LITMIR.BIZ

       37 CHINA’S DARK SECRET

      ver the bed there was a sigil painted on to the ceiling and it glowed gently, its power drifting down into China’s body. She lay with her eyes closed, hands folded on her stomach, her mind attuned to the sigil, manipulating its properties. The ebb and flow of magic raged like a storm-tossed sea, and yet none of that was evident from outward appearances. Instead of a storm-tossed sea there seemed to be a still lake, not even a ripple on the water’s surface, exactly the way China preferred it to be.

      The sigil stopped glowing and her eyes opened. She sat up smoothly, without hurry. As she dressed, she observed herself in the mirror. She looked pale and weak. Her body was still tired, her magic still exhausted. She wasn’t strong enough to do what she needed to do, but it had to be done.

      China left the bedroom, took the gun from her desk drawer and put it in her purse. She couldn’t risk taking one of her own cars, so she called a taxi and endured forty-five minutes of the taxi driver telling her how much he loved her before they arrived at their destination. The driver wept as he drove away.

      China stepped off the cracked pavement and followed a thin trail between a tall rotten fence and a high crumbling wall. The trail was overgrown with weeds and grasses, and it led to a small house, tucked away from prying eyes and passing cars. She knocked on the door and a small man in a three-piece suit answered. His face was a catalogue of disappointments, of cohesion attempted but never achieved. His name was Prave, and his bulbous eyes grew so wide they practically erupted from their sockets and rolled down his cheeks.

      “China Sorrows,” he said in a hushed tone. She had forgotten how nasal his voice was. “I knew this day would come. I knew it. You’ve come to kill me, haven’t you?”

      “Now why would I want to do something like that?” China asked. She didn’t smile at him. He wasn’t worthy of her smile. “May I come in?”

      “I’ve done nothing wrong,” he said quickly.

      “That must make a nice change. Stand aside, please.”

      Prave did as he was told and China walked in. The house was a hundred years old and she knew it well, for upon completion it had been converted into a church for the followers of the Faceless Ones. Its existence was one of the best-kept secrets in the city, mainly because the man who ran it, Prave himself, was an ineffectual fool who posed no serious threat to anyone. The walls were decorated with the paintings and iconography of the Dark Gods, and the main room contained an altar and a well-worn carpet, where a handful of desperate disciples had kneeled and worshipped and prayed for the end of humanity.

      “Where is he?” China asked, flicking through the book on the altar. It was a particularly battered edition of the Gospel of the Faceless, a moronic book written by a moron in an attempt to rationalise the behaviour of his ilk.

      Prave shook his head. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, but even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. You are a traitor and a blasphemer and a heretic.”

      “I seem to be a lot of things. I’m looking for Remus Crux.”

      Prave adopted a look he probably thought was aloof. “I don’t know who that is. A lot has changed since you started your blaspheming ways, Miss Sorrows. We are a respectable religion now, and should be treated as such. We are tired of this persecution we have been subjected to. We have our rights, you know.”

      “No, you don’t.”

      “Well, we should. We’re not hurting anyone, nor do we condone the use of violence towards anyone.”

      “So eleven months ago, when the Faceless Ones stopped by for a visit and all those people were killed…”

      “That’s different,” Prave said. “Those people were asking for it.”

      “You’re annoying me now, Prave, so you’d better answer. Where is Remus Crux?”

      Prave remained defiant for two or three seconds then wilted. “I don’t know,” he said. “He’s been here a few times, but not with any regularity. He likes to sit around and talk in clichés about how the Faceless Ones are going to smite humanity and turn the world to ash, that kind of thing. He doesn’t understand the beauty of what they do – he’s just interested in the end result. I thought talking to him would be a revelation – his mind has been touched by the Dark Gods, after all. But no. He holds no insights, no startling truths. He’s just…insane.”

      “I need to find him.”

      “I can’t help you. I don’t know where he’s living. I don’t even know the people he knows. From what I can see, I’m the only one he talks to, and even then, most of what he says is gibberish.”

      “It must make you question your religion.”

      Prave glared. “Our gods will reward our faith when they return and wipe the heretics from the face of the world.”

      He didn’t know anything of use, and even if he did, she didn’t have the strength to get it out of him. China left him standing by the altar and let herself out. She started back down the trail, and noticed a man walking in off the street. His head was down and his hands were in his pockets. He walked quickly. He was ten steps away from her when he looked up.

      “Hello, Remus,” said China.

      He didn’t bolt as she had expected. He just stood there and looked at her, a deer caught in the headlights, a thief caught in the act.

      “You’ve been a very naughty boy,” she said. “You tried to kill Valkyrie Cain, and I actually like Valkyrie. You got yourself caught up with Scarab and his plans to change the way things are and I like

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