corpses, Father?”
Cris nodded his head. “My understanding is that they do only when the corpses are under a devil’s control. Nephysis, though, must have found a way around it. I saw them prepping construction by the Erebus.”
El Cid took in a deep breath. “That’s why you were so worried.”
“That means they’re trying to rescue Saint Wretch?” the female of the couple asked.
Cris nodded. “Go on, George. Anything else?”
“Yes,” George said. “There’s something called an angel’s get running around. They’re trying to catch it.”
El Cid’s lips pursed for a second. “So the worst case scenario is that we face an army led by Lucreas Crassus and a recovered Tu-El—who’s nice and pissed off after being buried for a millennia and a half—along with Saint Wretch himself and his pet Archdevil.”
“That’s going to be one hell of a call they’ll put out,” the male of the couple said.
“You sure we can’t fight alongside Maab’s armies?” El Cid asked Cris.
Julian was terrified by the suggestion.
If Maab and the infidels were to work together . . .
Cris shook his head. “Sorry. She’s evil.”
El Cid looked surprised. “More evil than Saint Wretch?”
“I’ve infiltrated both her complex and the City of Blood and Stone. I’m not joking when I tell you I preferred the City. That bitch is rotten to the core. If we’re going to use a local army, it’s got to be one raised from rebellions.”
El Cid frowned. “When Ares came through here he reported that the culture was intractable.”
“Possibly,” Cris said. “But things are different now. We’ve got Malkravyan set up with Calimay. We’ve got Julian here. It could be possible. Free the slaves, set up little governments, get them ready to fight.”
Julian felt a shiver run down his back when El Cid turned her gaze towards him.
“How many men do you have?” El Cid asked.
“I don’t know,” Julian said. “I wouldn’t tell you if I did.”
George sucked air in through is teeth. “They’re set up in cells. It’s smart, so that if one group falls, the rest won’t go down.”
“Effective at keeping your movement alive,” Cris said. “But you’re going to have a hell of a time figuring out when you’re capable of striking.”
“I’ll tell you this,” Julian said. “I’ve heard you speaking, and you’re talking about using us. If I do gain control of Selena’s complex, I have no intention of turning it over to you.”
Molly frowned and shook her head.
El Cid approached him. Instinctively, he took a step back.
“You won’t be serving us,” El Cid said. “What we’d ask is that you’d work with us. That you’d fight beside us against the City of Blood and Stone. Trust me, at that point, they’d be attacking you anyway.”
Julian looked away.
The female of the couple snorted. “Ares was right. Intractable. We’re going to have to send out our own call. Bring an infidel army. I mean, if it really is Saint Wretch coming, we all knew it was going to come down to that at some point.”
El Cid looked back towards the chute. “If it’s Saint Wretch coming, an army might not do any good.” She turned to George again. “You sure you don’t have enough men to stage a revolt?”
“I’m afraid not. My contacts are good for information, but I think they want to play both sides here. In the end, their loyalty is with their priestesses. Julian is the guy who has people willing to fight for him.”
“Very well,” El Cid said. “We appreciate your time. We’re going deeper in, George. It looks like when we come back this way, we’re going to try extraction.”
George nodded. “I long to be free. Come back soon, huh?”
“I know you hate us, Julian,” Cris said to him, “but we can take you, too. Drop you back at Harpsborough.”
Home.
Julian felt as if the air had been knocked out of him. He could be free. He could taste the honey again. He could spend time laughing with the Citizens.
They never cared about me. They cared about the devilwheat, and I won’t be able to get that now.
And it was the wrong choice, besides. The Infidel Friend were evil. He couldn’t abandon all his brothers back in Selena’s compound.
“No,” Julian said.
Cris shrugged. “Let us know if you change your mind.”
“Julian!” Molly said.
Julian turned his head away.
“These are good people, Julian! They don’t hoard food like the Fore. You don’t have to pay them to make them accept you. They’re good for Hell.”
“Go,” Julian said.
“Julian, you don’t understand.”
“I said go!” he shouted.
Molly walked towards him, so he held out a hand to stop her.
“Julian I—”
“I won’t speak to an Infidel Friend!” Julian insisted.
