“Son,” said Judge Rosebudd, shaking his head in wonder, “the next thing you know, you’re going to call for the legalization of slavery.”
“I hate slavery,” said Wodan. “I was once a slave myself. It was a nightmare; no human being should ever live as a slave. Unfortunately, the Coil are eventually going to move into the black market for slaves that was once controlled by the Ugly. Because the Ugly were an illegal organization, they had access to men willing to shoot and kill and destroy primitive families in order to bring slaves in under the eyes of the Law. Slavery is already illegal in Pontius, but that never stopped the Ugly from making bribes and still selling humans at a profit. Slavery thrives in Pontius, but it’s illegal. Do you see what I mean? If you want to stop the Coil from making the same kind of profit that only an underground market can afford, then the best thing might be to legalize slavery in the form of temporary indentured servitude, and then hope that good men and women who are natural leaders will be able to use culture – not force – to show slavery for what it is and thus make it unpopular. Unfortunately, those people won’t come forward until they know they won’t be killed by gangsters.”
“And prostitution…”
“It’s the same as slavery. It’s a distasteful fact of life. It’s illegal now, so the Ugly kept women enslaved in basements and took the money they brought in, while the women had no legal recourse against their masters. If we made it legal, the market could be watched in the light of day.”
“I see where this is going,” said Judge Rosebudd. “Next you’ll say that we should throw away our gun laws… the only thing keeping this city from tearing itself apart!”
“If you want to stop the Coil from running their protection rackets, then let people arm themselves. The Coil would stop and think if they knew that threatening a small business owner could get them shot by a man who knows he doesn’t have to worry about being arrested for protecting himself.”
“This sounds like anarchy, son!” The judge laughed and looked from one to the other. “Should we just destroy all the Laws? What about murderers, rapists, thieves…?”
“It’s not anarchy,” said Wodan. “It’s only anarchy if men are wild beasts that have to be beaten down or else they’ll eat one another alive. I’ve seen too many good men and women to believe anything like that. We’ll keep a few Laws and, for the kind of people you just mentioned, we’ll draw a line. We’ll make three Laws against rape, murder, and theft – and anyone who crosses that line would have hell to pay.”
Judge Rosebudd fell deep into thought. “Just imagine, sir,” said Virgil. “The city is in such a mess, and it always has been, but just imagine what it would be like if Lawmen like me could concentrate on hunting down only the worst elements. We could leave everyone else alone and save ourselves a lot of wasted effort. Plus, I know you know about this, sir, but there are… well, there are a lot of crooked Lawmen out there. I’ve got people that I work with, and they… I don’t mean to be a rat, but they depend on the Law being complicated and unwieldy so they can get by on bribes and making deals on the sides that-”
“Do any of your superiors do that sort of thing?” said Rosebudd. “Give me names, detective, and I’ll-”
“End up getting me killed,” said Virgil. “But, it’s like Wodan’s been saying. If we take away their opportunity to get by on loopholes, then they wouldn’t even be a problem in the first place. Killing those black markets would put money in the hands of the citizens, instead of in the hands of criminals who can buy their way out of punishment.”
Judge Rosebudd nodded slowly, then fell silent. Wodan could see that the man was deep in thought. Wodan waited patiently and finished his lunch. Finally the judge blinked, lifted his head, and looked at Wodan.
“The thing is,” said Judge Rosebudd, “if we legalized drugs, then everyone in the city would start using them.”
* * *
Virgil and Wodan drove into a poor section. They sat in silence for a long time, then Wodan said, “So there will always be gangs in Pontius. We’ve done nothing to change anything.”
“We destroyed the Ugly,” said Virgil. “We did that much, at least.”
“The Coil, or another gang, will become what the Ugly were. If they haven’t already.”
“Are you... are you still going to see Pelethor tonight?”
Wodan nodded.
Virgil could tell that something dark was falling on Wodan. “Wodan, I think you-”
“Oh, this is Anne’s neighborhood,” Wodan said suddenly. “I haven’t seen her in a long time. Drop me off here, will you?”
