Authors: Ciaran Nagle
Tags: #hong kong, #israel, #china, #africa, #jewish, #good vs evil, #angels and demons, #international crime, #women adventure, #women and crime
'So what do they do with them?'
'First they hunt down
a sewer-full of gurns and throw them into wire
cages. The gurns stare out, snarling and twisting their faces into
a rendition of whoever is looking at them. This causes hilarity,
naturally, among the guys watching. Sometimes they goad them to see
which one can make the ugliest face. You should be careful,
Lafarge, when you go to a gurn burn. Your handsome face will make
them go wild. They always try to take down the good-looking
ones.'
'I don't see how they could
impersonate me in an ugly way. Impossible.'
'Anyway,' Kodrob continued, 'when
their captors get bored of that game they pluck them from the cage
one by one, holding them between tongs. Then they impale them onto
barbed spikes in the ground and set them alight.'
'That sounds more fun than getting
drunk.'
'They squeal like wild pigs.
Tortures your ears.
But the thing is, the
gurns become squinting squibs. The ugly beasts burn furiously. They
burn like petrol and hot fat combined. For hours. Then just at the
end, as the flesh is burning out, the gurn's soul shoots up into
the sky. It pulses out all its energy in all directions, like a
lighthouse. Purples, mauves, violets. A stroboscopic firework
display. When that goes out the soul is finally dead. Extinct. No
husk. No coming back. Nothing. Then they get the next gurn and burn
him too. And the next and so on until they're all gone. Gurn burns
can go on for days.'
'I hope that never happens to me,' said
Lafarge, contemplatively.
Kodrob turned his head to look sideways
at him. 'Lafarge, are you stupid or something?'
'What? I don't want to be a gurn!'
'You don't get a choice.' Kodrob
stared at Lafarge incredulously. 'Everyone becomes a gurn in the
end. It's inevitable. There's nothing you can do about it. Sooner
or later you'll get husked. You'll get in a fight or something and
someone'll knife you. Your body changes inside the husk. Like a
butterfly. Only you don't come out prettier than you went in. You
come out dumber and uglier. A lower form. A lower caste. Less
brains every time. So it goes on all the way down the caste ladder
until you become a gurn too. We all will. Get used to
it.'
Kodrob emptied his tankard and
stood up. Lafarge was staring at his feet. He put his hand to his
handsome face and stroked his cheek. Then he looked at his fingers.
'So I'm going to burn,' said the French demon. 'Burn like a gurn.
Squeal and spin and burn. With lots of guys watching, laughing.' He
raised his head to look at his captain.
'Come on,' said Kodrob, brusquely.
'It won't happen just yet. And it's time to go see Lady Bezejel.
Get her out of bed. If she's in a foul mood we just might get
husked today and begin our journey down the ladder. Only one way to
find out. Let's go.'
They
left the canteen and returned to the corridor outside
Bezejel's quarters.
The four bodies were in the same
place.
'Hunks they went in and husks they
came out,' said Kodrob grimly as he stepped carefully over the
straw bale-like forms.
'Why does she do it?' whispered
Lafarge.
'Can't help herself.
Though some say it's to avoid having to remember
a guy's name in the morning.'
Kodrob pulled a small flask of liquid
from his pocket, unscrewed the cap and put it to his mouth. He
swallowed hard and then after putting it back in his tunic, stood
astride over the fourth husk and knocked on Bezejel's door which
was slightly ajar.
Inside he could see signs of
destruction all around the room. Broken tankards, smashed chairs
and more shredded uniforms spoke of Bezejel's evening of
delight.
'Ma'am, the second letter has been
delivered to the Earth woman. You asked me to let you know.' Kodrob
was as formal as he could be.
'Get out,' came the throaty reply.
'Stand outside the door.' Kodrob moved out of sight and stood to
attention in the corridor. Lafarge stood beside him, staring
upwards at the arched ceiling.
'Guards.' Bezejel summoned her two
protectors, Gog and Magog. They were waiting in the nearby drinks
storeroom counting their spoil. The husked satyrs would have no
further need of their diesel vouchers.
