The Devil's Detective by Simon Kurt Unsworth Read Free Book Online

hem brushing the floor as he walked. He bustled across the room, his tangled hair bobbing as he moved, and inserted himself between Fool and Balthazar.
    â€œIt might be good for you to remember your place, Balthazar,” he continued, and somehow, despite being so small, he managed to loom over the angel, to block Fool’s view of that glorious flesh for a moment. Fool had never quite known whether Elderflower was human or demon or something else entirely; most of the time he appeared to be a man, tiny and delicate, but at other times he was something more, something alien and unknowable. “You are new here, but I know you and I know
of
you. You are one of Michael’s creatures, yes? Equipped with savage weapons and a will to use them? But there is no war for you to fight, not now, and I’ll thank you to keep your furies at bay and retain a civil tongue in that beautiful head of yours.
    â€œAh, but I see you are disappointed in the home of the Great Enemy, yes? You expected, perhaps, the lakes of fire, the bodies torn asunder on racks, the flesh of sinners consumed by tooth and maw as they repent their sins? Where are the burning sinners, you wonder? Where are the serried ranks of abused flesh, row and row as far as the eye can see? That is no longer Hell, little angel, and hasn’t been for an age or more, for several ages. Hell evolves, Balthazar, mirroring the worlds about it; the sanctity and terrors of the flesh replaced by something far, far worse.”
    Balthazar, his skin beginning to glow, gestured toward the crowd and said, “Where is the punishment? Where is atonement? They stand as though waiting for news or instruction, as though this were an everyday occurrence, and this one tells me he has no knowledge of the sin that brings him here!” The angel’s light was fiery now, its ripples filling the room, causing the shadows at its edge to dance. “How is this Hell? How is this just?”
    â€œBalthazar, where do they live?” Adam, his voice cool. “What life do they have?”
    â€œHell is a place of fire,” said Balthazar obstinately, sounding like the petulant drunks Fool sometimes encountered. “They should be burning, screaming in the torment.”
    â€œAdam, your companions have grown naive since your last visit,” saidElderflower. “You should educate them better before bringing them here.”
    Fool wondered whether Balthazar would produce his flame again, coax it from nowhere, and for a moment it seemed he might; his hand danced downward, his fingers twitching, and Fool’s own hand started toward his gun. The air thickened, tensions curling like mists around them.
    â€œThey have no safety,” said Elderflower quietly, almost thoughtfully, “none. Look at them. Their lives are short, brutal, and brutish, mostly ending in violence and starvation. They arrive as flesh from the seas outside, shriven not of their sin but only of their knowledge of it, knowing they are being punished for something without knowing
why.
They try to do good in the hope that it helps, living each day in the expectation of death or worse, watching as it happens to those around them. They see demons acting without consequence, see Elevations happen without apparent reason, and they suffer. Not the burning agonies of bodies chained to rocks or flesh afire or torn to pieces, no; something worse.
    â€œThey suffer the terrors of the approaching unknown, of ending without redemption or logic, and know that they are powerless. But this is Hell, and there has to be worse than mere violence; the Sorrowful have something worse than no hope—they have
some
hope. Only a sliver, to be sure; only enough to make the terrors so much worse. Perhaps today is the day that the demon leaves them alone, perhaps this is the day that Fool or one of his officers prevents the crime, brings something to justice. Perhaps today is the day of Elevation for them rather than