* * *
Wodan sat around while Anne busied herself making noodles. They must have required a great amount of concentration, for she had to ignore Wodan completely. He stared at her and wondered at her unhappiness. What could he say to change her perspective, to make her throw off her chains and become something more? She wasn’t showing yet, but she would soon be a mother. Wodan remembered cutting through the cords that bound Scorpio to the corpse of Boris. He desperately wanted for Anne’s child to not be bound to a mother who hated life and a father who hated his wife and himself. On the one hand, he was disgusted by her apathy. On the other hand, he knew that changing the world started by changing the people in it.
“Anne, if I used my Coil money to start a publishing business, I could use Hunley’s tech on the cheap. I could finally get my stuff published, plus I know some people who are sitting on a goldmine of great stories that might really change people’s lives.” He paused, then said, “I’ll need a secretary. You interested?”
Anne hummed a noncommittal note.
Frustrated, Wodan said, “What if I bought your child from you?” She said nothing and, wanting to test her, he added, “And also bought you, as my personal slave?”
“Really?” she said, finally intrigued. “So what would you have me do for you, exactly?”
Wodan sighed and shook his head, then rose and stared out of a small, grimy window leading out onto the alley. A thin strip of blue sky was visible if he craned his head.
“Then again,” she said, “I doubt Pete would like that very much.” Wodan stood in silence for a long time. “I had a dream last night.”
“Oh yeah?” he said.
“It was about Ullrich.”
“Really?”
She nodded, said, “Mm hm.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing, really. He was just standing there. He looked the same as he does now, except... he was radiant. He was smiling at me and it was the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen. He radiated goodness. I felt... like everything was going to be okay.”
“Why haven’t you ever gone after Ullrich?” he asked. “He’s a decent guy. Better than most of us.”
“He was always nice to me,” said Anne. “I guess I always figured he was better than me. What do you think the dream means?”
“Just what it seems like. You want something better for yourself. Probably not even Ullrich, or any other man. Some part of you wants to break the cycle that you’re determined to continue.”
Anne hummed and Wodan knew that the matter had been filed away and would never be thought of again. He wondered if all dreams in Pontius were so simple, so streamlined.
Have thousands of years of living under demonic rule turned people in simpletons? he wondered. Robots without free will? Am I completely wasting my time here?
“Listen, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you,” she said, “but you can’t tell anyone else.”
“Don’t worry, Pete and I don’t even talk anymore,” he said. He moved to the entrance of her kitchen and waited.
Anne looked at him, smiling strangely, then rattled off a sordid bit of gossip involving one of their friends. Wodan listened until she was finished, then said, “I guess it’s time I left.”
* * *
Pelethor and the Hand stood before a small brick building tucked away near an alleyway.
“That’s
the place,” said Pelethor. “Here is the key that fits the lock.”
Hand took the thing and stuck it into a small pocket of his black suit.
“We’ve done a good job killing our enemies,” said Pelethor. “The Captains loyal to the old ways have come to fear every night, wondering if it will be their last.”
“I would like to do something,” said Hand, his harsh voice out of place in the light of day. “I would like to rescue my Lord Barkus.”
“Get those thoughts out of your head,” said Pelethor. “I know that you’ve been programmed to protect the man who seems, to you, to be the natural successor to the Head of the Ugly. But this is a new world, Hand, and we are a new order.”
Hand sighed and his shoulders stooped slightly. “Okay,” he said.
Pelethor turned and faced him directly. “Take off your mask.”
Hand stood immobile.
“It is the new way,” said Pelethor. “Do not be afraid.”
Hand slowly pulled the black mask from his head, then reached into his mouth and pulled out the wire and gauze contraption that changed his voice. Thick saliva dribbled down from the thing and he wiped his mouth on his armored sleeve. Pelethor studied him. The Hand blinked, unused to the light. His face was very pale and his eyes were clear and blue. Short, sweaty blond hair clung to his head. Hand and Pelethor stared at one another.
