The Perdition Score (33 page)

Hesediel looks at me. Hands me the syringe with the raw, poisonous black blood I gave her earlier. I wasn't sure she would use the thing.

I toss the syringe into the fire.

“Guess I interfered after I told you I wouldn't. Sorry.”

“It was my choice. Black blood made Hadraniel what she was. It's fitting it was her downfall.”

“You were her downfall. Not that rotgut,” says Bill. “In this world and the other, I never saw anyone fight like that.”

“I hope you never have to see it again.”

Me and Bill help her to one of the undamaged vans. We get her into the back, where she slumps against the seat.

The top floors of the mansion are roaring. A lot of panicked faces I recognize peer out of the windows on the bottom floor.

“Stay here with her,” I tell Bill.

“I'll keep her safe.”

I get out my na'at and go into the burning house.

I
COME OUT
a few minutes later, alone. Except for Holly. That's how Candy would have wanted it.

With the black blade, I start the only other undamaged
van and leave it for her. She stands by the house and watches it burn like she's expecting Norris, or Jesus, or Santa Claus to come out of the flames and make it all better. But no one does. After a while she gets in the van and puts it in gear.

Bill closes the door of our van and I turn us back to Hollywood, letting the mansion and hill burn itself to ashes behind us.

Hesediel dozes for a few minutes, then wakes with a start. She looks around the van, not sure where she is. When she sees Bill she relaxes back into the seat.

“Where are we going?” she says.

I look at her in the rearview.

“Back to Bill's. Unless you want to stop for chicken and waffles.”

She stares back at the burning hillside for a minute.

“I have a thought. We have to go back to where Norris Quay took us.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Do you trust me?”

Something I never thought I'd say to an angel comes out of my mouth. “Of course.”

“Then drive.”

T
HE VAN SPUTTERS
and coughs as we make our way back down Highland. Everyone is bone goddamn tired. It makes the drive feel even longer than before. Eventually, though, we cross the 105. I pull us up to the gates of the treatment plant and the van shudders to a stop.

Bill opens the side door and we help Hesediel out of the van. Back on flat ground, she can walk again, but she's slow
and moves with a bad limp. The skin is cracking under the burned part of her face so that the black is cut through with thin streaks of livid red.

We enter the plant and head to the treatment tank Quay took us to earlier. The place doesn't smell any better on a second visit. She goes to the tank.

“Think of it. A whole war over this,” says Hesediel.

I walk up beside her.

“It's going to go on for a lot longer, isn't it? If all the bad guys fight like Hadraniel?”

“Forever, possibly.”

“Now there's a pretty thought,” says Bill.

Hesediel turns back to us.

“But if we, now, could destroy the source of black milk, it would end sooner. Correct?”

I shrug.

“Of course. But like Quay said, we can't exactly execute several million Hellions.”

“Maybe we don't have to,” Hesediel says. “
This
is the source of black milk. We must destroy
this
.”

“But those Hellions are just going to keep shitting and shitting,” says Bill. “Destroying this batch won't stop that.”

“I misspoke,” Hesediel says. “Everything all of us have done and seen and learned comes together here. Your return to Hell. Bill and Candy's offer of help. The destruction of Wormwood down here. We have a chance. A single moment to destroy it all.”

She looks at me.

“And perhaps kill Wormwood in the mortal world. Without them, black milk will be useless.”

“But how do we do it?” says Bill. “You two incinerated the hell out of that forest back there, but I don't think effluent even this vile will burn.”

“Not burning,” she says. “Befoulment.”

Hesediel takes a few steps away from the holding tank back toward the van.

“I'm glad I met you both,” she says. “I've defended mortals, but I never truly thought much of them, Bill. Thank you for opening my eyes.”

“Well, I think a lot more highly of angels 'cause of you. Thank you for that.”

She turns to me.

“And you. Abomination incarnate. I wasn't pleased when Samael asked me to help you.”

“I can imagine.”

“But you're a fine ally and companion.”

“Same to you.”

She looks past us into the distance.

“Who is that?” she says.

Bill and I turn. Find ourselves launched through the air all the way back to the van. Bill comes to a skid by the bumper. I crash into the windshield. Blood runs down my forehead into my eyes.

I try to get up, but my legs won't hold me. The best I can do is crawl onto my hands and knees. Bill moans and rolls over, in as bad shape as I am.

I look around for Hesediel. Can feel a lump rising on the back of my head from where she hit me. Finally, I see her by the treatment tank. She has her knife out and is cutting a long slit from her wrist up to her elbow.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I yell.

She looks back at me, as happy as I've seen her.

“Saving us all,” she says.

I manage to get to my feet and stumble like a drunk to the gate of the plant.

Bill pulls himself up on the van's bumper.

She holds her arm over the sewage.

“You said it yourself, Stark. My blood is the cure for disease. What is more pestilential than war?”

I push myself off the gate and head for her.

“Stop this shit. You're in no shape for this.”

“But I am,” she says. “Clearheaded. Happy. I thought for so long that the war would consume us all. Now I can finally see its end.”

My head clears a little and I can stand upright.

“Let me help. Cut me too.”

She slices into her other arm.

“That's noble, but clever as you are, this is something half an angel cannot do.”

Bill staggers up beside me. Pushes away and starts for her. I follow him.

Hesediel stands on the lip of the tank, her arms covered in flowing blood.

“Tell Samael thank you for opening my eyes to so much. Take care, my mortal. And my little monster.”

She draws the knife across her throat and falls backward into the tank.

Bill and I run to her. But we're too slow. Too stupid. Too late.

She's gone.

We get on our knees, scrabble around there like fools, waiting for her to bob to the surface safe and sound, her sacrifice just another ritual, and when it's over, we can pull her out and take her home.

