A Book of Dust and Breath

Chapter Twenty Three

Spiritual wounds created physical results. The breach had torn open a seventy-foot-long gash in the earth. Steam belched up from the boiling guts of the planet, adding heat to the unusually warm summer air. The crevasse was guarded on one side by a wall of disembodied stone heads trapped inside a cage made of rebar and on the other side by dozens of amorphous men and women curled in fetal positions upon the grass. That grass had once been lush and green, but now, for a thousand feet in every direction, there was no sign of life. Grass withered to dry brown stalks. Trees bore no leaves. The tiny bodies of birds and insects slowly rotted to that from whence they came.

In the name of safety, local police surrounded the affected corner of the park with barriers and warning posters. An exercise in wasting tax-payer dollars since no human would willingly wander close to Hell. The spirit would balk and demand retreat before they could draw near enough to cast themselves down. Further, no barrier built by man would protect the city from the evil that lurched and crawled up from that foul depth.

Max sprinted along the walkway between the Moska River and the narrow two-lane highway crammed with city buses and drivers rushing to get to work on time. He could see the young man standing on the low wall, staring across the water at the defiled park. Another twenty seconds and he'd be in earshot.

The man's body shivered hard enough that, even at this distance it was visible. He was strong, fighting against the evil that had possessed him, battling for his due time on earth.

"Be gone, demon."

The man's head snapped in Max's direction. Not a man. Just a boy. Seventeen at most. Yellow light glowed from within him. A dozen voices answered from the boy's mouth. "We've won, reaper. The door is open."

Max sprinted faster, despising his own limitations, longing for Daniel's ability to will himself to a place. "Leave the child!"

"Sure thing," the demons hissed back in unison, their mocking laughter shimmering through the air like noxious gas.

The boy's trembling hand drew a knife from the pocket of his pants, flicked it open.

Max could almost reach him. Almost...

The blade slashed across the kid's throat and he made a final grotesque burbling before falling forward into the river just as Max's hand landed on the arm of his true self. Together, they watched the body splash into the water.

The demons scattered into the air and, like falling stars, the silver-armored angels fell upon them.

Max closed his eyes and willed the boy across the divide. "I'm sorry, kid," he said in the void.

The boy blinked at him. "What's my mom going to think?"

Azrael stepped forward and nodded at Max. "Your mom will come to understand. Everyone does."

Max was back on the blood-spattered street.

Holy war raged above his head but as he drew matter to himself, it grew faint and hard to see. In this form, the sound of battle mingled with the din of traffic and the screech of the waterfowl until one was indistinguishable from the other. The physical struggled to perceive the spiritual.

He looked at his watch. Seven minutes to get to his next reap. It was going to be a natural death, but that was no guarantee the shadow crawlers wouldn't show up to torment the dead.

A bus pulled up to the curb, belching black smoke into the already smog-laden air. The door opened and Daniel stepped off. "Alright, Max." He grinned, displaying a row of broken teeth above his swollen bottom lip.

Max embraced his friend. "It is good to see you, watcher."

"What's this? You were worried about me?"

"I'm worried about us all right now."

The angel shrugged. "Is' not so bad as that time in Mexico City."

An impression of volcanic ash rose up in Max's mind, so powerful he coughed.

"Oh, sorry," Daniel said. "I forgot you died in that fight."

"Yeah, well, here we are again," Max looked at his watch. Six minutes. "I gotta go. You coming with?"

"Look, mate." The angel pointed toward the apartment building across the street. At first, he saw nothing, but as he looked with a reaper's eyes, he noted the black stain spreading in front of the door.

With a curse, Max was running again.

The angel raced at his side, the sword of truth gleaming in his hand. "Won't be long now," Daniel shouted. "They're almost licked."

Max darted around the smoke, leaving the Daniel to send the shadow crawlers to their holy justice, and took the steps two at a time. He slid through the door of the designated apartment in time to see the man clutch his chest and fall to the floor. It was a full minute before the spirit sat up and gazed at Max with wide, panicked eyes.

"It's OK," Max assured him. "I'm here to help."

The man darted toward the window.

Max leaped after him and grabbed him by the wrist. "Trust me, mister. You are far better off in here with me than you are out there."

"Are you the devil?" The man asked, trembling.

Max shook his head. "I'm just a guy, doing his job. Come on."

He took the man across and handed him to his father.

"You're doing well, Maximus," Azrael said.

Max gritted his teeth against the hateful things he wanted to say and returned to earth, wondering how much worse it could be if he just went home to his wife. He glanced out the window. Was the smoke over the park lessening? The breach being closed?

The demon slammed into his back so hard it pushed him through the glass. He landed hard on a metal fire escape. Cloven hooves crashed down next to his head.

"Corzor said to say hello to the son of Death," the thing growled at him.

Max flipped onto his back in time to avoid having his head kicked in. "Go back to Hell, beast."

"Come with me, reaper." A blade flashed in the demon's hand. He swung it down toward Max's throat.

Max grabbed the creature's wrist.

The blade pressed against his skin, the heat of the burning lake singed him. The agony of Hell screamed in his flesh. He trembled against the assault, certain he'd die at the demon's hand.

You swear to me you'll come home. You swear it on every good and sacred thing that exists, Lily whispered in his memory.

He pushed with renewed strength and managed to get a hair's breadth of space between the cutting edge and his throat.

I swear I'm trying, Lily.

He pushed harder and the demon redoubled his effort, leaning close enough that the stench of sulfur burned Max's nose.

A hot trickle of blood ran from his neck.

A flash of light from the sky blinded him. Something struck the little platform hard enough to make Max's teeth rattle. A wail of pain pierced the air and the weight of the demon was gone.

Max opened his eyes to see Daniel standing above him. "Alright, Max," he said again and extended a hand.

"I am not alright," Max told him, grasping the wall to steady the spinning in his head. "I am so very not alright."

Daniel pressed a hand to the wound and it closed over. "You'll live to fight again, reaper. Your work's not done yet."

Max longed to drop down to the floor and weep like a child. "Will it ever be over, Daniel?"

The angel stepped back. "Some day, Max. Some day."

Then he was gone into the sky and Max was alone on the balcony. He had twelve minutes to get to his next reap.