that was called Godkiller.
He held the gun as he had held it before, when . . .
This was the gun forged from the power and rage of the Morningstar, an ultimate weapon to be used for the most dire of tasks. It was in his hand now, and he aimed down the length of the golden barrel at his target.
He aimed at the calm in the center of the storm.
The kindly old gentleman in the finely tailored blue suit.
God.
And Remy fired the gun, committing the atrocity that caused it all to come crashing down.
He had done it.
Remy had done it.
He’d killed the Lord God Almighty.
• • •
It couldn’t be right. . . . It had to be wrong, but there it was, the memory becoming all the more clear as he replayed it—over and over again inside the theatre of his mind. He had taken the Pitiless pistol from Francis and renamed it with his actions.
Godkiller.
He and the weapon were God’s killers.
The revelation was more than he could tolerate, and he felt himself shutting down, retreating so deeply into himself that the end of his existence was only moments away.
Within the belly of the Queen, Remy surrendered. He would not fight it; he would allow it to happen.
He did not deserve his life.
And then the liquids that could have eaten away the horror and shame of what he’d remembered grew suddenly turbulent, rushing to escape the fleshy containment of the Queen’s body, rushing outward, carrying his stricken form with it in a wave of foul-smelling internal fluids. It was like being born, only this time he carried with him something far more loathsome than the curse of original sin.
Remy wasn’t sure how long he lay there in the drying spew, wishing that he no longer existed.
But he still lived, and as much as it pained him to do so, he opened his eyes to see that he was still in Eden. Rising up, he saw the body of the Shaitan Queen dead upon the ground, her bulbous belly torn open to spill the eggs of what was to be the next step in evil’s evolution. The eggs had already begun to rot.
Remy stared at the giant corpse and at the grim expression of pain and perhaps fear that adorned her frozen facial features, wondering what could have caused this.
He heard the growling sound from somewhere behind him and spun around, noticing for the first time that the Godkiller was still clutched in his hand. Remy aimed the pistol at the black mass that slunk toward him, lowering it to his side as he realized what—who—it was that approached.
“Baarabus,” Remy said, watching in horror as the great demon dog collapsed to the ground at his feet. Dropping the Godkiller, he went to the animal, falling down to his knees and taking the giant dog’s head into his lap.
“There you are,” Remy said, eyeing the dog’s body and seeing that his injuries were quite substantial. “I thought you left town.”
“Hmm,” the dog grunted, coughing up thick black blood. “Who knew what trouble you’d get yourself into?”
“You’re hurt,” Remy said, running his hands along the demon dog’s body.
“Yeah, that bitch didn’t go down without a fight.”
Remy’s eyes left the dog’s broken body to see the bodies of some of Samson’s children lying still upon the ground. “I didn’t want this,” he said with a shake of his head, the weight of what he now knew bearing down upon him.
“It’s not about what you want,” the dog said. “It’s about what has to be.”
“I don’t know this Remy. I never did. Thought it would just come to me naturally . . . that it would be obvious.”
“Nothing’s obvious about this,” Baarabus said. He coughed again and his body trembled in pain.
Remy held him all the tighter. “It’s all right,” he said, bending down closer to the dog’s head. “I’ve got you.”
“You’ve got to finish this,” the dog said, his voice much softer now.
“I’m not sure I can now,” Remy said, the horrible images of what he had done suddenly appearing in his mind.
“Knowing what you know now, do you have a choice?”
Remy gazed off into the jungle and what he knew existed beyond it.
“No.”
“That’a boy,” Baarabus said.
They sat there like that for quite some time, Remy remembering the times that he and his friend had lain upon the couch, the dog pressed lovingly against him, reveling in the companionship that they shared. He wondered if Baarabus even remembered those times.
“Don’t you think you should