their own to clean up the mess.”
“And if they can’t?”
“Then that’s a win for us either way. The herd must be thinned. We must whittle this stick to a sharpened point.” It was true. If the killers took care of Mookie and – bonus points – the daughter, so be it. If the Organization assassins ended up on the slab? Fine. At this point it was a numbers game.
“Pearl’s a special case.”
“Is he? He’s the bull. We are the matadors.”
“He’s the one who saved the miner down in the tunnel.”
“Was he?” That’s news. “Perhaps he’s a very lucky bull.”
“Or smarter than we think.”
“Hm. Fine, fine. Send some backup. Look to your friends in the caste.”
Sorago nods.
“For the family,” the Naga says.
13
The Underworld has many names because we have given it many names. The Great Below. The Deep Downstairs. Hell. Hades. Tartarus. Gimkodan. Naraka. It has many names and many places. This is not the only Underworld. There are many Hells beneath many parts of the world, all connecting at the bottom. The geography of our Hell is not fully mapped – it is a quantity that many have claimed impossible to know. But I feel differently. I feel it can be mapped. That its stories can and should be told. I will walk this sunless realm. I will start here, in the upper portions, in the place we call the Shallows. Then, into the labyrinth called the Fathomless Tangle. Then one day I shall find my way to the Ravenous Expanse. Where the eyeless gods of this place moan and gnash teeth the size of skyscrapers.
– from the Journals of John Atticus Oakes, Cartographer of the Great Below
Nora fidgets. She chews an unpainted nail down to the quick. A bead of blood rises. She holds it up, sees the torchlight captured in the curve of the red.
“You sure that was a good idea, sugar?” Skelly asks her.
“It’s part of the plan.”
“A plan you just made up.”
“We have to adjust. Things are… changing.”
“You’re bringing trouble to our doorstep.”
“Part of the price.” Nora shrugs. She tries not to act nervous, tries to act cool as an ice cube in a snowman’s mouth, but all she can do is keep biting one fingernail after the next. “Nothing good is ever free.”
Skelly paces. On one side of her face is the blue LED light from a camping lantern sitting atop an overturned oil drum. The other side, lit by firelight. A two-faced mask. Finally she turns, thrusts a finger up in Nora’s face.
“You’re playing with fire, kitten. You’re telling them things just to rile ’em all up. I don’t know if you have this all figured out as neat and nice as you want. There’s gonna be blowback. I don’t think you get that.”
Everything’s unstable, now. Things were supposed to go differently but they didn’t and now here she is. Making up the story as it goes along.
“I get it!” Nora barks. “Jesus. What are you, my mother?” Calm down, you need these girls. “Listen. I know it’s like I… threw a lit M-80 into a crowd. And maybe I did. But it’ll clear a space. A space for me. For you. For the gang. I’ll bring you guys with me. The Boss is sick. His grandson is…” Here she hesitates. Deep breath. “Dead.”
Skelly walks up. Gets nose-to-nose with Nora.
Nora smells bubblegum and cigarettes.
“You better be right,” Skelly says. “Because, baby girl, if you fuck us over or fuck us up, I’ll crawl out of the corpse-pile dead or alive and skin you with Santa Muerte here–” The woman taps the hilt of the sheathed Bowie. “We square?”
“We’re–”
Above their heads, above the floor, they hear a sound: Whump whump whump.
“Someone’s here,” Lulu says. Breathless with anticipation. Lulu seems to get off on this kind of thing. Fear. Danger. Like she’s French-kissing Death in the broom closet.
Skelly shoots her a look. “Yeah, we got that, Lou.” She turns to Nora. “They’re here. Already. Let’s hit the tunnels and–”
“No,” Nora says. “If this was a hit squad they wouldn’t be knocking. Listen to that sound.” How loud it is. Him with those big stupid fists. Sometimes she thinks that’s where the old man keeps his brains. “I know who it is. It’s my father.”
“See? Blowback’s already started.”
Another three knocks. Whump whump whump. Louder now.
Skelly hisses, “What do we do?”
Nora jerks a thumb toward one of the posters. Zardoz. “I’m gonna hit the bricks. I’ve got to find some leverage. You stay behind. Talk to him. Throw