The Beauty of Destruction (33 page)

‘So why come back?’ Calgacus asked.

Britha closed her eyes. ‘The Lochla … Bress has something I need. I had … have another child, taken from me by the fair folk. Bress has the key to help me get her back.’

Calgacus raised his eyebrows. ‘Eurneid used to scare the children, me included when I was younger, with stories of all the terrifying things that ride the night winds. It seems I had to travel south to find them all.’

‘Bladud will demand the chalice,’ Tangwen said.

Germelqart, who had been listening, no expression on his features, his eyes catching the reflection of the flames, stood up. ‘It is time,’ he said to Tangwen.

‘Time for what?’ Britha asked.

‘To speak with a demon,’ Tangwen said.

Calgacus’s eyes went wide. ‘Now this I have to see.’ He stood up and reached for his sword.

‘Surely this demon will just pull all our heads off and take the chalice?’ Calgacus asked. He sounded quite cheerful for someone climbing a steep hill in pitch darkness. Tangwen, Germelqart, Britha, and Selbach – who was following them a way back – might all be able to see clearly in the night, but Calgacus had no such gift. Tangwen was thankful for the clear night and the three-quarters moon.

‘For someone called Bitter Tongue you seem in love with the wonders of this world and the next,’ Tangwen said, smiling at the short, northern
rhi
’s enthusiasm.

‘These southern lands are exciting!’ Calgacus said. ‘And full of weaklings.’

Tangwen heard the sound of an owl on the wing. She turned back to look at Selbach. The scout was pointing up at an escarpment that overlooked the valley. At first the figure standing on it reminded her of Kush. A tall, powerful man, with very dark skin, and the features of those from far to the south, but where Kush had been wiry, and slender, this man was heavy set, fleshy and running to fat. Nor had Kush had bands of brass embedded in the skin of his head. Most disturbing, however, was the smooth, thick metal that curved round where one of his eyes should be. The metal around his eye also seemed embedded in his flesh. As they approached the man turned to look at them, smiling. There was something in the brass around his eyes. The material was like crystal but clearer, like looking through clear, solid water without the obscuration of ice.

Just back from the top of the hill were three riders and four horses. The magnificent horses seemed eerily still and silent. The riders were clearly watching Tangwen and the others, but they had no weapons in their hands. Calgacus waved at them. They ignored him.

‘This is no demon but surely a man who does not know when to stop with adornment,’ Calgacus opined loudly. Tangwen saw Britha grimace. Germelqart looked less than pleased.

‘I am a demon wearing the flesh of a man, bound into service by my lord Solomon,’ the man said. He spoke the Pecht tongue perfectly. His voice was deep and rich, his accent strange, and disappointingly not that similar to Kush’s.

‘Never heard of him,’ Calgacus said, making it clear in his tone that his lack of knowledge of the demon’s lord was a personal weakness on the part of this Solomon.

‘Indeed,’ the demon said. ‘He is well known enough in his land, and those surrounding them, but that is far from here. How many demons do you have bound to you, great king?’

Calgacus narrowed his eyes. ‘Do you make sport with me, demon?’

‘A little.’ The demon’s smile made it clear all was a jest, but the smile did not quite make it to the one remaining good eye.

‘Where I come from we do not consort with the gods. Demons are lesser things, evil creatures from Cythrawl. Why would I bind them to me?’

‘Power,’ the demon said.

Tangwen liked the raw honesty of the answer.

‘I am sure that this Solomon is a mighty lord,’ Britha started. ‘But we are being rude.’ She introduced Calgacus, Tangwen, herself and finally Germelqart in order of their stations. She sounded as if the formality and politeness were proving a strain.

‘And the other one?’ the demon asked, looking down into the darkness.

‘His name is Selbach the Timid. He is one of my scouts,’ Calgacus told him. ‘And we have still not heard your name.’ Tangwen heard Germelqart’s sharp intake of breath, answered by the demon’s low rumbling laugh.

‘Germelqart is known to me, though I have never met him,’ the demon started. The others turned to look at the Carthaginian but he stared straight ahead. ‘I am called Azmodeus, though my name is my own.’

‘A poor frightened thing who will not say his name,’ Calgacus muttered.

‘It is kept for me by my lord and master.’

Calgacus turned to Britha. ‘Why am I, as a
mormaer
, conversing with a slave?’ he demanded. Tangwen was pretty sure it was for show. Trying to establish dominance. She saw Britha sigh. The smile had gone from Azmodeus’s face.

‘He is an honoured servant,’ Germelqart snapped. It was unusual to hear the Carthaginian angry.

