Butcher Bird

by Richard Kadrey

  “You must really hate us. If we didn’t exist, you’d still be in Heaven.”

  “I don’t hate you. You’re children, and children don’t know any better. If it hadn’t been you, something else would have set off my troubles with God.” Lucifer shrugged. “Fathers and sons.”

  “Did you have anything to do with taking my blindfold off?”

  “Why would I do that? I don’t like many mortals and the few I do care for should be off living their lives, not going mad down here. You were trapped by something else. There’s a black cloud around you that I can’t see through, which means I can’t help you. But you’re going to have to deal with it sooner or later.”

  “Who’s the Painted Man?”

  Lucifer rolled his eyes. “The boogey man for demons. The Painted Man is the monster in the closet. Dr. Moriarty. Kayser Soze. He’s supposedly a creature of pure chaos, neither God nor angel nor demon, who one day will come to destroy us. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason. I heard a demon mention him.”

  “That’s all? And you called me the Prince of Lies.” Lucifer stretched and stuck out his long legs. “Don’t trouble your handsome young head, Spyder Lee, you’re not the Painted Man.”

  “Is Xero?”

  “No, but he thinks he is and that makes him dangerous.”

  “How do you know he’s not?”

  “If he were I would have smelled him coming. I’d have tasted him. I’d have heard every beat of his heart. If the Painted Man ever sets foot in Hell, I’ll know it.”

  Spyder looked down and saw a half-smoked cigarette lying at his feet. He picked up the butt and smoothed it straight. “Got a light?” he asked. Lucifer handed him a pink fur lighter.

  “This is Lulu’s,” said Spyder.

  “She dropped it by the Bone Sea. I was going to return it the next time I saw her.”

  Spyder lit the butt and dropped the lighter into his jacket pocket. It felt good to pull the smoke into his lungs.

  “What’s the deal with all the Satanic losers back home? Do you like them? Do they drive you crazy? What about Anton LaVey?”

  “I love Anton LaVey. I love all carnies. God can have the meek. I’ll take the grifters.”

  “You’ve got an answer for everything. I’ll give you that, Count.”

  “We all have to live with ourselves, especially here. I’ll tell you something, because I think you’ll understand: I know that our Heaven is quite probably a pointless and futile thing, but we’ll build it anyway, because it’s all the Heaven we’re ever likely to have.”

  Across the plaza, Ashbliss came with Lulu and Shrike. The men rose as they got closer. Both Lulu and Shrike went right to the man they knew as Count Non and hugged him.

  Spyder said, “Ladies, let me introduce you to the man in black, his infernal badness, Lucifer.”

  Shrike and Lulu looked at the fallen angel. Shrike took Spyder’s hand. Lulu smiled. “Count Non, you tricky fuck. I knew there was something about you. Not many men can make me question my preferences.”

  Lucifer looked at Ashbliss. “I’ll talk to you later, dung beetle. Vanish.” He snapped his fingers and the little demon was gone.

  “Here,” said Spyder, and handed Lulu back her lighter.

  “Where’d you find it?”

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  “What happens now?” asked Shrike.

  “Under other circumstances I’d probably throw a party. Given the current unpleasantness, I’ll just take you to the book.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Unless you’d like to wait around for Xero to attack again.” Lucifer nodded to the hills beyond the golden step-pyramid. Men and demons were massing along the ridge.

  Lucifer turned to Shrike. “By the way, it’s nice to finally see your eyes. They’re lovely.”

  “Thank you. It’s good to see you, but a little strange, too.”

  “I get that a lot.”

  Lucifer started across the square to his palace as the others followed. Spyder looked over his shoulder and saw Xero’s troops starting down the hill for Pandemonium.

  FIFTY-TWO

  WAITING FOR THE END OF THE WORLD

  The entrance to Lucifer’s palace was covered in flowers.