Sound of stiletto heels
on rock as Bezejel fastened the straps on her
shoes. Moments later she emerged from her room and stepped daintily
into the corridor. At her feet were the four prostrate husks. She
looked down at them as if wondering what they were doing there. One
of them had doubled up in his death agonies and was now causing an
obstruction. His body filled the gap between the walls. Bezejel, in
her tight fitting red dress, could not step over him. She held out
a slender bare arm to Kodrob. He took her hand and she leant on his
weight and hopped lightly over the cocoon, clacking her heels as
she landed and steadied herself on the other side.
She looked back at the husks and
then up again at Gog and Magog. They knew what she wanted and
signalled their understanding with a nod.
Then Bezejel tossed her head and
set off down the corridor at a lick while Kodrob and Lafarge fell
in behind her.
'What's the letter?' barked Bezejel.
'Er, eh e.
' Kodrob had almost forgotten why he was there.
'e ma'am,' he repeated.
'I heard you the first time.'
Bezejel reached the spiral stairs
to the next level and tip-tapped rapidly upwards. The two males
followed, struggling to keep pace. Another length of gloomy
corridor and then Bezejel entered Kodrob's squad room which had now
become her campaign headquarters.
Kodrob's other squad members were
already in place. There were Holzman, Van Diemen, Ologu and
Pu Gash, the orderly. They had heard Bezejel's
approach and were dressed in full Marauder uniform and standing to
attention. As she entered they saluted.
Bezejel did not return the salute.
Instead she surveyed the room and waited while Kodrob and Lafarge
entered after her and also stood still. A silence
followed.
Bezejel fixed her gaze on the
charcoal image of the Leader on the wall. The cold eyes stared back
at her. And at everyone else. Soon she relaxed and her eyes became
less fierce, more focused.
'W
e have
work to do.' Bezejel's soft whisper came in a change of mood that
Kodrob was slowly getting used to.
'You, get some drinks. Hades coffees all
round,' said Bezejel almost smiling at Pu Gash, Kodrob's only imp
soldier who went off to his petrol station to make the brews.
Bezejel stood near the table and
waited till Lafarge, the only demon there versed in etiquette,
attentively pushed in her chair beneath her. Kodrob sat beside her,
followed by his squad.
As they settled into their seats
he cast a hasty eye over Bezejel's upper body.
Killer princess. He took in the perfect shape, the
intelligent eyes and the coquettish look and tried not to think
about the four satyrs.
He turned his attention back to the
matter in hand. This was his squadroom, his squad and he needed to
observe the formalities.
'Ma'am, you've met my boys before.
Now may I introduce them. First off, Holzman the cruel, a former
gladiator, now a weapons master.' Each Marauder stood up as their
name was mentioned and bowed to Bezejel. Holzman's smile was a
little too familiar. 'Lafarge, former layabout,' everyone laughed
at the French womaniser, 'and now an ace forager. Van Diemen,
former poisoner and now an assassin. You'd better watch your coffee
ma'am,' Kodrob whispered to Bezejel, as laughter broke out again.
'Don't let him near it.' He slapped Van Diemen on the shoulder.
'Ologu, former slave trader, now an angel trapper. And Pu Gash, who
did nothing notable in the Fourth but now makes mouth-watering
drinks in the Fifth thus proving that only in Inferno are people's
talents developed to the full.'
Kodrob finished his introduction
with a theatrical flourish. He watched how Bezejel's face glowed
and her eyes sparkled like scintillas in a smithy as she learnt
about her new team. He was proud of them. They were custom built
for a Destructive Purpose project. When Kodrob had finished,
Bezejel clapped her hands and gave him a playful puck on the cheek.
It felt like being stroked by a bench vice. He acknowledged her
gesture with a polite tilt of his head.
Bezejel now took command of the
room
. Kodrob sat down and watched his
boss. She narrowed her eyes and regarded the half dozen Marauders
sitting nervously around the table like a mother eagle surveying
her chicks. 'I am expecting a visitor shortly who is going to work
alongside us and assist us. Captain Kodrob has met him already. He
is Colonel Hideki and he has won a formidable reputation for his
pioneering work in bringing humans back to the true path.' As she
spoke she produced a short hunting knife from her belt and pushed
the tip of its blade into the wooden table in front of her. They
had seen this before.