But she doesn't come up. There's no sign of her. Not even bubbles.

Bill and I stay there on the lip of the tank for a long time, breathing in the stink, neither of us wanting to move in case we're wrong.

Finally he gets up. Taps me on the shoulder.

“Come on, son. It's been a long day. I need a drink. So do you.”

It takes me a while to get my legs working.

What did I do wrong? What did I miss? Why did Samael send Hesediel to us? Did he know Hadraniel would break her heart? Did he know this is how it would end?

Is he that big a bastard?

“Please don't be,” I say out loud like an idiot. “Please be as surprised as us.”

“What are you talking about?” says Bill.

“Nothing.”

We climb back in the van and I jam the black blade in the ignition. The engine coughs a couple of times, but won't turn over. We get out.

It's a long walk back to Bill's bar.

I
T DOESN
'
T TAKE
long to finish the bottle.

I wonder if Candy is through the maze yet. If she isn't, if the Grays didn't keep their part of the bargain, I'll find them wherever they are. Part of me wants them to cheat. I've never
wanted to hurt someone—anyone—more than I do right now.

When Abbot puts the Wormwood member list together, I'm getting it, even if I have to take it from him. I wouldn't mind facing off with Willem. Which probably isn't fair. In the larger scheme of things, he's nothing. Not a good guy or bad guy. Of course, he doesn't see it that way, but Willem isn't a big-picture guy. Just another dog in the pack. Sit. Fetch. Bark. Bury a body if his master needs it. He's the kind of guy who thinks he has a grip on good and evil because he made some big busts and got a few commendations. In the end, I don't really want to fight him. I want to show him the locked doors of Heaven. All those damned souls and pitiful fallen angels stranded between the pearly gates and Hell's scenic vistas. I want him to hear the rebel and righteous angels fighting it out for his future. I want him to know that the difference between salvation and damnation is small and getting smaller. Maybe he'd understand and maybe he wouldn't. Maybe people like him and assholes like me are built to butt heads. But if an Abomination and an angel can get along for even a little while, who knows? I don't want to be his friend, but it would be nice if just once, someone like him understood that I'm not his enemy.

Wormwood, on the other hand, is done. No one is innocent. No one walks away. No more clueless spouses. No more deals, car rides, or stories. No more dead kids.

I'm done with words.

They're dead, every one of them. And when they're in Hell, I'll make it my job to send them to Tartarus. But not before they go for a nice, long swim in Quay's sewage tank.
Those fuckers want black milk? I'll give them all they can choke down.

But not right now. Right now I picture Arwan and his crew carrying Candy through the sushi bar that leads to the maze.

Please make it home, Candy. I can't lose you too. Allegra will fix you. She can fix anything. She'll even fix Vidocq with what you're carrying. Everyone is going to be all right. They have to be.

I've been fighting Heaven's battles for so long.

Seriously: listen. You bastards forgot about me when I was in Hell. Please remember me now. Give me just this one thing.

I take out a couple of Maledictions. Hand one to Bill. He lights them both with a candle. I puff mine until it's red as a poker. Hold it to my wrist until it blisters.

“What the hell are you doing?” says Bill.

“It's where she cut herself for Vidocq. I owe her this much.”

“Hurting yourself won't bring her back. You've got to gather your strength for what's coming next. In a funny way, we're lucky.”

“How's that?”

“It isn't often that vengeance and a righteous fight coincide so completely. But it's not over. We both have work ahead.”

“You're right there.”

I rub the knot on the back of my head.

“You take care of those Wormwood pig fuckers back home,” says Bill. “Send 'em down to me. I'll handle them from there.”

“I might have to come back and help you with that.”

“I wouldn't object. Just don't let thoughts of revenge blind you to your responsibilities to those you love.”

“Don't worry about Candy. She'll be right with me when she finds out what happened.”

Bill looks under the counter for another bottle. Looks frustrated when he comes up with nothing.

“Send me some souls soon. Bereft is not my natural state. I fear I'll go a little mad without a useful task to occupy me.”

“It won't be long, Bill. I promise.”

He gets a rag and wipes off the top of the bar. It doesn't matter that there will probably never be another customer in here; nervous energy has to go somewhere. Even the smallest things can help.

“Any chance there's more Wormwoods down here that we missed? If there's tracking to be done, I'm ready,” he says.

I blow on the blister. Watch it bloom on my skin.

“I think we got them all for now.”

“Pity,” he says.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe it's time for me to get out of this hovel,” he says. “I was a lawman once. Maybe I could make myself useful down here.”

I set the Glock on the bar, along with all the ammo left for it and the Colt.

“Keep both guns. I have more.”

“The Colt was a gift.”

I stack the bullets in rows.

“Candy will understand. She likes you—she'd want you to have it.” I think for a moment. “We should go back up the hill to Quay's place. Pick up some of those rifles and whatever ammo is left.”

He puffs the Malediction. In the candlelight he looks older than his Earthly years.

“That's a good thought. But later. It will give me something to do after you leave.”

“Let me show you how the Glock works.”

He picks it up. Weighs it in his hand and gives it to me.

“I never thought this would be the time or place I'd modernify myself.”

“Life is funny.”

“And death is riotous. So, show me how your toy pistol works.”

I pop the clip and take out the bullets. Show him how to load the gun and rack in a shot. Playing teacher feels good. Gets me out of my head for a few minutes.

When we've run through it enough times that Bill can do it smoothly, he pulls a crooked smile.

“I guess this ain't such bad iron after all.”

“I hate to tell you, but there's not much iron in there.”

He sights down the barrel.

“Iron enough for my purposes.”

I look around the bar for a clear spot. Over by the wall there's a long table where we served food when I was Lucifer.

“You mind if I lie down for a while? My head hurts, and like you said, it's been a long day.”