The Black Tattoo (50 page)

"
Yes?
"

"Through sacrifice," he finished.

There was a pause.

"What?" asked Esme.

"I think that someone has to die," said God.
 
He looked up and, seeing Esme's expression, added:
 
"I'm sorry, but there it is."
 
Then he looked down at his feet.

There was another, longer pause, as Esme considered this.

She'd known, she supposed.
 
At least, she always should've known.

What else was there for her, anyway?
 
She was neither one thing nor the other, not demon and not human:
 
she belonged nowhere.

This was her job.
 
One job she'd trained her whole life to do:
 
one chance to have her revenge.

Boom!
 
The room shook, and a million glass bottles rattled in the boxes on the walls.

"You, er..."
 
God looked guiltily at his feet again.
 
"You don't have much time."

Esme squared her shoulders.

"All right," she said.
 
"I'll do it."

TO THE DEATH

"
There
," said the Scourge, turning to the nearest Gukumat.
 
"
I believe we are ready to proceed.
 
Is everything in place
?"

The Overminister bowed.
 
Yes, Sire.
 
It's just
—

"
What is it
?"
 
The Scourge was suddenly aware of all of Gukumat's eyes looking in his direction.

Gukumat bowed again and folded his long-fingered hands in front of his robes in an awkward, self-effacing gesture.
 
One hates to question Your Worship at a time like this, he said, but the situation being what it is, one can't help but feel a little... concerned.

"
Say what you mean, Gukumat
," said the Scourge, beginning to understand why Hacha'Frashi had disliked him so much.

Very well, Sire.
 
It's the boy
.
 
Gukumat gestured toward Charlie, who was still sitting bolt upright, a blissful smile on his face.
 
Are you quite sure he's... safe?

"
The boy is in my power
," said the Scourge, as patiently as it could.
 
"
He is, I assure you, perfectly
'
safe
'."

Your Worship's words are most reassuring
, said the Overminister.
 
However, the fact remains that when he realizes what is to become of him, he
—

"
Charlie is not your concern, Gukumat
, snapped the Scourge.
 
Then, in a more conciliatory tone, it added, "
Please, leave him to me.
 
Now, is everything ready for the next stage
?"

For perhaps three whole hundredths of a second, Gukumat thought about this.

At that moment, the Overminister was engaged in a number of simultaneous activities.
 
The Carnotaur — arguably the most dangerous of the gladiators — had lost what little patience its pea-size brain possessed and was busily attempting to break out of its magical bonds.
 
A detachment of twelve clones was subduing it with fire lances while another fifteen were combining their powers to shore up the bubblelike wall of its makeshift prison.
 
At that very instant too some seven thousand other Gukumats were also engaged throughout the vast heart chamber in similar containment activities with Hell's increasingly unruly populace.
 
Demons were an impatient breed and not given to waiting in one place for long:
 
there had already been casualties.
 
However, these were well within acceptable limits.
 
If fact, as the Overminister had discovered, having Hell's entire population in one place actually made it a lot easier to deal with — logistically speaking, at least.

It is, Sire
, he answered.

"
Splendid
," said the Scourge.
 
"
Then
—"

A ripple went through the humid air, a soft susurrus of power that set the silken robes of the surrounding Gukumats rustling.
 
The Scourge paused, distracted.
 
Some twenty feet away across the wet pink fleshy floor, a patch of space seemed to bulge suddenly, condensing, taking shape.

Then Esme appeared.

She stood with her hands at her sides, the hilt of the pigeon sword jutting over her shoulder.
 
The nearest Gukumats opened their hooked jaws and hissed at her, but they might as well not have been there.
 
Her eyes were closed, but as soon as the haze of molecular disturbance in the air had dispersed around her, she opened them and looked at the Scourge, hard.

The Scourge folded its liquid-black arms.
 
Though it showed no outward sign of it, it was smiling.

"
So
," it said.
 
"
You've taken the first step.
 
You're beginning to realize what you can become.
 
My congratulations:
 
you're clearly a fast learner
."

Esme said nothing.

"
Am I to understand that this means you have decided to accept my offer
?"

Esme looked around herself slowly.
 
She looked at the gladiators, trapped high above in their bubbles of magic.
 
She looked at Charlie, frozen, staring, on his throne of meat.
 
She looked at the massed ranks of the Gukumats and the clamoring horde of demons spread across the landscape far below.

"You've been busy," she said.

"
We have
," agreed the Scourge.
 
It gestured in Charlie's direction with long, inky fingers.
 
"
The boy is about to complete the ritual
," it said.
 
"
You're just in time
."

"How does it work?" said Esme.
 
"If you don't mind my asking?"

"
Not at all
!" said the Scourge.
 
"
It's like this:
 
before awakening fully, the Dragon must first be convinced that the universe is ready for its own annihilation.
 
Do you understand me so far
?"

Esme grimaced but nodded.

"
Well
," said the Scourge, "
the reason I need Charlie is that he's going to play the part of the universe's
representative
."

Esme frowned.

"
In just a few moments now, Charlie will be offered a choice.
 
He will be granted a glimpse of the whole of Creation, and the Dragon will ask Charlie, as the universe's spokesman, what he, Charlie, wishes should be done with it.
 
In that instant, the fate of us all will rest solely in Charlie's hands
."

"And?"

"
Naturally, Charlie will be so obsessed with his own little preoccupations that he won't have the wit to understand what is being offered.
 