  Bloody roses snaked on unnaturally long stalks around the main entrance, a wide portico that let onto an immense reception hall. Inside, clusters of white lilies and fleshy pink and tiger-striped orchids joined the roses. The white marble floor was covered with a rich, purple carpet, trimmed in gold. On one wall were exquisitely detailed anatomy charts of humans, demons and every kind of animals Spyder had ever seen. On the opposite wall hung a huge tapestry, a rendering of William Blake’s Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed with the Sun. Along the back wall was what Spyder took to be Lucifer’s trophy gallery.

  Victorian-style curiosity cabinets were laid out neatly around the gently curved walls. The first cabinet held a kind of black knotted lump floating in air behind leaded glass. The little plaque at the bottom of the case read: John the Baptist’s Heart. Next to it was a set of battle armor, blackened, the metal ripped and melted by some monstrous blast. “That’s mine. From the old days,” Lucifer told Spyder. Nearby was a silver trumpet. “Gabriel’s. I nicked it on the way out the door.” The next cabinet held a crown of thorns. “No explanation needed there, I suppose.” Rare plants and animals were lying in bell jars and pinned in display cases. They were all alive, but trapped. Two cases side-by-side held an assortment of Fabergé eggs and different kinds of puzzle boxes. Lucifer shrugged and said, “I just like them.” Another glass case contained a kind of black, swirling nothingness that seemed to suck light into itself. It was labeled, Chaos. At the end of the row was a cage and in it lay the book. It was as tall as Spyder and the covers were riveted plates of solid steel, with runes etched into the surface. When Spyder saw it, he thought, This is not a human’s book.

  “I feel sick,” said Shrike. She clutched her chest.

  “Is it the key?” Spyder asked. “We’re near the book. It’s probably trying to get out.”

  “I don’t know. This doesn’t feel right.” She took deep, painful breaths.

  Behind the cage that housed the book, the flowers began to die. The wave of death spread around the room. The flowers all turned black, shedding their petals before falling to the floor in dry heaps. Spyder’s gaze followed the trail of rot around the room. The trail of dying flowers ended at a long staircase where Xero stood, with Shrike’s father at his feet. Xero kicked the old man and he rolled down the stone steps, landing in a heap at the bottom.

  “Father!” screamed Shrike, and she stumbled to him. Spyder and the others followed, Spyder with the black blade out and Lulu with her shotgun pointed at Xero. As Shrike reached her father, demons dropped down from the ceiling and dragged her up the stairs. Spyder started after them, but Lucifer grabbed his shoulder and held him.

  “Don’t move,” Lucifer said. Spyder turned and watched as Xero’s troops quietly streamed in through the front entrance, filling the front of the hall.

  “‘And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer,’” Lucifer said to Xero. “You have more gall than brains coming into my capital, and especially my home.”

  “You have a million idle threats, angel. What you don’t seem to have is an army.”

  “You aren’t looking hard enough.”

  Lucifer closed his eyes. The Blake tapestry on the wall exploded into light and demons poured from it, armed with barbed spears and vicious swords. The opposing troops snarled and growled, showing each other their teeth, beating their weapons against their shields. Neither side attacked, but waited for a signal from their masters.

  “Get the key!” shouted Xero. One of the demons holding Shrike pulled a knife from his belt and cut into Shrike’s chest. She screamed. Lucifer pulled Spyder back from the stairs before he could do anything.

>   “Lulu!” Spyder screamed. She opened up at the demons with the four-ten. They fell back as the shots tore up the stairs around them. One demon collapsed with a shot in the chest, and another went down with a head wound. The other demons scrambled up the stairs to cower at Xero’s feet.

  Lucifer pulled both Spyder and Lulu back across the room to the curiosity cabinets. Spyder shook himself free.

  “I thought you were a warrior. What’s wrong with you?” he yelled.

  Lucifer spoke evenly. “Timing is everything. Never let your temper lead you. Both of you, stay here.”

  Lucifer went to the center of the room, between the two snarling armies, and looked up at Xero. He looked relaxed. Even happy, thought Spyder.

  “You’ve done very well for yourself,” Lucifer said. “You’re not the first to ever challenge my position, but you’re the first to get this far.”

  “Save your congratulations. I’m not done yet.”

