Devil Said Bang (38 page)

Traven sounds about like someone just read him the
winning Lotto numbers and he thinks he hit the Mega Millions.

“It’s two syllables. Even I can remember that.”

“So what is the Qomrama?” asks Candy.

Traven looks at me out of the corner of his
eye.

“Remember you once asked me where I thought the old
gods, the Angra Om Ya, had gone?”

“Yeah. You said you thought they hadn’t left but
you didn’t say what that meant.”

“Well, I was wrong. They are gone. But not for much
longer.”

“How soon is longer? I mean the world is coming
apart.”

Traven picks up a book from the dashboard. It’s an
old one I once saw in his apartment. There are rust-colored stains on the front
that are probably blood.

“Lamia is the name of an avatar of one of the Angra
Om Ya.”

“I pistol-whipped a goddess?”

He shakes his head.

“I think what you encountered was a kind of demon.
An incomplete piece of one of the Angra.”

“But she’s the ghost of a real little girl. She was
born in Spain.”

“How will lost deities enter our universe from the
outside? They’re creatures without form. Maybe they have to do it through the
mortal bodies to gain substance. What kind of a girl was she? Was she considered
holy? Did she perform miracles?”

“She was a monster. Her own village killed her and
buried her in an unconsecrated cemetery.”

Traven is quiet for a minute.

“I wonder if she brought the Qomrama Om Ya with her
or came to retrieve it?”

“Forget the girl. What’s the Qomrama?”

Traven slows and steers us around a sinkhole that’s
swallowed part of a sandwich shop and auto-parts store. Cops on the side streets
look worn and shell-shocked.

“In the first language, ‘Om Ya’ simply means ‘God.’
‘Angra,’ depending on how you say it, means ‘great’ or ‘grievous.’ ‘Qomrama’ is
a bit murkier but it means something like ‘devourer.’ The Qomrama Om Ya is the
Godeater. A weapon designed by gods to kill other gods.”

I check the side mirror.

“Father, did you come straight to the Chateau from
your place?”

“Yes. Why?”

Candy looks out the rear window. I keep an eye on
the mirror.

“There’s only one car back there and it’s been with
us for several blocks. Speed up.”

The car falls back for a few seconds then speeds up
and stays on our tail. It’s a Charger, not that that matters. In a flat-out
chase, a skateboarder with a broken ankle can outrun a Geo Metro. The Charger is
overkill. It accelerates and comes up behind us.

“Take it up to forty and keep it there.”

“The car will shake apart on this uneven
pavement.”

“Yeah, but it’ll make it harder for them to shoot
at us.”

“Oh,” says Traven. He hits the gas.

The Charger doesn’t even notice. It pulls up
alongside and King Cairo rolls down the front passenger window.

“Switch places with me,” I say to Candy.

I squeeze into the backseat and she gets in the
front.

Flame hits the side of the Metro.

“Don’t slow down.”

Traven nods. Steers around the bumps the best he
can.

Cairo is hanging out the window of the other car.
Rolling his eyes and making faces. He tosses another fire hex at the Metro. It
hits hard enough to shake the little car.

Candy is turned around in the front seat looking at
me.

“Remember when I told you I was going to take you
shooting?”

“Yeah.”

“Congratulations. Consider this your first
lesson.”

I take a 9mm clip from my pocket and hand it to
her. She grins like a wolf. Hits the release and the gun case opens like a metal
flower. She shoulders the gun, slides in the clip, and chambers a round.

“Don’t get too excited. You don’t shoot until I say
to and you only shoot at what I tell you to. Got it?”

She nods. With the gun in her hands, she can’t stop
smiling. Traven isn’t. Flames are hitting his car, blistering the paint and
turning the driver-side window black. And now there’s an armed amateur in the
seat next to him.

“Aren’t you glad you came along, Father?”

“I wanted to do more than read books. I guess this
is it.”

“Welcome to
le merdier
.
Does this back window roll down?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Too bad.”

I put my fist through it. It catches around my
wrist like a big glass bracelet. I pull it off and throw it at Cairo just as
he’s about to toss more fire our way. The glass shatters in Cairo’s face. He
slides back into the car, covering his eyes. The Charger slows down.