“What is your other name?” said Pelethor.
“It’s just Hand.” His voice was soft, even slightly high-pitched, but confident.
“Did you have a name before then?”
“I don’t know. I’m not like you. I don’t have a dozen different names. I’m just Hand.”
“Very well. Are you and the crew ready for the killings tonight?”
“Of course!” said Hand. He smiled openly, a childish gesture. Pelethor wondered how often Hand had smiled behind his mask, unseen and alone.
* * *
Wodan met up with Jens, who was also wearing his black-and-greens, and they walked the long distance to Pelethor’s mansion. Several Coil Soldiers nodded as they entered. Wodan saw that they looked nothing like the Soldiers that lounged around in most Coil offices; they were larger, older, dangerous looking men with experience.
One of the Coilmen led them through the hallways of the mansion. The rooms were dimly lit and had panels of real wood, but many of the walls were marked by strange scars, as if heavy blades had been dragged across them. The Coilman gestured toward the main dining room, then left. Wodan entered and saw many paintings of other Pelethors from bygone eras, each one looking very regal as he was depicted in the dress of his day. Every painting was slashed and disfigured in its own way.
Pelethor sat at the end of a long, empty table, and rose to greet them.
“Sir,” said Wodan. “You’ve not yet cleaned up since the berserkers attacked your home.”
“No,” said Pelethor. “I never want to forget.”
Wodan sat across from Pelethor and Jens took up a seat beside his friend. Pelethor’s four elite goons stood at either corner of the room.
“By now,” said Pelethor, “you must have heard that I’m a traitor to the Coil, and that I murder other Captains. Yes?”
“We’ve heard the talk,” said Wodan. “Welcome to the club!”
“Have either of you been ordered to kill me on sight?” asked Pelethor, smiling slightly.
“I haven’t been to work for a long time,” said Wodan.
“And my Captain,” said Jens, “mostly spends his time pretending the whole matter doesn’t exist.”
“I assumed as much,” said Pelethor. “Most of the Captains of the Coil are small, petty men. Anyone with any sort of foresight is already on my side. I’m sure my rampage will reach a critical mass in the next few days, and then I’ll have the complete loyalty of all the Captains.”
Wodan nodded, then said, “Soon, you’ll be the undisputed leader of the Coil. You have a drive that the Law and the Smiths lack. Once recruitment replaces the members lost during the battle against the Ugly, you’ll be in charge of the most powerful gang in Pontius.”
Jens had never thought of Wodan as an ass-kisser before, but he found himself annoyed by Wodan’s attitude toward Pelethor. He obviously liked this Captain. Even though Wodan used to disturb him quite a bit, he missed the days when Wodan used to talk about crushing all the gangs. Still, he admitted to himself that there was something special about this Captain. His home was no longer a secret, he kept guards on hand who openly wore Coil outfits, there were no telling how many Coilmen loyal to the Master Thieves wanted him dead – and yet this man was not afraid, whereas the other Captains could no longer sleep at night and spent all day in hushed conversations with one another. Pelethor’s guards did not even bother to take Wodan’s or Jens’s handguns hanging at their sides; Pelethor trusted in the gun holstered at his chest, his four guards, and his own strength of will to keep him safe. Still, brave or not, the man irritated Jens to no end.
“What will you do now, Wodan?” said Pelethor.
“I’m not sure. The Ugly are gone, and Barkus is going to be dead soon. I’ve been thinking of leaving Pontius.”
“Really?” said Jens. “You never told me!”
“Well, I’m still not sure,” said Wodan. “I do have some money now, so… it’s not unreasonable to think that I could open up my own publishing company.”
“Always looking for new forms of power, aren’t you?” said Pelethor, smiling fully. “Don’t you think that Pontius has some place for you yet? I’m afraid that if you leave, the wasteland would erase you. Then again, if you stayed and printed off a few pages, and distributed them, and perhaps made a little money from the venture... well, Wodan, I think you were meant for more than that.”