With — I assure you — only the slightest nudges from me, he will answer the Dragon's question in exactly the way I want him to.
 
Then, at last, the awakening will be unstoppable
."

"By
mistake?
" said Esme, incredulous.
 
"You're saying that Charlie's going to cause the destruction of the universe by
mistake?
"

"
You could call it a mistake on his part, perhaps
," said the Scourge.
 
"
There will, I promise, be no mistake on mine
."

"
So
," it added, after a moment, "
what do you say
?"

There was a pause.

"Let me get this straight," said Esme.
 
"If I agree to what you said, then you're going to stop all this?"

Abruptly, every single one of the Gukumats seemed to stiffen.

"You're going to abandon the idea of waking the Dragon," Esme went on, "and never even think about ending the universe again,
ever
.
 
Right?"

"
That was my offer
," the Scourge replied.

A ripple of consternation spread through the ranks of Gukumats.

My lord!
 
the Overminister began.
 
I—!

"I don't believe you," said Esme.

There was another pause.

"
What
?" said the Scourge.

"It's quite simple," Esme began.
 
"If I really believed that taking up your offer — that acting" — she wrinkled her nose — "as your 'daughter' was actually going to stop you from doing what you're doing, then believe me, I'd agree like a shot."

She smiled fiercely.

"I'm not going to lie to you:
 
I wouldn't like it.
 
In fact, the idea of having to call you 'Daddy' is just about the single most repulsive thing I can think of.
 
But if it was really a straight choice between that and letting you kill everyone, then repulsive or not, there'd be no contest, obviously.
 
However
," she added, continuing to stare at the Scourge, trying to gauge what effect her words were having (its liquid-black face remained smooth and impassive, just as it always did), "that's not really the situation here — is it?"

No one answered.

"You know," said Esme, taking her time, "there's one thing about this that makes me very angry indeed."

Neither Gukumat nor the Scourge spoke.

"It's not the blackmail," said Esme, "the 'love me or else!' thing — though to be sure that certainly is pretty irritating."

"It's not even," she added, "the fact you've murdered my family and put a blight on my entire life."

"It's the fact," she went on, the cold, tight sensation in her chest brightening, hardening, "that you've asked me to
trust you afterwards
."

She glared at the demon.

"Do you really expect me to believe anything you say, after all you've done?" she asked.
 
"Do you really expect me to believe that you can keep a promise, after the lies you've told and the lives you've ruined?"

"
I gave you my word
—" said the Scourge.

"Yeah, and maybe you even believed it," said Esme.
 
"But the point is,
I don't
.
 
And if you thought I was going to, you're obviously a lot stupider than I imagined."

"
You reject my offer, then
?" asked the Scourge.

"You're damn right I reject your offer."

Esme's hard brown hands lifted fractionally from her sides.
 
Her amber eyes glittered as she faced her enemy, and the Gukumats around her all backed away — away from the girl and the way that she smiled.

"No tricks," said Esme.
 
"No more lies.
 
You and me are going to fight this out to the finish.
 
Right now."

THE GRAND CABAL

Jack came to, or thought he did — it was so dark it was hard to tell — to the sound of voices.

"Didn't even get a shot off," said one.

"Twelve," began Number 3 wearily.

"Hello?" croaked Jack.

"Jack!" said Number 3, relieved.
 
"You all right over there?"

"Um, yes, I think so."
 
In actual fact, Jack wasn't at all sure.
 
He could wriggle his fingers and toes, but everything else seemed to be stuck.
 
Even turning his head was apparently impossible:
 
he pushed, quite hard in fact, but the only result was a soft, resinous creaking sound from whatever held him.
 
His whole body was throbbing, as if a great weight were pressing on it.

"Well?
 
What the Hell is this place, kid?" burst out Number 2, to Jack's annoyance.
 
"Just where the Hell are we now?"

"Where the Hell do you think?" said Jack grimly.
 
"We're in Hell."

"But what's going to happen to us?
 
Why's it so dark?"

"Because in Hell," muttered Jack, "no matter how bad things get, you know they can always get worse."

"Listen to the smallest of you!" said an unfamiliar voice suddenly.
 
"He shows wisdom!
 
It's a pity that he didn't show this wisdom earlier — before you all committed the crimes that will result in your death!"

There was an answering chittering sound that came from all around them:
 
a sound, Jack realized, like laughter.

"Bring lights for the soup-suckers!" said the voice.
 
"It's time for them to see who they've offended!"

There was a soft
flump
; then there was light.
 
The cave they were in was not big by Hell's standards, perhaps fifty or sixty feet high — but Jack and the Sons were
stuck to the ceiling
.
 
Directly below them was another pool of mysterious liquid, this one pale and frothy looking, the color of sour milk.
 
Ranged around the pool, clinging to the floor and walls of the cave staring up at them with a million shiny black bush-baby eyes that glinted in the light, were more Chinj than Jack could ever have guessed existed.
 
The ranks of leathery-winged bodies stretched as far as Jack's eyes could see.

"Gluttons!"
screeched the voice.
 
"Soup-slurpers!
 
Vulgarians!
 
See the grisly fate that awaits you — you and all who trespass in the sacred byways of the Chinj!"

Jack looked for where the voice was coming from:
 
its origin wasn't hard to find.
 
On the far shore of the frothy sour-milk stuff, three long steps had been cut roughly into the sheer black walls of the cave.
 
At the center of the top step, flanked by a squadron of fierce and, with their graying fur, oddly venerable-looking bat creatures, stood a lone, pale figure.