Page 6 of The Malevolent Eight

Corrigan, joining me atop the gallows, shot me a questioning look. The next step in my cunning plan was apparently pushing even his ethical limits. Hells, the damned kangaroo was looking squeamish too.

This is the job,I told myself.You’re the only person alive who’s been attuned to both the Auroral and Infernal realms. No one else understands the cycle of never-ending carnage the Lords Celestine and Lords Devilish will unleash on our realm if they’re allowed to turn it into their personal battlefield.

‘I need a favour,’ I said to the leader of the angelics. ‘You know, as payment for rescuing you after you got your arses handed to you by a gang of demoniac grunts?’

The valiant frowned at my crass interruption of what would no doubt have become a rousing tale of Auroral supremacy once filtered through angelic oratory. ‘Righteousness is its own reward,’ he reminded me, ‘lest its lustre be tarnished by personal desires. You should know this, Cade Ombra, for are you not the last Glorian Justiciar?’

In theory, that was true. The other Justiciars were all dead andAlice didn’t count, since she’d never been formally inducted into the order and was, from a species perspective at least, ineligible to join. Fidelity, Dignity and the rest of my former comrades had been slain by the Seven Brothers, who left their still-living decapitated heads for me to find shortly before the brothers transformed themselves into living gates through which their Pandoral patrons had intended to invade the Mortal realm. Corrigan, Shame, Alice, Galass, Aradeus and I had risked our lives and defeated the brothers to prevent that conquest– only as soon as we’d triumphed, we’d discovered that our entire mission had been a ruse perpetrated by an innocent-looking– and totally evil– eleven-year-old boy named Fidick. He’d refashioned those same gates and allowed the Aurorals and Infernals into our realm so they could fight their long-foretold Great Crusade against one another, using Mortals for cannon fodder. If I ever met Fidick again, I was going to let Temper eat him, from his pretty little toes up.

‘Honoured Valiant,’ I began with a formal bow, ‘on my honour as a Glorian Justiciar, ’tis a righteous message that I beseech you deliver unto the Lords Celestine.’

The quartet of angelics went ominously silent. Without my former tether to the Auroral Song I could no longer hear what they were saying, but the familiar buzzing in my ears suggested they were at least debating the issue.

When they were done, their leader honoured me with a smile he clearly thought should make me swoon. ‘Exult in our gift,’ he sang. You learn to ignore that after a while. ‘Through us, the Lords Celestine have deigned to hear your plea. Speak, Justiciar Cade, and know that your words are being heard by those whose every breath is revelation.’

Glowing golden fingers appeared upon the shoulders of each of the Valiants: the famed guiding hand of the Lords Celestine– and proof that the smug bastards really were listening. The Valiants shimmered as they hummed in quiet harmony. Always nice to have a heavenly orchestra accompanying your entreaty.

‘Cool, thanks.’ I still wasn’t sure how best to convince a group of self-appointed divine beings to reconsider the holy war they’d been waiting to prosecute for thousands of years, but in precarious diplomatic situations, I find plain-spoken humility works best.

I knelt before the quartet of Angelic Valiants. ‘How shall I put this?’ I began. ‘You and your bosses sometimes have trouble recognising sarcasm, irony or, you know, expressions of free will, so I’ll speak in short sentences and try to be as literal as possible. You remember the warning we gave those Infernals right before we blew them all up?’

The angelics were staring at me. I think they’d just worked out I’d insulted them.

I ignored their shocked faces and carried on, ‘Well, that goes double for the Lords Celestine. Tell all twelve of those arrogant pricks that it’s time to pack their bags and fuck off back to the Auroral demesne. Find some other plane of reality to prosecute their prophesied pissing contest. Galass told them and I am telling you: effectiveimmediately, the Mortal plane is closed for business.’

I looked up so the nearest valiant could hit me with the infamous Auroral Glare and see how little it bothered me. ‘Think you can remember all that? Or should I write it down?’

That flawless upper lip curled and I felt the faint whoosh of air as he gathered unto himself the blessings of the Lord Celestines in preparation for smiting me. Unfortunately for him, I’d had enough being smited for one lifetime and was about to smite the smug offhisface when the Valiant behind him suddenly spoke.

‘Well, darn, Cade, that doesn’t sound friendly at all,’ she said.

Well, darn, Cade?Was that a hint of a drawl?

There were two problems right there: first, angelics don’t talk with a drawl, and second, they don’t use slang like ‘darn’. I didn’t waste time wondering why they hadn’t referred to me by my former Justiciar name, just enjoyed the respite.

I jumped to my feet and backed away, preparing to hurl the nastiest spell in my current arsenal at her, even though that risked revealing my true attunement and some very tough questions– when a third curious development revealed itself.

‘The hand!’ cried the leader of the Valiants, pointing.

The glowing aetherial fingers upon his comrade’s shoulder had begun to smoulder an ugly red. I didn’t know they could do that. The Celestine on the other end of that hand was certainly trying to pull away, but was now ensnared.

‘What foul magics assail you, Sister?’ the Valiants’ leader asked sternly, as if it were her fault.

‘Sister?’ she asked, lending the word an amused melancholy. ‘How can we who were never born claim kinship with one another? No mother’s womb held us, “Brother”. We were merely. . .fashionedby the Lords Celestine, destined to be servants without souls, our dooms forever etched in the emptiness of our creation.’

‘Blasphemy!’ declared another valiant, casting a scathing eye at me. ‘What Infernal perversion have you wrought, Fallen One?’

Ireallyhate it when people call me that.

‘Hey, don’t pin this on me, friend. I’m just enjoying the show.’

The once-golden hand of the Celestine was now aflame, the fingers spasming in what appeared to be a futile and agonising bid for release.

‘Really, Cade?’ the possessed Valiant asked. ‘You always did strike me as something of an idealist.’ An amused smile came to her lips. ‘Only an idealist would be so arrogant as to presume he could stop a war foretold millennia before his birth and destined to last epochs after his death.’

‘Arrogant? I’m humble as a bumblebee and I’ve never been partial to prophecies. Who the fuck are you?’

One corner of the Valiant’s mouth rose. ‘A prophet, of course. Care to have your fortune told?’

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