‘Sounds like a sl—’ Calgacus started.

‘Enough!’ Britha snapped. Calgacus turned to look at her, one eyebrow raised. ‘I’m sorry, but we don’t have time for this.’ Then to Azmodeus: ‘Please tell us why you have come.’

‘May I examine it?’ Azmodeus asked.

Germelqart took the chalice out of his bag and handed it to the demon. Tangwen’s hand was on her hatchet and dagger. Britha was moving towards the demon, and Calgacus had his hand on the hilt of his sword.

‘Peace, please,’ Azmodeus said. Tangwen glanced over at the riders; they hadn’t moved, hadn’t drawn weapons. She was wondering why she had agreed to the meeting. Though she wasn’t sure she had exactly. Germelqart just seemed dead set on this course of action.

With the chalice in one hand, the demon closed his eye and took a deep breath. There was a silver glow from his brass-encased eye.

‘The small god in here is almost unbroken and whole of mind,’ he finally said, exhaling. He held the Red Chalice up. ‘So much power in here. It will drive all who know of it to madness.’

‘And you would spare us this?’ Tangwen asked. The demon turned to look at her.

‘That’s good of you,’ Calgacus said.

‘Tell me that you would not see yourself relieved of this burden and we will speak no more.’

Tangwen slumped slightly. She did not like Azmodeus holding the chalice because she knew she might have to fight to get it back, because they needed it, but even the vessel being in someone else’s hands, however fleetingly, seemed like a weight lifted from their shoulders.

‘We have seen this before. My master is a mighty sorcerer; we understand and know how to treat with the small gods.’

‘There is a great evil here,’ Britha said.

‘I know,’ Azmodeus said.

‘We need the chalice, but we need allies as well.’

‘We are not warriors, we are scholars,’ Azmodeus said. Calgacus opened his mouth to say something but Britha motioned him to be quiet. ‘However, if you would be prepared to give us this Red Chalice once you have finished your war, then we could perhaps come to an agreement as regards our aid.’

‘How can scholars aid us?’ Calgacus asked. The demon turned to look at him.

‘The magics they have at their command,’ Germelqart told the Cait
mormaer
.

Calgacus looked unconvinced, though Tangwen was thankful for him keeping his peace. Tangwen had to admit it was an attractive offer. Effectively it would become someone else’s problem. She could see Britha considering the demon’s words. Britha turned to look at her, the question in her eyes.

‘And what of those already blessed by the chalice? And the weapons it makes?’ Tangwen said.

‘What is given can be taken away. Weapons rust away to nothing. Heroes blaze like fire, until the oil is burned away,’ Azmodeus told them. ‘The little god will give you much, you just need to be careful how you ask for it. They are very literal. It is like bargaining with the
djinn
.’

Tangwen had no idea what a
djinn
was, but his words were making sense to her. She was beginning to think she saw a solution to some of their problems at least.

‘No,’ Tangwen said. ‘I thank you for your offer, and demon or not, I think it was honestly meant, but we cannot.’

‘You would have this power for yourself?’ Azmodeus asked. He sounded disappointed.

‘I would give anything to never have laid eyes on the accursed thing,’ she said.

‘Then we have a solution,’ Germelqart said.

She could hear the irritation in his voice, and something else.
Is it desperation?
she wondered. She turned to look at the Carthaginian. ‘If we let them take the chalice, would you be going with them?’

The answer was written all over his face. Tangwen was starting to think that Germelqart needed some time away from the chalice. She turned back to Azmodeus. ‘When we defeat Crom Dhubh, what then? Because there is more power like this out there, isn’t there? The power to enslave, to make stronger, create demons, and foul weapons.’ Azmodeus nodded. ‘So what happens the next time? And there’s your—’

‘We mean you no harm,’ Azmodeus said.

‘Now.’

The demon held the chalice up again. ‘A nation of undefeatable immortals? It will lead to madness and tyranny, however well intentioned its beginnings, and that madness and tyranny will spread.’ As he said this Tangwen could not help but glance down towards the warband’s camp. ‘And then my lord and master will send me, and more like me, and we will become enemies. I would not see this.’

‘Then it must be controlled,’ Britha said. ‘And they must be made to fear it.’

‘And then it must be hidden,’ Tangwen added.

‘And only used when needed?’ Azmodeus asked. ‘I have heard this before.’

‘We are as subject to weakness as anyone else, but we can try,’ Tangwen said.

‘I counsel against this,’ Germelqart said. He looked at Calgacus for support.

‘I mislike the thing. Our own strength and skill should be enough …’ The Pecht
mormaer’s
voice trailed off. ‘But I saw the giants.’ Then he looked up at Azmodeus. ‘And now I think you should give that back.’