'The Leader
has spoken favourably of him,' she continued. 'We will work
closely with him and he with us. But do not forget that Captain
Kodrob is your boss and I am Captain Kodrob's boss. Colonel Hideki
is an adviser, not your commander.'
All eyes in the room were
flitting
from the knife to Bezejel's face
and back again. They were serious now, Kodrob noted, except for
Holzman who was transfixed.
Footsteps sounded outside the room
and
Kodrob leapt to his feet. He ran to
the door and craned his neck to peer into the gloom. It was Hideki.
Not walking, but marching. The former Divine Wind commander entered
the room and snapped to a halt,
his hands
stiffly at his sides. He looked at Bezejel and made a bold effort
at a smile.
Keeping one hand on the curved
ceremonial blade hanging from his belt, he looked around him and
took in his surroundings before giving a slight bow to the image of
the Leader on the wall. 'So honoured, so honoured.' Hideki bowed
also to Bezejel and took a seat that was held out for
him.
He sat down stiffly, turned to
Bezejel and nodded curtly. Only now did he drop the military clip
and sit at ease.
Bezejel placed her hands
casually at either side of the knife. 'Now boys,
this is Colonel Hideki. He has proved his ability to lead men into
battle so you would be advised to listen to him carefully and
learn. He is also one of the smartest demons in the kingdom. He has
studied the human psyche. The colonel knows how to extract and
recycle ambition and lust for power from one generation of humans
to the next. He is a practitioner of the Arts of Lucifer. It was he
who identified the hidden talents of the girl Nancy and showed how
her few shortcomings could be fixed. In other words, how she could
be made whole. He is going to tell us about some exciting
operational developments in the project.'
Pu Gash entered bearing a tray of
stone beakers filled with dark steaming liquid. The little imp
walked around the table placing a beaker in front of each demon,
starting with Bezejel and Hideki. When he had placed each drink
down he went around a second time
,
lighting the drinks with a taper as he went. Blue flames took hold
and hovered over the drinks like jack o'lanterns over a swamp. They
made a colour contrast to the various shades of red of almost
everything else in the room. The whiff of kerosene was noticeable
immediately and several Marauders inhaled deeply, approving the
pungent aroma.
As they paused to enjoy their
drinks Bezejel chatted gaily
for a few
moments with the Marauders sitting opposite her. Holzman rolled up
the sleeves of his combat fatigues to show off the girth of his
upper arm. He was not the best-looking of demons. Not that smart
either. Kodrob saw a dangerous situation developing and moved to
intercept. By the time he had taken the four paces around the table
to where Holzman was sitting the German demon had encouraged
Bezejel to reach across and place her hand around his bulging
biceps. She was playing up to him, gazing helplessly into his eyes
like a seal pup. The softest of hums broke her lips as she squeezed
her fingers.
'Excuse me ma'am.' Kodrob placed a
friendly arm on Holzman's shoulder, pulling him back. 'Marauder
Holzman missed out on finishing school.
He forgets himself.'
'Nonsens
e,' Bezejel purred. 'We're not doing any harm. Just getting
to know each other. Isn't that right Holzman?'
The
ex-gladiator was oblivious to his boss who was trying to
save him. He looked down at Bezejel's knife. 'That's a mighty fine
little blade, Miss. I mean Ma'am. A real angel tickler, knife like
that.' Kodrob cringed. Even his chat up lines were all wrong. But
grunt soldiers don't just come on romantically to siren princesses.
Not unless they want a very limited future.
'Well, it's yours,' declared Bezejel
earnestly, to the astonishment of the rest. 'At the end of the
meeting you can have it if you want it.'
'We should get started again,'
said Kodrob quickly. 'We all have a lot to do.' He glanced at
Ologu, pleading with his eyes for help. Ologu shook his head. Van
Diemen shrugged and smiled thinly, watching the fun. Lafarge held
back. He'd seen all too recently what Bezejel was capable
of.