“I had another plan,” said Wodan, “but it fell through.”
“Oh?”
“Just today I talked to a judge. I suggested to him that all drugs in Pontius should be legalized - so that the Coil would be broken.”
Pelethor laughed loudly. It was the first time Wodan had ever heard the man laugh.
“Amazing!” said Pelethor. “So it wasn’t enough for you to destroy one gang - you wanted another to your name!”
“Yeah,” said Wodan, laughing as well. “Of course, it didn’t work out. So, it looks like I’ll leave Pontius in your hands. I guess it’s true that there will always be gangs in Pontius. But if anyone has to lead the most powerful one, I’m glad that it’s you, sir.”
“My position is far from consolidated, Wodan. There are many things that need to be done. In fact, I have a deal to make with you, and it involves you staying in Pontius.”
Wodan nodded, and Pelethor continued. “Wodan, there is a sort of… gentleness about you.” Jens laughed quietly and Pelethor said, “It’s true - I have heard from the Businessmen that your little circle calls you “Psycho”. I have seen your acts with my own eyes in the fortress of the Ugly, but I suspect also that this name is in direct reference to your kindness, as a sort of humorous contrast. I know that you are a foreigner, and I suspect that your land was very cultured, very civilized. What has set you on the violent path you took when you entered this city, I do not know, but I suspect you have determination and a dogged, unbreakable will that set you apart from your people, and this made your continued presence there intolerable. Most likely, by both parties. Your qualities have gotten you far - very far, mind you - but now they have brought you to your end. You admit that you are not sure what to do in Pontius, and even as you tell me of your half-formulated plans I can hear, by your tone, that you place no stock in your own plans. Wodan, there is something of me in you. You want more. You want more from a world that proves itself less and less to you every day.”
Inhuman was the only way that Jens could describe Pelethor. His coldness, his naked ambition, were deeply unsettling, but the worst part was that Wodan was obviously mesmerized by Pelethor’s words. Wodan and Jens had often made fun of the cowardice and greed of various Capta
ins and Lieutenants, but at least they were human. Jens wanted to leave immediately and take Wodan with him, but he no longer felt that he could safely do so.
Pelethor continued. “There is a certain system of morals and ethics taught to people, which is all well and good, for it promotes the stability of a state and adds to the survival of its citizens. But there is another system of ethics, Wodan, that is not taught in schools, in churches, or anywhere in the light of day. It is passed from master to student, from generation to generation, in utmost secrecy. It is never shouted; it is whispered. It never draws attention to itself, because it is hated by those who enjoy the light of day. But, Wodan, this left-hand path is just as necessary as the other path. The state… no, the species, requires it.”
“I know it,” said Wodan. Jens jerked his head toward him.
“You do. And that is the other part of you. The unkind part. The part that dragged your own friends into a cycle of murders that resulted in the destruction of your enemies. It is the path that I grew up with, Wodan, the path that all Pelethors before me have walked. Others call it darkness because they fear it, but for people like us, it feels clean, and pure. We worship it-”
“Sir,” said Jens, “this sounds evil.”
“Silence,” said Pelethor. He glanced at Jens, and his hard eyes caused Jens’s uncomfortable smile to wither on his face.
A radio squawked, then a voice on the other end said, “Status?”
One of the hefty goons lifted the small set from his belt, then said, “Green.” Jens realized this had been repeated several times before.
“The great trick of civilization,” said Pelethor, turning back to Wodan, “is that it allows for the passing of information from one generation to the next. Efficiently, from master, to student. Wodan, you have already started on this path. That is why you were made to leave the land that should have called you king. But you came upon the path accidentally, by happenstance, and could have been killed at a hundred points along the way. You need a master. I can… teach you things, Wodan.”
[Demonworld 3] The Floyd Street Massacre Page 27