Azmodeus looked down at the Red Chalice as though he was surprised to find it still in his hand. He studied it as though he was coming to a decision. Finally he held it out to Tangwen. She reached up to take it from him but he did not let go of it immediately. His skin was warm despite the coldness of the night. Now it was her he studied.

‘Power burns,’ he told her. ‘Some who drink from the chalice may not be strong enough to contain the fire.’ He relinquished the chalice.

It took her a moment but she understood. She glanced over at Britha, to see that the
dryw
had understood as well. She did not look happy. It was not a thing that either of them could do. She turned to look at Germelqart. He looked less than pleased but it was clear he also understood. Calgacus thankfully remained oblivious.

Tangwen looked over at the horses.

‘They’re very well behaved,’ she said.

Azmodeus smiled. ‘Alchemy.’

Tangwen nodded to the demon and turned to head back down the hill but she stopped.

‘You know what we face is evil,’ she said, looking over her shoulder.

Azmodeus did not immediately answer. ‘I think it is more complicated than that. I understand it is a blight on all, but you refused our bargain.’

Tangwen nodded and continued on her way.

23

Now

Du Bois knew he was in trouble the moment he came to. The pain in his wrists and ankles told him that. On the other hand he was quite surprised that he was still alive. The last thing he remembered was Beth with a gun held to his head.

He was lying on the dusty ground. Looking around he could see he was on a dirt road surrounded by scrub undergrowth, interspersed with cacti. He could see mountains in the distance. He guessed they were somewhere in the southern Sonora Desert. It looked so peaceful. They were on high ground and he could see for miles. He approved. Beth would be able to see anyone coming. The only problem was it left them vulnerable to the Circle’s air and space assets.

He felt weak but his neuralware told him that he was mostly healed. He had been out for the better part of eight hours. Beth had used up at least three of the IV bags feeding him replacement matter to allow his body to rebuild itself and heal. Du Bois thought this was a bit wasteful, bearing in mind he was now cable-tied at the wrist and ankles and had chains around his legs attached to the back of the
ECV
. It looked like she intended to drag him. It would never kill him. He couldn’t say he was looking forward to it, however.

Alexia was lying face-down nearby. She too was cable-tied but then Beth had further cable-tied her wrists and ankles together, leaving his sister lying with her spine arched back in a stress position.

Beth herself was leaning against the back of the
ECV
, drinking from her canteen.

‘I know you’re both awake,’ the ex-convict from Bradford said. ‘I heard your breathing change.’

‘Thank you for reattaching my arm,’ Alexia said. Du Bois wondered how she had lost the arm. He wasn’t even all that sure what had happened to him. According to his neuralware it was massive kinetic trauma to the chest. Mueller, he guessed, probably with one of the big anti-materiel rifles. Beth would have had to hold the arm to Alexia’s stump and then use the IVs to help rebuild the matter. He wondered how many more of the IVs they had left. Though he suspected it might be a moot point for him now.

‘Let Alexia go,’ du Bois said. ‘She’s got nothing to do with this.’

‘I don’t want to hurt her,’ Beth started. ‘But—’

‘Hurt my brother and I’ll kill you,’ Alexia said evenly. She really meant it. He could hear it in her voice. Du Bois felt a surge of affection for Alexia.

‘So that’s a problem,’ Beth said. ‘I’ll leave her in the desert with some supplies.’ Du Bois supposed it was the best he could ask for, given the situation.

‘Bitch!’ Alexia spat.

‘You, on the other hand,’ she told du Bois. ‘You’re coming with me. I’m not sure where I’m going—’

‘The
DAYP
—’ du Bois started.

‘Shut up, shut up, shut up!’ she screamed, and stormed over to him and started kicking him with her steel-toecapped para boots. She put the boot in like she knew what she was doing. A backstreet Bradford kicking from a bouncer in the middle of the Arizona desert. He felt a number of his ribs go, reinforced bone broken by augmented musculature. She stopped kicking him and staggered away from him, sobs wracking her body but of course no tears. ‘Why don’t any of you understand that what you do has consequences?’ she screamed. ‘Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, lovers, children, even just friends! Every single fucking person you kill! And now I’m just like you! There’s no fucking good fight! Just people hurting other people!’

She might be right, du Bois thought. It had been such a long time since he had thought about it. He wondered when he had become a psychopath, or perhaps he was just numb now. He certainly wasn’t a human any more, he realised.

‘Beth—’ Alexia started.

‘He killed my father! And raped that girl!’

