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darkening of his gaze. I nodded encouragement. "Come, take a break with me.
You should hear this cellist. She's simply divine."
He snorted and pulled himself up to his full height. We stood eye to eye. "I
have more important things to do," he said.
"Of course, you do." I smiled. "Of course, you do."
My smile broadened as I watched him stalk off. Today was turning out better
than it had begun; today, I turned an arrow from its mark. Kneeling down, I
opened my backpack and found a clean, dry shirt. Stripping off the wet one, I
wrung it out. The sweatshirt was ruined. Holding it up, I watched the hologram
sputter and shake. Cheaply made piece of crap, I cursed, and tossed it over
the loop of the backpack to dry off.
Though the sun was setting, it was warm enough inside the park's greenhouse
that I decided not to change right away. I stuffed the dry shirt back inside.
Shouldering my backpack over my bare shoulder, I wandered over to join the
crowd of Maizombies.
"Konichi wa," an American said in shaky, but passable Japanese. His
mouse-brown hair fell to his shoulders. Pieces of it were braided with silver
wire so that it stood out in odd angles a fair approximation of Mai's wild
locks. He moved aside to make a space for me. "You're new."
"Got in today," I told him. "How long have you been here?"
"Six months. My visa runs out today," he said sadly. "But I don't have the
cash for the flight home."
I imagined that was true for a lot of those gathered here. Even the women in
the saris looked as though they might have slept in their clothes.
"But, I'm praying for a miracle, see?" The American pulled a silver chain out
from under his T-shirt. At the end was a plastic figure of a naked woman
cradling a cello. Cast all in white with the wild hair, the talisman almost
looked like an aboriginal goddess figurine.
My heart skipped. "You pray to Mai?"
The American nodded very seriously, but glanced behind him furtively. "I hear
that the acolytes are going to petition for cult status."
"Acolytes?"
"Unbelievers call us Maizombies."
"Ah." I nodded. I took the Mai figurine the American offered in my hand to
admire it more closely. "I've heard that."
"If you want one" the American nodded at the necklace "you've got to talk to
The Prophet."
"The 'Prophet'?"
The American pointed over the heads of the crowd toward a black woman standing
in the center on a wooden crate, holding up the boom box. Dressed in a
leopard-print dress, her hair was stretched into long dreadlocks. Glowing
beads were tucked in the dreds in a crownlike circle. She looked a bit like an
antimatter Mai. But the leopard skin gave her away. I recognized "her"
immediately as one of the Fallen: Sytry, who, in Hell, wore the form of a
leopard with griffin wings.
Our eyes met. She handed over the music box to one of the acolytes standing
nearby and jumped off the crate. As Sytry moved through the crowd, I noticed
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people reaching out to lightly touch her, like you would grasp at the hem of a
master.
"Azazel told me you might be coming, my Liege." She gave a slight bow. She
glanced at my wet jeans and naked chest on the way up, and I noticed a smile
before she could hide it.
The American standing next to me clutched his Mai figurine close to his chest.
I could hear him breathe out a "Wow."
"Commander Sytry." I switched to Aramaic; I wanted our conversation to be
private. "Or should I call you 'The Prophet'?"
To her credit, her dark skin colored with a slight blush. With her eyes
downcast, she said softly, "My wish is only to serve the end of days."
I was beginning to think that the Fallen had plans for the apocalypse that I
was going to have to bargain my way into. "Of course," I murmured. "Walk with
me."
She stood up straight, almost like a military officer snapping to attention,
and gave a curt nod. I half expected an "Aye-aye, sir." The Fallen loved
hierarchies and bureaucracy.
Sytry followed in silence as I led us deeper into the park, away from the
Maizombies, her acolytes.
"You have quite the following there," I said. We walked along the wall of the
greenhouse, and I could see the shadows of pedestrians moving on the other
side of the steam-streaked glass. "They say you will be petitioning the
Japanese government for cult status soon."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Sytry said. "I fully expect to get it. I have several
documented cases of shrines built to Mai and then, of course, many of the
acolytes have begun wearing the prayer chains."
"Which you supplied. Very clever," I said. "Are you hoping to become the first
of the false prophets? Or are you leaving that to Mai?"
The grass we walked on was wet from the recent sprinkling, and I could hear it
squishing lightly beneath my boot heels. Tea roses bloomed in perfect rows
against the glass wall. No doubt, after we passed, aphids would descend. That
kind of misfortune followed me everywhere.
Sytry walked with her hands clasped behind her back, the perfect parody of a
legion commander in her form-hugging, leopard-print dress and matching high
heels.
"My Lord?" Sytry glanced at me. Her handsome face was set in a deep frown.
"Are you saying you don't concur?"
"There is nothing written that says that the false prophets must be human. Do
what you want," I said, with a wave of my hand. "You show a certain amount of
initiative, commander."
"Thank you," she said, but she still looked troubled.
"What is it, Sytry?"
"Azazel told me that you may have someone in mind for the role of Antichrist."
"Yes," I said. "Page meets many of the criteria."
She nodded thoughtfully. We came to a gravel path. In the distance I could see
the Tori gate, two tall wooden poles topped with crossbeams. The greenery
shifted from carefully cultivated park to more wild forest. Tall bamboo trees
crowded the path, and wild flowers and brambles grew in the sunny spots below.
Here and there a tall pine tree dominated the green space. I could smell the
crushed needles.
I glanced at Sytry. She contemplated the path with grim seriousness.
"You disagree?" I offered.
"Oh, of course not, Your Majesty," she said a bit too quickly for me to
believe.
"But?" I offered.
"Is there not a legend of two Antichrists?"
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