“No.” Molly’s voice cracked. “No, that’s not what I mean. I’ve just been in Harpsborough. Do you want to know about anyone? I can tell you how they’re doing. Mancini’s still making that new brew. They made Martin Lead Hunter. Would you believe that? Lead Hunter. He’s done pretty good, too, from what I hear. John’s still in the Fore . . .”
Tears were building up in his eyes. He pushed Molly away, but she kept talking.
“Massan might be in some trouble, but he’s going to do a union ceremony with Kara. I saw Chelsea, she was your favorite Citizen right? She was—”
“Shut up!” Julian shouted.
He couldn’t take this. The memories of his friends, of his life, they were tearing down the walls of Faith he had built up around his soul. Couldn’t she tell she was hurting him? Or did she just not care because she was an infidel now?
“She was standing on the balcony,” Molly continued. “She was sad, Julian. She was so sad. She was looking out here, to the Carrion. It think she hasn’t been right since Aaron left—”
“I said shut up!” Julian screeched.
His tears were running freely down his cheeks. He covered his face with his hands.
“Go!” He yelled. “Just go. I have nothing to say to you. I have nothing to say to you.”
He dropped to his haunches and looked up at her.
She seemed like she was about to cry. Julian had never seen Molly hurt like this. Before, her tears had always been shed to cause someone else pain.
The one called Cris put his hand on her shoulder. Molly stepped back.
One by one, the Infidel Friend crawled back out. Julian made sure not to look at the hole until he was sure that Molly had gone through it.
He turned to George, but the man wouldn’t meet his gaze.
Arturus watched as Johnny doubled over and vomited bile and chunks of partially digested corpseflesh. The scent was unbearable and the vapors made his eyes sting.
Johnny rolled over to his side, crying. “I can’t. I can’t.”
Galen was standing over him. “We don’t have any water left to keep you hydrated, Johnny.”
Johnny looked back up at him. His eyes were terribly bloodshot. “I’m trying!” he shouted. “Please, God. I’m trying!”
“If you do not do this,” Galen said, his voice calm and even, “you will die.”
Johnny’s mouth hung open as he tried to catch his breath. He gave a few dry heaves. Some bile dribbled down his chin. “More. Give me more, I will try again.”
“I will not risk another trip to the gate.”
“You want me to die?” he asked, pointing towards the splint they’d made for him. “You can’t leave me like this!”
> “No Johnny, that’s not what I’m saying.”
Johnny’s brow furrowed in confusion. His eyes searched all around before meeting Arturus’ gaze.
Arturus looked towards the puddle of vomit and corpseflesh.
Johnny’s face froze. For a long moment he lay there, motionless. Then he turned back to Galen. “I can’t.”
Galen nodded. “It is possible you are telling the truth. Your body may not allow you to do this. It cannot know that this is the only way, the only possibility you have to live.”
“No,” Johnny said.
He was beaten. His downcast eyes looked lost. This was the same expression Arturus remembered seeing on Johnny’s face during their climb down into the Deadlands.
But then something clicked inside the hunter, and his nostrils flared with anger. “I won’t quit.” Johnny faced the vomit. “I won’t quit.” He stared at it. He cried.
Arturus turned to his own portion. Several hours ago, he had mixed what corpsedust they’d extracted with his water and drank it—but it was not enough. The corpses would still know he was alive. He had to take in more. Already he felt the poison in his body—and in his mind. There were whispers, voices which belonged to no one. Sentences that went nowhere. The walls moved, back and forth, sometimes melting into the floor.
Aaron cried out in frustration.
Avery was holding his nose as he chewed.
Kelly’s face was as pale as Arturus had ever seen it.
“You will be nearly dead,” Galen’s monotone voice informed them. “You will feel the death in your soul. You will succumb to the illusion that you are being separated from your body. You must not give in to this. You must not pass on to the other side. You may hallucinate that you are already dead. In your feverish delusion you might already think you are a corpse. You cannot do this because that path may lead you to a place you can never come back from. Your will alone will keep your body moving. Your will alone will keep you alive.”
Arturus picked up the severed arm that lay before him and bit into the bicep. The dead flesh was unlike any meat he’d had in his life. It tasted—rotten. The skin was dry, almost flaky. Its bitterness filled the back of his mouth. Then it crept up into his nose and inched down his throat.
March till Death (Hellsong Book 3) Page 17