Du Bois knew he had killed her father. That had been his job, but the rape? Mr Brown would have had to have extensively rewritten his personality and edited his memories for him to have been capable of that. Azmodeus had said he had removed the editing but could not replace what was missing. If this was still him, if neither Azmodeus nor Mr Brown had done something that fundamentally changed him, if they hadn’t manipulated him further, then he just wasn’t capable of it. He had taken his oaths seriously – to an extent he still did, some of them anyway. He remembered lying battered and bleeding in the streets of Acre because he had tried to stop members of his order from raping when they had taken the city. He remembered the censure he had received for his interference. He remembered his disgust. That was when he had decided to walk out into the desert. To go looking for an answer to his then-brother’s plight. Had all that been a lie? Had Azmodeus left a rewritten personality intact because he was a better person now? Had he been even more monstrous?

‘Did you kill her father?’ Alexia asked.

‘Yes,’ du Bois said.

‘Did it even bother you?’ Beth asked. She sounded calmer but he could hear the emotion just under the surface.

‘I felt no compunction about killing him,’ du Bois told her. ‘He was a child thief.’

‘He thought you were breeding them for sacrifice! You were breeding them to harvest their genetic material!’

‘What’s she talking about?’ Alexia asked.

‘I heard what he said to you, the last time,’ du Bois said quietly. Beth screamed. She stormed over to him again. Du Bois was expecting another kicking.
Do I want her to
punish me
? he wondered. This time she drew the Colt. He found himself looking down the pistol’s barrel wondering if it was loaded with the nano-tipped bullets. He could see her finger squeezing the trigger. Then she screamed again, lowered the pistol and fired once, kneecapping him. He screamed. The pain was appalling. Then augmented biochemistry stamped down on it. Only his armoured skin and reinforced bone structure had stopped the hydrostatic shock from the injury blowing off his leg. It wasn’t a nano-tipped bullet, however.

Alexia was screaming at Beth, threats, insults, pleading. Beth was holding the gun against her own face, trying to calm herself enough to function. Beth pointed the Colt at him again, her face a red mask of rage. She stalked back over and stamped on his injured knee. He howled as the pain overwhelmed his augmented nervous system.

‘I’m sorry I hurt you,’ du Bois said, when he had recovered enough to use speech. ‘And I have no excuse. I killed him because I was told to, because it was my job …’

‘He was on oxygen, you bastard! He couldn’t even fucking defend himself!’

Alexia was staring at him, appalled. ‘You killed a differently abled person?’

Now he was angry.

‘What do you think paid for your lifestyle all these centuries?’ he demanded. Alexia looked like she had been slapped. He looked back at Beth. ‘I didn’t like him, so I felt no guilt when I killed him. I barely thought about it.’

‘Shut up!’ Alexia shouted at him.

Beth threw herself down onto her knees next to him. She jammed the barrel of the gun against his face. He suspected she had thought this would play out differently. She would be calm, her anger a cold fury, and she would deliver justice.

‘He was my dad! He might not have been much, but he was my dad! He wasn’t even Talia’s real dad and …’ Her voice tailed off. Her face seemed to crumple as it was wracked by a dry sob. ‘You’re trying to make me kill you, aren’t you?’

‘I’m sorry,’ he told her. ‘For you, but only for you, for my part in all of this. Do what you have to.’

Beth stood up and started walking back to the
ECV
. She opened the boot and dumped out du Bois’s pack, as well as the rifle and the pistol that Karma had given them. He now suspected that Karma had given them the weapons because he had known that Alexia was still alive. Beth put them down on the ground.

‘No, wait!’ Alexia shouted. ‘Don’t listen to him! Don’t do what you have to! You know that this is what that evil bastard wants! Right?’

Beth hesitated.

‘Mr Brown was trying to drive a wedge between you both. Don’t play into his hands, please. I mean, where are you going to go from here?’

Du Bois could see enough of Beth’s face from where he was lying to know that she didn’t have an answer.

‘Maybe I’ll just live in the desert,’ Beth said quietly, looking around.

‘He made a mistake, he killed the wrong person …’ Alexia started.

Du Bois cringed internally. Beth rounded on his sister.

‘You know the first person I killed? He was my sister’s boyfriend. He’d hurt her before, badly, and this time I was sure he was going to kill her. So I beat him to death, with my bare hands. I went too far, it was a mistake. They called that mistake manslaughter and I went to prison. It wasn’t premeditated, like your brother’s
mistake
. See, where I come from what he did to my dad would be called murder, but there’s no accountability for people like you, is there?’

‘She’s right,’ du Bois said.

