Blood Engines(107)

 

Marla nodded. She considered her options. There was really only one.

 

The weapon is not responsible for the action of its wielder, Marla thought. Like she’d told B on the hotel roof earlier—it is not the sword that kills, but the wielder.

 

And now Ch’ang Hao was her only sword, albeit a sword that would try to cut its wielder, in time. Even if she managed to stop Susan from deleting her from reality—and with the Cornerstone swallowed up like an after-dinner mint, how could she ever do that?—she’d have to contend with Ch’ang Hao’s eventual attack. If she used him as a weapon now, he would not love her for it, and he would be a far more formidable foe later, too.

 

“Ah, well,” Marla said. “Dead now or dead later, the only difference is the fate of the whole goddamned world. Fuck it.” She drew her dagger of office and slid the blade between Ch’ang Hao’s shoulder blade and the nail-studded harness the Celestial had bound him in. With a flick of her wrist, Marla cut the strap, and then repeated the motion at the other shoulder.

 

Ch’ang Hao looked down at her. “I hope you do not expect thanks.”

 

“I think we both know why I just did that,” Marla said.

 

“I could kill you now,” he said. “You could not stand against me.”

 

“But you gave me your word you wouldn’t kill me today. And you won’t. Because you’re honorable. And even though I’m not honorable in your eyes, you’ll keep your word. And while I certainly can’t compel you to fight this giant monster, I will point out that if you don’t kill Tlaltecuhtli, he’ll kill me, and then you won’t get the opportunity.”

 

“Your words are, as always, true and perceptive.” Ch’ang Hao tore off the harness, copper nails popping out of his flesh, yellowish blood briefly welling from dozens of small punctures before they healed over. And then, finally unbound, Ch’ang Hao did what he had not done for centuries. He began to grow.

 

“My God,” Cole said, when Marla reached him. “He—he—he’s a giant.”

 

“It’s his thing,” Rondeau said. “He gets bigger. He says he can grow just big enough to defeat whoever he’s fighting.”

 

“I suggest we retreat,” Marla said. “Because to beat Mutex, aka Mr. Toad, Ch’ang Hao will have to get plenty big. Let’s go.” She began running for the gate, and the others followed after her.

 

Marla had just dealt Mutex his death blow. It was all over now but the drama. She’d fired the gun; Ch’ang Hao was nothing but the bullet. Normally, this moment would have filled Marla with the exhilaration of watching a victory unfold, but her joy was tempered by the fact that, in a day or two at most, Susan was going to edit her right out of existence.

 

Still. As she’d said to Ch’ang Hao—fuck it. Even if she was going to disappear in a few hours, it felt good to run now.

 

 

 

 

 

Marla, B, Cole, and Rondeau sat beneath a tree and watched Ch’ang Hao battle Mutex in the light of the afternoon sun. Rondeau had acquired an apple from somewhere, and he sliced off pieces with his butterfly knife. “It’s like the best Godzilla movie ever,” Rondeau said. “Hey, B, you must still know people in Hollywood, you’ve got to get this turned into a movie.”

 

Ch’ang Hao, who stood quite a bit taller than the trees around him, pummeled Mutex, who was still not fully formed. His halo of hummingbirds tried to strike Ch’ang Hao, but the snake god threw mystical asps at them. Ch’ang Hao ripped off one of Mutex’s arms and flung it onto the ground, where it transformed into a pile of mud and moss.

 

“I wonder how the civic authorities are going to explain this?” B said. “It looks like most of the people in the park have taken off, but I’m sure there are still dozens of people watching this.”

 

“Beings such as these cannot be photographed,” Cole said. “And most of the ordinaries won’t remember this very well. Those that do won’t be able to report it accurately, and all their stories will conflict with one another. The dead in the Tea Garden will be put down to mass murder. Some of the watchers will go mad.” He shrugged. “It is a steep price, but better than the alternative.”

 

Ch’ang Hao flung the one-armed Mutex to the ground, and the Earth shook.

 

“Earthquake,” B said. “Only a little one, though.”

 

“Ch’ang is fighting a primordial earth-monster,” Marla said. “Even if it’s only a baby one.”