The Perdition Score (28 page)

               
Dear Jimmy,

               
You're no doubt reading this with a gun to my poor emissary's head. If I say that you can lower
it, will you listen? Of course not, so I won't. Her name is Hesediel and she is a good and loyal ally in Father's war. I'm sending her to you because I suspect you could use help in whatever fool's errand sent you Downtown. By the way, how did you get there, clever boy? You'll have to tell me about it sometime.

               
Hesediel is quite the warrior and, like the rest of us, ready for this inconvenience to be over. She's as ruthless you, Sandman Slim, so you should get along like two peas in a barrel bomb.

               
Good luck and try to avoid scars during your visit. Any more and you'll just be showing off.

               
Samael

               
P.S. Tell Candy she can keep the shoes.

If the note didn't call the war in Heaven anything but an “inconvenience,” I wouldn't believe it.

“Let her up,” I say to Candy.

“Are you sure?”

“Her note says you can keep the shoes.”

“Okay, then,” she says brightly, and lowers her gun.

I hold on to the Glock.

“Get up, Hesediel.”

She stands. In her armor, she's every bit as imposing as she was when hammering me into the ground with her Gladius. It also looks like the eye I shot out grew back. Neat trick.

“Thank you,” she says.

“I just have one question before I trust you: Why the hell did you try to kill me back home?”

“That wasn't me,” she says. “It was my sister, Hadraniel.”

“I didn't know angels had sisters and brothers.”

“A spiritual sister. We were once as close as any human siblings.”

“But she changed sides.”

Hesediel nods.

“Hadraniel broke many hearts that day.”

“I used to have a friend named Mason. It hurts when they go bad.”

“Then you understand.”

“You know that I don't have a history of getting along with angels, right?”

She looks down at me.

“Samael remarked on that.”

“Plus, I used to be Lucifer.”

“That too.”

“But you're willing to work with me?”

“Strange times make for strange allies. Samael was once the greatest enemy of all, but he saw the light. If I can ally with him, I can ally with the Abomination.”

I put the Glock back in its holster.

“And I guess I can work with a halo polisher. Come on over and have a drink.”

She follows me to the bar.

“Hesediel, this is Candy and Wild Bill.”

She stares at Candy for a minute. Candy stares right back.

“You going to call me Abomination too?”

“No. We're alike. Inhuman, but fighting a war that will benefit mortals.”

“It'll benefit everyone, so don't go putting your war off on regular people. They didn't start it.”

“It's not pleasant to contemplate.”

“Then let's have a drink,” says Bill.

She looks at the bottle.

“Is that a Hellion brew?”

“They no longer deliver champagne down here, I'm afraid.”

“I've never had it before.”

“No time like the present.”

“If I refuse?”

Bill looks at her, the only one in the room tall enough to go eye to eye with her.

“Where I'm from, friends have a drink before going into a fight. Makes sure no one supposes they're above anyone else.”

Bill pours and I hand Hesediel a glass.

“It's just a ritual. As an angel, you should understand that.”

“If I must,” she says.

“It's the polite thing to do.”

She looks at the glass like it's full of bear shit.

“Samael said there would be trials and tests with you.”

“We Abominations are picky bastards.”

“Then we'll drink to that,” says Bill. “To as motley a crew of bastards as I've ever partnered with.”

Everyone drinks.

Hesediel hesitates, then downs the whole thing. And goes into a coughing fit I'm afraid is going to blow her wings off.

She doubles up and leans a hand on the bar. I lean over to her.

“You okay?”

She chokes out, “Yes.”

A few more seconds and she can stand again.

“Is that it, then? If there are more rituals and tests, I'd like to get them over with now.”

Bill holds out a handkerchief for her. She shakes her head.

I set down my glass.

“No more tests. And if it's any comfort, the first time I tried Hellion booze, I did the same thing.”

“Good,” she says.

“So, maybe we're not a suicide mission anymore?” says Candy.

“Maybe not. With Hesediel, we might actually survive this.”

I look at her.

“You ready to kill some Hellions?”

“I'm here to do whatever is necessary.”

“Even if it's killing other Heavenly angels?”

“You mean rebels against Father? I've dispatched many of them already. If more are necessary, so be it. I'll take care of it.”

“I can help there.”

She shifts uncomfortably.

“I'd rather you didn't.”

“Why?”

“It would be distasteful.”

“The Abomination thing?”

“Yes.”

“If you can handle them, fine. But if they're too much, I'm jumping in.”

“That's acceptable.”

“Then welcome to the team. Here's the deal: we need to get to a man named Norris Quay. He's the head honcho of Wormwood down here. The problem is that he's protected and we don't want to go charging through the front door without knowing what's inside. So, we're going to kidnap his lady friend and make him come to us.”

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

“It's a sound plan. Where and when do we act?”

“Griffith Park and as soon as we can.”

I look at the others. “Okay, bushwhackers. Let's get bushwhacking.”

Candy gets behind the wheel of the Unimog and the rest of us pile in. It's a snug fit. Bill is squeezed up against Hesediel.

“Sorry about the tight quarters, ma'am,” he says.

“I'm a warrior. I've suffered worse.”

“I've had whores and drunks in my lap before, but never one of the Lord's own.”

Hesediel just stares out the window.

“What Bill is saying is we're glad you're here, Hesediel,” I tell her.

“The sooner the battle begins, the sooner it will be over,” she says.

Candy starts the truck and we take off.

“I like your armor,” she says.

“Thank you,” says Hesediel.

“Stark wore armor when he was Lucifer. It was sexy. I called him ‘Tony Stark.'”

Hesediel looks at her.

“You know. Like Iron Man. Stark's name is Stark and so is his.”

“How interesting.”

