Butcher Bird

The creature was small, pink, bloated and naked. It had an oversized semi-human head with tiny eyes and a slit that seemed to serve for both a nose and mouth. Its hands and feet were so tiny that they appeared useless, yet its nails were black, twisted and razor-sharp. The thing's cock was thicker than its arm and dragged along the ground like a third leg. Into holes in its skull were set thirteen white candles, which never seemed to blow out. Wax flowed down the thing's head and face like slow-motion tears.

"You know what this is?" asked Spyder.

"I'm not blind," said the creature. "It's the black blade, hungry for death, even among the dead."

Spyder pressed the knife harder into the thing's throat. "Are you the little prick who snatched my blindfold?"

"Why would I do that? You talking meat are vile enough as spirits. Who wants you alive down here, eating and defecating and breathing your foul stenches into the air?"

Spyder withdrew the knife, but kept it by his side. The creature clumsily crawled onto its tiny feet.

"Who are you?" asked Shrike.

The creature proudly drew itself up to its full height of about four feet. "I am Ashbliss, servant and valet to his Divine Abhorrence, the Lord of Flies, Beelzebub."

"Why were you spying on us?"

"This is my day off. I often come here to play about with lost souls. They make funny noises."

"Fuck off, pink boy," said Spyder, "before I carve my initials in your ass just to see what kind of funny noises you make."

"You don't want to do that. I'm here to help you," said Ashbliss. "You're the Painted Man."

"Who?"

"Modesty is such a bore. But I know about you, and you need my help. You're here for the book, aren't you?"

"How do you know that?"

"The same way I know who you are. You're here because you have to be. It's all been foretold. You're not the first champion to come this way. You're not the first talking meat to come for the book. This beach and the roads of Hell are paved with the bones of the champions who came before you."

"How can you help us?" asked Shrike.

"I can take you to where you want to go. To the book."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I want a small favor in return," Ashbliss said. "You're brave and you have the black knife, the blade that empties all vessels of life. I want to be free of my master. True, his cruelty is boundless and his depravity is deeper and darker than the chaotic void that lies between Heaven and Hell." Ashbliss looked at his feet over his round belly and shrugged his tiny shoulders. "My problem is that I know all his terrors and his tirades. He's a bore."

"So, you're a demon, huh? How's that working out for you?" asked Lulu.

"I enjoy my work. I don't enjoy my master. He's-"

"A bore. We picked up on that," said Spyder. "Everything bores you, doesn't it?"

"I'm hopelessly corrupt," Ashbliss said, smiling. "It's my nature."

"Thanks for the offer, but we know the way," said Shrike.

"So did they." Ashbliss spread his little hands indicating the expanse of bones at their feet. "And anyway, you're lying. I, on the other hand, know shortcuts. Secret paths. Passages that only a being such as myself can navigate."

"Truth is, I'd rather wander aimlessly than take the word of you and your horse dick," said Spyder.

"I understand. You're proud and strong. You're the Painted Man."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

The demon giggled. "I know your voices now," Ashbliss said. "When you need me-and you will need me-just call my name. I'll hear you anywhere in the underworld."

"Don't wait by the phone."

"To show good faith, I'll give you something for free." He pointed at two low hills in the distance. That path between the hills, were you going to take it to enter the Plains of Dis beyond?"

"That was the plan," Shrike lied.

"Yes, lots of lazybones try that route," said Ashbliss gravely. "Do not, under any circumstances, follow that impulse. Sulfur fumes rise from old mine shafts and mix with the damp fog that drifts down from the cliffs above. The air itself turns to acid. Even my kind shun the place. Go to the southwest, near the old library in the Forest of Lies."

"The Forest of Lies?" said Spyder.

Ashbliss sighed, mumbling, "Fools," under his breath. With a small gesture, he pulled a pen and sheet of vellum out of the air. The demon scratched away at the vellum for a few minutes and tossed it to Spyder.

"A map," said the demon. "That information is free. The next will cost you." He bowed, dribbling wax onto the bone shards at his feet. "Feel free to go back to your lust. I promise not to look. And enjoy your journey." With a jaunty wave, Ashbliss waddled away down the beach.

Forty-Six

The Damned and the Gentrified

Spyder slipped on the remains of his jacket and followed the others.