“Is it over?” asks Traven. “Did we win?”

“No and I doubt it.”

The Charger cuts right and gets behind us
again.

“Keep talking, Father. I like hearing stories when
I’m killing people. Lamia is a demon of an Angra. How did she get here? What
does she want?”

Traven’s voice quivers a little. I can’t tell if
it’s fear or the uneven road.

“The weapon is your answer. She, and we can assume
the rest of the Angra, will return to take back what’s theirs.”

“The Qomrama?”

“If the books are right, they’ll want everything.
The entire universe.”

The Charger moves up on us again. I can see Cairo
shouting at the driver.

“Candy, shoot that son of a bitch.”

“Which one?”

“Any of them. Just pop a couple of shots at them
and see what they do. Keep talking, Father.”

Candy leans out the window and shoots twice. One
shot misses and the other takes out one of the Charger’s headlights. Not a bad
start. It gets them to put a little more distance between us.

“Father?”

“We once talked about the idea that the being we
call God is merely the Demiurge.”

“More like the universe’s janitor than an
all-powerful creator. Got it.”

“The book you saw in my office when we first met.
The one you called the Angra Om Ya Bible has an alternate Creation story. It’s
entirely possible that the entity that we call God didn’t create this universe.
The Angra Om Ya did. God merely usurped it.”

The Charger pulls up right on our bumper and Cairo
climbs out of the sunroof.

“Slow down,” I shout.

Traven backs off the accelerator.

Behind us, the Charger lurches, trying to keep from
hitting our bumper. Cairo slams into the side of the sunroof and falls back
inside.

“Keep going.”

“Talking or driving?” says Traven.

“Both. See if you can hit the windshield,
Candy.”

“In math there’s something called M-theory. It says
that we live in a universe with many parallel dimensions and many universes all
separated by infinitely large membranes.”

Candy pulls the trigger just as we hit a bump and
the shot goes high. The second shot hits the Charger’s windshield.

“Nice work, Calamity Jane. Get back inside the car
and wait for me.”

Traven says, “I believe that the Angra are in one
of the parallel universes and that the changes in reality we’re experiencing
have been going on longer than we think but have only become noticeable
now.”

“With all the dreamers dying, I’m not
surprised.”

“The breakdown of reality caused a crack in one of
the membranes and a tiny piece of Lamia leaked back into this universe.”

“How did the Angra end up in another universe?”

“According to the alternate history, God tricked
them. The Angra were already here when our God manifested Himself. When He made
Himself known, He gave the Angra an offering.”

“What kind?”

“The books don’t say. But it was a trick, and
exiled them beyond the edge of our universe.”

“And now they want back in to take what’s theirs.
Which is everything.”

“I’m afraid so.”

We hit a deep gulley that rattles everyone’s
teeth.

“And they’ll kill God to do it,” Traven says.

“That old man has more enemies than Stalin.”

The Charger accelerates. It comes around parallel
to us. The road is getting worse. It rattles my bones and balls but it forces
the heavy Charger to slow down.

“What happens to us if they come back?”

“The book doesn’t say. But there are other texts
that talk about battles between Gods in other dimensions.”

“And?”

“In every one, the winner scours the universe clean
and starts over.”

“Scouring sounds bad,” says Candy.

“Can we stop them?”

“I have no idea,” Traven says.

The Charger pulls up parallel again. Cairo climbs
out the sunroof on top of the car.

“Look at the bright side, Father. When the Angra
destroy everything, there won’t be a Hell for you to go to.”

“Every Apocalypse has a silver lining,” says
Candy.

“That’s my girl.”

“Can I shoot some more?”

“Almost. When I get out, you come back here. If
anyone in the Charger shoots at us or tries to get out, you shoot them. Don’t
waste ammo. Unless Cairo looks like he’s going to win. Then spray the fucking
car and kill as many of them as you can.”

“Neat,” she says.

I put my hand on Traven’s shoulder.

“When you hear me stomp on the roof, hit the
brakes. Don’t worry about me.”

He nods.

I pop the sunroof and crawl out on top. The cheap
plastic hinges snap and the sunroof flies off the car and into the street behind
us. Cairo opens his arms in greeting. I give him the finger.