“You don't know Iron Man? You should come with us to L.A. We have all the movies.”

“Perhaps,” says Hesediel, staring out the window again.

Candy says, “Angels don't make a lot of small talk, do they?”

“It's not in our nature.”

“No shit.”

W
E HIDE THE
Unimog along a bend in the road in Griffith Park out of sight of the mansion. Then we wait. Candy stays behind the wheel with the engine running. The rest of us wait in the trees.

An hour or so later, Bill sees something moving below us. He takes out his telescope and surveys the road.

“One of them vans is coming.”

I move up next to him.

“You sure it's just one?”

“My eyes work just fine. It's one.”

“Then let's get ready. Remember, we leave one of the guards alive to tell Quay what happened.”

“What if there are angels?” says Bill.

“Them we kill. Right?”

I look at Hesediel.

“I'll dispatch the rebels,” she says.

“Then it's a plan.”

We wait for the van to come up the hill. When it's almost abreast of us, Candy guns the Unimog's engine and plows into the side of the van, pushing it off the road. No one gets out for a minute. Then the passenger-side door bursts open and a Legionnaire lurches out. He swings his rifle at the Unimog.

Bill and I step out of the trees, but Candy blasts him with the Benelli before we can even take aim.

The van's side door slides open and more Hellions stumble into the road, shooting in all directions. There are four of them, and none is in good shape. Bill shoots one and I get another. The other two freeze where they are when Hesediel comes out, her armor glowing in Hell's dim light like it's made of fire. When the two idiots get the idea that maybe it's a good time to shoot, it's too late. Their bullets bounce off Hesediel's armor. She cuts one down with a single stroke of her Gladius. She swings again and cuts the other one's arms off. His rifle tumbles to the ground and he falls against the van, his wounds seared closed by the Gladius's burning blade.

I jump into the van while Hesediel and Bill watch my back.

The woman is pressed against the interior on the far side of the van, her eyes as big as weather balloons. I look her over for weapons and wounds. I don't see any guns, but she has a cut over her left eye.

I aim the Glock at her.

“You can get out with me or let the angel drag you out.”

She puts her hands up and slides across the seat. I take her arm and help her into the road. She stumbles, a little wobbly after the crash.

I give her to Bill and kneel by the armless Legionnaire.

“Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” he says.

“Tell Norris Quay to meet us at the Hollywood Bowl in two hours. If he doesn't come alone, we're going to barbecue Miss America and serve her with beans. Got it?”

“Two hours at the Hollywood Bowl.”

“What else?”

He looks down at where his arms used to be.

“He's to come alone.”

“Who said you Legionnaires were all blockheads? Wait, it was me.”

Bill taps me on the back.

“We'd best be moving,” he says.

We pile back into the Unimog, shoving Miss America into the space behind the seats. Candy gets us turned around and we haul ass down the hill. Franklin is blocked with debris from looted houses, so we speed down Hollywood Boulevard to Highland and head north to the Bowl.

It occurs to me as we go that I don't even know if Hell's Hollywood Bowl is even there anymore. I should probably have checked that out. See? Thinking. It's always my downfall.

The good news is that while half of its dome is caved in, the Bowl and grandstands are basically intact. The stage area is covered with dried blood in a charming variety of colors. A lot of Hellions, beasts, and who knows what else have been killed here for the cheering crowds. I wonder if the old arena is still standing. I feel a weird pang of nostalgia for the place. Sure, it was possibly the most awful place in the universe, but
it was
my
most awful place. If it's gone, I'll miss it. I never even got to take a selfie there. Of course, I don't mention any of this to the others, but I make a mental note that if we have enough time, I want to take Candy there. If she's going to make me miserable at Disney World, she can be miserable for a few minutes at my old alma mater.

We stash the Unimog by the road beside the Bowl. Hesediel and I manifest our Gladiuses and hack our way through the fences and trees, clearing a path to the front of the stage. She takes a couple of steps back when my Gladius first comes out. I'm not sure she believed that I had one. Now that she does, I'm not sure she entirely trusts me with it. But she does her job and I do mine.

Bill and Candy bring Miss America, and we climb over stage junk until we're backstage in the Bowl.

Bill looks back at the grandstands and grounds.

“Not a bad place for a meet. Lot of open territory. A road nearby.”

He points to the line of black, twisted trees on the hill overlooking the grandstands.

“They could put snipers up there.”

“Not if Quay wants Miss America back.”

“We're really going to kill her?” says Candy. I can tell that she doesn't like the idea. But I don't want to sound soft.

I look hard at Miss America.

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

She looks at our sorry group, terrified.

Candy goes over and puts a hand on her shoulder. The woman recoils and Candy moves away.

“What's your name?” she says.

Miss America looks around.

“Holly,” she says. “Holly Cranor.”

I lean against a half-burned table.

“What did you do for Wormwood back in the world, Holly?”

“Nothing,” she says. “I wasn't in Wormwood.”

“Then you joined when you got down here.”

“No. I'm not in Wormwood. I'm just friends with Norris.”

“You're with Quay, but you're not with Wormwood? That's just a little hard to believe.”

“Norris says that people have to prove themselves useful to be in Wormwood.”

“And you're not particularly useful yet.”

“Oh no. I'm useful. I work with Netzach and the other angels. Norris promised that I'll be in Wormwood soon.”

“Sounds like true love,” says Candy.

Holly half smiles, not sure if Candy is kidding or not.

I say, “The stuff you do with Netzach, it has to do with black milk?”

She hesitates then says, “Yes.”

“They bring the raw stuff and you get them the refined product.”

“Yes.”

“How does it work?”

“I don't know. Norris is very secretive about it. He promised to tell me all about it when I'm in Wormwood.”