A Book Of Tongues by Gemma Files Read Free Book Online

into some gigantic
Tong-boy who immediately came jumping back up with an axe even
so, seemingly oblivious to the impact and looking to split a still-dazed Chess in two.
    The shot’s report seemed to snap Chess awake again, prompting
him to gut-shoot his potential murderer, then catch Morrow’s eye
on the go-’round as they both went to reload. Morrow found Chess’s
glance uncharacteristically full of surprise and respect, admixed.
    “Nice shot,” Chess said, before going back to his usual business, as
Rook finally got his Bible flipped open. Above, meanwhile, Songbird
screamed out some new phrase, prompting Morrow to look up just
in time to see — her whole bottom jaw unhinge, snake-wide, and a
stream of live bats pour out of it like fluttery black vomit, filling the
air around all three of them with shrieks and teeth. Chess pivoted
with one of ’em already clinging fast to the side of his head, and
emptied both guns in a matter of seconds. The results, though
spectacular — delicate wings shred-torn, furry bodies popped apart
like clay pigeons full of blood — were so sadly inefficient overall, he
was soon reduced to trying to pistol-whip the damn things to death.
    “Jesus fuck-damn fuck !” Chess yelled, in disgusted rage. “Fuck all y’all, you filthy fuckin’ things! Rook, if you’re gonna do somethin’,
best time’d be ’bout right the fuck NOW — ”
    Rook nodded. “Then the LORD said to Joshua, See, I have
delivered Jericho into your hands. . . . When you hear them
sound a long blast on the trumpets, have all the people give a
loud shout. . . .”
    “Chapter Six, two to twenty-seven,” Morrow told himself, as the
house began to shake and the Rev preached on. The text spiralled
out of Rook’s mouth flat and quick, a smoky snake-tongue of
close-packed silver typeface, to dart inside the walls through any
available route: old cracks, cracks newly opening in skeleton fans,
every mislaid plank and empty nail-bed.
    “. . . and when . . . the wall collapsed . . . they took the
city. They devoted the city to the LORD and destroyed with
the sword every living thing in it — men and women, young and
old. . . .”
    The cracks in Selina Ah Toy’s foundations were wide enough now
to both let in daylight and let out the bats, who almost immediately
tried to get back in, blinded by the dull glare of ’Frisco’s watery
exterior. “And at that time Joshua pronounced this solemn oath,” the Rev continued declaiming, implacably. “Cursed before the
LORD is the man who undertakes to rebuild this city, Jericho:
At the cost of his firstborn son will he lay its foundations; at
the cost of his youngest will he set up its gates.”
    Quite some judgement, Morrow thought. But Songbird merely
spat, unimpressed, maybe hoping it’d hit Chess on the way down.
Hissing at Rook, in turn: “This cannot be forgotten, gweilo ch’in ta .
Do you hear me?”
    The Rev nodded, equally sanguine. “Goodbye, Songbird,” was all
he said, in return.
    One final spasm, a crunching twist that ripped skin and muscle
from the rack of the world, saw all three somehow thrown bodily
straight from Songbird’s bagnio to the muddy river-bank on ’Frisco’s
outskirts where they’d left the rest of their gang: a dry gold-panning
operation with at least one shack left intact, just right for purposes
of shelter and disguise combined.
    The sudden rending — and mending — of their arcane passage
was enough to make old Kees Hosteen spill the coffee he was boiling
up, yelling out, as he did, “Christ on a coffin-nailed cross, boys! The
Rev’s come back!”
    Above, the open sky growled. Chess hugged the Rev to him, wet
to both knees and virtually holding him up — most of him, anyhow. Frilly little catamite’s a sight stronger than he looks, Morrow found
himself thinking — then kicked himself in the mental ass, hard, for
being so surprised.
    “You are a damn fool,” Chess told Rook. “I told you them Chinee
witches ain’t worth the