‘Shut up, Malcolm, just shut up!’ Alexia snapped. ‘What about accountability for Mr Brown? Malcolm was just a tool.’

There was just a moment of indecision. Then Beth dropped the pack on the desert floor and laid the rifle and the pistol on top.

‘What about Grace?’ she asked coldly, and started walking towards the cab of the
ECV
.

‘My brother did not rape that girl,’ Alexia said. Du Bois was pathetically grateful to hear the total conviction in her voice. Beth stopped and turned around.

‘Do you not think I’ve seen this before, the loved ones remaining loyal to the accused? Mr Brown was right. You kill in cold blood. You’ve probably killed thousands. What the hell difference would one rape mean to you?’

‘It’s different—’ du Bois managed.

‘He may be a monster, but not that kind of monster,’ Alexia said, cutting him off. ‘I can tell you all the things that he’s done that could prove this. He has no place in this century. His mindset is medieval, he can rationalise killing all the people, and still think himself a protector of women. I’m telling you he didn’t do it. This is one of Mr Brown’s tricks, and you’re giving him exactly what he wants. And then what? Are you going to go after the guy who actually ordered your father’s death?’

Beth looked stricken. He could understand why. Mr Brown was too big, too alien. After what they had seen in the Boneyard, Karma’s pretty extensive assassination attempt, he didn’t even know what his erstwhile boss was. Let alone how to kill him.

‘You were just going to take it out on my brother, weren’t you?’ Alexia said from her uncomfortable position on the ground.

‘Were?’ Beth asked. ‘First I’m going to drag him.’

‘Beth,’ du Bois said, ‘you know I can get out of this, if I want?’ He held up his cable-tied wrists. She had taken the belt buckle knife but all he would have to do was chew open his skin and let the nanites in his blood-screen eat away at the cable ties.

‘We might not know how to kill Mr Brown,’ Alexia said, ‘but let’s at least fuck his life up.’

‘If you want to kill me after, I’ll let you,’ du Bois told her, and right then, right there, he meant it. He could feel Alexia staring at him.

‘Will you just stop helping?’ Alexia snapped.

Du Bois watched as Beth unsheathed the bayonet. Part of him was hoping that she was going to stab him with it. It was the least he deserved. She didn’t. Instead she cut him free. Then she held the blade in front of his face.

‘You need to know I will never forgive you,’ Beth told him. He nodded. She stood up. ‘So did your groin grow back okay?’ she asked. He didn’t really want to think too much about Grace shooting him in his nether regions. The thought still made him flinch and the new flesh was still tender. He just nodded. His howls echoed over the desert as steel toecaps connected with new testicles three times in quick succession.

They had tried to avoid the main routes into Los Angeles as much as possible. The highways had looked as bad as the M25 around London had. Except some of the vehicles were moving and there were a lot more guns. Despite eschewing the main routes there had still been trouble on the road and they had left behind bullet-ridden vehicles with corpses inside.

They had travelled in an uncomfortable silence. Du Bois had sat in the passenger seat manning the M240B general-purpose machine gun. Beth had spent most of the time standing up in the
ECV
’s minigun turret, ignoring the du Bois siblings. Ignoring her father’s murderer. Alexia had done the driving. Du Bois had done a contact upload of his skills to his sister, much as he had with Beth in Portsmouth. Alexia had some skills of her own, but she hadn’t been one of the Circle’s operatives like he had. Physically she wouldn’t be quite as capable or fast as he was, or as Beth seemed to be, and although she’d been in fights in the past she didn’t have his experience. She would, however, be able to handle herself better than before.

Karma had given them a prototype Beretta
ARX
-170 assault rifle, again chambered for the 7.62mm that he and Beth were using in their principal weapons, and a Beretta 8045 Cougar semi-automatic pistol. The Cougar was chambered for .45 calibre rounds like du Bois and Beth’s sidearms.

‘Both Italian,’ Alexia had said, unimpressed. ‘They’ll go with my shoes.’

They had raided an outdoor suppliers for practical clothes and footwear for Alexia, and then du Bois had shown her how to use the nanites in her blood to armour her clothes and make them self-cleaning.

Alexia had told him that after the surprise gig, she and the band had gone up to Ithaca, in the Finger Lakes region of upstate New York, to use a friend’s recording studio. They’d had a limited window of opportunity, and had driven out of New York straight after the gig. If not she would have been caught when the nuke had gone off.

She had to wipe a tear off her cheek when she told him about the phones starting to ring. She had known there was something wrong but the rest of the band had answered their phones, or had been on their laptops, or tablets. She had been forced to kill two of them herself with her knives.