He’s fast. He crouches and throws a shower of fire
my way underhanded, like a softball pitcher.

I drop back halfway down into the sunroof and the
fire passes over me.

“Shoot,” I say to Candy. She does, whooping like
she’s at the rodeo. Glass explodes out of the Charger’s side windows.

I toss some arena hoodoo Cairo’s way. It’s an old
crushing hex. Supposed to break an enemy’s bones. Cairo dodges the hex but I
didn’t throw it at him. I hit the car’s engine.

There’s a horrible grinding and snap as the
Charger’s engine drops and hits the street, gouging deep ruts in the road. Cairo
flies off the roof, bounces off the hood, and falls in front of the Charger. I
stomp my boot and Traven stops the Geo. I jump off the back, throwing protection
hoodoo around me as I hit and roll. Cairo lands on the street in front of his
car. From where I’m lying, I’m at just the right angle to see the Charger roll
right over him.

Candy blows the rest of her clip into the side of
Cairo’s car. His boys duck out the passenger side and take off down a side
street.

Traven backs up. I climb into the car.

“Turn us around. I’ll hurt Teddy later. We’re going
to Blackburn’s.”

Candy blows across the tip of her gun barrel like a
cowgirl, leans between the seats, and gives me a kiss. She uses her thumb to
wipe lip gloss off my lips.

“Why Blackburn’s?” she asks.

“Cairo was using hoodoo in the open right in front
of God and Joe SixPack. Either he’s nuts or they’re not after Saint James
anymore but me instead. Permission could only come from Blackburn or Aelita and
I know where Blackburn is.”

We drive past Cairo’s car. The engine steams and
spits. Spills gas all over the street. There’s blood on the bumper and a long
wet streak on the asphalt like something was dragged but Cairo’s body is
gone.

I give Traven Blackburn’s address and we head
over.

“I hate to point out something to you,” he
says.

“If it isn’t ‘Great job. I’m thrilled to be on your
side,’ I don’t want to hear it.”

“We’re on a major thoroughfare. Half the streets we
just passed had traffic cameras. Tomorrow LAPD will have the entire fight on
tape.”

Shit.

“No worries, Father. With the street fucked up, the
cameras are probably out and half the police force will be hunkered down at
home. By the time someone looks over the tapes, we’ll either be dead or
heroes.”

“Or dead heroes,” says Candy.

Traven thinks for a long minute.

“At times of crisis, my mother used to recite an
old Hungarian saying. ‘The strength of the serpent and the peace of the dove.’
”

“I don’t know the last time I saw a dove,” Candy
says.

“Then let’s do some slithering.”

T
raven
parks across the street from Blackburn’s abandoned hotel mansion.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going inside to
talk to people and hurt them. Not necessarily in that order. You two are going
to stay out here and watch my back.”

“I want to come with you,” says Candy.

“You can’t. I have to get through layers of heavy
protective hoodoo. I don’t know if I can take anyone with me and this isn’t a
great time to start experimenting.”

It takes her a minute but finally Candy nods.

I give her the Sig pistol.

“This is a .45. The bullets are bigger, so there
aren’t as many as your nine-millimeter and the kick is a lot harder. If you have
to shoot, do it slowly and carefully.”

“I still want to go with you.”

“I know.”

When I’m outside the car, my cell rings. I’m not in
the mood for a chat but my blood’s up, so I’ll give the crank caller a friendly
“fuck you.”

“Hello.”

A voice breaks up then repeats itself.

“Stark? Where the hell are you? I’ve been
waiting.”

It’s Patty Templeton.

“I told you I’d call you. Wait for me in the
lounge.”

“What are you talking about? I’m outside. On the
corner by the freeway. You called and said you were coming by to pick me
up.”

The anger turns to a sick feeling in my
stomach.

“Listen, it’s a trick. Go back to the dreamers’
building now. Run!”

“Oh God.”

She forgets to hang up. I listen to hear her
running. Panting. She excuses herself and then curses, pushing through
crowds.

Over the tops of the nearby buildings, black plumes
rise like twisters into the sky. Somewhere, the city is burning.