Dave Butler Writes

Jane frowned.  She could hear the sirens closer now.  “I don’t know whether I’m damned or not.  We didn’t have damnation when I was a kid, so I don’t know where I stand.  My big problem isn’t that at all—”

“Your big problem is you can’t die,” Eddie cut her off.

“Chingado.”

“If it doesn’t rain, well, you know.”

“Bullseye,” she said.

Eddie nodded.  “Take care of yourself.”  He ground his window back up again, Jim nodded, and then they were in motion, rolling onto the highway and away.

Above the taillights of the Dodge, she could make out two birds flying away.  One was Twitch, a white-winged raptor with a silver horse’s tail; the other was a large black crow.

“Come on, girl.”  Jane turned and led her mount into the sorghum fields.  She didn’t have the strength of ka to put together any useful wards, and she could see the lights of the police cars and fire trucks now.  She’d feel better after a couple of hours of light walking, and then she’d put together appropriate spells for traveling.

The Thracian Mare neighed a slight protest.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be back,” Jane acknowledged.  “The crow will always be back.”

Follow

“What about them?”  She pointed at the sufferers below.

Azazel nodded agreement.  “They are the reason why I must win.”

“Baraqyel said they were the unhappy dead.”

“They are.  Heaven has coined a new word for them, in fact.  They are the damned.”

“How are they damned?”

Azazel sighed.  “It means they have done terrible things in their earthly lives, and now that they are dead, they have to work it out.”

“What does work it out mean?”

“I don’t know.”  Azazel’s eyes got a far-away look.  “I haven’t worked it out yet.”

“Must they suffer?”

“They chose suffering themselves.  What they need is someone to make their suffering worthwhile.”

“Are you saying you’re going to save them?”

Azazel stamped one hoof on the floor.  “I definitely won’t save them, nor will I save anyone else.  I am not the saving kind.  What I’m saying is that pain can be healing.  Pain can unlock what is inside a person, it can release him of the burden of greater pain and set him in the path of recovery.  Pain can, for instance, bring remorse.  And I am very definitely the pain-inflicting kind.”

Follow

“Silence!” Azazel roared one word, and the racket cut off.  He looked across the Council chamber at Qayna.  “Do you abstain, then?” he asked her.

Qayna almost fell from her perch.  Her crow settled slowly on the back of the empty throne and stared at her.  “Me?”

“It’s a trick!” Semyaz howled, and his supporters pounded on the table with their fists and stamped on the floor with their hooves.  “He’s cheating!”

“Point of order!” Belial shrieked.  The voice from the mass of tentacles sounded like metal grinding on metal, but somehow it formed intelligible words.  “All parties present vote.”  Something like a beak, beneath something like a golden eye, shoved its way forward through the tentacles and fixated on Qayna.  “He has done you hurt, woman.”

“All parties present vote,” Bull Head agreed.

“No!”

“She is the Marked Woman,” Azazel repeated.  “She’s practically one of us.”

“All parties present vote,” Ezeq’el agreed.

They all stared at Qayna.  She stared back, wondering whom she would offend if she said anything.  She didn’t mind the thought of being killed, but she balked at the idea of being trapped in the torture-orgy below.

“Call for a new vote!” Semyaz growled, banging the table again.  “New vote!”

“Point of order,” Ezeq’el said calmly.  “This vote isn’t over until all participants have indicated their vote.”

“New vote!”

“Point of order!”

Azazel smiled.

Follow