  “Why should you be? You’ve come so far with so little. We’re alike in that. When we angels first came to this place, there was nothing. Now look at all we’ve built. You were just another lost soul when you arrived and look at what you’ve accomplished. I admire that. I don’t like to annihilate talent. How would you like your own principality? You’ve killed off a few of my less competent generals. Would you like their lands for yourself and your men?”

  Xero grinned a wolf’s grin. “No thank you. I think I’ll take everything.”

  “You won’t,” said Lucifer.

  Xero kicked the demons cowering at his feet. “Go back and get the key!” Reluctantly, the demons crawled down the stairs to Shrike. She lay quietly, her hand over her bloody wound, watching Lucifer. Spyder tried to catch her eye, but she looked as if she were in shock.

  “You won’t take my kingdom because you aren’t equipped to. Winning a few battles is nothing. Even taking this palace is a pointless gesture.”

  “Then why don’t you just surrender it and leave?” said Xero, and his troops laughed.

  “You’re a good tactician—for a mortal. And that will be your downfall. Your wars last weeks, months, perhaps a few years. It’s easy to plan, to keep your armies together, to believe in yourself. But how long can you do it, mortal? The last war I fought lasted ten thousand years.”

  “And you lost.”

  “That was to God. Do you think you’re God, little man?” said Lucifer. “I can wait, you see. You can win a thousand victories and I can wait. Time itself can burn out and the universe can collapse in on itself, and I can still wait. And in the last second at the last moment of existence, when even gods and angels must perish, I will find you and slit your throat. And the last thing you’ll see before the nothingness takes you will be my face smiling in victory.”

  Shrike saw the demons coming down the stairs for her. She screamed. When they tried to grab her, she hacked them with her sword, but she was too badly injured to crawl away.

  “What a silver tongue you have. But none of it will happen if I kill you first,” said Xero. He raised his arms and waves of black lightning blasted down at Lucifer, along the way vaporizing the demons he’d sent for Shrike, just as one triumphantly held up the key he’d pried from her side. The key went skittering across the floor, leaving a tracery of blood, and came to rest at Lucifer’s feet. Lucifer placed his right foot on top of the key. Xero bellowed in anger.

  Shrike ducked and pressed herself beneath the bolts. Lucifer didn’t move. He appeared to know when something was coming and simply raised his right hand, letting the lightning flow into him and out his left hand, right back at Xero. The stairs exploded around the general, but he kept throwing the bolts, pushing Lucifer back, only to be pushed back himself.

  It was too much, Spyder thought. Xero couldn’t be bribed. Maybe Lucifer could wait for the end of time, but Shrike couldn’t.

  Spyder grabbed Lulu and pulled her over to the book. “Help me,” he said.

  “How?”

  “We’re going to push the book into that case of chaos. Let it swallow the damned thing. Maybe we’ll die, too, but we’ll take these demonic fucks with us.”

  In the center of the room, Lucifer and Xero’s battle continued. Shrike slowly, painfully, crawled down the stairs toward her father. The two armies shrieked, growing more agitated by the second. When their taunts and roars reached a mad pitch, someone threw an axe. That’s all it took, both armies rushed each other with weapons, claws and teeth.

  Lulu came around to Spyder’s side of the book cage and pressed her back against it. Spyder grabbed the bars and put his shoulder into them. He felt a funny click and stepped back. The front of the cage fell open.

  The battle quieted, then stopped all together. The demons stared at Spyder, as did Xero and Lucifer. Shrike lay by her father and looked at him, dazed.

  “He has the key!” screamed Xero.

  “No, he doesn’t, you idiot,” snapped Lucifer. He looked at Spyder. “You haven’t been holding out on me, have you, little brother? No secret sainthood or magic in your past?”

  Spyder shrugged, shook his head.

  “That cage doesn’t pop open for just anyone.”

  “Get the book!” screamed Xero to his troops.

  “It’s not yours?” came a quiet voice by the portico. “The book belongs to us.”

