For A Few Souls More (Heaven's Gate Book 3) Read Free Page B

were descending from all over the globe. Would those who called the afterlife home ally themselves with the country they were tethered to? Would they attack it? Would they occupy it?
    What of the dead? Did they still walk on the other side of Wormwood? How many English citizens were now transported to American soil? How many French? Spanish?
    It was an impossible situation and one that his mechanical, rational mind couldn’t readily process. He was not a politician, he was a weapon, a scalpel whose blade was turned onto the body politic so that it could have its diseased flesh removed.
    After an hour or so, he thought of his horse and, as he was still unable to sleep, decided he would make the short walk down the mountainside to attend to the animal. He had no feelings for it but it was his transport and a man like Atherton always kept an escape route easily to hand.
    He walked quietly between the sleeping people. He was used to moving stealthily at night. The moon was the assassin’s ally and he had worked beneath its light many times over the years.
    He scaled the outcrop that hid the camp from view and began to descend, moving carefully over the uneven terrain. As he got lower, Wormwood was revealed. It burned at night. He had proven earlier that the real town could not be seen from outside so the lights that flickered in its windows, the fires that burned in its grates, must be illusory. Real or not, they cast an orange glow on the plain around it that brought infernal imagery to Atherton’s mind. Perhaps Heaven was, indeed, on the other side of that gateway but so far all he had seen was Hell.
    His mood was not improved when he discovered the remains of his horse. It was half-eaten, its belly open to the stars, their lights reflected in the black pool that seeped from it.
    “There are wild animals in the mountains,” said a voice behind him and his gun was in his hand before he had even turned around to face the speaker.
    Atherton’s first assumption was that one of the residents of Wormwood had climbed up here to take a look at the opposition. Even by moonlight he could tell that the man’s skin was raw, a mess of shining flesh and scabs.
    “I mean no harm,” the man said, raising his hands, “and I’m as human as you, whatever my face may make you think.” He smiled and his teeth glinted unnaturally.
    “You look like a demon to me,” said Atherton. “You do this to my horse?”
    The man shrugged. “What sort of man would eat a living animal?” He smiled again and Atherton thought the man’s teeth might be false, metal embedded in the gums. “Like I say, there are dangerous creatures out here.”
    “Clever ones too. The beast’s mouth is strapped shut with a belt, to stop it from screaming as it was attacked I assume?”
    “They call me the Geek,” the man said, ignoring the question.
    “What sort of name is that?”
    “The only one God left me with. Just ask Father Martin, he used to dream of me. Maybe he still does when the moon’s full.”
    The Geek sat down on a rock, refusing to show concern towards the gun Atherton pointed at him.
    “I was listening to you earlier,” he continued, “when you were talking to the Father.”
    “I didn’t see you.”
    “Not many do. I’m not so pretty as I used to be and I prefer to keep to the shadows. But I keep my ears open. I like to know what’s going on. You’re here to kill the devils.”
    “I’m here to try.”
    “I imagine they take some killing. I ain’t tried myself, as tempting as it is.” The Geek looked towards Wormwood. “I’m always interested in unusual creatures, things I ain’t got my hands on before.”
    To Atherton this sounded dangerously close to perversion and he was quick to move the subject along.
    “How long have you been here?” he asked.
    “Since the beginning. I saw it born. Maybe I’ll see it die too. You ain’t alone in wanting that. Can’t imagine you’ll struggle to find an army.” He laughed. “I