The blade came down.
The soul was shattered.
A shockwave of pure, unfettered evil rippled outward from the circle’s center. The Brethren were each buffeted by it, but stood fast, as if anchored by the ash-lines on which they stood. The world around them was not so lucky. The black shockwave expanded exponentially, gaining speed as it blew past me and disappearing beyond the horizon in all directions. The very earth beneath my feet shuddered violently as if with sudden fright. It left nothing of the landscape standing — leveling trees, withering heather to dead husks, felling small game to burst half-rotten in mere seconds.
I fell to my knees, weeping at the sight. Those inside the circle looked stricken — panicked.
From somewhere distant I heard a roar, like every radio ever built was tuned to static and turned up as far as it would go. A salt wind buffeted my cheeks and tousled my meat-suit’s hair. The distant horizon seemed to rise up before me in the starlight, faintly luminescent.
And grew.
And grew taller still.
In the moment before it reached me, I finally realized what I was looking at: a wall of water five hundred feet high, hurtling toward me like God’s own vengeance.
As it bore down upon me, I closed my eyes. Placed my hands over my head. And prayed.
The water hit. I felt its impossible weight slam me to the ground, and crush my bones to dust.
Then the world shifted.
The wall of water was gone.
I stood once more in a vast field of heather, the child-thing and its mouthpiece at my side.
23.
“So now, you see,” the child-thing’s mouthpiece said.
“See what?” I asked, my voice shaky and hoarse with fear. “Why would you show me that? What the hell’s it got to do with me?”
The massive creature sighed. It sounded like two boulders rubbed together. “It is ever a fault of your kind that you each assume yourselves to be the hero of your own tale. Perhaps it is my fault, for creating you with so narrow a point of view. Thanks to your limited perspective, you see yourself in every scene, and therefore conclude that you’re the star. I showed you this because you need to understand you’ve been nothing but a pawn for all this time, a pet Collector for Lilith to do with as she saw fit.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning the hierarchy of the Depths did not order you to move against the Brethren. They were protected by the Great Truce, and despite recent skirmishes, remain protected by it still. Given that fact, hell alone cannot order their termination; such an order must be unanimously decided by all parties. Charon, for his part, might have assented, for he’s long seen the Nine as an affront to his authority. Lucifer would only act against the Brethren if it proved in some way expedient to him, and he assures me at this fragile time, he considers any violation of the Truce to be quite the opposite. And I certainly did not consent. Which means your orders to eliminate them came from Lilith and Lilith alone.”
“That’s not true. It can’t be.”
“I’m afraid it is.”
“But what of the demonic raid on Grigori’s place on the Riviera? On Drustanus and Yseult?”
“They were conducted by Lilith’s partisans. She has a great deal of support among the foot-soldiers of hell, as one might imagine of a woman of her wiles. It seems she’s no shortage of blunt instruments to manipulate.” That last was pointed, and aimed at me.
“That’s not fair,” I said.
“Isn’t it? You can’t deny you’ve acted recklessly of late. That your heart has hardened.”
“I can’t be blamed for that. After all I’ve been through. After all I’ve lost.”
“I won’t deny your path has been one of great suffering, that you’ve taken your fair share of wounds along the way. But wounds are a funny thing. If ill-tended, they scar over, grow numb, deaden he who carries them to the sensations of the world around him. Collect enough of them, and so too shall you be. But if treated properly, they reveal new skin beneath. Sensitive, certainly, painfully so, but more capable of feeling than what came before.”
“You’re saying I’ve let go of too much of me. That I’ve become something less than what I was.”
“I’m saying the healing process is both long and painful, but ultimately it’s up to you how well it goes — and how you deal with the challenges it poses along the way. Even flesh twisted by consuming fire can be taught to feel again with time.”
“Save the fortune-cookie bullshit for someone who might give a damn,” I said.
The creature and boy both shook their heads in time. “I think you care more than you dare let on.”
“So okay, I’ve been played — or allowed myself to be. Why? What’s Lilith’s angle?”
The child shrugged. Its monster said, “Perhaps upon discovering your ability to end the Brethren, she saw the chaos created by the recent unrest as her opportunity to clean up a mess made long ago, one that very nearly came back to haunt her when Ana Jovic and Daniel Young attempted to recreate the ceremony she herself devised. She, unlike the Brethren, is not protected by the Great Truce, and therefore can still be punished for her actions should they come to light. Or perhaps her reasons are somewhat more obscure. Whatever they are, they’re known to her and her alone. But if you’re curious, you could ask her when you catch up with her.”
“It’s usually Lilith who catches up with me,” I said. “She’s not really one to come when called. She prefers to make an entrance — usually of the appearing-when-I-least-expect-it variety. Come to think of it, you and her should hold a contest.”
“I fear her days of wielding such power are behind her,” he said.
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning I’ve taken the liberty of stripping Lilith of her powers. She is human once more. And Lilith’s fate is in your hands: for as ye sow, so shall ye reap.”
“You’re telling me I have to collect her.”
“I’m telling you it falls to you to do what must be done.”
“There has to be another way,” I said.
“There always is, but I beseech you not to seek it, for it will not end well for you.”
“What if I just refuse?”
“Then someone else will be chosen for the task. But I suspect you might prove more humane. It is up to you. Only you can decide what’s right.”
“I wouldn’t even know where to find her,” I said.
“On that count, I can provide some measure of guidance, for you see, your journey with Lilith is a closed loop. It will end where it began.”
“You mean–”
But I never bothered to finish my question. The child-thing and its mouthpiece-beast were gone.
24.
Berlin had changed so much since I’d first laid eyes on it in the last flagging days of the Third Reich. Then, it seemed an apocalyptic wasteland, ground zero for the worst evil the modern world had ever known. The decent people who’d lived there did so in quiet and in fear, scarcely glimpsed because they were as afraid of their own fascist regime as they were of the Allies intent on leveling the once-great city they called home. Now, the city was great once more. A bustling modern metropolis — vibrant, colorful, and lively. A shining example of what humankind can accomplish, a center of art and commerce, of science, of community.
It seemed the child and his grotesque conduit were right about one thing — given time and tending, even the deepest of wounds can heal.
It was amazing to me the building in which I first awoke as a Collector was still standing. It had been redone tackily sometime in the decades hence — a sad, Sixties-modern façade slapped up over the original brick face — but it seemed Berliners found the new façade as much of an affront as I, because it was halfway through the process of being removed. Scaffolding climbed up one side of the building, and on the rooftop sat an idle crane; yellow construction refuse tubes led from upper windows to dumpsters below. For a moment, I wondered where the workers were — it was scarcely twilight, after all — but then I realized it was Saturday, the city awash with the spark of possibility that only ever seemed to fully ignite come weekend.