  Spyder turned too look, but he already knew what was there. The Black Clerks, ledger in hand, were walking into the palace straight through the demon armies. The demons fell back, afraid to touch them. Only Lucifer stood in the Clerks’ way. For the first time, he seemed truly enraged.

  “Out of my kingdom, crawling filth!” he screamed.

  The head Clerk stepped forward. He cocked his head to one side. Then he raised a finger. Lucifer was thrown, loose-limbed and helpless, across the room. He landed hard on the stairs above Shrike, stone splintering as he crashed on the marble.

  The Clerks turned to Spyder. “Come to us?” the head Clerk told him.

  “Fuck you,” Spyder said.

  The Clerk flicked a finger. The scar Spyder had received earlier from the Clerks began to burn. His vision clouded. He saw things. He saw himself through their eyes. He saw himself looking at himself looking back at himself in infinite regression.

  “Not dead yet?” the Clerk said.

  “Shit,” said Spyder, sorting through the pictures in his head. Dizzy, he grabbed Lulu. “It wasn’t you they were looking through,” he said. “In the desert. It was me. I helped them follow us the whole way.”

  “Strong,” said one of the other Clerks.

  “What do you want with the book?” asked Spyder.

  “It’s ours,” said the head Clerk.

  “I don’t believe you.” Spyder leaned on the book for support.

  “No matter,” said the head Clerk, and in a fraction of a second, he’d pulled the little knife from his belt and flung it into Spyder’s chest.

  “Spyder!” screamed Shrike.

  He fell back against the cage. The Clerks walked silently toward him. Trying to stand, Spyder grabbed the book with his bloody hands.

  “That’s not permitted,” said the Clerk.

  An icy white shock ripped through Spyder’s body and he fell to the floor.

  FIFTY-THREE

  THRENODY 23

  The long-extinct scorpion people of Anu sang songs for their dead. Each song was designed to teach a new spirit some skill or valuable lesson for the Afterlife.

  Of all the Anu songs set down on tablets and scrolls, only a handful were for those on their way to Heaven. The vast majority of the songs were for those on their way to Hell.

  A translated excerpt:

  To whom shall I cry to as I go into the depths?

  My God who, if she should appear, would destroy me

  With her terrible beauty?

  God’s Enemy, who would consume me in his resplendent terror?

  At the bare edge of the abyss, beauty and terror are less than

  A burning step apart, ea
ch worthy of worship, graced, pure, demanding.

  God burns us. The Enemy burns us.

  They will light my way through the long dark

  And fire me in a sublime pyre, until I am only ash.

  Only ash, I enter the abyss to behold

  My shadow

  My sins

  My world laid bare

  Surrounded by souls, dust and ash, I go alone.

  Dust and ash, I know that we all venture alone, but that we all venture.

  And it is only dust and ash that passes through the abyss,

  Only dust and ash.

  The sublimely consumed. The radiantly destroyed.

  Only dust and ash passes through.

  FIFTY-FOUR

  MORE THAN HEAVEN

  He was falling for a very long time. Hours. Years. Eons. He was in the book. He was the book.

  Stars twinkled in and out of existence. Dust became planets and cooled into mountains, then became dust again. Life appeared, flourished and died. He felt the immense emptiness of an entire universe devoid of any living, thinking thing. The universe died soon after. He absorbed its passing into every atom of his body.

  He saw, felt and tasted nothingness, or as much of nothingness as his mortal mind could fathom. But even in nothingness was life. It passed through him and moved on, immense beyond belief. So large, it didn’t notice his microscopic presence. He was at the end of time and the beginning. Some immense wheel was turning somewhere. Existence was done, but not over. Life was too powerful for that. It was beyond time or space or god or death. He couldn’t quite get hold of it. The image of life, the idea was too big for his flea-size brain, but he caught a glimpse, as he floated high, so high above the universe (Is this Heaven? Or something more?) that he could look down and see it all laid out below him—clusters of galaxies like strands of pearls. But stars were things. And what he’d glimpsed wasn’t a thing, but a force. Something he couldn’t quite grasp, like light shining through a prism. He could put his hand into it, touch it, but never really hold it.