The Lucifer Messiah Read Free Page B

distant, dwarfed somehow by the vast emptiness that cradled them. The three figures came closer together beneath the ruined cathedral rafters. Finely crafted columns stood silent guard over them, charred black by a long-dead fire. A circle of candles provided both the only light and the only heat in the cavernous hold. Their breath condensed when they exhaled.
    â€œThe neighborhood the locals call Hell’s Kitchen,” Arachne said. “If the Morrigan has him, he’s probably already dead.”
    â€œI would imagine,” Argus replied.
    â€œNo. The Keeper did not succeed. I am told that Lucifer was held in check by only one of our kind. The rest of the agents were not of our ilk, conscripted by the Morrigan from the ranks of her unwitting
indigenous
associates.
    â€œBefore he could be brought to face the queen, Lucifer killed his captor and escaped. He may have been wounded, but as far as I have been able to learn, the Keeper does not have him, and his whereabouts are now unknown,” Charybdis finished.
    â€œWho was the one of our own that he killed?” Arachne asked.
    â€œCaeneus.”
    â€œCaeneus? Wasn’t she killed in Spain, during the civil war?” Arachne asked.
    â€œThe elder Caeneus, yes. The one who died last night was new to our fold, only brought into the circle three seasons past. He had just taken the name. Now it will sit vacant on the rolls once more,” Charybdis answered.
    As his associates continued the exchange, Argus wandered over to the back of the platform upon which they stood. A half-burned crucifix rested there, fallen from the place on the wall where it had once presided. He paced across the altar area, scanning the toppled offertory and the scorched Lenten vestments that lay beside it upon a carpet of soot.
    The others became quiet as the child paced.
    A fire just before Easter 1941 had ruined the once opulent cathedral. Tight budgets during the War had prevented the diocese from restoring it, and in the intervening years its parishioners had slowly filtered away to other neighborhoods. Thus did it remain abandoned, forgotten by all but a few parish bookkeepers and the locals who generally avoided its dark and unsafe confine.
    Argus knew all of that. He also knew that hardly anyone else shared the information.
    â€œThis place will do just fine, I think,” he said, talking to the walls.
    â€œFine for what?” Arachne asked.
    â€œWe may have been given a rare opportunity, my friends. One that I had thought lost to us long ago. Lucifermust be found, but not by the Morrigan,” Argus replied.
    â€œAre you suggesting what I think?” Charybdis asked. “We haven’t spoken of that in ages.”
    â€œThere will never be a chance such as this again. If we do not act now, we might have to wait for another hundred years, or longer,” Argus said.
    â€œBut can it be done? If he is found, I mean?” Charybdis asked.
    â€œThe hours are running short. We will make him understand this time. There is no other way,” Argus said.
    â€œHave we any idea where he might have gone?” Arachne asked.
    â€œWe have some notions, but nothing concrete,” Charybdis answered. “The Morrigan brought us all to New York because of Lucifer, because of the rumors that his first life was spent here. It is likely that he will seek out family or friends now that he has returned, but we’ve little more to go on than that.”

FIVE
    P AT F LANAGAN SNARLED. H IS EYES NARROWED. H E raised up his left hand in a fist.
    â€œThat’s as far as you go, grease-ball. Didn’t you see the sign? N O D AGOS A LLOWED.”
    Vince snarled too. He lifted his chin in the direction of the Irishman’s knuckles.
    â€œWell, they let you in. So I figured the place was open to all sorts of lowlifes,” he answered.
    The red-haired man laughed, swelling and deflating his prodigious belly. His fist melted into an open hand, and he